Thirty years ago they waged war to keep it from the clutches of forestry companies intent in plastering the dome and the 7000 hectares surrounding it in pines.
The battle was protracted and involved three Ministers of Conservation before the companies acquiesced.
Strike one to the Daveys.
They didn't sit on their laurels, a mining company had its sights set on the Rotorua lakes district. Pauline was incensed but kept her thoughts rational.
When the company back-tracked, this newspaper quoted its exploration manager as saying the application was withdrawn because Pauline's reasoned words had such an impact on him.
Then there came the crusade to wipe out Wallabies overrunning Okataina and Rotoma by using 1080 poison, as controversial then as now. Pauline's adamant bird life and the area's bush remained intact. If they hadn't she'd have been the first to holler.
In 1990 she was presented with the Queen's Sesquicentennial Medal for services to the community.
We could go on, her fight against fluoridation included, but there's a lot of Pauline Davey's life still to canvass.
Conservation and her love of the land came as a package deal with the man she married "at nearly 19".
From the time he was 14 Colin had climbed in the Southern Alps.
"I wasn't out-doorsy at all but found myself doing all sorts of stuff like rock climbing at Titahi Bay with guys taking bets on whether I'd make it to the top."
With a challenge like that of course she did.
The Daveys began their years together in the Wairarapa "where the wind blows like fury and Colin was a farm worker."
He graduated to shepherding on near-by Pirinoa Station, the Daveys stayed 15 years.
"I had my four kids there, I was a housewife and brood mare, Colin was into hunting, filling my life with a lot of his shooting mates."
The spoils of those deerstalking days became nice little earners for the Daveys. "We
supplied all Wellington's fancy restaurants." Back on city soil Pauline indulged her love of theatre. "Colin would take the kids, I'd go to all the shows, see the big name stars . . . Acker Bilk, Ella Fitzgerald."
Next move was to a large block of Maori-owned land at Oparau, near Kawhia, an area so isolated Pauline's older children had to board in Te Awamutu for their schooling. Her youngest studied via correspondence.
This continued when the Daveys headed to the Bay of Islands to develop remote Moturoa Island, recently acquired by absentee owners planning to turn it into a model farm with holiday homes.
The Daveys took one look and knew the going would be tough. The island was an overgrown wilderness, lacked electricity, smelly penguins nested under their cottage, a shack so rat-ridden it took months to exterminate them.
Lesser women would have fled, not Pauline Davey.
She'd only made the move north on condition she could take her beloved Mandy, the pet deer she raised from birth.
The Department of Conservation jibbed, Northland was deer-free. The department had reckoned without Pauline's determination. . . she got her way. Mandy became a must-see for tourists taking the Cream Boat Cruise.
Moturoa could only be reached by boat, a weather-dependent trip. Regardless, Pauline adored the place. "In spite of the hard work I found the challenge of everyday life enjoyable."
The Daveys' 20th century pioneering days ended when they moved to Rotorua in the early 1970s.
"I was sick of bloody farming," is her explanation for the gear change
They bought a dairy on the corner of Grey and Fenton St, expanding into a fish and chip shop.
The area became known as Daveys' corner. The dairy was not without drama. Colin was held up at gunpoint. "The fellow pulled the trigger missing him by an inch (5cms), then smashed his face with the butt."
By then they were well settled in Ruato Bay (Rotoiti) and their local conservation work had begun. Pauline waged other campaigns including making submissions to the Parliamentary Select Committee considering the Family Proceedings Bill on behalf of Zonta's Status of Women Committee.
The changes she advocated became law.
For three years she accompanied Colin to Fiordland studying the effects of deer on the region's environment.
"We wanted them culled; the deerstalkers considered it was heresy to shoot wapiti or red deer, but we had to conserve that wonderful environment."
Gosh, we say, what a life. "I've experienced a hang of a lot, met interesting people. . . that's got to be worth at least half of sixpence."
Those final three words are the title of her soon-to-be released autobiography.
