Where the Wild Things Are

Everyone knows I love microbes. In general, I have very little patience for multicellular things -- they're just adding unnecessary complexity to the metabolic magic that a single-celled bacterium or protist can do.  In fact, the only thing that saves tress for me is the fact that they can photosynthesize: Photosynthesis is my absolute most favorite metabolic process.

But in spite of my preference for things visible only through a microscope, I've still enjoyed a few very special wildlife encounters over the last few weeks.

The first was in Akaroa last month (it's taken me a lamentably long time to post about it), when my friend Elise was in the country following her research cruise to Antarctica. (Elise, like many of my most awesome friends, studies microbes: She works on marine phytoplankton, the free-floating algae responsible for half of Earth's photosynthesis.)  Elise's Dad treated us to a wonderful boat trip out of Akaroa Harbor.

Akaroa Harbor sits in the crater of an ancient, sunken volcano.

Like Kaikoura, Akaroa is known for its marine life.  We enjoyed views of Hector's dolphins, plenty of seabirds, and even some baby fur seals!

Hector's Dolphins are the smallest in the world. For some reason,
they take particular interest in all boats. I was surprised we still
drew a crowd, even with a dive boat (with infinitely more
entertainment value, I'd guess) nearby.

Following our boat trip, we took in the view from above.

Elise, having completely fallen in love with N.Z.

 But as amazing as that day was, there was still one animal in particular that I wanted to see: the infamous Kea, a highly intelligent parrot known for harassing tourists at Arthur's Pass.  Since the pass is only a few minutes' drive from one of my field sites in Cora Lynn, we headed up there one rainy day after sampling.  Though we succeeded in finding ice cream at the tourist rest stop, there was not a bird in sight.

"Let's just try one more spot," K. said.

So we drove a further few minutes up and over the pass, dropping down (however briefly) onto the West Coast.  And, though I can't claim to have seen New Zealand's famous rainforests, at least I can now say I've seen a Kea!

Looking a bit bedraggled in the misty evening
weather, but still highly alert and intelligent.

While this bird groomed, we saw just how
colorful he was. With wings folded, the Kea's
brown-green feathers let him blend nicely into
the surrounding rocks.

Later that same week, K. and I headed down to Queenstown.  We had a fantastically scenic drive: a bit rainy on the way down to bring out the colors in the landscape, and fine the rest of the time, with some artistic clouds periodically decorating the sky.

Fortunately, both K. and I were eager to take photos, so we stopped at many of the picturesque overlooks.

What struck me most about the drive was its resemblance to the Kona side of the Big Island. Unfortunately, K. informs me that many of the bare patches that we saw on our drive through the Mackenzie Basin are actually the result of overgrazing and Hieracium (an herbaceous plant) infestation, rather than yet-uncolonized scraps of lava flows.

Other parts of the region remind me of Banff, one of Canada's most spectacular National Parks, whose lakes also bear the same distinctive blue hue.

There was even the occasional rock cairn to remind me of North America!

 In terms of "wildlife", though, our remaining encounters took place much closer to civilization.

The Queenstown Gondola. We hiked up, collected backpackfuls
of samples, and took the gondola back down.

One day, we sampled inside a Douglas-fir plantation guarded by alpacas. Unlike sheep, which invariably scatter from both cars and pedestrians, these four were extraordinarily curious -- enough so to make K. and I nervous, since their teeth look capable of quite vicious nipping.

The absolute highlight of the trip for me, though, was finally finding a hedgehog!  We'd been having a rathe frustrating day -- after one successful sampling trip in the morning, we couldn't find a second site, no matter where we looked. But then, when an inconsiderate driver forced us into a turn on a side road and we thought we couldn't get any grumpier, we spied this fellow scurrying across the road.

Of course, when K. picked him up, he curled immediately into a ball.  It took several minutes of silent watching (as he panted, then slowly uncurled, then wiggled his nose at us for several moments) before he finally worked up the courage to proceed into the adjacent cow pasture.