WHITEBAITING.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 160, 8 July 1932, Page 3

WHITEBAITING.

MAORI GOES PICNICKING. GIPSY SCENES ON WAIKATO. COLOURFUL IUVF.KBANK CAMPS. Depression or no depression, there is always a good demand for whitebait, and as the season has now begun in earnest the Maoris along the lower reaches of the Waikato should be once more making good money. Catching these tiny fish that appeal eo keenly t* the epicure ie easy work, and the natives not only replenish the depleted family purse, but they have a good time into the bargain. Whitebait time is camping time for the Maoris round about Tuakau. Hone and his waliimand his tamaiti shut up the family town house, get aboard the launch with (lie minimum or their lares and penutes—something to sleep on ami something to cook in—and camp on the low banks of the river a couple of miles from the mouth. These banks are so low that at high spring tides the roosting places of the picnickers are almost submerged. Very quaint are the shacks the natives build, often just a collection of old limber and rusty iron, but it i* surprising how many can Hud ulecping room in the little one-roomed affair. Even the dogs accompany the family, and during these times of very high tides they have learned (lie arboreal trick of perching in the fork of a willow nnd so keeping dry until the tide drope, Out from the bunk in front of the shack (he fishers build a short L shaped .jetty, the leg of the L running parallel with die bank. Jutting out from the jetty and about eighteen inches under water ie lashed a short length of peeled cabbage tree trunk, whose white surface throws into relief (lie opaque streaks of the tiny whitebait when they start to run up fitrpnm.

When the fish are not running there is nothing I<> do but lounge round. The Mil oris all lounge except one comfort-able-looking wiihinc, who sits in a little ticket-box structure of rnupo and flax leaves, and from a Ride window with a pent to shelter her from the cool wind she keeps her eye glued on the tell-tale white cabbage tree trunk gleaming under tin* flowing current. As soon us she calls out that the fish are running the rest of the family pick up the iiupe scoop nets made of mosquito licit ing and begin dipping out the "bait," which is emptied into kerosene tint*.

jit regular intervals the collecting launch comes puffing down stream from TuakiMi and the various families bring out their catches, which are weighed and duly credited to them. Money does not pass on the river: the buyer deals out stores and tobacco, which are debited against the catch, and at intervals (here is a squaring up. At the present time the natives get about 2/ a pound, as the fish are still rather scarce, but later on when the big runs take place the price drops to about a quarter of the iiguro mentioned, and then the canning factories take most of the catches. Whitebait time is the time to wear out one's old clothes, and the natives make most picturesque, gipsy-like groups round their shacks and fishing jetties. For firewood they generally cut down quantities of alder trees, which are almost as thick as the willows on that part of the river. 'When cut the alder is a rich tangerine and the ends of the stacks make a cheerful splash of colour in the setting. It is a jolly, care-free life, and the town-tired pakeha often envies these nomadic riverine natives who can combine picnicking and profit.