Open Writing

In 1837, some stupid individual decided that introducing opossums, those cuddly bush baby type creatures, with big eyes and long tails, resembling teddy bears, would be a good idea. A fur trade could be developed. People would have riches beyond their wildest dreams. HA HA.

Folk decided that killing animals for their fur was cruel, and how right they are when it comes to lions, tigers and bears. But rabbits and possums?

The only problem with bringing a species into a country, where none of its kind has existed before, is that there is nothing to prey on it, no balance of nature can be maintained and things get out of hand. The rabbits eat all the grass, so bring in stoats and weasels, in the hope they will eat the rabbits, but they eat the native birds instead, and so it goes on. One must be very careful when messing about with nature, she usually has things carefully worked out.

>But to return to our friendly little possum. What a loveable creature he is. Many kids have baby ones as pets and they have been known to be let loose in classrooms, where they run riot, until they are caught and dispatched to the office for safe keeping until home time.

For a while the fur industry thrived. The freezing workers, in their
off-season, would head off into the bush with their traps and not only did they earn money from the fur, but the government even paid a bounty of 2/6d per head for each possum caught. So the little possum was kept under control. But then the fur industry died and the bounty stopped and no one eats possum, so the little fellow had the bush all to himself.

>Hurrah, hurrah! All those lovely leaves on those nice trees and all those other possums to make friends with. It wasn't long before his numbers grew and the trees began to be stripped of vegetation and, indeed, die. People began to take notice. The possum must be controlled. He carried TB, which could infect cattle. He was killing the bush. Something had to be done.

A miserable amount of money was allocated to D.O.C. to control the little "critters" and, in small pockets, they succeeded, by laying 1080 poison.

But it was a bit like putting one's finger into a hole in a dyke; it will only plug the gap for so long. There was nothing to tempt the freezing workers back. Why should they go out into the bush at all hours and in all weathers for no return? Meanwhile the bush began to die, man hadn't realised what he was doing when he let the first little fellow loose.

But as with all things and as Mr Micawber used to believe, "something will turn up," man, as usual, began to engage the brain. OK so folk won't wear fur coats, even if it is possum or rabbit, so what about something else. It wasn't long before the woollen industry discovered that combining possum fur with merino wool made an exceedingly soft fabric and number one enterprise was under way. The possum hunters were out again and D.O.C. had a ready market for dead possums. Eradication was on the move.

After wool came other uses. The skins were extra soft - stripped of fur what wonderful bags, cushions, coats!! And other items of clothing could be made. Dyed they could be transformed into wall hangings and lampshades. All manner of things could be made from the little old possum; he was a creature of value again. The bush began to regenerate as the possum population began to shrink.

Which brings me back to the "naked possum." Why have I called this article "The Naked Possum?" We must go back to the hills of Golden Bay and to an enterprising young couple who have had an idea. The fellow was fond of hunting and trapping and had a love of the Kaituna Ranges, tucked away at the back of Golden Bay. Once these hills had been full of gold miners, heaving out rocks and damming up streams, now the bush has reclaimed its land and covered their workings with undergrowth. The old Kaituna track still wanders over the hills though and from it you can explore the remains of the gold diggings. Once a good track it is now the province of the experienced tramper, but it still attracts the day walker and the curious tourist.

This fellow hunts and traps deer and possum and there, at the edge of the bush, he has built a tannery, for not only could he hunt and trap he could also tan. His wife saw other possibilities and, getting in touch with local crafts people, decided to open a gift shop. Soon they had a variety of things on the go, things made from wood, not pine, but rimu and totara, paintings, place settings, clothing, whatever creative minds could come up with, dying led to patchwork and so it went on. The bush telegraph, i.e. e-mail, linked similar people together and goods were exchanged amongst them, thus this very interesting shop evolved and was soon on the tourist map.

But their creative minds didn't stop there. Why would people drive all that way to look at a shop? The Kaituna track was still in use by the hardy tramper, why not make it accessible to the day walker and family groups? An hour sees you to some interesting gold workings and a deep hole in the river is a good place for a dip on a sunny afternoon.

People came and people get hungry, so a café and toilets were added and finally a huge log fire in a three sided replica of an old miners hut, only on a grander scale was built. Now it is an up-market place to dine but with down-market prices. You can sit outside at umbrella shaded tables. You can sip your drink in front of the smoking log fire in the "outdoor" miner's palace, for it isn't a hut and certainly not enclosed, more a stage or backdrop for music groups and the like. Or you can retreat to the restaurant and talk to the chef, in the state of the art kitchen beyond.

Barbeques are produced and on special occasions whole beasts are spit
roasted. The farmers' wives have found themselves part-time jobs. It is a great place to go for Sunday lunch and the Kaituna track is just on the edge of its second little "gold strike." And all this is due to a couple of enterprising folk and our furry little friend, "the naked possum."