New Zealand Diary, Day 10 afternoon

Day 10, afternoon: Tragedy
First, let me assure you that no harm befell DW or me. Nevertheless, I have a sad story to tell you.

 After lunch, we set out for “Kaikoura Farm Park and Llama Trekking”. It appears to have been started as a llama ranch, which started offering multi-day hiking adventures using llamas as pack animals. Apparently they also began taking in animals that had been abandoned or injured. We have always enjoyed visiting zoos, and this attraction’s description promised the opportunity to feed and pet several different kinds of animals, including a fallow deer fawn. We were especially excited about this visit, even with the light rain that was falling.

To get there, we had to go up in the foothills on Postman’s Road, one of the grid that had been laid out when the area was settled by Europeans. After crossing a couple of intersections and a couple of dips maintained as seasonal washes, we came to a gravel driveway leading past a farmhouse to a carpark just big enough for a bus and a couple of motorhomes, in front of a largish shed that acted as the gateway into the farm park. The first animal we met was Jess, a female border collie who helped watch the stock. The young girl behind the counter told us we could go into any of the enclosures except the emus’, because they had a chick and were very protective. We paid the nominal entry charge and bought a couple of cups of food, and walked through the door into the farm park.

We were greeted by various fowl, including a couple of turkeys, and a fancy white chicken. The first enclosure held a pair of donkeys, and no other mammals that I could see. I guess those asses weren’t very sociable with llamas, or anything else. We went past a short row of trees, and there was Bambi, the fawn. We were told she was brought there with her sister when they were just days old, after their mother had been killed by a hunter. The sister became much too aggressive for the food, though, so they sent her to a regular deer ranch. Just off this area was the llama pen, where DW spent some time getting to know their different personalities.

Through another double gate was an area surrounded by smaller pens for other fowl, including white geese with goslings, and a single wallaby. There are no kangaroos in New Zealand, but there are wallabies, brought there by Europeans from Australia for food, and most likely sport. This one was probably hit by a car and brought to the farm park to be nursed back to health. He liked to be fed by hand, and loves whole wheat bread. They are so darned cute, and DW loved feeding and petting the little guy.

Other residents of this second large area included three standard black & white (Hampshire?) hogs, and a couple of hairy pigs, one of which was apparently a boar (segregated in a small pen), because he had tusks. We also met Barney there, a male border collie, who reportedly was Jess’s mate, sire of a couple of litters of puppies. He was a little more active than Jess, who was following us around, and seemed to keep the hogs in line as they tried to get up close to us so we would feed them. We both got our legs a little muddy from their rubbing.

Jess down left, Barney up right

At one end was the pen the emus were in. They actually came right over to the gate, with their chick behind them. The chick looked to be about 2/3 adult size. Although we were careful not to approach too closely, for some reason one of the adults became very agitated. It actually jumped over the gate, which was about 4' tall with a solid top bar. It didn't quite clear it, and landed in a heap, but quickly got up and started running first at the young man who was feeding the other animals and helping guide us, then at DW. I was quite a bit farther away, but started putting even more distance between the emu and me.

Barney’s instincts kicked in, and he started trying to contain the emu, barking and heading it off. Poor Barney. The emu would have none of that, and I presume (because I was looking the other way) it kicked the dog in the face with one of its ugly claws. Suddenly there was yelping, and Barney was running back and circling, then sat down. Somehow the young man got the emu cornered then back into its pen, and I went to examine the now quiet dog. His left eye was closed, and there was quite a bit of fluid strung down his muzzle. As I tried to comfort him, he lay down in the grass. My first thought was that he was in shock; I don't even know if animals do that, but that’s what I thought. I picked him up, since there was no way we were going to drag him, and carried him into the entry shed.

Meanwhile, the kids tending the farm park called the owner, who was out on a llama trek, on his mobile phone. They got the go-ahead to take Barney to the vet in town. DW and I stayed at the farm park for another 20 or 30 minutes, but the mood was more somber. We met one of the ponies on the place, and some hens with chicks and other white geese with older offspring. The rain was getting heavier, and with the sadness over Barney, DW and I decided to leave and go on to the next thing.

The next thing, we determined, was what was called a “forest trail” up one of the mountains NW of the township. We drove about a mile back down Postman’s Road, then took a left turn away from town. After about a mile-and-a-half, the pavement ran out and we were on a well-graded gravel road, headed up the base of the mountain. Just as we got to where we could see the end of the road, a herd of cattle started coming out from behind some trees and crossing the road. I surmised they were ready to be milked, which seemed even more likely as we approached and stopped, and I could see their heavy udders swaying as they walked.

There was a break in the line of cows, and we crossed their path and parked in the small area at the trailhead. The rain seemed lighter now, so we put our hats back on and started up the old, cowpie-dotted farm road that was now the beginning of the track. We hadn't gone more than a couple hundred meters, though, and the rain began to fall harder, and a breeze began to pick up. Even though we were in trees now, we could tell that we would be soaked if we stayed out much longer, and the wind would make it not much fun at all. Too bad: judging from the view on the beginning of the track, I expect the view from the top would have been breathtaking–if it weren’t overcast and rainy.

Kaikoura Bay upper left;
cattle path just before bend in road.

Besides, by this time we were beginning to get a little peckish, so we decided to head back to West End and see if we could get a good burger. (We couldn’t.) We ended up having fish & chips (DW) and chicken strips (me), then headed back to the hotel for a nightcap and rest. Yes, we decided that we liked Kaikoura, and the Kaikoura Boutique Hotel staff, so much that we would stay another night. (I should have tied up this particular loose end on the last post. Well, there it is.)

Shortly after 3am, we were awakened by a siren, of the stationary type. What with the recent seismic activity off the coast of Christchurch, my first thought was tsunami warning. A few minutes later, though, we heard a vehicle siren, and we decided the first one was a call for the volunteer fire department. I later confirmed this with Robyn, who said that sadly, most of the middle-of-the-night calls for them are car accidents.

Afterword: I emailed the owners of the Kaikoura Farm Park to find out how Barney was doing. They said unfortunately the eye had to be removed, but he was already adjusting well and almost back to his old self. They remarked, “we love intelligent dogs.”