A weekly ode to the joys of moaning about your holidays.
We tell tourists to go to Western Springs. We shouldn't. It's a shame because my childhood memories of walking around Western Springs, even doing school orienteering there, are fond. But the elephant in the room is in fact a bird; thousands upon thousands of them.
Western Springs is a modern-day Hitchcockian nightmare, overrun with swans and pigeons and aggressive geese and pūkeko. The place is teeming with so many birds of misplaced confidence as to make any visit there a gauntlet run of such trauma you have to pretend you're having fun.
Or not. Just to be clear, this is Western Springs the parklands we're talking about and not the legendary outdoor stadium of the same name that sits right next door. The stadium I love and the more concerts there the better. The sooner it gets converted into a specialised cricket arena the better, too. But Western Springs the parklands have such a hideous, mostly non-native bird overpopulation problem that unless there is a cull, it's in danger of becoming a no-go zone. Just try having a picnic there ...
As an animal lover, I hate the idea of a cull, but it also bugs me that this terrific central city pocket of greenery has become so unpleasant that in a kauri-dieback world, it's yet another place I can't go walking. Perhaps there's a solution, one I'm sure won't be uniformly popular, but one that would be brilliant for tourism as well as, I would argue, locals. And not to be overlooked, animals too.