EXTRACTS FROM THE PRESIDENT’S ADDRESS TO THE N.Z. SCENIC RESERVATION SOCIETY, CHRISTCHURCH, June 1964

Forest and Bird, Issue 154, 1 November 1964, Page 26

EXTRACTS FROM THE PRESIDENT’S ADDRESS TO THE N.Z. SCENIC RESERVATION SOCIETY, CHRISTCHURCH, June 1964

Man, alone of all animals, received the faculty of observing, reasoning, and understanding. It is what raises him above the level of the beasts; yet at times he still acts as a beast by needlessly destroying so much beauty that is not really his to destroy. Man is a trustee; he should properly use and properly develop his heritage but he should not destroy it. As a faithful trustee he is bound to pass on the heritage undamaged to those who in turn will take up the trust. Hence is the need for a New Zealand Scenery Preservation Society and a Royal Forest and Bird Protection Society. I was privileged to be asked to come to Christchurch to talk on matters of common interest to both Societies. I know what forest and bird means, but what is scenery? From my dictionary I learnt that scenery is “the general appearance or natural feature of a place”. In this case the “place” is New Zealand, and as the bush in New Zealand is part of the natural features, it becomes obvious that the Scenery Preservation Society should be working enthusiastically with our Society to secure its preservation ! Our rules limit our activities to those things which have an influence on bush and bird. We were asked to include scenery in our subjects, but we felt that the word “scenery” covered such a wide field that bush and bird could have been relegated to a comparatively minor role, and to agree would have been running the risk of neglecting the task we were appointed to carry out. We can deal with anything which in any way influences bush or bird, including promotion of any activities which might induce knowledge or

appreciation of them by members of the public. We are, of course, entirely sympathetic with scenery preservation, but legally our objects are limited so that we could not, for instance, spend money on something which does not have some bearing on the welfare of bush and bird.

The scope of “scenery” is very large. All people do not admire all scenery, and what appeals to one person may depress another; for instance, the gaunt coastal cliffs with wild waves dashing against their bases may thrill one and repel another, and the frozen, forbidding mountain tops may thrill one and depress another. It depends on one’s viewpoint. I recollect once looking up at the crest of a duskshrouded ridge with the skeleton of an old homestead outlined against the sky. It gave my companion cold shivers; but to me it brought recollections of the folk who once lived there, an affectionate family with an ever-ready welcome to the warm fireside. There was a beauty in that scene because of what I was able to associate with it. There is a wide variation in scenic quality; but in general it has a strong appeal to most folk and much of it is charming to the average citizen. The National Parks Act recognises the variations in scenic quality by its wording of the section which reads “that areas of New Zealand containing scenery of such distinctive quality or natural features so beautiful or unique that their preservation is in the national interest”, and its provides that these in fact shall be set aside in perpetuity for the benefit of the people.

Two or three simple scenes have left an indelible print on my mind. From a hut I once owned, I used to go out at sunset and watch the last rays of the setting sun fade on the brows of cliffs two thousand feet up. Here and there outlines of beeches were silhouetted against the sky; but I knew they were doomed by goats which wandered in the area. Here again, recollections and imagination enhance the beauty of the scene and explain something of differing viewpoints. On those cliffs I can picture the lichens, the shrubs clinging by a precarious roothold, the trees. I can picture the birds singing in the morning light or the evening sun; yet I can also see the same birds in the chill winter, down in the gullies in the sheltered places, ever seeking food to maintain their slender hold on life —a struggle I understand. It reminds me of the many times I have enjoyed “humping my bluey” round the rocky headlands against wild tempestuous winds, so strong that one could literally lean against them. Others might, indeed often did, curse them, but to me they were a challenge, and I rejoiced in the battle, for this was real life. I do hope that those “who follow on” will know and understand the lovely things I have enjoyed, unspoiled by thoughtless humans—or by animals. Sometimes I would wander down to the shore and watch the sun set behind the Kaikoura Ranges across the sea, and I would marvel at the changing colours and cloud patterns. I have risen at 4 a.m. day after day in order to see the first rays of the sun across the sea near Palliser Light, the scene framed through the artistic limbs and trunks of trees. I have sat in the morning and watched the breezes waving the plumes of toitoi down in the swamp and have remembered my horror when I arrived one weekend and found only blackened stumps. I didn’t comment when the farmer told me he had got rid of that rubbish in the swamp. I didn’t want to go back for a time. I remember sitting in the bush at night and looking at the immense basin of stars outlined through the wonderfully delicate tracery of foliage. I have seen the waves breaking along the great semicircle of the coastline, I have seen and marvelled at the rebirth of the beech forest apparent in the lovely green of the new season’s growth above the more sombre old foliage, I have seen the distant peaks from mountain top to mountain top, I have looked down on the dense foliage of the subtropical forest from above the timber level—l could go on and on, but I won’t.

Some are inclined to confuse man-made spectacles with scenery. For instance, the many power installations, the one at Haywards in particular, form magnificent spectacles, tributes to man’s ingenuity, skill, imagination and preseverance; yet they do not make scenery, and indeed often, too often, they form a blot on a lovely landscape. I remember the impatient tones of a very senior engineer who once said to me, scathingly, “Scenery ! Don’t worry about that. I can restore it with my bulldozers !” This dedicated engineer had become quite insensible to the beauty he would casually destroy. To him, the power in water was the all-important consideration. He saw nothing but the number of megawatts the water would produce and all his faculties were bent on how to

extract that power. It is probably good to have such men, but men with such “one-track minds” will always need restraining, and need to be directed by others who understand that the same force which makes possible the megawatts also makes possible lakes like Manapouri; falls like the Sutherland (already once threatened by a power project), the Huka, now a victim, rapids like the Aratiatia, also largely now under the control by the engineers and only partly saved by the agitation of those who love beauty, rivers and streams, all the result of flowing water. It is this clash between the exploiter for commercial purposes and the nature lover that makes necessary a Scenery Preservation Society and a Forest and Bird Protection Society, as the past decade has proved. If we want the very best scenery, and incidentally prosperity, we must have trees, not merely to regulate our water supplies and to preserve our soils, but because trees do so much to preserve landscape beauty. The best scenes always have trees as a part thereof. Birds also form part of scenery and there is a bird for every nook and corner of the land. We cannot have forests without birds, nor can we have forest birds without trees, but birds are part of the natural scene. Think of Ellesmere without birds, think of our coasts with the gulls, the oyster catchers, the stilts, the herons, the terns, and so on. Could one enjoy the beaches without those lovely birds, not only to look at, but also to keep the beaches from becoming offensive with dead and decaying matter ? Think how greatly the song of bellbird or tui adds to the enjoyment of a day in the bush, how we long to hear the call of the shining cuckoo heralding spring, the delightful trill of the grey warbler, or the mysterious hoot of the morepork at night. All these go to building up the picture we think of when we think of scenery. There is room here for active cooperation between our societies, ensuring protection, disseminating material for inculcating the love of these things into the public; for it is public opinion which will decide ultimately what is to happen to them.

There are such things as rare plant communities, perhaps belonging to neither of us ; but surely we can cooperate with the botanical societies or the Ecological Society. We have extensive reserves. Could you not cooperate with us in setting up and controlling these ? All of this indicates the need not merely for active cooperation, but also for some private federation of interested bodies. There is, for instance, the future of Stewart Island, in which many interests are involved. There is already the framework of a Nature Protection Council, a private organisation not connected with the official Nature Conservation Council. This has functioned as occasion required over the past dozen years. It could be, and I think should be, extended. There is need for an organisation, not in any sense fettered by official limitations, to act as an advisory body to the official one. My Society is the convening body for the Nature Protection Council, which already includes many of the nature organisations as well as sporting organisations, tramping, mountaineering, skiing, etc.