In December, Resources Minister Shane Jones said, “… if there is a mining opportunity and it’s impeded by a blind frog, goodbye, Freddie.” He was referring to our native frogs, pepeketua, which are so evolutionarily ancient and unique that they’re on a par with tuatara. They are rare taonga species that land each hop with a belly flop rather than feet first.
Jones probably meant deaf rather than blind because, unlike most frogs, ours lack external eardrums. “Their ears are primitive, but they can probably detect seismic vibrations that come through the ground,” says herpetologist Dr Ben Bell of Victoria University of Wellington Te Herenga Waka.
Archey’s frog is our smallest frog species, growing only as long as your big toe. It’s one of our two frogs that long ago abandoned waterways for mountaintops, leaving it prone to dehydrating through its permeable skin. “It spends its days under rocks, logs or clumps of vegetation to maintain its water balance, particularly in dry weather,” says Bell.
Its near-constant contact with substrate exposes it to any ground vibrations. That’s why gold-mining blasts should be considered with caution. And there’s gold underneath Coromandel hills, one of the three areas Archey’s frog still lives.
Does that matter? “Males have been seen to desert their offspring with severe rocking or moving of ground around them,” says Bell. It was he who discovered their peculiar parenting style: eggs are brooded by their father, and when they hatch – not as tadpoles but froglets with legs in front and tails behind – they climb onto his back and thighs. He stays in place with them until they hop away as small frogs. His fathering takes many weeks.
OceanaGold operates Waihi’s Martha Hill mine and wants to mine further north, too, underneath Wharekirauponga forest at the base of the Coromandel Peninsula. It commissioned an Archey’s frog survey that paints a very different picture to the drastic declines Bell has recorded over 50 years.
That evidence may never be challenged or tested. If the Fast-track Approvals Bill goes largely unchanged through the select committee process, the same minister who portended Freddie’s farewell will have considerable power over whether such a mine goes ahead.
Normally, obtaining mining consent involves specialist scientists presenting evidence on the project’s likely effects. Commissioners – or a judge assisted by commissioners with specialist knowledge in the case of a court hearing – decide whether to grant consent and which conditions will apply. They question the scientists and examine their evidence before deciding.
In contrast, the bill allows sparse opportunity for deep scientific expertise. It’s intended to facilitate infrastructure and development, including mining and much more. Projects would go before a small panel headed by a current or former judge.
“There are only loose requirements for the panel to have expertise in environmental issues,” says Dr Greg Severinsen, an environmental law expert at the Environmental Defence Society. “A panel must invite written comment from the Director-General of Conservation, but DoC is the only environmental group. That comment would have to be received within 10 working days. How is robust scientific advice going to be possible within that timeframe?”
Final decisions in most cases will rest with Jones and the ministers of infrastructure and transport. “This is unprecedented in the amount of power it concentrates in ministers in deciding specific projects,” says Severinsen.
It may lead to different outcomes for proposals repeatedly rejected by the courts, such as Taranaki seabed mining and an opencast coalmine near Westport.
Panels would not be permitted to consult the public. “Usually, a lot of the scientific evidence brought to challenge a proposal is done by civil society groups,” says Severinsen. “But most people won’t have a chance to say goodbye to Freddie, let alone try to save him.”
