THESE SOUTHLANDERS!

New Zealand Listener, Volume 1, Issue 25, 15 December 1939, Page 24

THESE SOUTHLANDERS!

It's No Use Arguing-They Know All The Answers

of the upland pasture country, wild cattle once gave Southland’s hunte in’-shootin’-fishin’ sportsmen as much excitement as a lion hunt in Central Africa. They had to shoot straight or get trampled. Such sport is hard to find now and in any case was never on the Acclimatisation Society’s official list, for it was hard to tell at 300 yards whether a bull had a brand on his haunch or a glint in his eye. But Southland still claims to be a place for biggame shooting — the only place in New Zealand, just as it is also, they say, the only place for cheese, prime Canterbury lamb, oysters, or Southlanders. Inspired by pride of province, two Southlanders expounded these and similar claims to fame when they cornered an innocent Listener representative in the Southland Reception Room at the Exhibition the other day. "There is no place like Southland," they said, and seemed to add: "And if there is, tell us about it at your own risk." Charles MacKay, manager in that very ‘comfortable place, gazed with pride at the beech-panelled walls what time he waved attention to J. J. Pollard, of the South Island Travel Association. "‘There’s your man," he said. " He'll tell you all about Southland." Mr. Pollard did. S TRAYS from the civilised herds Oysters and Other Things He spoke of the Sounds, of the rata blowing in the wind, of the Acheron Passage, and changing lights on deep water, of the moose which will stand for an hour to avoid a stalker’s notice, of the wapiti that grows great antlers, of the red deer whose numbers would once have defied a machine-gun section, of the trout, and the selmon, of blue cod that rise to bait as a Southlander rises to defend his homeland, of rivers and ountains, and the Oyster Derby. Greatest difficulty in Southland, of course, comes from the people who draw maps. They never make a clear enough line between Otago and Southland. The two provinces tend to be confused. Out

at the Exhibition they spend a lot of time saying that Lake Wakatipu and Queenstown, for instance, are in Southland and not, as all their visitors seem to believe, in Otago. Why! (they say) the Southland Land District includes Queenstown, the Southland Education Board administers Queenstown, Queenstown is entirely in Southland (although it does all its business with Dunedin). First White Men Once, an official publication said that the first white men to put foot in Otago landed at Dusky Sound. But Dusky Sound, they will tell you if you meet

them at the Exhibition, is in Southland In all the other reception rooms at the Exhibition there are people saying similar things about the rest of New Zealand, but where will you find a match for the inborn enthusiasm of the true Southlander? You are not there five minutes before you know all about Southland cheese, and how for years it has been judged best in the Empire (Great Britain excluded). And about Southland mutton, which made the name (so they say), for Prime Canterbury. And over your head all the time, if you are interested in such things, hang two of their best arguments of all: the only moose head officially recognised as shot in the Southern Hemisphere, and one of the biggest wapiti heads on record. Stalking Stories If you are not wanting big fish stories (and these too, they can supply), then you can have big-game stories for as long as you like. Soon, they hope to assemble a collection of huntin’ men in that very room. Wonderful will be the stalking

stories they will have to swap: " So-and-so has a fine head." " Yes, I’ve heard of it, but it’s a little crooked, isn’t it? Now, that head such-and-such got out of here-and-there, that was not so big, perhaps, but you'll never see the like for shape and balance." Red deer are plentiful. Deer of all shapes and sizes and colours are plentiful. Southland is a home for thousands of them. The Department of Internal Affairs pays cullers who have shot about 40,000 of them. Southland does not worry too much about them. But the wapiti-! And the moose-! There you have something that really is worth hanging on the wall. Theodore Roosevelt's Gift Theodore Roosevelt, then President of the United States of America, gave the moose and wapiti to New Zealand (we mean to Southland). Slow breeders, the moose have not multiplied. Only three times have licences been issued to shoot the moose. Each season’s licence cost £50, so there were not many in the hunt. Officially, only one head came out. After two unsuccessful seasons searching for it, E. J. Herrick, of Hastings, found the head he’d been wanting in the third season of trying. Nowhere else in the Southern Hemisphere have moose been liberated. No one else in the Southern Hemisphere has been known to kill one. The head hanging at the Exhibition is unique below the Equator. It’s an ugly head, if you look at heads that way, for a moose’s head is half-way between a horse and a cow; but if you look at the head as it should be looked at — as a Southlander looks at it — it’s a fine head, sizable, and well balanced. More Wapiti Wapiti breed more quickly, and are not quite so hard to find. While the cullers in all their combing of the rough Southland mountain country, have only seen one moose (which got away), they have culled about 100 wapiti in one season. Still, a good wapiti head is prized as a trophy, and no trophy is much more prized than the head which F. W. Furkert, of Wellington, has lent for display at the Exhibition.

And, again of course, there are no moose or wapiti outside Southland. First established there, they have jealously retained it as their home. You can tell a Southlander that Southland has no chamois or thar, such as Canterbury can offer energetic sportsmen. " Well," they say, "and who wants them?" You simply can not get at these people. The Oyster Derby It was simply the offer of a piece of blue ribbon that turned the Bluff trawling fleet upside down at the beginning of every oyster season. For no monetary reward, the fisherman once raced each year over water and land to be first to present J. J. Pollard with a bottle of fresh oysters. Blocking a road with a load of hay was the least of the tricks to which they resorted to delay their rivals. In that particular case, the rivals saw the enemy’s stratagem from a distance and detoured to win the ribbon while the hay was still in process of manoeuvre. And there was the time when X had his brother steal one of Y’s oyster bags and engage Y in argument about the theft, what time X trundled his hand-cart, almost unopposed, up to the winning throat. Neglectful New Zealanders A gleam comes into Mr. Pollard’s eye when he remembers their pranks and the first full, fine flavour of the season’s first luscious oyster. That was a long time ago. The race is not now such an event, and the name of the Derby has almost come to be given to the rush and bustle attached to getting the oysters ashore to be flown to the North Island by aeroplane. Although overseas tourists flock there, Mr. Pollard complained that New Zealanders are the last to see this choice corner Of their own country. But he had hopes that the new roads would work wonders. And when they have road access to Milford they hope that a service will be opened to carry people to the other sounds by sea. Milford, they say, is very, very good; but the others are even better.

| An Taheieaier With Southlanders About Southland By a Non- Southlander