Having grown up in BOP I miss the rolling hills of the Urawera and its ancient podocarp forests, the bark of the hind that you never saw but knew she was there somewhere, the call of the Kiwi at night. There’s something mysterious and calming about the place that just feels like you’re at home.
Re eating, the younger Tahr are always the target if we are after meat for the table. For the older bulls there’s a recipe involving a well-worn gumboot and……well, you get the picture. The best thing to do with them is have them turned into salamis.
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