The Little Things...

You know, that fantastic trio that made up the fondly-missed Trinity Roots were on to something.

It really is the Little Things. I spent a gorgeous few minutes out in my backyard the other day, and founda whole bunch of treasures... of course little taonga like this are always there, but as we get older, do we just forget how to see them?

This odd looking little pod, really had me stumped.

There were a lot of them, dotted along the branches of one of the trees in our backyard. At first, they looked like growths on the branch, almost some kind of tree-tumour, but closer inspection revealed them to be a tightly-woven cocoon of some sort. This one was hollow, with a neat little circular opening at the top. It seemed to be made up of some kind of fibrous adhesive that had dried in the sun, and I could not for the life of me figure out what it was!

A quick trip inside to check on the internet revealed the mystery. This of course is the empty cocoon of the emperor gum moth, an Aussie that found its way to NZ in the 1920s. With a wingspan of 14cm, the moth emerges from its cocoon by gnawing a tiny trapdoor for it to push its way through. Apparently the sound of the insect chomping its way out has been likened to rats gnawing on wood. Very impressive!


As I ambled around the backyard, soaking up the first signs of warmth from the sun's rays this spring, I kept happening upon clues and signs of my nature treasure hunt. Despite having spent the day before mowing the lawns, and chucking a tennis ball for my exuberant dog, i hadn't actually noticed the fragile beauty of the kowhai blooms in full flower. The boughs of the kowhai tree seem to sigh under the weight of its saffron cloak. Up close, the perfect bells of the kowhai toll silently in the breeze, the stigma forming a natural clapper.

It really had been a gusty, blustery afternoon, and I was searching for stray pegs when I came across my next treasure... a perfectly round bird's nest, lying among the leaf litter, below a small tree. I was a little distressed to see it strewn on terra firma, and I was quickly able to find where it had been rather unceremoniously biffed from its previous residence in the fork of a small sapling. While i was busying myself with trying to affix the nest back in place, and hoping that its tenants might return, a flash of blue at my feet caught my eye.



Despite the tiny, seemingly insignificant gesture the two broken eggs I found represented, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of despair for the two birds that had just lost their progeny, and perhaps didn't realise it yet. Of course I know that its early in the spring, and there are plenty more ever warming days for the avian ardour to produce still more offspring, but it just seemed a shame. I felt sad at what a waste their days of nest-building and wooing and mating had so far been. As I was bemoaning the lost opportunity, I crouched down and peered closer at the destruction and I was swiftly reminded that left to its own devices, Nature doesn't let anything go to waste. Watching the ants busy themselves in benefiting from the blustery blunder, it didn't seem quite so catastrophic. In the end, the recipients of the sticky yolky manna from heaven were part of the huge cycle of renewal which perpetuates every aspect of the living world. The theme of metamorphosis and rebirth ran through every diminutive natural occurence I stumbled upon that day. My not-so-adventurous little foray into the hidden joys of my own backyard were a sharp reminder to me that I don't need to travel to the far-flung undisturbed oases of wilderness to 'find' nature.

It's here, all around me, all the time. And finding a tiny wilderness in a suburban garden also reminds me to try to act within the bounds of my immediate environment, before working myself into a frenzy about the ills befalling the rest of the world.