First Impressions

28 December 2015

I arrived at what I thought was the entrance to the village of Otira and did a confused loop in my car on the wrong side of the tracks. This was in full view of the locals who were enjoying some refreshment outside the Otira pub. I parked outside the pub and walked in with my head bowed slightly so I wouldn’t have to see anyone laughing at me.

The lady who owns the bar took one look at me and said, “I know you,” which made me feel a little better. We met about two months ago when I came through with Nick.

I explained that I was trying to find my way into the village and that I had also brought some broccoli for Scotty the Gullah. The lady pointed me to another woman named Donna who told me she would be looking after me but that my house needed a vacuuming first. I begged her to let me come along and help clean. I just wanted to get settled in and hide from the locals.

I found my way to the house through the only road in and met Donna at the front gate.

“How long you staying?” she asked.

“Until Sunday,” I said. “They didn’t tell you?”

They didn’t.

The end result was a caretaker with a vague notion that someone is coming to visit at some point.

While Donna borrowed a vacuum from the house next door I wandered to the paddock across the street to pet one of the Clydesdales grazing there. They belong to the Lester the publican and from time to time he harnesses them to a carriage and drives them around town. Otira was once a major stagecoach stop between Christchurch and the West Coast.

The house was everything I wanted.

Donna must have apologized for the state of it five or six times but it was perfect.

The paint was peeling off the exterior and there were layers of mismatched wallpaper and paint on the interior. The floor sagged in places and the windows operated by weights and pulleys built into their frames.

The toilet was off the back of the house in its own little room which was no doubt luxurious for its day (being much nicer than a long drop with a tin roof overhead).

Just off the tiny kitchen was a bath and a free-standing sink. There was a window that opened over the bathtub into what is now a closed in porch and sunroom.

Sitting in this sunroom I found a very nice specimen of mid-century chair-without stains or weird smells. I carried it into the living room and angled it and the coffee table so I could look out the window at the mountains.

There are high peaks on either side of Otira. They seem perfect for keeping most of the world out.

I’ve gleefully found my own little slice of Mordor to enjoy for the week.

I chose a room for myself, put my sheets on the bed and moved the furniture around to suit my taste. I opened all the windows so a nice breeze goes through the rooms.

There are a large number of house spiders who have eyed me suspiciously and become very anxious about their places in the home. I’ve tried to mess with them as little as possible with the exception of the outside bench built into the house’s front porch. There was a small apocalypse there because I needed a nice spot to reflect on life and this was the best one.

I put down a comforter that I folded over three times and double cased some pillows I found in the spare room. 

The first time I sat down to write the wind blew the front door shut and I was locked out of the house. I left my bedroom window open so I climbed up the wall in my flip flops, and struggled to get through the window frame in my short summer dress. I flashed the train station across the street but I don’t think anyone was around at the time. I lost my balance halfway through the window and fell face first onto my mattress. Goodbye dignity!

I grabbed the key to the front door and re situated myself on my porch bench.

I originally invited Nick to come down with me but he said he had to work so I left him, the NPR and Alex back at home. I’m enjoying being alone so far.

I plan on studying kea while I am here but I’m not putting too much pressure on myself.

My main goal is to familiarize myself with the trails and tracks around Arthur’s Pass and go to the usual kea haunts to do some observations.

I need to find out where the local dump is as this was a prime viewing spot for Diamond and Bond during their research on the social habits of kea.

I am interested in both wild and captive kea. I want to observe them with humans and without humans to see how they behave.

Most scientist would probably set up a hide and try to be inconspicuous but I don’t care if the kea spot me. I want to interact with them as much as possible and I am not worried about them “not behaving naturally” when I’m around. You could argue that a bird seeking out strangers in its environment and playing with them is not natural behavior but that’s just what kea do so the orthodox approach is pointless here.

I may give certain animals names as I become familiar with them. There is a huge tendency in the scientific community to pretend that researchers are above such things but the scientific community can suck it. I will be taking a leaf out of Jane Goodall’s book.

While I’m on the subject, I believe that animals are just as capable as humans of displaying feelings and complex communication-they just don’t always do it in a way that we can recognize. 

In the case of the kea I reckon this is especially true as they have shown advanced skills in problem solving and tool making both in the wild and in the Kea Lab at the University of Vienna.