“Ka tika, ka tika,” Chieftain Kuku interjected. The assembly murmured in agreement.
“The Lord Tane also set aside the coast and the seas of our whanaunga, the seabirds, under the guardianship of the Lord Hurumanu. This setting apart of manu whenua and manu moana has been enshrined in Divine Law and, in our history, as the Great Division.”
“That is true, that is true,” Chieftain Kokako assented.
“Now,” Tui continued, “the alarm has been raised about the seabird troops that are gathering at the island fortress of Karuhiruhi, Lord of seashags. The troops have been training under the generalship of Karoro, chieftain of black-backed gulls. Special frontline squads under the command of Chieftain Toroa, Chieftain Taranui and Chieftain Parara have also been observed in specialist military activities.”
The landbird chieftains began to murmur, shifting uneasily and hopping along their branches.
“How are we to respond to this challenge?” Tui asked. “This is the question you must debate. This is why I have called you all to this extraordinary meeting of the Runanga.”
Tui flew back to his branch.
For a moment there was silence.
Then, rather prematurely, Kawau the rivershag flew from his low branch up to the perch of chiefs. There was an instant ruffling of feathers as the other birds expressed their displeasure at Kawau daring to fly past others of greater mana and take the perch before they did. Not even his showy display of strutting footwork and beakwork pacified them.
“E nga rangatira,” Kawau began. His tone was pompous as he endeavoured to ingratiate himself. “It was I who brought the word to Chieftain Tui, and it was on my intelligence that he decided to call the Runanga. I —”
“Typical, typical,” Te Arikinui Kotuku called out. “It is only the rivershag that cries out its own name. Ko au! Ko au! Ko au!”
The other chieftains laughed good-humouredly. But Kawau extended his neck in an arrogant gesture, dismissive of Kotuku. “It is easy for Kotuku to challenge me. After all, she has only one small inlet at Okarito to defend, an insignificant stretch of tepid water that nobody would want, whereas I have a lagoon famed for its food supplies.”
Kotuku veiled her yellow eyes. “Silly shag, to think you can cross me and get away with it.” The other women shivered. Kotuku was not one to be enemies with.
“I believe the seabirds plan to take my lagoon,” Kawau continued. “It was there that Karuhiruhi tasted my sweet river eels, famed for their deliciousness and for their aphrodisiacal powers. Many of you have bickered over them. Now, the seabirds want to take possession of them. No doubt exists in my mind that the seabirds are therefore planning an all out war. I ask that our response be to deploy a strong landbird force to defend my lagoon.”
“Self-interest as usual,” Te Arikinui Huia murmured.
The landbirds swayed, weighing Kawau’s words.
With a whirr of wings, Chieftain Titi of the southern muttonbird clan took the perch. A kapa haka expert, Titi was small in stature, but was well-practised in crowd control, twirling and gesticulating, doing the pukana, and winning the admiration of all. The landbirds settled down again.
“E nga rangatira,” Titi said, “the issue is not whether we are at war but whether there will be a war. Certainly, the mass movements of seabirds to Karuhiruhi’s island fortress seem to imply this possibility. However no declaration of war has yet been delivered to us.”
“Can I believe my ears?” Te Arikinui Korimako asked. “Does Titi really expect Karuhiruhi to be so honourable as to declare his intentions? No way. Hey, Titi, whose side are you on?”
The question was reasonable enough. Titi, after all, was a member of the shearwater family, a seabird clan. His iwi had been included in the landbird confederacy by special dispensation: their burrowing sites often stretched inland from the beaches. It was to be expected that he, with the blood of seabirds in his veins, would incline to diplomacy and conciliation.
Titi responded by playing the injured party. “My loyalties may be split,” he conceded, “but that does not undercut my argument that until there really is war we cannot say we are at war. For instance, if the seabirds saw us gathering, as we have done tonight, might they not think the same of us as we are thinking about them?”
“Ka tika,” some of the landbirds nodded. “That is true.”
Others, like Chieftain Kahu of the hawk iwi, however, were having trouble with Titi’s line of reasoning.
“Might I say something?” Kahu tried to intervene. “Of all landbirds I am the one who has the greatest overview. I also know more than anybody the psychology of the seabirds. It is my clan’s responsibility to maintain the borders and, from our high reconnaissance of the seabirds, my opinion is that they are certainly deploying for some major offensive. Over the past few days my iwi and I have had more sorties with intruding seabirds than ever before. I know Karuhiruhi. He is my implacable opponent. Words are wasted on him. What we need to do is to spring into action. If we don’t prepare for war now, we will be overrun without any chance at offering resistance.”
The chieftains began an anxious chattering. Kahu’s words could always be trusted. But, the very idea of war was difficult to contemplate. There was, after all, no precedent.
Titi seized on the landbirds’ indecision. “I agree with Kahu that the seabirds probably do mean to wage war. However, we must be prudent. To this end, I am prepared to lead a mission to the seabirds and, through my cousins, the shearwaters, seek an understanding of their intentions. If they truly are planning a war, let me have your approval to resolve any tensions through diplomatic channels.”
Titi’s voice was persuasive and as sweet as his own delicious flesh. His words held the landbirds spellbound. He was one of their top ministers. His words came with the weight of the mana that his office held. He offered them a way out of a military confrontation. Having lived with security of tenure for so long, they had grown complacent. They wanted the way of things to remain but preferred, if at all possible, to expend only minimal effort to maintain it. They were relieved to hear such reason being uttered by one as benevolent as Titi.
Even better, he had offered to do the work.
“Can you credit these men?” Te Arikinui Karuwai whistled.
“Kahu tried his best,” Huia nodded, “but it is not his fault. His fellow chieftains are bound to take the easy option if they are offered it.”
Kotuku became anxious. She was certain she could smell a rat. From the corner of her eye she saw Chieftain Kaka preparing to speak. What was that? Did he give a surreptitious wink in Titi’s direction? Her eyes narrowed. “Ladies, it’s a jack-up,” she said.
With a harsh cry, Kaka flew up to the perch of chiefs. As if being swept up by the passion of the hui, the brown-cloaked chieftain attacked the branch with his beak. “This is what we would do to the seabirds if they dared to war with us,” Kaka screamed.
“He kaka wahanui!” Chieftain Kuku called out with approval.
“He kaka kai uta, he mangaa kai te moana!” cried Chieftain Kokako, drawing a comparison between the kaka on land with the barracouta at sea.
With the light of theatrical anger in his eyes, Kaka struck a warrior position.
“Why do we even bother to worry about the seabirds when we know that we are better and stronger than them? Why do we worry ourselves over what they are doing when our own superiority is without doubt?”
“Kaka sure knows how to play to the gallery,” Huia said. “Just listen to them.”
The Runanga a Manu was roaring with approval and smug satisfaction. What a brilliant fellow Kaka was to remind them of their superior status.
Kaka modulated his voice, spreading a soothing mood of self-congratulation. “Let us not forget that we are an intelligent and humane species. We have the capacity to be forgiving, to be magnanimous, to be understanding. Is this not the trait which most sets us apart from the seabirds?”