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 A friendly haven for a bloke pondering ducks 

A friendly haven for a bloke pondering ducks

IT'S only two hours and 2300km away, but New

Zealand is refreshingly different for outdoor types.

I flew across the Tasman for a two-week sojourn

before my daughter's wedding at the weekend, and

was very surprised by the cost of fuel.

Unlike Oz, the bowser prices are reversed: diesel

sells for about $1.55 a litre; premium petrol,

$1.90. Even allowing for the $A trading at 14 per cent

above the Kiwi dollar, that's still a high price to

keep the family car running.

And just like here, there are plenty of Kiwis feeling

mortgage stress, with newspaper accounts of

people borrowing from banks, or maxing out their

multiple credit cards to pay for food, fuel, rent and

the family home.

Unluckily for yours truly and my mate, we paid the

petrol rate during our sojourn about the North

Island.

We were in New Zealand to hunt Japanese sika

deer by choppering into the Kaimanawa Ranges

and to catch up with the pheasant and duck

opening seasons, no longer available in NSW.

Kiwis have a sensible outlook on the sustainability of their wildlife, which is strictly managed by regional Fish and Game departments.

They're not anti-gun or anti-hunter. To outsiders who shoot it's very refreshing to be treated as objects of interest, as distinct from scorn.

Checking our guns in with the police at Auckland airport, for instance, there was genuine interest in the rifles and shotguns we carried and we ended up in a ballistics discussion with a couple of cops, both of whom hunted and were looking forward to duck opening.

Getting our permits, we were waved off with a hearty: ''Good luck. Good shooting.''

A week later, in a supermarket in Te Awamutu, a

rural town like Orange a couple of hours from Auckland, several people wanted to chat at the end of duck opening day.

With a dairy farmer host, we were instantly identifiable in our green woolies and muddy boots.

''Get many ducks?'' asked a friendly and mature check-out chick.

''Not enough,'' said I, noting we fell just short of

our bag limit of 10 mallard or grey ducks (blacks in

Aussie).

She said her son, her husband and his mates had

shot their limits on the first morning over decoys

and if we wanted to shoot on her farm we were

most welcome.

''We've got hundreds and hundreds. They're real

pests on the crops,'' she said.

Everywhere we went it was the same.

And despite rain for 16 days straight, the visit was

a refreshing experience indeed.

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Perspective
Musings of the Hills News editor, Col Allison

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