Devil in the details

Round the ways where i live are some places steeped in maori and pakeha history. Some of them tapu and some not, with the line between changing as the channel does with successive tides and the passing of time

one such place is a swamp in a valley down by the estuary where according to local legend, a tribe of old chose suicide rather than massacre by a marauding iwi

my lady and i, ignorant of any such history wandered off one day for a walk and came across a dessicated old goat washed up by the entrance to the swamp. Half buried in the sand and so decomposed was it, yet having no foul odour, that at first we thought it was tussock. it wasnt til i kicked it then flipped it over that we became sure of what it was.



noticing its fine pair of horns i decided to liberate its head from its body and take it home. this proved more difficult than expected but after much twisting and pulling it came free, so off we wandered into the swamp, up the valley and over the hil on a shortcut home so as not to be trapped by the rising tide.

i've since been meaning to strip it back to the bone and maybe in the future cast it in metal or if possible get it chromed thinking it would look rather choice as an artpiece, but in the meantime its just stuck on the fence outside the kitchen window as reminder that though God is seen as the big picture, the devil is in the details :)