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Wellington Wildlife

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Thursday 26 February 2026, evening – Having relaxed a while after our peregrinations around the waterfront, it was time to gird our loins to go out and Be Educated. We had a private guided twilight tour of Zealandia. I knew that this was some kind of a wildlife experience, but little more than that. I wondered, frankly, what kind of wildlife one could expect within a seven-minute drive of the centre of a capital city, but realised that the best time to see any was probably as the daylight ended. So, we rocked up at 6.15 ready to see what could be seen.

Our guide was Matt, and he was ably assisted by a volunteer, Sharon, one of the over 500 that make a huge contribution to the place. They were both knowledgeable and passionate about what Zealandia is for. And, after a short biosecurity check to make sure we weren’t harbouring any unwelcome critters in our bags or on our shoes, Matt showed us into a small theatre so we could watch an introductory video. This set out to compress a thousand years into about eight minutes, and it covered the impact of humans on the poor unfortunate animals which had the bad luck to have evolved entirely separately from any mammals of any pith or moment for the eighty million years or so since Zealandia (the continental chunk) had split from Gondwana (the great lump at the bottom of the early Earth which spawned the continents as we know them today).

The human impact is not inconsiderable. For once, the blame can’t be laid entirely at the door of modern humankind; the damage was started when the Polynesians arrived with their crops and their livestock, and immediately began competing with the indigenous animals for resources. The rate of damage was accelerated by the arrival of the Europeans with their extra pests (such as stoats, weasels and, it has to be said, hedgehogs) and vermin such as rats. Flightless, ground-nesting birds and lizards, whose main survival strategy was to remain still, didn’t stand a chance, particularly when the forests they lived in were chopped down and replaced with fields and Monterey pine. So, starting about thirty years ago, the people behind Zealandia (the wildlife reserve) conceived a mission to take a 225-hectare patch of land which was little-used, having been largely set aside for a drinking water reservoir, and attempt to return it to what it must have been before the arrival of humans – and then use it as a basis for educating people and attempting to re-establish the connection between people and nature.

We were equipped with red light torches, and the four of us spent the next three hours wandering through the area. There’s a predator-and-pest excluding airlock arrangement of doors to minimise the chance of incursion of unwelcome creatures, and the whole area is surrounded by a fence which has been carefully designed to keep out as many of them as possible.

It’s not mouse-proof, apparently, but other tactics, mainly traps, have eradicated the mice. The team there are perpetually on the lookout for incursions and the possible causes of them (e.g. a tree falling on the fence) and they do manage to keep on top of the predator and pest problems.

A Silvereye obligingly paused to pose for us in a nearby tree

and as we walked out over what used to be one of the drinking water reservoirs, we saw some pied shags

and a diving duck.

It was actually very difficult to see many of the birds in the trees, although one could hear them all around,

and a special “bird call” station had been set up

so that one could listen to the calls of various birds that one might encounter – including the spotted kiwi which can be found in Zealandia after dark – if you’re lucky.

The next creatures we came across were tuataras.

Tagging is used to track the creatures

They look like lizards, but this is New Zealand, remember? So they’re not. The tuatara is the only extant member of a distinct lineage, the previously highly diverse order Rhynchocephalia. So now you know.

New Zealand has a native parrot, called the kākā (pronounced “carcar”). Some can be found in Zealandia, where special feeders, that only the kākā are strong and smart enough to open, are maintained.

A North Island robin was pecking around to pick up any scraps that the parrots dropped,

as were a few California quail, a species introduced as game birds and now flourishing in New Zealand.

They’re considered harmless and do the same job as the (now extinct) native quails, so they’re free to come and go to Zealandia as they will.

Another large bird is the New Zealand wood pigeon, which is the world’s largest pigeon. It’s known for eating over-ripe and fermenting berries from the karaka tree and getting drunk as a result.  We were lucky enough to come across one which was having a feast and demonstrating its ability to eat the berries whole; it’s the only bird large enough to do this.

We trekked up a steepish path to the upper dam

which gave us insight into how close we were to “civilisation”,

and where Matt and Sharon

declared a tea break and served an infusion of the leaves of the kawakawa plant, a herbal remedy well-known for its analgesic and anaesthetic properties, with lemongrass and ginger.

After this point, photography became quite difficult, as it was getting dark and the red torches had to be used to see anything. The only way to view photos taken under this light is to remove all the colour.  So, we could see this little gecko

but you’ll only get a b&w photo. Same for this highly attractive gherkin slug

and an animal that Jane really wanted to see – a giant weta.

These really are quite huge and, at over an ounce in weight (30g in new money) are among the heaviest insects in the world. Sharon also found us a Maud Island frog, one of the rarest frogs in the world, but you’ll have to take my word for that because it was too dark to get a photo. It’s a frog, but has very unfrog-like behaviour: it doesn’t croak; it doesn’t hop; it doesn’t have webbed toes; it doesn’t have a tadpole stage. It spends its entire life within a four square metre area, largely being stationary and trying not to be spotted by predators.

We had one final treat, a hint of which I can bring you courtesy of Jane’s swiftness with her phone. We saw a kiwi!

It was completely dark by then and only visible for an instant, but Jane managed to capture it. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to, so for once in my life I just watched, rather than trying to photograph.

I know. Extraordinary, eh?

So it was a late night, and we had to get up exceedingly early for the next day’s activity…

Friday 26 February 2026 …0530, to be precise, because we were going to be picked up at around 7am for a transfer to our day’s activity – a visit to Kapiti Island, a nature reserve which is accessed, as I understood it, by a ferry running from Paraparaumu, which is about 40 minutes’ drive up the coast from Wellington. So it was that a nice gentleman called Peter turned up in a nice BMW to whizz us along. There was one other passenger, a Danish chap called Torben.

We arrived in Paraparaumu with plenty of time for the 0845 departure and checked in at the office of Kapiti Island Nature Tours. We did the biosecurity check thing and they walked us around the corner to a cafe where we were treated to a coffee and a scone. Jane took the opportunity to go to the loo in the cafe, which had some very amusing decor.

It was at that point that things began to get a little weird.  We were given directions to walk along the road a spell and then turn left on to the beach to meet our boat. So the three of us, Jane, Torben and I, walked along and eventually spotted what looked like a path down to the beach, where we could see what looked like a small boat. What I hadn’t expected was this.

That was our transport over to Kapiti Island. It was efficiently, but informally, equipped and run.

The tractor just backed into the water (people sitting at the rear were warned to hold up their bags in case of incoming seawater) and the boat simply lifted off it

and set off for a swift transit.  It stopped at two points, Rangatira Bay in the middle of the island and Waiorua Bay at the north end, which is where we disembarked.

We were on a day trip, but others were staying overnight.  We were greeted (in Māori) by Pania

whose family, it transpired, owned a chunk of the island and who would be our host for the day.

She led us up to a shelter where she briefed us on how the day would work

and nearby which were a couple of toilets.

Pania’s briefing was interesting, engaging and entertaining, as she described the history of the island and how it was immigrated by Polynesians (her ancestors among them) who started shaping the land to their ends and then adopted quite a lot of European imports, such as sheep and, interestingly, written language, as they came along. (Before writing, Polynesians had only an oral tradition and sculpture carving as a means to preserving their culture; written language they found very useful for passing messages between specific members of different tribes.) Her family resisted efforts by the white New Zealand authorities to take over the island, and so have ended up with some private land on the island and guardianship of the nature reserve there. They have made strong efforts to rid the island of invasive pests and predators: goats were removed in 1928; cats in 1935; possums by 1986, by the use of a blanket poisoning technique for the whole area except one protected spot; and rats by 1996.

She then led us on the first part of a walk around that part of the island we could reach on foot, pointing out a few things of interest as she went. For example, one might have expected these holes in the path to be made by ants,

but this is New Zealand, remember? Nothing is normal, and these are actually the homes of individual bees. They’re not like honey bees at all; they look more like flies and they only produce honey to feed their own offspring, rather than for a hive.

It was daytime, so no chance of seeing any kiwis, but Pania showed us a couple of burrows,

and then set us free to walk along the trails we could reach. There were only two; a circular one to a western lookout, and a there-and-back to a northern one. We carried on along the circular route, with me lugging the Big Lens in the hope that I might get some prized photos of the local birdlife.

Nope.

We walked for 5km along well-formed tracks,

past some admittedly handsome views

and some pest traps

in pleasantly rain-free weather. In total, I saw one black bird swoop from left to right across the track, and a pair of brown ones flit from right to left. And that was it. We could hear that there were hundred, possibly thousands of birds around us, but I think they were mocking us. They certainly weren’t showing themselves.

We got to the lookout which had, as one might expect, some decent views

and then, after a short rest, walked the rest of the loop

before heading to the lodge where overnight guests had been staying

for some lunch in the lounge area.

It was a good lunch, too; chef Ben

did a great job.

You can tell from the photo above that bird photography from the day was not an entire dead loss, as there were some photo opportunities waiting for us there with some sort of semi-tame birds nearby. Of particular interest for Jane were a pair of Takahē, the largest member of the rail family. Ben above is feeding the female, and this is the male of the pair.

There was also a Weka, (also members of the Rail family) scouting around doing its scavenging thing.

(I have video, but once you’ve seen one bird pecking around, you’ve seen ’em all, really).  Finally, a Tūī settled for an instant on a branch nearby,

and that was it for the bird photography for the day.

Shortly thereafter, it was time to catch the “ferry” back to Paraparaumu, so we went to the beach to watch its arrival. The docking is not subtle; the skipper basically rams the beach, and the first mate, who’s a strong lad, manhandles a ramp down for the passengers.

The journey back was really quite rough, with the skipper taking no prisoners when it came to leaping the waves. It was reminiscent of our return from the Daymaniyat Islands in Oman, only a little drier and with a bit less feeling of impending doom. He managed to fit the boat into its cradle remarkably smoothly and that was the end of the crossing.

Peter was on the beach to greet us and take us back to our hotels, and that was it for the day, really. The Kapiti Island experience was enjoyable – a pleasant hike and a decent lunch, but photographically less rewarding than I’d hoped.

Indeed, that was it for our time in Wellington; the morrow sees us depart the North Island for, erm, the South Island. Well, there’s not a lot of choice of destinations easily reached from the North Island; we’ll be visiting the third New Zealand Island in due course, but you’ll have to stay tuned to learn more about that and, indeed, everything that happens to us on the Other Bits of New Zealand.

 

 

 

 

 

Taupō – a lake larger than Singapore

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Thursday 19 February 2026 – Our task yesterday was to get the short distance from Rotorua to Taupō – about an hour’s drive – but first I had an astounding discovery to make. I’m not sure I was emotionally prepared for this sight at the breakfast buffet.

Could this really be Marmite?

The answer is – well yes, but not really any more.

Marmite started out in Britain, but the Sanitarium Health and Wellbeing Company obtained the rights to distribute, and later manufacture, Marmite in Australasia. Over time the recipe has diverged from the (proper) British version, manufactured nowadays by Unilever. Sanitarium Health and Wellbeing Company distribute it in Australia as well, but I never saw it on offer there; presumably the Vegemite Marketing Board actively seek to discourage it from ever actually being sold.

Does it taste like proper Marmite? Again, no, not really. I think it’s more similar in taste to Vegemite, with slightly fruity overtones. It still goes nicely with butter on toast, though.

So I learned a thing yesterday. O! How travel broadens the mind!

En route to Taupō there were a couple of things to see, the first of which was as a result of a tip from the friendly boatman at Orakei Korako; on learning of my happiness that there was boiling mud there he suggested we take a look at the Waiotapu Mud Pool. It being just off the route from Rotorua to Taupo, we did exactly that. It’s quite informally presented – just this pool beside the road with a little bit of parking for passers-by. But as a boiling mud offering, it’s definitely very classy.

There’s a side path to a higher viewpoint, too.

It has a couple of small mud volcanoes

and lots and lots and lots of bubbling, seething mud. It was fun trying to capture a sequence of shots of an eruption.

There’s something quite hypnotic about watching boiling mud. One gets quite nerdish about trying to predict when one particular patch is about to erupt into some violent upheaval.

The road we were travelling towards Taupō is rather dramatically called the Thermal Explorer Highway, though officially it has the prosaic name of State Highway 5. Anyway, evidence of geothermal activity can be spied as one drives along.

I’d been hoping that this was another geothermal park, but we think that it is actually a (geothermal) power station; less romantic but a great deal more practical.

The other thing to see on the road to Taupō is the Huka Falls. Despite the name, this is not any kind of waterfall that, say, an Icelander would recognise, but it’s an impressive water feature that may well still cause him to stroke his chin. It’s a cataract caused by a significant narrowing of the channel running between two wider bodies of water. I guess it would be impressive enough anyway, but the colour of the water as it gushes through the channel is beautiful.

We stopped off first at a lookout over the scene.

and then went down to examine it more closely.

It’s difficult to capture photographically in its entirety; video does it slightly better justice.

By this stage we were on the outskirts of Taupō town, and it was a short drive to our accommodation, the Reef Resort. The word “Resort” somehow conjures up images of a significant property laden with palm-fringed swimming pools, restaurants, maybe even a golf course or two. The Reef Resort is not like that. It’s perfectly comfortable, but is small and just a little bit old-fashioned and dowdy in its decor and facilities. It has a swimming pool, which is not of interest to me, and a guest laundry, which is. Therefore, on arrival, apart from a mug of Twining’s Finest Earl Grey, my first task was to do the laundry. Well, these things are important, you know. Our next task was to get into Taupō town to (a) ensure we knew where to go to board the cruise in plan for the next day and (b) find a Woollies in order to buy ourselves some dinner; we’ve been short on vegetables these last few days, and when you get to our age these things matter. Driving around, the town had given us the feeling that it was rather like an American seaside resort; walking from the harbour to the shopping centre reinforced that impression. There were no pedestrian crossings to get across a busy four-lane road which had constant traffic and we had to dice with death when dashing across. Anyway, a successful turn around Woolworth’s ensured that we returned laden with fruit and salad and settled in for the rest of the day.

And so ended yesterday.

Today’s activity was a cruise on the lake. Not just any old cruise, you understand, but one with a specific objective beyond showing us the general scenery from the water; some “Māori carvings”. Our cruise was on a catamaran run by Chris Jolly Outdoors, and we certainly hoped that the outdoors would be jolly today. Looking out over the lake from our accommodation, it seemed a bit windy, and in fact the cruise organisers were giving people an opportunity to book at a later date as today’s conditions might not allow for getting as close to the carvings as would be possible on a calmer day. We decided to stick with it (mainly on the basis that we were moving on tomorrow, but also on the basis that I had a decent, though not Big, lens on the Nikon).

The skipper, Jimmy, gave us the usual safety briefing

part of which was explaining the thing about the wind and the concomitant necessity of hanging on to the boat when moving about. As you can see, there was coffee and tea available, and I was a little surprised that they were just free standing there. Which they weren’t after a bit – with only a small amount of stuff crashing to the floor, they were cleared out of the way when the going got a bit rough.

Jimmy then drove and commentated as we went,

pointing out various features, such as the desirable residential area of Acacia Bay

and Motutaiko or Te-Motu-tapu-a-Tinirau,

the “Sacred Island”, which has a deep cultural significance for Māori people; visiting is forbidden except with explicit permission. Behind it, in the distance to the south of the lake, is Mount Tongariro, of which you might be hearing a lot more in coming days. Or not. You’ll have to keep checking in to find out. Another thing I learned from his commentary is the correct pronunciation of Taupō, which sounds more like “Toe paw”.

We motored around the headland to Mine Bay and the Māori carvings that were the principal object of the cruise, and which are only accessible on the water. Having not really thought much about it, I had expected the carvings to be some kind of historic work by Māori ancestors. Very wrongly, as it turns out. The carvings were created in the 1970s by Matahi Whakataka-Brightwell, a master carver with deep roots in Māori heritage, honouring Māori ancestral legacies.

The central carving, 14 meters high, depicts the legendary navigator Ngātoroirangi, a revered navigator who guided the Tūwharetoa and Te Arawa tribes to the Taupō region over a millennium ago. The artworks depict not only his legacy but also tupuna (ancestors) and kaitiaki (guardians).

Some care was needed when trying to photograph these carvings.

The conditions weren’t ideal, but people managed to get the photos they needed, I think.

If you want to know more about how the carvings were done, you can find it on this YouTube video.

We then headed back around the headland, and Jimmy pointed out various neighbourhoods and other landmarks as we passed them. I took a photo of the area where our accommodation is;

it’s just to the left of the white boxy structure by the lakeside. Just thought you’d like to know. Also visible is a mountain range called the “Sleeping Warrior”

(with a bit of imagination you can see a head and a nose to the right, and the rest of the body in the centre), and Mount Tauhara,

just to the east of Taupō town, which can be climbed by keen beans with the right footwear.

Jane spotted someone parasailing

and, as we approached Taupō,

we saw some kayakers.

Unsurprisingly, Taupō is a great place for people into watersports and water-based activities. There’s not much else here, though.

After disembarking, and acting on a tip from Jimmy, we headed into the desirable Acacia Bay area, aiming to get to a cafe called Cafe L’Arte (L’Arte, Latte, geddit?) which sounded an interesting place to get some coffee. It’s a few kilometres around the lake from Taupō town on a side road, and you get a sense of what the place is like from the signpost that takes you on to that road.

When you get to its turning, you get a further idea,

and walking through from the car park completes the picture.

It’s quite the first impression – like something out of Gaudi’s Park Güell.

It’s also very popular. I don’t know if all the cruiser skippers recommend the place, but it had the air of having several post-cruise punters all arriving at the same time.

It’s a delightful place – good coffee, good food and absolutely dripping with colourful art.

A picture of the counter underneath the counter

There’s a gallery and shop

and it’s altogether a lovely place to spend a little time mooching around.

After our lunch, we headed back to our accommodation. Since we’re not much into watersports or lounging on the beach, there wasn’t anything else for Taupō to offer us, so we took it easy for the rest of the day.

The morrow takes us south to a possible adventure, depending on the weather and our courage. I’m being deliberately cryptic here; you’ll have to stay tuned to see how things get decoded.

Kiwi bono?

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Tuesday 17 February 2026 – Apart from the Haka and Brendan McCullum, what New Zealand is best known for is the Kiwi, in all the various connotations of that word – an adjective to describe its inhabitants or its Rugby League team, a brand name for shoe polish (actually developed by an Aussie, but his wife was a New Zealander), a fruit… or the species of the country’s, possibly the world’s, oddest bird. Today we went to the National Kiwi Hatchery to learn more.

I had actually seen Kiwis before, on my last trip to New Zealand, in 1988. I was culturally backward in 1988, but even in those days I knew that Kiwis came from New Zealand, and somehow or other (there was no Google in those days) I found a place then where one could view the birds, in captivity of course, as they’re very difficult to see in the wild, being (a) shy and (b) nocturnal. The place operated 12 hours out of sync with actual time, so that daytime visitors entered a darkened environment in order to see the birds active. I have a clear memory of seeing at least one Kiwi, and possibly even photographing it, but that was nearly forty years ago, my memory has a habit of inventing things and I have no way of finding out if this is true until I get home and can look at the photos from that time. If I can remember where I put them.

So…today, then.

Jane had cleverly averted a major sulk on my part by ensuring I knew in advance that any sort of photography of the birds was not permitted. Kiwis are easily upset by unexpected light and noise, and I (grumpily) accepted that the centre had to be careful because most people (a) use phones, which emit a lot of light and (b) almost certainly have no idea about whether its flash will fire or not, therefore can’t be trusted. Armed with that foreknowledge, off we went.

The first challenge was finding the place. We had an address, but that turned out to be some kind of Māori-themed tourist trap. In the end, Google Maps gave us the place to find, the intriguingly-named Agrodome, which is not a Mad Max style cage fight but is actually a place themed around a family day out on the farm.

The Aardman theme continues once one gets there.

It’s actually quite the operation, running farm tours around what is quite a large area.

They have a variety of livestock, including sheep, goats and cattle. Sheep are their main focus; the gift shop and cafe is housed in the Woollen Mill, where they have an old carding machine

alongside the sales of Pure New Zealand wool in the shop.

They have a pig,

a Kunekune pig (“Kunekune” means “fat and round” in Māori). They also have an ostrich

which has many similarities to a Kiwi – flightless, grumpy and with very strong legs.

This similarity was pointed out on the guided tour that the National Hatchery operates. One is picked up at the Agrodome and taken by minibus to the hatchery centre.

The lass who drove our van was also our guide for our trip

and she did a very good job of explaining about the bird, its environment, its challenges and the role of the hatchery. She also emphasised that photography of the birds would not be permitted before leading us through to where they keep a few (currently three) kiwis in the same inverted time that I saw thirty eight years ago, switching day and night.  As it turns out, it was so dark in there that any sensible photography was simply not feasible anyway, so I didn’t miss out on a photo opportunity.

So: the Kiwi, then. It’s a weird, weird creature.

  • Its feathers are more like hair
  • It has whiskers like a cat
  • In many ways it’s more like a mammal. It has two ovaries; a low body temperature of about 38°C; and marrow in its bones (flighted birds’ bones are honeycombed and hollow to save weight)
  • It is very heavy, which is not a problem because it is flightless. Our guide passed around a couple of fluffy model Kiwis made to weigh the same as a chick and an adult and it was a real surprise: the adult female weighs around 3kg

It is thought to be the world’s most ancient bird, having evolved some 30 million years ago. It developed, of course, with no mammalian predators at all (only avian ones, like hawks or crows), so introduced animals such as ferrets and stoats have wrought much damage to the Kiwi population, and predate Kiwi chicks (though an adult will give a stoat a good kicking, apparently). Even hedgehogs are their enemies, since a hedgehog is not above making a nice proteinaceous meal out of a Kiwi egg.

Ah, yes. The eggs. They are enormous, compared with the bird in which they develop.

Somehow or other, a female Kiwi can develop an egg like that in about a week. An X-ray gives an extraordinary picture.

One wonders how uncomfortable it is for the poor bird to deliver it, but somehow she does, and she delivers it into the care of the male (with whom she is likely bonded monogamously). Then, because she hasn’t had anything to eat for a week because of the size of the egg, she goes off to find food, developing the while a second egg (from her other ovary), which she then also delivers into the male’s care. That is then her job done; she has no further interest in eggs or chicks at all.  The bloke Kiwi has to incubate these eggs for 80 days before they hatch. When they do, the chicks are basically fully-formed Kiwis who need no teaching about how to feed themselves, which is just as well, since the male makes no effort to teach them anything.

There are actually five types of Kiwi; the North Island has mainly Brown Kiwis, about 25,000 of them. The other types are: Rowi Kiwi, about the same size as a Brown Kiwi, but a greyer colour, and critically endangered with around 500 birds at the moment; Great Spotted Kiwi, the largest and toughest, spotted only on the South Island; Little Spotted Kiwi, which is, erm, small, and exists almost entirely in remote island colonies; and Tokoeka Kiwi, the Southern Brown Kiwi, which we might get to see later on this trip as it is not entirely nocturnal.

Unsurprisingly there were some stuffed kiwis for us to look at.  A male

The red tag is to allow tracking. If it’s not moving, it’s incubating an egg, which can be brought to the hatchery

and a female

To be absolutely certain in distinguishing one sex from the other it is necessary to analyse their DNA, but typically males are smaller and skinnier, and females larger and rounder. One can see their whiskers

and (if one looks very carefully) their nostrils, which are at the end of their bills, making them officially the birds with the shortest beaks in the world. It is possible to make a coat out of their feathers

and this would be for extremely high-ranking Māori. It takes a lot of birds to make a coat like that, and, these days, the species is under threat.  The National Hatchery exists to try to increase the chances of survival of Kiwi eggs. There are about 68,000 Kiwi left in all of New Zealand and the nation is losing 2% of its unmanaged Kiwi every year. The Brown Kiwi population is steadily declining by about 1-2% a year. Without ongoing support, experts estimate it will be extinct in the wild within two generations: only 50% of Kiwi eggs in the wild hatch; of those that do, only 5% of the resulting chicks survive to adulthood. The centre has overseen the successful hatching of nearly 3,000 eggs since it came into operation some 20 years ago.

The final part of our tour was to see the support the centre gives for hatching chicks. Eggs are located using a variety of tactics, such as tagging the males – if they’re stationary, they’re likely incubating – to locate eggs and bring them to the hatchery. They are carefully incubated, the chicks are microchipped, checked for health, measured and fed to bring them to the point where they are heavy and strong enough to withstand a stoat and so can be released back into the wild; they are then set free in the same region that the egg was found. This is not traumatic for either the male or the chick, since the former doesn’t care for the latter and the latter is pretty much ready for the wild and hasn’t imprinted at all on people during its time in the hatchery.  It’s a funny old business, but deeply interesting to learn about what they do and to find out how extraordinarily weird these creatures are.

That was our scheduled activity for the day. Rather than relaxing for the rest of it, Jane (of course) found Something Interesting To Do in the evening. That will be the subject of the next post. Heads-up – there will be a certain amount of photographic nerdery in it as well as some pretty pictures.