A Morepork and the Milky Way

During Covid 19 lockdown we changed our daily walk to an evening one, so as to be out when there were fewer people around.

And what a change. The main street was devoid of cars. Shops and restaurants stood sadly empty, and the cinema loomed in silence. Occasionally we encountered friends who had also converted to night walking.

We would chat, the obligatory two metres apart, until our paths diverged. On we would go, in the silent evening. Teddies gazed blankly from windows, and even the weather seemed to be on lockdown. No clouds, no wind, the sea gleaming and clear, barely whispering as it runnelled up the beach. Only the lighthouses and channel markers kept up their frenetic flashing.

We watched a white-faced heron feeding, mere metres away. We walked across a golf course in complete safety. We enjoyed the growing golden carpet of gingko leaves.

Footpaths bore messages. A nine-year-old birthday girl’s friends had all left poignant greetings outside her gate, with words and images of encouragement and companionship. Others, presumably adults or older children, had just a simple Happy Birthday at their entrances.

There were also the generic uplifting messages for all who might pass that way – Be Kind, or Kia Kaha, or Kia Atawhai.

And then there were the footpath drawings. Some were rough but cheerful; children’s sprawling creations; Art Deco style patterns; a stylised cone ice cream (to cheer us up when we couldn’t buy one?)

But the one we came to look forward to on our walks was a complete underwater scene, exquisitely chalked and coloured, and expanded daily until it covered about five metres. It was the work of a true artist, and each night there would be something new in that imaginary rockpool – more seaweed, another kind of fish, a starfish, a crab, sea anemones open and closed, sea lettuce, neptune’s necklace seaweed ....

One by one they all appeared, lifelike and mysterious.

Then the rain came and it was gone. In the silence and stillness of those dark world walks, two moments stand out for us.

Beside a main suburban street, we saw a morepork. We gazed at it for several minutes as it eyed us from its treetop perch. Then suddenly it swooped, silent and magical, laying its perfect shadow out briefly along the footpath before vanishing into a large leafy tree. Now every time we pass that tree we talk to our little ruru friend. We have never seen it again.

The other treat was the Milky Way, showing clear and bright and strong in the newly clean atmosphere above the beach where we have walked for 40 years. It felt like a blessing on Aotearoa.