I found myself sitting around a table up at the Royal Albatross Centre at Taiaroa Head last week. Those gathered represented the many various groups involved in recovery efforts for the New Zealand sea lion (Phocarctos hookeri), who I soon came to learn also goes by the name rapoka.
The New Zealand Sea Lion Forum discussed results from the previous year's Threat Management Plan work and aimed to prioritise and discuss projects for the Rakiura, Murihiku (includes the Catlins) and Otakou populations. It was an incredible insight into the great work being done for rapoka from the many stakeholders. It felt very promising to see DOC, Ngai Tahu, local iwi, fisheries, Forest and Bird and the other stakeholders all working together to improve the work already being done.
While the New Zealand sea lion has recently been downgraded from a conservation status of Nationally Critical to Nationally Vulnerable, the general consensus is that rapoka is certainly not out of danger of extinction. It's decline is not as rapid – mostly due to the work that has been carried out between the stakeholders – but it's still in decline. That's a nod for the work being done, but it's no time to rest on laurels.
In Rakiura, Murihiku and Otakou the populations are thought to be stable, but the forum is planning for population growth as scientists learn more and more about these marine mammals and the future of their habitat. Part of that is the forecast increase in interactions with humans. In Dunedin we're already seeing the urbanisation of this species as the females start to use the busier beaches to escape attention from the males.
As beach users surfers are one group that is in regular contact with rapoka – daily for some of us. I reckon we have a pretty important role to play in helping rapoka re-establish on our beaches and coastline. To do that we need to learn about rapoka – learn to read their behaviour in the water and on the beaches. Much of the fear around these animals is borne out of a lack of understanding. Sound familiar? We humans haven't got a very good track record when it comes to the unknown.
Most of the negative interactions between surfers and rapoka come from the sea lion's insatiable propensity to play – a couple of surfers squealing and paddling around like crazy are akin to throwing a dog a tennis ball. The better approach is just to ignore them ... and I know that isn't always easy when they're in your face and doing all they can to entice you to play. But if you can remain calm then they'll soon move away. That's when I reckon we should consider how lucky we are to have them on our coastline. Get your head around them and they'll add to your surfing experience, not detract from it.
The second part of our role is to help visiting surfers to understand them as well. And to discourage the seflie-style video clip of "surfer getting chased by sea lion" or encroaching into their space for some Instagram likes. That's incredibly disrespectful to the animals, which are also a taonga species for Ngai Tahu.
Let's take our role along this coastline, as observers, and add in a guardianship element to it. The ocean enriches our lives endlessly – that's the least we can do and we're uniquely positioned to make a difference.
See you at the beach ... Derek
PS New Zealand lost one of its great surfing characters on Saturday night when Peter Rae passed away in his sleep. Earlier that day I ran into him out at Aramoana. The surf was pumping 3-4 foot and Peter had just come in to get a new legrope after snapping his first one. He paddled out for more with a spring in his step like the frothing grommet that he always was ... even as he entered his late '60s he always lit up in the surf. Life wasn't a straight line for Peter, it isn't for any of us, but in the surf he'd be filled with stoke and appreciation. I admire that and that's what I will remember most about him. When he left the water on Saturday he stopped by where I was shooting some of the photos in this edition and we chatted about surf missions on the Wairarapa Coast, traded stories of wild winds and crazy deserted waves. He had a light in his eye, as he often did, and bristled with life. He always had a good story to tell. I lament the ones he won't get to share. RIP Peter and thanks for being such a bright light.
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