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Tag Archive for: nature

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Peter Butler

Plant fiend

29 Sep 26/in Farming and Horticulture, Features, Free Online, Magazine Articles

Plants of all sorts play their parts in this lively memoir by Peter Butler โ€“ from the plants that led to his imprisonment, to those he’s planted for income, enjoyment, or carbon sinks.

Butler is an entrepreneur with a zest for life, and an ebullient raconteur.

We hope you enjoy this free article from OrganicNZ.  Join us to access more, exclusive member-only content

This extract is taken with kind permission from newly published memoir Plant Fiend by Peter Butler, Potton & Burton, $40, available in bookstores nationwide.ย 


Peter Butler

The HealthPost Nature Trust volunteers have just named their feistiest new fluttering shearwater chick, Butler, after me. Itโ€™s the one that fights and pecks at feeding time. These burrowing seabirds are not rare, but have been able to breed only on offshore islands since mammalian predators were introduced to New Zealand.

Our charitable trust is transยญlocating and hand-feeding chicks to re-establish the first colony back on the mainland, within the Wharariki Ecosanctuary, at Cape Farewell on the west coast of Golden Bay.

Itโ€™s not a compliment to be named after this scrappy bird; Iโ€™m not proud of these traits reflected in me, but Iโ€™ve learned to accept and even use them. When my mother gave birth to my younger brother, she worยญried that she wouldnโ€™t be able to survive another one like me โ€“ but he turned out not to be the sort of pre-schooler she needed to tie to the clothesline pole. I was a bit feral โ€“ I chopped the hair off my sisterโ€™s favourite doll and learned to catch bees in my cupped hands without getting stung. Who knows where these characteristics come from? I was born with the umbilical cord around my neck โ€“ a reasonably common thing but apparently I went blue, and it was touch and go. Perhaps this contributed to me approaching life as a challenge.

Plants are my solace, silent companions that emanate calm. I like to be around them, look at them, taste their flavours, breath the oxygen they produce, inhale their various scents. Just like a crowd of people, a crowd of plants has a collective smell โ€“ there will be the odd flower that layers its whiff over the crowd, just like a woman with a loud perfume. You can usually pick the woman, but the plant can be nondescript, such as mฤhoe (whiteywood), whose strong-smelling little cream flowers emerge directly from its branches.

After rain, you can enjoy the rich, dark smell of all the composting (rotting, if you must) that has been catalysed by the moisture. Itโ€™s the musk of fungi breathing and insects farting. We all know the pleasure of walking beneath trees on a hot day โ€“ and itโ€™s not just the shade but also the quality of the enriched air that gives us a lift. The biophilia theory, that humans have an intrinsic need to connect with nature, and plants in particular, for physiological well-being, has been repeatedly established through simple experiments.

Plant Fiend book cover image

This search for solace through working with, or being in the comยญpany of, plants and the wild is a theme that has run through my life. The hills surrounding the Maitai River in Nelson were my early teenยญage playground. I attended a secondary school with a lodge set in beech forest surrounded by mountains, where bands of boys were trusted to explore. The keenest of us organised our own multiday tramping trips. Always hard, always exhilarating. And then escaping the clausยญtrophobia of university in Christchurch was as simple as taking my books across the road to the magnificent botanical gardens. Working holidays were in a Queenstown that had not yet been crammed with tourists and millionaires.

My stuttering attempts at a creative career in Auckland were substiยญtuted for life on a remote bush block in Golden Bay, track-making for the Forest Service and mining for gold. I experimented with lots of different crops in an attempt to make a living off the best of our dirt, spending decades developing the worldโ€™s only horopito farm, and in every visit back to that farm I still experience infusions of exquisite calm.

ABOVE: Horopito (Pseudowintera colorata), Tongariro National Park. Photo: Krzysztof Golik, Wikimedia Commons

Now there is Nature Trust, which is a bit like work, quite hard at times, but our ecoยญsanctuary, high on the cliffs of Cape Farewell, feels like a Noahโ€™s Ark, and weโ€™re working to transform Farewell Spit into a Garden of Eden.


Author bio

Peter Butler grew up in Timaru and studied Political Science and History at the University of Canterbury before moving to a remote forest in Nelsonโ€™s Golden Bay. There, he threw himself into entrepreneurial activities, not all of which were successful. However, his relentless determination paid off with the creation of highly regarded natural health companies Forest Herbs Research and HealthPost.

Beyond horticultural and business activities, Butler has produced a feature documentary and written four books. He is now passionately engaged in improving the biodiversity of the Wharariki Farewell Spit area as chair of HealthPost Nature Trust. His memoir, Plant Fiend, chronicles his audacious, colourful life.

https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2026/09/Peter-Butler-scaled.jpg 1440 2560 membership https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/OrganicNZ-2024-Masthead.png membership2026-09-29 16:45:582026-09-29 17:00:54Plant fiend
Fantail on tree branch

Parable of the paddock edge

29 Jun 26/in Farming and Horticulture, Features, Free Online, Gardening, Health and Food, Magazine Articles, Our Environment

We are the ones who live beside the paddock.

No one asked us whether the new substance belonged here.

A parable for our times by David McNeill

We hope you enjoy this free article from Organic NZ.  Join us to access more, exclusive member-only content

We are the ones who live beside the paddock.

We are the children breathing at the fence line, the old woman hanging washing when the wind changes, the dog nosing the ditch, the cat washing its paws after walking through wet grass.

We are the swallows taking insects from the air, the worms folding leaves into the soil, the fungi threading unseen through roots, the bees reading flowers as maps, the fish waiting downstream where every paddock eventually arrives.

No one asked us whether the new substance belonged here.

It came with a label, a number, an approval, a promise. It came as efficiency. It came as yield. It came as a solution to a problem measured in tonnes and dollars.

It came with confidence from elsewhere, from another regulator, another climate, another soil, another river system, another idea of acceptable loss.

The farmer saw a treatment. The supplier saw a market. The regulator saw a pathway. The Minister saw growth. The paddock saw a fog settle on its skin.

We do not speak in quarterly returns.

We speak in hatchings, germinations, moults, root hairs, spawning, coughing, composting, mauri and the slow inheritance of residues.

What is temporary to a permit may be permanent to a stream. What is negligible to a model may be everything to a mayfly. What is โ€˜acceptable exposureโ€™ to an adult may not be acceptable to a child, an embryo, a wetland, or a handful of living soil.

The farmer may gain this season. The grass may stand thicker. The invoice may be justified. But the paddock is not an isolated factory floor. It is connected: to field drains, lungs, gardens, milk, birds, rain, worms, neighbours, memory, and whakapapa.

  • We ask for a law that hears the quiet witnesses before the loudest applicant.
  • We ask that novelty not be mistaken for progress.
  • We ask that profit not be allowed to outrun proof.
  • We ask that soil be treated not as a surface to be managed, but as a living community with its own right to caution, to abundance.

For once a substance has crossed the fence, entered the ditch, touched the root, settled in the silt, or moved through the body of a child, the question is no longer whether approval was efficient. The question is who was made to carry the cost.

This is kaitiakitanga.

The Soil Act — the shortest and most important act for the environment. Clause 1. No person shall do anything to harm the soil. The end.


David McNeill is a member of Soil & Health’s National Council, its treasurer, and is a Soil & Health appointee on the board of BioGro NZ.

Photo at top: Fantail – piwakawaka on a tree branch, by Lolita Alekseeva, Unsplash


https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2026/06/lolita-alekseeva-hvMyBVz-mzM-unsplash1.jpg 1440 1920 membership https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/OrganicNZ-2024-Masthead.png membership2026-06-29 22:30:442026-08-14 17:13:25Parable of the paddock edge

Alone in the world

31 Mar 26/in Features, Free Online, Magazine Articles

By Miriam Lancewood

After years in Aotearoa New Zealand’s wilderness, Miriam Lancewood sets off to Bulgaria, the Himalayas, India, Turkey, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan.

In Alone in the World, her third book, she describes how she hitchhikes to remote locations, camps in the wild, fights off bears and unwanted men, climbs mountains and survives by eating from the land and living by her wits.

This inspiring story also includes practical advice for preparing for the unexpected, living without modern conveniences, and lists of expedition gear and food.

Images and text from Alone in the World: How to find courage and clarity in uncertain times by Miriam Lancewood. Allen & Unwin, RRP $37.99.

ABOVE: Cover image of Alone in the World, and on top of the 4000-metre pass in Kyrgyzstan

TOP PHOTO: Miriam Lancewood with sticks โ€“ photo: Lottie Hedley

We hope you enjoy this free article from OrganicNZ.  Join us to access more, exclusive member-only content

I walked into virgin forest โ€“ it had never been logged. The difference to regenerating forest was striking โ€“ these trees were tall and ancient, and the atmosphere felt calm, almost serene. The air was filled with the chirping of bellbirds, and the beech trees stood proudly, their ancient trunks exuding a sense of dignity and timelessness.

Above the evergreen canopy was a bright blue sky, and the sun lit up cheerful patches on the ground. Fantails fluttered behind me wherever I went. Every now and then a curious robin dropped out of the sky to see what I was up to. Then I arrived in an open clearing and saw the Dragons Teeth. The sight both scared me and fired me up.

“Hello, Dragon, I’m coming!” I said out loud.

I laughed, hearing my own voice.

After some hours walking up the river I began to look for suitable goat country. I know these creatures well. In my bow-hunting years I became very familiar with goats by observing them almost every day. I had studied their routines, habits and patterns. I know they prefer dry, sunny places. The old male loves to sit on a lookout point to guard his harem. They like to sleep under an overhang. Goats have their own trails, which are well trodden, but sometimes they will cross near-vertical rock faces, making it hard for us two-footers to follow.

In the afternoon I found a peaceful clearing with lush grass on the banks of a stream. I was delighted to hear the ‘whio’ whistling sound of the rarely encountered blue duck. I heard the male’s warning call before I saw the dark blue waterfowls. The pair glided swiftly and elegantly over the water, diving here and there, before eventually disappearing down the fast-flowing river.

I ate some dandelion and chickweed leaves and waited for the goats with the sun on my back and the wind in my face. I knew I was in goat country because I saw their recent poo. I could almost smell their presence โ€“ yet I saw nothing.

On my third day without food I gradually became more hungry. The hunger pangs came in two-hourly intervals.

My solution was to put in more effort. I scouted the whole valley, roamed the side creeks, combed through every bit of bush. No goats.

But I burnt a lot of calories looking for them. I was so hungry I began breathing exercises, which made my tummy feel full โ€“ albeit for short moments. Drinking lots of water and clover tea filled the stomach but didn’t give me more energy.

Munching on edible plants, like sorrel and the tips of supplejack, seemed only to remind my stomach that more should be coming, which made me even more hungry.

That afternoon I heard a rustling through the leaf litter. It sounded exactly like a small goat that was obviously not trying to be quiet. Surprisingly, the noise seemed to come my way. I stopped in my tracks, placed the magazine in its chamber, and silently loaded a bullet. Ever so carefully I turned around, scanning the forest for the creature that approached so boldly. It sounded really close now.

There it was! Alas, a weka!

Above: Miriam’s last summer in the wilderness in New Zealand โ€“ skinning a hare at our camp in Rainbow Valley, Marlborough. Photo: John Bozinov


Alone in the World: How to find courage and clarity in uncertain times, by Miriam Lancewood

https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2026/03/Miriam-Lancewood-with-sticks-_credit-Lottie-Hedley.jpg 891 1272 membership https://organicnz.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/OrganicNZ-2024-Masthead.png membership2026-03-31 09:38:392026-03-31 09:38:41Alone in the world

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