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Nurturing the Ngahere
Luke Whareaorere, Otawa Waitaha a Hei project manager, gave up his Gold Coast construction career to come home and help restore the ngahere his tūpuna once traversed.
Luke Whareaorere, Otawa Waitaha a Hei project manager, gave up his Gold Coast construction career to come home and help restore the ngahere his tūpuna once traversed.
Three generations — koro to mokopuna tuarua (great grandchild) — stand together, reflecting on their mahi to restore the mauri (life force) of their ancestral lands.
With a chorus of “āe” and “kia ora” of agreeance, Luke Whareaorere, Otawa Waitaha a Hei project manager, sums up the wairua (spirit, essence) the team feels. “We don’t own this awa, our maunga or our whenua,” he says, gesturing to the lush ngahere. “We belong to it.”
Otawa Waitaha a Hei is the environmental restoration project of Waitaha iwi. The field team of five have been operating a ground-based pest control network in Otawa, behind Te Puke, since 2021. Started with funding through Jobs For Nature, and with the support of Manaaki Kaimai Mamaku Trust, the team has installed, and is effectively managing, 400 hectares of pest control infrastructure.
Luke (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngā Potiki, Kahungunu, Waitaha, Tapuika and Ngā Puhi) has been with the project since inception, when he, his wife and four tamariki, returned from the Gold Coast where he was working on large construction sites. Now a father-of-five with another on the way, he has let the various construction tickets and licenses lapse, and is committed to a life of protecting the ngahere. Working in conservation gives Luke the purpose he was lacking and while it can be hard, it’s for the betterment of his people. “This work… it’s improving the health of our people,” the 39-year-old says. “If our maunga and our awa are dying, our people are dying. The more we look after our ngahere, the healthier our people are.”
“I like to walk along the riverbeds and when I have a break the manu come and see what I’m doing and they talk with me. I had never seen a kererū before this mahi, but now I see them all the time.”
Pre-colonisation, this whenua was utilised heavily by Māori. Mainly used as a māra kai, a source of food, Luke’s tūpuna would walk these maunga to collect the kererū and other manu for protein along with an array of rākau that were both eaten and used for rongoā (medicine). However, decades of land confiscation, deforestation for logging and infestation from pest species, have left the ngahere and awa in a bad state. And it’s only just beginning to heal. “What we’re doing here [predator control] is so important. Without it, they [the pests] would take over and the ngahere would collapse,” Luke says.
“We don’t own this awa, our maunga or our whenua,” he says, gesturing to the lush ngahere. “We belong to it.”
Waitaha are currently working on a 150ha project expansion, made possible through co-funding from BayTrust and TECT. Before they can set a single rat trap, the team have to hike almost two-hours to get to the border of the land-locked project area. A total 19,000 steps, 15 kilometres, 612 metre elevation gain. An instagrammable hīkoi (walk) for most… just an average day in the office for Waitaha. Their traplines target rodents, mustelids (stoats/weasels/ferrets) and possums, and have been expertly planned and cut. To the untrained eye, it looks like a maze. “I’ve spent enough time in this ngahere that I can navigate without a map,” Luke says. “I like to walk along the riverbeds and when I have a break the manu come and see what I’m doing and they talk with me. I had never seen a kererū before this mahi, but now I see them all the time”.
Ted Whareaorere, koro or uncle to every team member, has been hunting in this whenua since he was seven years old. He’s now in his 70s and witnessing the land regenerating. “Back in the ‘70s, you could see through this bush. There was nothing here. Now, especially in the last three years since the team’s been here, the bush is growing fast. There was a track that I knew like the back of my hand, but I can’t find the entrance,” Koro says.
Rākau regeneration isn’t the only positive difference from pest control mahi. As at 8 March 2025, Otawa Waitaha a Hei, and the seven other Kaimai Mamaku Restoration Project iwi and hapū-led conservation groups, have removed almost 20,000 rats, possums and mustelids from the Kaimai Mamaku forest.
Adult Norway rats, one of the two feral rat breeds in Aotearoa, can weigh more than 500 grams and eat up to 10 per cent of their weight each day. This predator would still be hungry after raiding an entire tūi nest where three to four 10-gram eggs are often left unattended.
Rather than just focusing on the kill tally, the team tracks success through a range of monitoring methods including environmental DNA (eDNA), rat tracking tunnels and 5-minute bird counts. Bird counts are a Te Papa Atawhai Department of Conservation standard, resource-efficient tool for monitoring the abundance of birds. The method sounds simple — just stand quietly at a fixed location and record all the birds you see or hear within five minutes. However for Waitaha, their project area consists of off-track, steep, un-tracked terrain, and the experience is anything but easy.
Warwick Buckman, chairman of HELP Waihi, and his wife Krishna have been leading an annual bird count in the Kaimai Mamaku since 2009. Around 28 fixed locations are strategically mapped across the conservation park with the couple, their daughters and other experts coming together to complete a count every spring. The analysis of 16 years of data shows bird populations have increased in certain areas. “Reserves, and pest control groups, can bolster [bird] numbers,” Warwick says. “The data is telling us longer term things. For at least the first five years, we didn’t hear any robins north of Aongetete. It’s only in recent years that we’ve heard them. So, they’re coming back.” Warwick is beginning to slow down in his golden years and is passing his extensive knowledge down to others, including all of the Kaimai Mamaku Restoration Project teams. He says it’s important for iwi and hapū to continue bird counts across the rohe. “They’re in the bush for long periods where they can do monitoring, even informal bird counts, regularly. They’ll start to notice an increase in numbers, or loss of birds too. And the more knowledgeable they become, the more aware they’ll become of those changes,” he says.
“The data is telling us longer term things. For at least the first five years, we didn’t hear any robins north of Aongetete. It’s only in recent years that we’ve heard them. So, they’re coming back.”
Like most people who work in te taiao (the environment) this isn’t just a job for Luke and the Waitaha team — it’s their life. To better look after the whenua and their whānau, Luke and his two teammates Robbie Peake and Watana Williams, are in their second year of a Bachelor of Environment Studies at Te Whare Wānanga o Awanuiarangi. “I like to think this is something my kids can aspire to. I took the three youngest into the ngahere and told them all about the mahi, the studies and how we’re the guardians and protectors of these lands. The youngest said, ‘Me too, daddy? Can I come work in Otawa too?’ To hear her say that… that’s the reason I do this.”
Koro Ted feels the same. “Being in this ngahere, with my moko, it’s my whole life. When I was a young fella, when everyone was out partying, I was in here. Being out here is rongoā. I lie down here and let all my woes go away. This is my healing place. I come in here and I’m a better person. And look at Hakaraia,” he says pointing at his great grandson. “He’s at home too. My moko are the motivation to keep me going”.
