Little Truff Saves the Kereru

By Ann Russell

A modern animal adventure story with humour and suspense
for all generations
Little Truff, the cute Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, is spending the summer holidays with her family at Piha, New Zealand’s famous surfing beach.
Along with her Siamese friend Chloe, highly intelligent but mischievous, Truff is asked to investigate why the kererū, the New Zealand native pigeons, are disappearing without trace. A drastic drop in numbers could lead to their extinction in the area, meaning the forest’s giant trees couldn’t regenerate – and an eco-tragedy would result.
Experience the sun, sea, sand and surf of Piha’s beaches, take a spooky midnight stroll through the scrub-filled lowland and climb the rugged volcanic slopes of the high, bush-clad Waitākere Ranges with the daring duo as they search for answers.
Will they find out why the birds are vanishing? And put a stop to it?

Little Truff saves the kererū is about the importance of conservation to retain and sustain fragile ecosystems and the worldwide repercussions when they are lost. It is the third in a series of four about animal issues.

“It certainly is a story with important ecological messages, that grips the reader as it unfolds.”
Sandra Coney QSO, Chair Waitākere Ranges Local Board,
Auckland Council

“This is a delightful book, warm and inspiring, set in a rugged landscape on Auckland’s west coast.”
Sir Bob Harvey KNZM QSO, Chair Waterfront Auckland

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Russell
• Release date: Aug 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9780994103550

Book preview

LITTLE TRUFF

SAVES THE KERERU

For readers 10 to 110 years

~~~~

Ann Russell

Copyright Ann Russell 2014

Published by AM Publishing NZ at SMASHWORDS

for Ann Russell Publisher

EBOOK ISBN 978-0-9941035-5-0

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. With the exception of short excerpts quoted for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, information storage and retrieval systems, or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from the author.

The book is set in the famous New Zealand surfing village, Piha, and its environment. The story, characters and events described are fictional but the flora and fauna described are found there except for the brown kiwi. Other fictional aspects include the carols at Black Sands Café, the hidden track and puriri tree at the end of Piha North Road, the route taken at midnight through the bush to the Waitakere Ranges, and the Glade of the Giants.

~~~~~~

Chapter 1

‘Why don’t you take Little Truff for a run to the end of the street?’ I heard David’s grandfather suggest.

Exciting! My tail wagged optimistically.

‘It’s a dead end opening onto a reserve,’ he went on, ‘so it’s safe enough for skateboarding, and you can brush up your balancing skills ready for surfing. Make sure you’re back by midday, though – you know how fussy your grandmother is about mealtimes.’

‘Good idea, Pop.’ David’s freckled face lit up with enthusiasm – he’s fourteen and really into skateboarding. ‘Come on, Truff. Let’s get your lead.’

My family and I – I’m a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, by the way, rescued from the pound by the Nelsons when I was barely a year old – were spending Christmas with David’s grandparents at their new holiday home at Piha near Auckland. The beach is wild with lots of interesting stuff thrown up by the tide.

Following David and his grandfather out the back door to a small deck, we descended three shallow steps leading down into a walled courtyard. The rest of the family were there chatting.

‘Gran?’ David’s thirteen-year-old sister Leila was pointing to a tree on the left of the pathway, its branches weighed down by plump, purple fruit. ‘You need to put a net over that plum tree to keep the birds away.’

‘Yes, dear – especially the native pigeons. I’ve been told they love fruit.’ Then her grandmother eyed some vines twining up and over a pergola to where a hammock swayed gently in the cooling breeze and added, ‘We’ll have to do the same for the grapes or they’ll eat them too.’

Boring! I thought as I trotted past behind David. Who’s interested in native pigeons! We’re going for a walk!

‘Can I help with the cooking, Pop?’ David asked his grandfather, gesturing at the kettledrum barbecue between the shady tree and the outdoor dining area.

‘Sure. It’s the guys’ job around here,’ he said, joining the others. ‘Welcome to the team.’

We went through to the sleep-out, where the children had a room each and I had my bucket chair – my home away from home. Its rounded seat had a padded lining and a washable blue cover sporting my name. The ultimate in luxury, it was my bed, my sanctuary and observation post.

David grabbed my lead and his skateboard then shut the front door, and we headed for the gate leading onto the street. ‘You know, Truff,’ he said, striding across the grass, ‘this greycation is off to a good start. Piha’s such a neat place for a holiday. You can laze around if you want to, but there’s so much to see and do – bush and beach walking, swimming, boogie boarding, surfing, fishing, kiting – and heaps to photograph too.’ He touched the new digital camera strapped onto his belt. ‘Sweet as …’

Yep, all that plus lashings of Piha culture, I thought, remembering the family discussing the surfing competition held in the New Year. They wanted to see that and the Auckland area’s longboat challenges on the turbulent South Beach. Add the Banners on the Beach protest against deep sea oil drilling in New Zealand waters – the first public rally the children would’ve taken part in – and they’d have plenty to talk about when they went back to school later in the summer.

As for me, there was plenty to do. Sniffing piles of seaweed on the foreshore without a crab pinching my nose was high on my list, together with racing through the shallows, digging the sand and running full tilt down the length of the beach just for the fun of it. Yes, indeed – with some great bush walks thrown in – it would be a really interesting vacation.

Mounting his skateboard, David scooted along the edge of the road with me running alongside. As his pace increased, I lengthened my stride and was soon stretching out effortlessly in smooth, flowing paces. Normally I could only do this on dog-friendly beaches. Fantastical!

The cul-de-sac ended in a large turning circle with a tar-sealed area big enough for David to do what he wanted. He looked pleased. A track led from the grass verge up towards the bush-clad hills of the regional park.

The place was deserted except for a couple of pukeko, those birds with iridescent dark blue feathers that glowed in the sun and bright red beaks. I’d come across them before in the suburbs. One look at us and their short tails flicked a warning over their conspicuous white under-tails. With a high-stepping walk they headed off on their long orange legs to the nearest clump of ferns, ducked under and disappeared.

David glided to a halt and dismounted. ‘Good girl, Truff,’ he said, giving me a pat. ‘You didn’t chase the pukeko so you’ll be OK on bush walks. Dad says there are heaps of birds around here we never see in the city – even the brown kiwi, now they’ve brought some back to the ranges,’ he added, excitement in his voice as he rubbed me behind my ears. ‘Boy! To see one in the wild would be awesome …’

I thumped my tail in agreement.

He unclipped my lead and attached it to a small hook under the front lip of his skateboard. ‘Truff, up!’

Did he really mean me? I thought. Surely it was only for humans …

‘It’s OK, girl,’ he said, noticing my hesitation. ‘It won’t hurt you. You might even like it. I’ve seen dogs do this on YouTube, so let’s give it a go. C’mon!’

Gosh, he meant what he said. I approached cautiously and sat down in front of it.

Moving the board closer, he pointed to it again. ‘Up!’

Dropping my head, I put on a sorrowful face, looking up at him through my long eyelashes before standing. As I climbed gingerly onto the smooth top surface, I felt the skateboard shift under my weight. Flinching to keep my balance, I stood squarely with feet wide apart and pads spread.

‘Neat! You’ve got it!’

I do love being praised – but what was going to happen next? I couldn’t scoot the thing along the way he did, using one foot. I was a dog, for Fido’s sake. I’d fall off!

But I needn’t have worried. David took control, towing me at a walk, while I enjoyed the ride.

Once I’d got my balance, he broke into a trot and then began to run. Round and round we went like greyhounds on a racing circuit.

The wind blew through my coat, and momentum gathered with every step David took. My ears began to lift and float, eventually streaming over my shoulders. Raising my chin, I took a deep breath and savoured the moment, with the breeze blowing all over my body – heaps better than poking my head out of a car window. Pure canine bliss.

Yes, dogs have masters and cats have staff, but during that moment I’d experienced the kind of life my feline friend, Chloe, took for granted. I was top dog.

But it was short-lived; our roles quickly reversed.

‘Come, Truff. Stay.’

I lay down on the grass.

This time he chased the skateboard, leaping on as it moved, yet retaining his balance. After doing this several times, he brought it back to me.

Pushing it away, he pointed to it, commanding, ‘Truff, go!’

I blinked at him and then at the skateboard before rising to chase it.

When I drew level, David called, ‘Truff, up!’

With a flying leap, I landed on top – desperately clawing into it to hold on. Swaying around, I tried to stay calm and upright with the board moving under my feet.

‘Hey! You little beauty!’ my young master exclaimed as he raced after me. ‘You must try it again.’

And I did.

As my confidence grew, I began to love this new game until the skateboard whizzed into the gutter, smacking hard against the concrete. The next second, I rivalled Laika – the first dog in space – flying through the air to land with a thump, spread-eagled on the grass.

My head was buzzing when David reached me. ‘Oh, Truff. I’m sorry. Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, won’t push it so hard. Promise.’

Next time? I thought groggily, head spinning as I tried to recover my equilibrium on incredibly wobbly legs.

Little did I know this was the beginning of an amazing new adventure.

Chapter 2

After lunch, we piled into two vehicles to go to the village and have a look around. I was leaning out of the station wagon on account of the heat. We followed the grandparents’ car, and as we headed down the driveway, a van laden with Christmas trees drove in.

From my place in the back, I saw Gran wind down her window as the van drew level. ‘Hi,’ she said to the two young men in the cab. ‘Just leave the tree by the front door, please. We’ll be back