Pest Shot In Thousands In Hills Behind Waimate

Press, Volume XC, Issue 27425, 11 August 1954, Page 8

Pest Shot In Thousands In Hills Behind Waimate

WALLABY HUNTERS—II

To the layman the wallaby is a minature kangaroo; both animals belong to the same zoological family (Macropodiae); their main difference is that the wallaby’s hind foot is limited in length between 6|in and lOin. Another unpleasant feature of this pest is that every one of them harbours parasitic worms, even the small wallabies still in their mother's pouches. It is true, that a colony of wallabies has descended on some unfortunate farmer’s field of turnips and cleaned it right out, but such excursions from the higher hills are relatively rare. Like his cousin the kangaroo the wallaby is herbivorous and a marsupial. Private parties of shooters have occasionally brought back from a hunt a baby wallaby, taken from the pouch of its dead mother, and given it to children to care for as a pet. “The milk of human kindness is all right when it is poured in the right places, but a pair of those baby wallabies could, in a year or two, start a new infestation in some other area, and before anyone knew about it we would have another problem like this on our hands,” said a field officer. History of the Pest The infestation in the Hunter Hills began when Michael Studholme, generally acknowledeged as the father of Waimate, brought two does and a buck with him from Christchurch in 1874. The three animals escaped to the hills. From the family of three 80 years ago the colony isf now greater than anyone would care to estimate, and has spread over the area between the North Pareora and Waiho Forks. Shooters of the wildlife division have, in two months of this year's campaign killed more than 2000 wallabies. Tallies for the season have risen as high as 10,000. In 1947, the first year of operation by the division’s men, 4521 were shot; in 1948 the figure was nearly 7000. Tallies vary according to the weather and the number of shooters working. Poisoning and snaring have both been tried by the department’s men, but neither method gives results as good as a man behind a rifle. Small parties of two or three experienced men working from a high hut, or even a tent camp have also been found more efficient than the large drives organised by dozens of amateurs with dogs. “You have got to be cunning in this business,” the shooters say. Hunting a wallaby is nothing like stalking a deer. Usually the wallaby is hiding behind a patch of scrub when a shooter comes through his area. The

shooter comes through his area. The shooters combat this sit-down tactic by climbing above where they think the wallabies might be and rolling or throwing rocks down into the hiding places. The rock strikes the ground and wallabies erupt in all directions. As wallabies begin to leap out (and an old man wallaby standing five or more feet high can leap eight or 10 feet at a time uphill, downhill, or along the flat, gets away with the acceleration of a racing car) the shooters fire as quickly

as they can. Scalps bearing both ears of the animals are collected from the carcases as evidence of the kill, and the walking continues. A good shooter will kill 60 to 70 wallabies a week. New Zealanders, whether because of their inborn independence or their knowledge of their country make the best shooters and field officers. Some immigrants have attempted to master the art, but very few have succeeded. Mr Kennedy tells the story of an Englishman on one of the shooting parties who got separated from his companions and decided to walk back to headquarters. After about a week of bad weather, during which the Englishman had not turned up at base, a search was organised. He was found in a hut, lying on a bunk covered by a huge pile of hay. Empty cheese tins, opened with an axe, lay all around him. He had apparently tried to cross a river, lost his rifle and pack, and wandered around until he found the hut. His only comment on his narrow escape was: “I don’t think I’m cut out for this sort of thing.” He is now in Fiji. Shooting wallabies or culling deer is a young man’s work, strenuous, hard, but, in a curious way, very rewarding. A peace and a satisfaction with a day’s work well done comes to a shooter as he lies down in front of his hut fire with a camp oven full of roasting meat and a billy of tea before him and 30 miles of walking over frozen ground behind him. Shorts are standard dress. Long trousers are no good for crossing rivers or wading through snow—bare legs dry out much quicker than cloth. Heavy socks, a pair of stout nailed boots, a shirt, perhaps a waterproof parka, and a hat or cap completes the ensemble of the well-dressed wallaby shooter. Distance is nothing to these men. One day about a fortnight ago Mr Frank Woolf, the leader of a party based at the Kawarau hut walked over the hills to Waimate for a new pair of boots just as the city dweller would walk half a chain down the street to a shop; in fact he probably complained less about his journey of 30 miles than many town-dwellers would about walking to their bus stop. All of these remarkable men have in common a love of native New Zealand. They live close to nature an ch they look: on her as a friend who is. sometimes a trifle moody. But in general nature i is good to them. Little birds such as the rifleman hop into the huts for i crumbs (one day one even perched on a book one of the shooters was reading and stared him straight in the eye), or, like ground larks, follow the hunters all day long, flying only a yard or two in front or behind. But it is a job for the young man. In charge of the Kawarau party, high up in the snows on the Hunter Hills, is a man of 20, and the average age of the whole team would be little more than 24. While they can they enjoy the life. In the mountains they can look as free men on the wide, unfettered beauty of nature. But they still have to pay their income tax. [Concluded]