The beginnings..

Today marks two months since we moved onto Fantail Farm, a five acre block of bare land that had once been a council reserve; land put away and zoned as residential for the day when Murupara would need it. And back in the 1960's, when the reserve was created, there was every indication it might be a much needed future housing subdivision. Murupara, a bustling forestry town, already had less than a kilometer away its own wee suburb in Kuranui Village. But with the throwing in of the towel of an Amercian/Canadian owned forestry company back in the late 1970's, it also was the beginning of the end of further growth for the town. In fact these days, you would never know unless you had once lived here that Kiorenui Village had even existed; the road to it is long gone, all the houses have been taken away or have fallen into the ground and covering everything is the dreaded blackberry. Which isn't surprising. The council who runs the area and takes our rates is situated 86 kilometres away and only ever really takes the rates  from locals, putting very little back into the area.
Unloved and unused except for a valiant 50 year old Gravenstein apple tree, the reserve simply sat behind the houses and existing sections -  and the infamous old Stagger Inn Takeaways, which also had, over the years, housed such luminary businesses as the movie theatre, the bakery (the old brick ovens survive to this day), a skating rink and eventually an automotive pit. But those days were long gone with the death of local eccentric character Harry Reid who had owned the place and then been unable to keep it up.
When we bought it, the boundary fences were a little run down, a couple of bush horses were  trying to gain some sustenance from grass that had long since disappeared under the weight of weeds and in particular, blackberry and broom. Although it has to be said, this was more on the boundary from canes that were stifled for space in sections that had long been abandoned on the main road, rather than any interior overgrowth of the dreadful plants..
But for us, it was and still is, a special piece of land. For my husband Ken, he has come home to a place he was born and raised just 30 minutes out of a city, a place where his family still live, where many are buried; a place where he left as a late teenager following the city lights - and work - but has always called home.
The view is to die for, 180 degree views of the Te Urewera rainforest on one side, then the tall majestic reaches of the big pine trees that mark just a small portion of the boundaries of the country's largest man-made forest of  Kaingaroa.
100 yards as the crow flies, marking a natural boundary between the forest and us are the lazy, but deep and cold waters of the Rangitaiki River. Less than a kilometre away, the much warmer and therefore much more popular Whirinaki River, upon which the rapids and the trout fishing are tourists delight, is also to be found.
When we heard the news that our tender had secured the land, we were totally chuffed and once it was paid for, headed straight out to walk the boundaries. Which story also happens to be how it got its name. As we walked the perimeter fences, two chattering fantails followed us everywhere, ducking and diving and swooping - and talking fit to bust the whole time. If there had been an avian history, I'm sure we heard it 25 times. They had a ball - and let's face it, fantails know perfectly well they can't be caught and therefore will come in very close, a these two did. So in the dead of winter, Fantail Farm got its name - and its new owners. Next up,  The Plan...