The coastline of Rangatira looks a bit bleak from a distance. Up close though, it is a whole different story. The rock ledges that jut out into the sea are coated with green and pink algae, and thrashing forests of golden bull kelp. It is the sort of place you could spend hours wandering from rock pool to rock pool, prospecting for orange starfish and sea anemones and tiny transparent shrimp. But there is one problem: skuas.
These are the same birds you may have seen ripping apart penguin chicks on documentaries about Antarctica. They are the major natural predator of the seabird world, and they are afraid of nothing. I, on the other hand, am terrified of them! They must have a wing span of nearly two feet and solid bodies, but it is their eyes that scare me most. 
There is a moment, just after you hear wings over head, when they wheel around to face you; a second when they seem paused in the air, eye to eye, taking aim, lining you up. It is hard to shake that gaze, hard to look away. Then suddenly you realize that they are doubling in size as they dive towards you at speed. They have the power to knock you over if you don’t see them coming, and they will keep attacking, over and over until you leave their patch of coast.
To be fair, they are only trying to safeguard their chicks, which they raise in exposed nests on the rocks, but it is a bit disconcerting being attacked when you are trying to commune with the sea. The best defense against this protected bird is to carry the flower stalk off a flax bush. Apparently the skuas aim for the highest point – personally, from the look in their eyes, I still think they are going for your head, but with a stick there they have to pull up before they hit you.
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