Regularly we are offered skinks, ghekkos, rats, mice, cicadas, birds. Frequently we sustain injuries in our attempts to save the lives of all creatures great and small. Even a kerereru, who is probably now part of a luxurious cloak after we lost that particular battle so delivered it amazingly intact to the local marae.
But this morning's delivery was a new one on me. Initially, from a distance, it appeared as a half eaten lizard with rigor mortis set in. Possibly unearthed overnight from some forgotten hiding place. Then I thought we had a miniature pre-historic beast on our hands. Come and look at this, I called out to the knowledgeable one.
Its a koura, he said, spelt k-o-u-r-a as in Kaikoura. A baby freshwater crayfish.
We abide at the foot of bush clad hills. A creek runs through the corner of our neighbour's property. Tom had been fishing. Here he is, saying to me, You should have seen the size of the one that got away Mum.
On the history of death and taxes
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