LETTERS & EMAILS

‘Bolder Bunny’ having a cuddle before going to his furever home

RABBIT RESCUE FROM WESTERN SPRINGS I am a vegan activist and a tree protector. I protested against the felling of Western Springs Forest because of all the life that would, and sadly did, lose their homes and families. Veganism is a belief that ALL life is important, non-human and human.

I had my attention bought to the plight of the rabbits at Western Springs Park when Auckland Council announced they were going to shoot rabbits. I am against the shooting of wild rabbits. I think sterilisation is the answer, not mass slaughter. Here there were also domestic rabbits that had been dumped by thoughtless people who had become bored with their pets.

I went for a number of walks around the lake to find the dumped domestic rabbits. They were jolly hard to find. Thank goodness Gael got the shoot postponed.

Caleb and I caught two domestic rabbits on the last two days before Auckland Council’s shoot started. The first cute little fluffy grey one, we trapped in a ditch surrounded by boulders so we called him Bolder. He is now happily homed with a menagerie of other pets and a family. The next morning with helpers, we caught Burrow by digging with a stone and a stick further down his burrow. Sadly, his health wasn’t very good and he had a stay at the vet before being placed in a furever home.

If only the people who dumped these pet rabbits in the park thought about how cruel their actions were as their needs are very different from wild rabbits. They will either die from malnutrition or abscesses from fighting with wild rabbits, or be shot with wild rabbits by Auckland Council’s pest control.

Deno Stock, unapologetic vegan activist

IN THE TWILIGHT OF YEARS In the twilight of his years I often sit with my 90 year old dad on the bench at the end of Garnet Road looking out to sea. On the fringe of the inner harbour we watch the seabirds fossick for food. It is a picture of peace.

But across our city, winds of change blow. Plans to sweep away our heritage suburbs are mandated by central government, a proclamation not a consultation. It has been decided Tamaki Makaurau will accept another million souls over the next 30 years. We will grow up and out and we will build a “world class” transport system and they will come.

In this climate of slick power points and overwritten reports the winners are the faceless consultants, ticking boxes and signing cheques to preferred suppliers. My dad will not live to see the utopia promised in the council propaganda. He will be spared the war zone of rebuilding, the brutal modernist apartments for the needy. He will not feel the pain of ancestral native trees felled in the name of affordable housing.

Caffeine fuelled councillors will promise parks and open green spaces but the budgets will be slashed, and glyphosate will still be sprayed in every street, every month, in a crisscross pattern across the city. Why? Because there is no real accountability built into our Super City. It is the Wild, Wild, West. Ratepayers are there to fill the coffers that are spent on dreams and vanity projects.

Leaning on his walker, my dad struggles - we can't go far and it is slow. I am reminded of the fragility of life, the delicate balance of nature and how precious each day really is.

I want to drive to Coxs Bay and walk around the creek edge to show Dad the white faced herons that dance along the branches high above the rodent line, beyond possums and man’s reach, but the bridge is closed and fenced off. Soon, kamikaze cyclists will rocket down the new shared path and over the bridge at break neck speed. Dog walkers will scatter, pram pushers swerve and joggers will do a sidestep to avoid collision with wheel, spoke or pedal.

We leave the bench, stopping in the shade where Dad sits on his walking frame catching his breath. Time passes as he gathers his strength. “If you could, what would you do? ” asks Dad. I smile, looking towards the sea, “that’s easy, I’d ask Mike Lee to stand for mayor.”

Lisa Prager, Westmere

CONTINUED P18

photograph: Adam Baines