COVERAGE

Battle of the Pines

It’s cold. Slowly, reluctantly, the camp comes to life in the pre-dawn darkness. Wrapped up against the early-morning chill

The rude awakening

So there you are, having a nice long daytime snooze, and along comes a man called Barry who drags you out of bed by your feet.

Parrot’s beak clings to life in North Island forests

A burst of crimson gave the game away. There, clinging to the cliffs towering above the rushing waters of the Mohaka River

Goats, stoats and possum-fur coats

It’s dead. Very dead, judging by the stench and the smooshed appearance of the remains – all fur, bones and black-brown gloopy stuff.

Relocating NZs avian refugees

He was a typical Kiwi bush-dweller. No nonsense, a bit rough around the edges, unused to attention and certainly not fond of the limelight.

Footprints in the Ferns

Deep in the Bay of Plenty back-blocks 24 youngsters scramble up a forest trail. Breathing heavily after their climb from the valley floor

Dangling by a thread

Garry was just one badly-tied knot away from lying broken and twisted at the foot of the cliff against which he was now hanging. A sheer dro

Body and soul: the drive to breathe new life into NZ forests

Stomachs churn in unison as the chopper clears the ridge and the ground beneath us falls away to reveal a hillside cleared of the ubiquitous

Whio? Whew!

High in the back-country hills a string of six rafters threads its way along a narrow mountain stream, hemmed in by sheer rock worn smooth..