New country bumpkin

While I try to pretend to be unfazed by the chap in cowboy boots, pink corduroy coat and a top hat, deep down I'm gawping and can't help but find him extraordinary looking. The reality is that two years of life in Icebreaker-and-jeans-clad rural National Park, with no traffic lights, roundabout or cinema for 50km has turned me into a country bumpkin, wide-eyed at the bright lights of the city. I run around the shops ooh-ing and aah-ing at the variety of stuff, even though when I lived in the same city 2 years ago I found the range rather poor. The combination of city traffic, rain, neon signs and traffic lights on arrival in Wellington even had me accidentally run a red light - one of those rural idiots who should just not be allowed to drive in the city...

Run, Tuesday, run!

It would be 'Fly, Tuesday fly!', except Tuesday is a flightless, 6 month old kiwi chick.

Today I had the extraordinary privilege of holding a real, live kiwi while its tracker was installed and then holding it in its box on the back of a quad bike out into the bush before releasing it into the wild for the very first time.

They kick. They snap their beak. They shed their feathers. All while putting them through the trauma of tagging them, but it's so worth it if these little guys succeed out there in the bush. And what an amazing experience for little old me!!