In 1865 there was working in the Tauranga court-house, a short little clerk named Gilbert Mair. He could speak Maori fluently and so was also the local interpreter. He was a cobby athletic type, a skilled bush-man, and a keen observer of the birds of the forest and the shore.
On one of his days off, Gilbert took his fowling-piece (shotgun) and went up to the local cemetery which was on a hill overlooking the estuary. It was high-tide and all the godwits and other waders were massed in their thousands on the small amounts of sand-bar still exposed. Quietly he slipped down to the water nearby, stripped off and gathering an amount of kelp around him, slowly, slowly moved out into the water, wading as near as he could to where the birds were dozing and preening, awaiting the receding of the tide. He knew he would only get one shot as the noise would scatter all the birds far and wide across the harbour. But one shot was enough: "BLAAAAMM!!" The sound would have echoed across the water and clear to the extinct volcano the local Maori called 'Mauao'. When the smoke cleared there were 98 godwits either dead or fluttering helplessly in the water, ready for him to gather up.
In the Downtown Studio, Kate is currently working on this art work about the above story.
It is hard to miss, at 1.5 metres x 1 metre, and she is using acrylic on stretched canvas.
Some extra information: 'Tawa' is the name that the Maori gave to Gilbert Mair. He went on to be one of the most colourful characters in New Zealand history.
Number through the door today: 106 (!)
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