# data[].attributes.body
(downloads PDF)

# data[].attributes.body
Print out the activity sheets below (choose from colour or b&w), cut out the images and ask children to place on the background picture to make a healthy or unhealthy home for tuna. Discuss the differences between the two using page three and the key below to help you. Can they come up with ways to make an unhealthy stream healthier?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
T4T ECE Tuna Healthy Home Activity Instructions

# data[].attributes.body
Poster printout of 'Tuna in the awa' to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

# data[].attributes.body
Part of the 'Meet the Locals' series, filmed in 2019. Fairly simple introduction to concepts. Note: it is mentioned that the 'eggs' float back on the currents to New Zealand. In fact the hatched larvae (leptocephali) are now known to have some ability to direct their travels, as well as using the power of prevailing currents.

# data[].attributes.body
Be inspired to act out the longfin-eel lifecycle with this short video presented by Taupō for Tomorrow.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
All about tuna/long-fin eel, for the littlies! Includes crafts, songs, videos and more.

# data[].attributes.body
Actions for 'Tuna in the awa'

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
All about tuna/long-fin eel, for the littlies! Includes crafts, songs, videos and more.

# data[].attributes.body
Great footage of eel feeding time at Auckland Zoo as well as a short kōrero about their life cycle and threats. You can also watch this video from Auckland Zoo: How do you X-ray a longfin eel?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Zoo Tales - Quirky and curious longfin eels

# data[].attributes.headline
Watercress tuna and the children of Champion Street by Patricia Grace; illustrated by Robyn Kahukiwa. 

# data[].attributes.subject
Watercress tuna and the children of Champion Street by Patricia Grace; illustrated by Robyn Kahukiwa. 

# data[].attributes.body
A New Zealand classic. Available in most local libraries and New Zealand bookshops.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
What special gifts does the magical tuna bring to the children of Champion Street?

An unusual tuna (eel) with a magic throat leaps out of his stream and visits a number of children in Champion Street. To each he gives an article of clothing for dancing, or a musical instrument. The children are all from different ethnic communities living in New Zealand. On Champion Street the children all come together and dance all day and all night.

Written by the celebrated Patricia Grace, and with beautiful illustrations by artist Robyn Kahukiwa, this is a very special story for all the children of Aotearoa, and will be enjoyed by those four years and older.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Watercress Tuna & the Children of Champion Street by Patricia Grace

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
What special gifts does the magical tuna bring to the children of Champion Street? An unusual tuna (eel) with a magic throat leaps out of his stream and visits a number of children in Champion Street. To each he gives an article of clothing for dancing, or a musical instrument.

# data[].attributes.body
Make these simple peg puppets using the template (pg.8) using paper, crayons, double-sided tape and wooden pegs. Create a display or puppet show to share what you have discovered about tuna.

# data[].attributes.body
Please view to make sure appropriate before showing tamariki - there are a few moves that may be more obvious to older students!

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
MIGRATION VIBES - The New Zealand Longfin Eel (School friendly)

# data[].attributes.body
Watch a long-fin tuna make its way up a small stream in Stratford, Taranaki.

# data[].attributes.body
In English & Te Reo

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Species colouring sheets!

There are simple and slightly more complex versions of each species - each has an image to colour and some fun facts. We've called them 'junior' and 'senior', but whatever works for you! Pictures shown are for the senior versions.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Freshwater Colouring-in | Classroom Resources | Taupo for Tomorrow

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Species colouring sheets! There are simple and slightly more complex versions of each species - each has an image to colour and some fun facts. We've called them 'junior' and 'senior', but whatever works for you! Pictures shown are for the senior versions.

# data[].attributes.body
~10 minute song and narration with accompanying actions - great for younger kids.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Track number 02 Dance Upon Our Earth. A movement story for children to dance to based on the life cycle of the New Zealand long finned eel, Anguilla dieffenbachii or tuna as it can be called in te reo Māori. imagined-worlds.net/dance-upon-our-earth

# data[].attributes.headline
Eel Song by Amber McEwan ; illustrated by Sonia Frimmel. 2016. 

# data[].attributes.subject
Eel Song by Amber McEwan ; illustrated by Sonia Frimmel. 2016. 

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Home > Products > EEL SONG by Amber McEwan | illustrated by Sonia Frimmel

High in the hills where the birds still speak,

In a hole, in a pool, in a silver-cold creek.

Tuna, longfin, taniwha sleeps,

Dark, dark, dark in the velvet deeps.

She feeds and she rests in the high hill ranges,

Grows old, old, old while the whole world changes.

Join Aotearoa's amazing longfin eels on their migration from the silver-cold streams, rivers and lakes in which they grew up, to the tropical Pacific Islands far away. Once there, the longfins spawn and when the eggs hatch, tiny, leaf-like baby eels drift on ocean currents back to Aotearoa.

About Amber and Sonia...

Amber is a freshwater biologist who is passionate about conservation, particularly of New Zealand's freshwater ecosystems. She has a special love and appreciation for eels, and does a lot of work trying to protect them from their various threats - especially longfin eels. Writing this book is just one more way for Amber to share her love and knowledge of the longfin eel, and the amazing migratory journey that this species undertakes. Her two small children love eels too, and enjoy feeding the local longfins in the stream at the bottom of their street.

Sonia is based in the Waikato - once the land of a thousand wetlands and eel/tuna heaven. She thinks she has the best job - researching, writing for, and designing signs and brochures about our nature and history; drawing pictures of birds, beasts and plants for signs and publications; and occasionally making colourful paintings of New Zealand's wonderful wild places. This is her first foray into illustrating children's books but she has published her own guidebook for walks and bike rides in the Waikato and King Country.

Paperback | 210 x 210 mm | 978-0-9922610-6-1 | 12 December 2016 | Fiction | 18 pages |

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
EEL SONG by Amber McEwan | illustrated by Sonia Frimmel

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Home > Products > EEL SONG by Amber McEwan | illustrated by Sonia Frimmel High in the hills where the birds still speak, In a hole, in a pool, in a silver-cold creek. Tuna, longfin, taniwha sleeps, Dark, dark, dark in the velvet deeps.

# data[].attributes.headline
Tuna kuwharuwharu ECE resource (full printable)

# data[].attributes.subject
Tuna kuwharuwharu ECE resource (full printable)

# data[].attributes.body
Aimed at early childhood level, some parts applicable throughout primary years. Includes a list of possible places to visit tuna for educational purposes.

# data[].attributes.body
Cut out and paste in the correct order! Kindly provided by Orokonui Sanctuary.

# data[].attributes.body
Velvet & Elvis is a gorgeous and simple book; an important story of New Zealand's long fin eel told with Stephanie Bowman's stunning paintings.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Velvet and Elvis written and eelustrated by Stephanie Bowman

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Velvet & Elvis is a gorgeous and simple book; an important story of New Zealand's long fin eel told with Stephanie Bowman's stunning paintings. Old Velvet the longfin eel has made New Zealand's Lake Rotoiti her home for 101 years.

# data[].attributes.headline
Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro Tuna Restoration Project

# data[].attributes.subject
Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro Tuna Restoration Project

# data[].attributes.body
How a hapū in the Central North Island is working to protect and restore taonga impacted by the Tongariro Power Scheme.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro Tuna Restoration Project

# data[].attributes.body
Elvers (young eels in freshwater) can climb most wetted surfaces. Watch as they try to get past this culvert.

# data[].attributes.body
2019 - good discussion of using otoliths/fish ear-bones to reconstruct the life of a tuna. Podcast and text.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Sitting in front of a microscope in her Hamilton laboratory, Eimear Egan is enthusing about some small dusty wooden boxes neatly filled with glass slides. She picks up some pieces of black paper, with rows of small white objects stuck to the page with aging sticky tape.

The pearly white objects, which resemble tiny shells, are ear bones, or otoliths, from eels and flounder. They were collected in the 1970s and carefully stored for future scientists like Eimear to investigate.

"These are longfin eels from Lake Hawea," says Eimear.

The NIWA freshwater ecologist describes herself as an "otolith nerd", and she has been gleaning insights into past climates from historic collections of eel and flounder ear bones collected from around New Zealand.

"All fish have ear bones," she says, "and they come in all different shapes and sizes."

Each species of fish has distinctive ear bones that are easily recognisable. Flounder ear bones, for example are highly serrated.

"They're actually really beautiful and people make jewellery out of them," says Eimear.

Otoliths are made from calcium carbonate, which also forms shells and egg shells and is used to treat osteoporosis and excess stomach acidity. Otoliths have a similar function to human ear bones, helping a fish with balance and with detecting vibrations in the water.

An otolith has a similar structure to a cross section of a tree trunk, with a central core surrounded by concentric rings.

"The dark centre in the eel ear bone represents its larval phase when it was at sea," says Eimear.

"They breed in the western Pacific Ocean. We're not 100 percent sure yet [exactly where]."

Later this year a NIWA team will be tagging longfin eels with satellite tags to try and find out exactly where New Zealand's eels spawn.

As a fish grows it adds daily layers of calcium carbonate to its ear bones.

"It's because of this daily deposition onto the otolith that we can extract information about a fish every day of its life," says Eimear.

In winter, when the fish is growing more slowly, it lays down an annual ring, just like a tree ring. Eimear says that the annual rings have a different chemical make-up to the daily rings, and are very useful for determining the age of the fish, as each ring equals one year of life.

"There's just so much information in the ear bones - they're like diaries," says Eimear. "They're a treasure trove, really."

"it's amazing how something so small can tell us so much. It can tell us growth rates on a daily and annual and even seasonal basis. It can tell us their spawning dates and their age."

The chemical composition of the rings can be analysed to provide details about what the fish was eating at different times and there are also check marks or distinct bands produced when the fish experienced stress.

"There are actually marks on the ear bone that represent feeding and when they transition from a larva into an adult," she says.

The rings also record the varying chemical signatures of different water masses that the fish has lived in, while subtle variations in the shape of the otoliths can reveal whether there are subpopulations of a species.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Sitting in front of a microscope in her Hamilton laboratory, Eimear Egan is enthusing about some small dusty wooden boxes neatly filled with glass slides. She picks up some pieces of black paper, with rows of small white objects stuck to the page with aging sticky tape.

# data[].attributes.headline
Secrets of the serpent - Wilderness Magazine

# data[].attributes.subject
Secrets of the serpent - Wilderness Magazine

# data[].attributes.body
2019 article - starts with an evocative personification to set the scene. Otherwise a general article about tuna, threats, and unknowns.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The longfin eel is common in the lakes and rivers of New Zealand, but much of its life cycle remains a mystery to science.

In the dark cold of Lake Rotoiti, the serpentine longfin eel prepares for her final journey.

For 80 years, she's prowled the lake's depths, stalking fish, koura and ducklings. At well over a metre in length, she has long ago grown into her role at the top of the food chain.

Her eyes, once small and beady, have become large, orb-like, with an ocean blue ring surrounding the pupil, and her head has elongated to a point, hydrodynamic and sleek - she is ready to breed.

As the rains of autumn begin to fall, swelling lakes and rivers, the longfin sets off on her final swim. But to where, no one knows.

The longfin eel is the most revered of all New Zealand freshwater fish species, and with good reason.

Females can live a century or more and reach two metres in length - although fishermen will tell you that is conservative.

Renowned for their generous measuring tapes, Kiwi anglers have long traded questionable accounts of eels reaching up to 3m in length, with heads the size of a labrador's.

Eel bites make local newspapers every summer - our freshwater 'sharkmania' - while legendary tales persist at backyard swimming holes and murky creeks.

In Māori culture too, the longfin holds an esteemed place in legend and in life.

The species was born of the slippery giant Tunaroa, father of all eels, who was hacked to pieces by Maui for insulting his wife. Tunaroa's head was tossed into the sea, where it gave rise to marine eels, while its tail spawned freshwater species - the longfin and shortfin eels. Its blood spattered across the forest, lending a vibrant splash of red to several species, including pūkeko, kākāriki, rimu and tōtara.

In modern science, the longfin eel has captivated scientists, too.

NIWA freshwater ecologist Paul Franklin says the unsolved mysteries of the eel's life cycle remains one of the holy grails of fish biology.

Scientists have learned when longfin eels depart New Zealand for their spawning ground in the Pacific, and when their offspring return to our shores, but relatively little is known about the journey in between.

"Eels always fascinate people - they will come across them as kids playing in streams and drains, and I don't think anyone realises how old they get or how far they have travelled," Franklin says.

Even scientists are happy to admit they know little about where and how longfin eels breed, and to this day, it has never been observed.

A study conducted in the early 2000s came closest to unravelling the mystery when it successfully tracked an eel 2500km - and many months of swimming - from New Zealand.

In an attempt to fill in the gaps, a team at NIWA, including Franklin, tagged and released 20 migrant eels in May in the hope of tracking them to their spawning grounds.

A lot can go wrong for a fish crossing thousands of kilometres of open ocean, from predation to fishing nets, and scientists can do nothing but wait anxiously for results.

Now that you're here, why not subscribe?

As a subscriber, you can browse all web content including more than 590 trips. You'll also receive our Wildcard, offering discounts at more than 20 partners throughout New Zealand.

Subscribe from as little as $7.00/month for instant access to all articles, trips, gear reviews and gear guides.

View all our subscription options and join the club.

Already a subscriber? Login Now.

The tags, hooked onto the eel's skin, continuously measure location, depth and light exposure, and are set to 'pop off' at different intervals during the eels' journey.

Once popped off, the tags will float to the surface and transmit the data to NIWA, hopefully providing a data trail leading to the spawning grounds.

The missing link will provide the next step in the curious life cycle, which begins and ends at a mystery location in the Pacific where the mature eels die after reproduction, leaving the larvae to float back to New Zealand on ocean currents, before swimming and climbing deep into the river systems and lakes.

"Baby eels, or elvers, are fantastic climbers, and longfin eels do a good job of penetrating a long way inland - they can climb big waterfalls as well," Franklin says.

Dams cause a much bigger obstacle to the elvers, which are usually able to climb steep terrain using surface tension.

"It's relatively easy to capture elvers as they migrate upstream, as they aggregate at the bottom of dams," Franklin says.

"But when they're mature and they start migrating downstream again, their only pathway is through hydro turbines, and you can imagine what sticking an eel in a blender is like."

Franklin says it's an ongoing challenge to provide the knowledge to better manage and conserve data-deficient species.

"Trying to make well-informed management decisions can be difficult when you don't know much about something - it's a continuous challenge to try and figure out the most important things as quickly as you can, but very often the more you look, the more complicated you find things are."

Freshwater ecologist Mike Joy says the longfin eel is the second-fastest declining freshwater fish species in New Zealand, and it's facing a perfect storm of threats.

Despite its classification as an at risk, declining species, it's still subject to commercial and recreational fishing.

As international eel species are pushed to the brink, demand for our exported taonga is on the rise, Joy says.

Commercial catch is around a fifth of what it was 20 years ago. "It's reduced because we can't find them anymore," Joy says.

The catch per unit effort method of measuring catch is also misleading, Joy says. If you're catching the same number from the same location every day, it is possible to more accurately gauge the abundance of a species. With eel fisheries, the catch unit doesn't change, but the location does.

"If you can imagine this over a landscape, you keep fishing in a new place every day, until one day there is none left [anywhere]," he says.

Hydro turbines, irrigation pumps, habitat loss, and recreational angling are also closing the net on the species, and the eel's monster reputation isn't doing it any favours.

"I was as guilty as anyone of being a young kid killing eels. They scared me, and it was the macho thing to do. It's about getting past that attitude."

With the fate of the species largely in our hands, the eyes of eel conservationists worldwide are fixed on some 20 eels swimming somewhere in the Pacific.

Their secrets just might hold the key to a species on a slippery slope.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Secrets of the serpent - Wilderness Magazine

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In the dark cold of Lake Rotoiti, the serpentine longfin eel prepares for her final journey. For 80 years, she's prowled the lake's depths, stalking fish, koura and ducklings. At well over a metre in length, she has long ago grown into her role at the top of the food chain.

# data[].attributes.body
A short, clear, simple article about tuna. May be useful as a comprehension exercise.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Amazing facts about longfin eels
By Michelle Harnett
Under the cover of darkness, one of New Zealand's top predators emerges.

Lack of light is not a problem; it uses its sense of smell to locate its prey. It slips through rivers, streams and lakes unseen, hunting for native galixiid fish, trout, freshwater crayfish (köura) and ducklings.

Long and slender, with a large mouth filled with rows of small, white, sharp teeth, the longfin eel (Anguilla dieffenbachii, or tuna) is one of the most common freshwater fish in the country's waterways.

Endemic to New Zealand, the longfin eel, so-named because its dorsal (top) fin is longer than its bottom fin, is probably the biggest eel in the world. Slow growing and sometimes living for 80 years, some females can reach 2 metres long and weigh up to 40kg.

On reaching this (breeding) size, the eels migrate to the sea. The details of the lifecycle are not clear. They swim for up to five or six months to tropical Pacific waters, possibly near Tonga, where they spawn and die. The eggs hatch into leaf-shaped larvae that float back to New Zealand on ocean currents.

Arriving in astounding numbers in spring, the larvae transform into slender, transparent "glass" eels. The glass eels soon turn into grey-brown elvers (young eels) and begin migrating upstream. Waterfalls don't stop them; elvers can climb 40-metre obstacles using a combination of surface tension and friction.

Some dams have special eel passes to help them conquer the massive concrete walls. Once at their final destination, the elvers begin the serious business of growing to breeding size.

Longfins are not rare, but very large adults, which are most likely to be fertile females, have become scarce. Commercial fishing since the 1960s has had a significant impact on eel numbers and average size.

Habitat loss and pollution have also had their effects. If you go eeling, return big eels to the water. Watch out - they are slippery customers, quite capable of wriggling overland for long distances. And then there are those teeth...

Forest & Bird Magazine

Join Forest & Bird and receive our popular quarterly magazine, packed with feature articles, news and photographs on New Zealand's unique wildlife and wild places.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
By Michelle Harnett Under the cover of darkness, one of New Zealand's top predators emerges. Lack of light is not a problem; it uses its sense of smell to locate its prey. It slips through rivers, streams and lakes unseen, hunting for native galixiid fish, trout, freshwater crayfish (köura) and ducklings.

# data[].attributes.body
Article from NZ Geographic magazine - always high quality evocative reporting.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Taniwha

Deep in our lakes and rivers lurks a monster that has become the stuff of countless myths and legends. But now, just as this misunderstood creature is starting to reveal its many mysteries, some are questioning its future. Enter the dark realm of New Zealand's largest freshwater resident, the longfin eel.

It was a calm summer day in 1963. Bev Haines was sitting in a dinghy on Lake Rotoiti in Nelson Lakes National Park, waiting for her husband, Clinton. "There had been a boat race the previous week, and one of the boats had lost a propeller," Bev recalls, "Clint wanted to retrieve it so he went diving."

Lake Rotoiti is by no means shallow-gouged out by glacial forces, its alpine shores sink steeply into the depths. Clinton had made it down to about 100 feet when, out of the gloomy water, he saw a dark shape looming towards him. He drew his knife to defend himself, but then noticed three or four more large creatures coming straight at him. Terrified, he shot up to the surface.

"By the look on his face, I knew straight away that something was wrong. Then I saw them-massive, snakelike creatures in the water. One of them had a hold of his flipper." Charged with adrenalin, Bev managed to pull her husband to the safety of the boat, and rowed towards shore. As a result of his quick ascent, Clinton was suffering from a mild case of the bends. He went to hospital and spent the next two days recovering in bed. But the psychological healing took a lot longer.

"For months, we both had nightmares. I wouldn't go back in that water, not with those things there," he says.

The creatures Clinton Haines had encountered that day in Lake Rotoiti were not exaggerations of an overactive imagination, but New Zealand's very own and very real freshwater monster, Anguilla dieffenbachii, the longfin eel. Two other species ply our fresh waters-the shortfin eel (A. australis) and the Australian longfin (A. reinhardtii), a recent arrival currently restricted to the northern part of the North Island. Of the three, the New Zealand longfin is the most impressive. Described by those who have seen them as "logs that moved", there have been confirmed sightings of specimens up to two metres in length-much longer than Haines is tall-and weighing up to 40 kg. In fact, scientists believe that our endemic longfins are quite possibly the largest eels in the world.

Their gargantuan size is not the only thing that makes longfin eels inherently disconcerting. There's their serpent-like appearance-an elongated body which slides through grass when migrating from one waterway to another as easily as it slithers through streams. Equally unappealing is their leathery skin, which-although embedded with hundreds of tiny scales-is covered with a thick layer of slippery slime.

The animal's seemingly antisocial behaviour also contributes to its image problem. During the day, an eel will hide under logs, boulders and riverbanks, coming out only if lured by the smell of blood. It actively seeks the inky waters of the deep, and prefers to hunt under the cover of night. Black colouring completes the eel's dark disguise, enabling the animal to become one with the background as it snakes through its liquid medium. Consequently, human encounters with eels are most often like that of Clinton Haines: sudden, unexpected and frightening for as long as the memory endures.

[Chapter break]

Although eels were an important food source that allowed Maori to settle further inland, the country's first occupants revered as well as feared the large longfins. Some rivers, lakes and caves were declared tapu, believed to be the home of water-dwelling monsters, or taniwha. Even now, access to certain areas is restricted or forbidden, because a taniwha is said to inhabit the water.

"We have a lake near here where we don't go," Pataka Moore, a lecturer in environmental sciences at the university at Otaki, Te Wananga-o-Raukawa, told me. "Every hill and tree and stone has a story in our region, but there are no stories at all associated with that lake.

Many terrible things have happened to the people who have gone there; people have died."

Moore recounts stories of drownings and accidents; the most recent incident involved a man who badly injured his arm while swimming in the lake. "Some people might argue that he got tangled in branches," Moore said, "but there are those of us who know it was a taniwha in the form of an eel."

When Europeans arrived, they too feared the snake-like creatures that inhabited their water supplies. Unexplained disappearances of bushmen and recreational swimmers were often blamed on packs of hungry eels, giving rise to countless tall stories. The fact that the monsters in question manifested themselves only briefly before disappearing back into the deep made them all the more loathsome. Even now, mention eels and some people will instinctively recoil: eels are 'yuck', 'slimy', 'horrible'.

On a biological level, a healthy apprehension of longfin eels is a rational reaction. "They're an incredibly powerful predator," says Vic Thompson, who has commercially fished longfins for the majority of his life. "If you were to enter eel-infested waters with a couple of mackerels stuffed down your shirt, you'd be in serious trouble."

Eels are finely honed to make them extremely efficient hunters. Because of their desire for the dark, eels rely on a hyper-sensitive sense of smell rather than sight to locate their prey. Sizable "horns" on their upper lip support a large, folded nasal cavity that extends to the roof of the mouth. This endows the eel with olfaction several times greater in magnitude than even that of a great white shark. In fact, scientists have calculated that if you were to tip just one millilitre of blood into a lake 48 times the volume of Lake Taupo and mix it around, the eel would still be able to detect it.

The longfin's feeding mechanisms resemble that of another top predator, the crocodile. Like their reptilian counterparts, eels are classic ambush predators, concealing themselves and lunging at hapless victims as they pass. The suction created by the mouth allows the eel to virtually inhale its food.

To dismember a larger animal, a longfin will first clamp onto a carcass with rows of small but sharp teeth, using the force of its jaw to achieve a vice-like grip. It then starts spinning its body in crocodilian fashion, twisting and rolling until a mouth-sized morsel has been torn away. Its stomach is highly extendable, so the eel will feed until it has gorged itself with food.

So are we in danger of becoming fish food the next time we take a refreshing dip in a lake? Thompson shakes his head. Although large longfins are opportunistic feeders, and will investigate anything bleeding in the water, they generally live on a diet of live fish, freshwater crayfish and the occasional duckling.

That's not to say there haven't been run-ins. In 1973, a diver fixing a gate at the Arapuni Power Station on the Waikato River had two ribs broken when he was charged by a large longfin. An even more unfortunate tale involves a Southland farmhand who decided to go for a skinny dip and was subsequently hospitalised after an eel latched onto a sensitive area.

Predictably it's fishermen who are the most frequent victims of eel attacks, bitten where their clothes have been smeared with the blood of their quarry. But if you question the context of these "attacks", you soon realise that blame often lies not with the eel but with the lack of common sense on the part of the human. The Arapuni diver, for example, was charged only after a colleague took it upon himself to hit the eel's tail with a hammer.

In fact, there is not one confirmed record of eels fatally harming a person, but we have not treated them with the same level of respect. Persecution began in the 1930s, when the Acclimatisation Society-the forerunners of Fish and Game Councils-claimed that eels were having a negative impact on exotic sport-fish populations. Bounties were set in an attempt to rid entire river catchments of their native inhabitants, and some areas boasted high levels of "success". Masses of eels were caught, killed, and left to rot. Ironically, subsequent research showed that exterminating eels from rivers was actually detrimental to trout stocks-although there were more trout in the absence of eels, they were smaller and in poorer condition, not the trophies that game fishermen lusted after.

Then came uncontrolled commercial fishing. The eel industry was established in the 1950s, and by the 1960s thousands of tonnes of eels were being systematically slaughtered to feed the hungry European market. Commercial catches rose steadily, and by 1975 eels were the most valuable fish export after rock lobsters. There was no quota system, and any size of eel could be taken. The biggest eels were at the top of the hit list-having evolved as top predators, they had nothing to fear and were usually the first to be caught.

The repercussions of exterminating the big eels were not fully realised until a decade later. Although it was long known that big eels were females and spawning only occurred once at the very end of their life, it wasn't until the 1980s that scientists discovered that it can take 80 to 100 years for them to reach that size.

Due to a lack of natural predators and low water temperatures, longfin eels grow very slowly, about two centimetres a year in the South Island. Males reach about 75 cm in length before they head off to spawn. In contrast, the females tend to stick around for almost twice as long; the bigger a female grows, the more eggs she will produce. No one knows exactly how old these grand dames get, but by counting the tree-like rings on the otolith-small, calcified bones in the ear-scientists have found that the eels of Lake Rotoiti where Clinton Haines came across his monsters live to at least 106 years.

Even at that ripe old age, all eels in New Zealand waters are still virgins: only at the end of their life will they produce young.

Before they do so, they undertake a monstrous journey that takes them thousands of kilometres into the tropical Pacific Ocean.

How an eel decides that it is ready to spawn is not understood. What we can be sure of is that every year, longfin eels all over the country begin an amazing transformation, one that prepares them for the transition from their freshwater hideouts to the salty void of the ocean.

"The eel's head gets smaller and bullet-like, and the top of its body becomes very dark for camouflage," says NIWA eel expert Don Jellyman, who has been studying longfins for almost 40 years. "To give the eel greater capacity to see at depth, the eyes enlarge to up to twice their normal size."

By April, countless individuals have left the lakes and streams that have been their home for decades, to migrate downstream and into the ocean. "At this stage they are no longer feeding; for the rest of their journey they will rely solely on fat reserves," Jellyman tells me.

The males are the first to leave our shores (their smaller size means it will take them longer to travel) and a month later, in May, the females follow.

Where exactly longfins breed remains a mystery. A few years ago Jellyman released 10 female longfin eels with pop-up satellite tags into the sea off Lake Ellesmere on the Canterbury coast. The tags record several variables, including the time at which the sun rises and sets, information used to calculate latitude and longitude. But his efforts to track the eels were thwarted by a surprise finding: migrating eels remain in perpetual darkness.

During the night they travel close to the surface, around 200 metres deep. During the day, however, they move to a depth of up to a kilometre.

"Why they do this, I'm not sure, but it could be that they are following temperature bands to help control the final stages of egg development," Jellyman says. Although he was unable to accurately follow the eels' progress, a tag popped up just north-east of New Caledonia more than five months after its host had left New Zealand. The information that it contained, plus recent computer simulations of larval drift, suggest that spawning occurs near Tonga. After the eggs are fertilised, it is believed that all the adult eels die, in their multitude.

The baby longfin's journey back to New Zealand waters is possibly more incredible. Eels start out life as tiny, toothed larvae called leptocephali, which form part of the plankton. Although no one has ever identified longfin leptocephali in the wild, they are believed to resemble those of other eel species: flat, transparent and shaped like a leaf. Although there is no doubt that leptocephali make use of near-surface ocean currents to drift back to New Zealand, computer simulations suggest that none would ever reach our shores if they relied on passive drift alone.

"Our modelling indicates that they must actively swim," says Jellyman. But they must also be able to navigate.

"When you consider that juvenile birds that have hatched in one corner of the globe are able to migrate across oceans to a place they have never been before, then it's not so implausible," Jellyman argues. "We've found magnetite crystals in the cranium of glass eels, which may respond to the Earth's magnetic field in some way."

After seven to nine months in the open ocean, leptocephali reach the continental shelf, where they transform into translucent glass eels. They arrive on New Zealand's coast between July and December, with numbers peaking in spring-the time of whitebait migration. Under the cover of night, the wriggly little critters gather and ride the spring tides in to shore. Once in fresh water, glass eels develop into darkly-pigmented juvenile eels, or elvers, which congregate in summer and begin a mass migration far upstream.

Sex is not determined until the eel is about 10 to 12 years old and has reached a length of 30 cm. Whether it becomes male or female largely depends on how many neighbours are around: crowded areas generally lead to males, and areas of lower eel density-such as inland lakes and streams-tend to favour females. Although they are not territorial, when a large female comes across a deep pool she will often set up long-term residence, provided there is sufficient cover.

Finding a suitable place to call home is one of the biggest challenges that longfin eels face. Only 33 per cent of New Zealand is protected as conservation estate; the rest has been subjected to high levels of modification. The straightening of rivers, construction of water races and removal of weeds and vegetation along banks may be of benefit to farmers and developers, but for eels that rely on those areas for food and cover it can be a death sentence.

"Countless eels are killed through habitat destruction each year," admits Greater Wellington Regional Council scientist Alton Perrie. "But very often it occurs on private land, where no one sees it or can do anything about it."

Not so in March 2008, when an earthmoving contractor was caught red-handed. In the process of removing and dumping weeds from a 300-metre stretch of stream near Lake Wairarapa, Gary Pilcher killed thousands of eels, from babies the size of a bootlace to longfins in excess of a metre. Although the farmer who employed Pilcher was prosecuted in April 2010, the contractor's attitude at the time of the eel kills lacked any regret. As he told the Wairarapa Times-Age: "When a blocked drain is holding up production, I don't give a fat rat's arse about the eels. I don't care."

Unfortunately, for many decades this was also an attitude adopted by most of the country's major suppliers of electricity, responsible for blocking an estimated 35 per cent of eel habitat with hydro-electric dams.

"When Matahina Dam was first put in, the place was just absolutely black with elvers trying to get upstream," says Bay of Plenty resident Bill Kerrison. "They went straight up the dam and across the main road to the lake. It was beautiful but also devastating to watch, because as soon as it got sunny they dried out and died."

A fish passage was put in, but like at many other dams around the country, it never worked. "At the start, the power company just didn't put any effort in," says Kerrison. After years of discussion, Kerrison is now employed to move 4.5 tonnes of elvers every year past Matahina Dam through a trap-and-transfer programme.

"My wife wants me to retire, but I just can't. We know exactly how to handle and transport the little fellows, and we're involved in their monitoring. They need us."

For migrant females that need to get downstream, the dangers that dams pose are a lot worse. Although Kerrison and like-minded individuals transfer as many egg-laden females as they can, the majority of eels are forced to find their own way past the dam. Because of their large size, and the fast rotation speed of power-station turbines, the chances of a mature eel making it through alive are virtually nil. The eels are sliced up and killed.

[sidebar-1]

So it's somewhat morbidly ironic that the largest of all New Zealand's hydroelectric power stations, at Manapouri in Fiordland, sits smack in the middle of the most significant, unexploited longfin eel population in the country. The dam is built underground on the western arm of Lake Manapouri, and its out-flowing current fools migrating females into believing that the man-made tunnel will provide them passage to the ocean.

"It's very sad, because there is a safe way out of the lake, down the Waiau River," says Evan Brunton.

Once a commercial fisherman, Brunton has devoted the past eight years to saving the eels he once hunted. As part of his work for NIWA, he annually fits about 60 migrant females-those about to leave for their breeding grounds-with acoustic transmitters. Unfortunately, the statistics are not good.

"What we're finding," says Brunton, "is that more than 40 per cent of these girls don't find the natural outlet, and end up as mince meat."

The pressures placed upon longfin eels have taken their toll. The number of large females has decreased significantly, and recruitment-the number of young fish that enter a population in a given season-has substantially dropped. Yet commercial fishermen harvest up to 495 tonnes of longfin eels each year.

"It's a very sustainable and well-managed industry," argues Vic Thompson as we walk amongst several holding tanks full of writhing eels. Having fished both longfins and shortfins commercially for over 40 years, Thompson now owns Mossburn Enterprises near Invercargill, one of two eel-processing plants in New Zealand. He agrees that fishing has not always followed a code of best practice.

"In the 1990s, it became increasingly clear that the commercial fishery needed to be properly managed," he tells me. Through his position as chairman of the South Island Eel Industry Association, he has helped to draw up the guidelines that now govern the fishery. "Since we implemented the quota system in 2000, not only has there been a significant drop in the number of people fishing, but the harvest is conducted in a much more rotational way." In addition, all females that exceed the upper size limit of four kilograms are returned to the water. "As commercial fishermen, we take the rap from people about the eels disappearing," says Thompson, "but the problem lies with farmers and developers who destroy eel habitat."

But others are not convinced. "Would you kill a kiwi for $4?" asks Massey University freshwater ecologist Mike Joy. "That's how much one of our endemic longfin eels is worth on the export market, despite the fact that it has the same vulnerability status as the great spotted kiwi."

Joy and a group of like-minded individuals have recently called for a moratorium on commercial eel fishing. They argue that the fishery provides too few returns to too few people to justify continuing.

"Just look at America, Europe, Japan," says Joy. "Their eels are now on the brink of extinction, and in large part that's due to habitat degradation and overfishing."

Modelling of our own eels has shown that if just five per cent (a very conservative figure) of the longfin population is fished, recruitment could drop by 83 per cent. In other words, killing a small percentage of eels now will mean a huge reduction in eel numbers in the not-too-distant future. Don Jellyman agrees that longfins need to be managed conservatively. "The consequences of what we're doing now may not become clear for many years. When we do start seeing a drastic decline, it might be too late."

So what does the future hold for our endemic longfin eels? Can the public learn to love our mysterious monsters of the deep? For a documentary, I recently auditioned a group of 10-year-old girls for a part that required the successful starlet to be in close proximity to eels. When I quizzed my pick of the bunch whether she was scared of the creatures, she vehemently shook her head. "I fed a big eel at Willowbank Wildlife Park," she told me with a shy smile, "and I thought it was lovely."

Magazine

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Deep in our lakes and rivers lurks a monster that has become the stuff of countless myths and legends. But now, just as this misunderstood creature is starting to reveal its many mysteries, some are questioning its future. Enter the dark realm of New Zealand's largest freshwater resident, the longfin eel.

# data[].attributes.headline
Podcast from RNZ with Debbie Mair - Conservation

# data[].attributes.subject
Podcast from RNZ with Debbie Mair - Conservation

# data[].attributes.body
2020 - Impact of land-use and sedimentation on tuna and whitebait, discussion of how riparian planting helps. Involvement of community.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Throughout the summer we'll be talking to communities that are heavily involved in conservation projects - and the people who came up with the ideas.

Debbie Mair has spent the past two years monitoring the several creeks that run through the fast growing centre of Whitby, north of Wellington.

Tuna or long finned eels and whitebait which live in the creeks which are being impacted by sedimentation from gravel and other materials from two large housing developments and the nearby Transmission Gully roadworks.

See terms of use.

Recent stories from The Weekend

Podcast (MP3) Oggcast (Vorbis)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Throughout the summer we'll be talking to communities that are heavily involved in conservation projects - and the people who came up with the ideas. Debbie Mair has spent the past two years monitoring the several creeks that run through the fast growing centre of Whitby, north of Wellington.

# data[].attributes.headline
Glass eel ear bones could reveal migration patterns

# data[].attributes.subject
Glass eel ear bones could reveal migration patterns

# data[].attributes.body
From Radio NZ

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The ear bones of tiny eels might hold clues to their largely secret life.

They might also reveal answers about their migratory habits from New Zealand rivers across vast areas of the ocean, and the effects of climate change in the ocean, a Niwa freshwater scientist says.

Eimear Egan, whose fascination with eels began as a child when bitten by one, has assembled a specialist team for the three-year research project, backed by a government grant.

The team will be studying the ear bones of glass eels which are up to 7cm long to find out more about where their marine life originated, and the oceanic routes they took before entering our freshwaters.

Longfin and shortfin eels migrate down rivers to breed thousands of kilometres away in the western Pacific ocean. The young then make their way back to the freshwater origins of their forebears.

Dr Egan said it was hoped the research would reveal some answers as to where they went, and why.

She said the ear bones of an eel told a story of their daily life and surroundings.

"The eel bones are formed at birth so when the eels migrate from the river, once they're 20 or 30 years of age, and out to the ocean to lay their eggs, this tiny structure made of calcium carbonate forms in the ears.

"A layer is deposited every day in this structure so basically we have a chronology or a time series or a diary, of their daily life in the ocean."

Dr Egan said the eggs hatched into larvae, which was then transported on ocean currents back to New Zealand's coastline where the larvae then transformed into glass eels. A daily record of their growth and of the chemistry of the water they inhabited, was embedded in their ear bones.

She said her fascination with eels began when as a young child growing up on an Irish farm. One of her chores was to regularly clean out the well from where her family drew its drinking water.

"In the well lived a large eel, and no matter how many times it was shifted, it just kept coming back.

"I was traumatised by it for years. It bit me several times," she said.

Dr Egan is now a Hamilton-based Niwa freshwater ecologist.

She said the marine phase of the life cycle of longfin and shortfin eels was mysterious and poorly understood.

"Longfin eels are only found in New Zealand and according to our threat rankings, they have been assessed as 'at risk and declining'.

"At the moment, we don't really have a good understanding of their early life history, including their spawning grounds and larval migration routes, but this information is important because climate change is having a large effect on the Western Pacific Ocean."

Dr Egan said it was not known if the numbers of glass eels making it to New Zealand were affected by processes happening during their marine life.

The team will use a couple of techniques to learn more about them, including polishing the ear bones by hand until the daily rings became visible.

"Then we can interpret distinct rings - or check marks - that coincide with when the larvae first feed and when they change from larvae into glass eels.

"We can measure the distance between rings to figure out daily growth rates, we can count the rings to estimate age and the date the larvae hatched."

The second technique involved using chemistry to work out what temperature the larvae had experienced at sea.

Niwa scientists will also start a project in April to tag migrating female eels, to see where they go in the Western Pacific Ocean to spawn.

Eels can live in rivers or lakes for up to 100 years.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Glass eel ear bones could reveal migration patterns

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The ear bones of tiny eels might hold clues to their largely secret life. They might also reveal answers about their migratory habits from New Zealand rivers across vast areas of the ocean, and the effects of climate change in the ocean, a Niwa freshwater scientist says.

# data[].attributes.headline
Family mourns 'adorable' native eels culled by neighbours to save ducklings

# data[].attributes.subject
Family mourns 'adorable' native eels culled by neighbours to save ducklings

# data[].attributes.body
2018 article - another good one for discussion of what people value. May stimulate debate.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A north Auckland man whose family enjoys feeding the eels at a small lake was horrified to witness his neighbours hacking the eels to pieces.

John Hicking and his children regularly wander down to Maygrove Lake, near their home in Orewa, to feed the eels bacon and fish-food.

On the morning of October 27, while he was making a cup of tea, Hicking was met with a "horrifying" sight as he gazed through his kitchen window.

He witnessed a group of neighbours pulling a net out of the lake with around five eels, which they proceeded to hack to pieces with an axe or spade.

READ MORE:
* Fears Auckland creeks could be cleaned out of eels by illegal fishing
* Aucklander who feeds eels feared massacre of finned friends after grisly find
* Paradise for eels? Getting to know the secrets of NZ's new icon

Upon approaching them, Hicking was appalled to see pieces of the eels were still moving.

"The cut sections were still writhing around, it was pretty horrible."

When asked by Hicking if they were going to eat the eels, the neighbours said they were culling the eels, because they had been eating duck's feet and ducklings.

"I'm sure a big eel would have a go at a duck or duckling, but that's nature. I think it's such a shame to kill the eels for no good reason."

Hicking decided not to tell his 8-year-old daughter, Thea, about how the eels came to die, but she was upset to hear the eels had been harmed.

"I think they're adorable. It feels nice [feeding the eels], because they probably eat little fish and other stuff and it's probably a treat for them."

Hicking's neighbours, John and Marie Walding, two of the three neighbours involved in the culling, said they didn't kill the eels just for the sake of it.

The Waldings, who were chairwoman and treasurer of the Maygrove Residents Association, said they were acting upon residents' concerns over a lack of ducklings in the area.

"People were complaining that they were seeing ducklings swimming, next thing they were being taken under the water and eaten. There's only one thing that can do that, isn't there?

"There are no ducklings. They are not surviving. The eels just chew their feet off, you see them hobbling around."

The third neighbour involved in the culling, who didn't wish to be identified, confirmed a spade was used to kill the eels. However, it was just a matter of controlling the number of eels.

"The ducklings are the thing the kids come and watch. There's maybe four or five one day, the next day there's one."

Meeting minutes from the Maygrove Residents Association annual general meeting suggested residents requested for a watercare company to be approached for a quote to reduce the eels.

The Waldings were quoted $480 plus GST by a professional to have the eels removed. However, after loan of an eel trap was offered, they decided to save Maygrove residents some money and do it themselves.

In hindsight, if they knew Hicking's children would be upset over the execution, they would have relocated the eels instead, John said.

"The way we did it was wrong. We are not cruel people. I didn't enjoy what I was doing and, in hindsight, we shouldn't have killed them. We would have been better to just relocate them," John said.

Auckland Council senior regional freshwater advisor Matthew Bloxham admitted, while it may be upsetting to witness ducklings being killed by eels, it was a natural occurrence.

Further, the eels were likely to be the threatened long fin variety, while mallard ducks were so common as to be considered a nuisance in parts of the country.

Both short and long fin eels were native, found in the area, and long fin eels were indigenous, threatened and in decline. "For an eel to take a duckling, it was likely a long fin eel."

In urban freshwater environments, ducklings represented a vital source of animal protein.

The council had an informal agreement with the Maygrove Residents Association to maintain the lake and the group volunteered their time with regular working bees.

It was an offence to destroy animals living in reserves under section 94 of the Reserves Act. Moving native fish required a permit from the Department of Conservation and the Ministry for Primary Industries.

The council's parks department had been in contact with the residents association to advise against culling the eels.

National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research (NIWA) freshwater scientist Dr Phil Jellyman confirmed eels can pose a threat to ducks and ducklings, and could eat ducks' feet.

Regarding the eels being chopped to pieces, Jellyman said the movement would have been caused by muscle spasms during death.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Family mourns 'adorable' native eels culled by neighbours to save ducklings

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A north Auckland man whose family enjoys feeding the eels at a small lake was horrified to witness his neighbours hacking the eels to pieces. John Hicking and his children regularly wander down to Maygrove Lake, near their home in Orewa, to feed the eels bacon and fish-food.

# data[].attributes.body
2018 - The impact of land-use and climate on tuna. Consider having students take different view points: how might farmers feel? Conservationists? The general public?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The mass death of eels in a coastal Taranaki stream is being blamed on poor land management and the effects of climate change.

About half a dozen mature eels - known to Māori as tuna - lie rotting at the mouth of the Waitekaure stream at Pungarehu, which drought has reduced to a mere trickle.

One tuna is cemented in a putrid orange gunk while others lie upturned in rank oil-slicked pools of still water.

Another did not even make it that far - stranded high and dry at the other end of the underpass.

There are flies everywhere.

Between the tuna and the sea is a two-metre high dam of shingle and driftwood - the eels did not stand a chance.

The Waitekaure's kaitiaki or guardian, Tihikura Hohaia, said it did not have to be like this.

"There's a total lack of care for the smaller streams and then the feeders that come in on those are being drained and piped because they tend to be puna wai, short course springs.

"And farmers don't favour them because their cows bog them up so they prefer to run pipes through it, drain it and plant more grass over the top."

Climate change meant storm surges like the one that had blocked the stream and droughts were predictable, but no planning was being done for them, Mr Hohaia said.

The smaller water courses gave protection from such weather extremes, he said.

"Those are the lungs. Those are the very places that provide moisture, provide water."

Instead, the water was heading straight out to sea.

"Over summer you would, in a healthy water course, expect those lungs to hold water back and release it slowly through these critical periods."

There were many other dead or dying eels upstream and in other nearby streams, Mr Hohaia said.

Trustee and educator at Te Whenua Tōmuri Trust, Emily Bailey, who posted a video of the dead eels on the trust's Facebook page, said the eels were a pointer to deeper issues.

"I guess what's happening down there is just a sign of the times with climate change, intensive farming and just poor management for a whole lot of reasons from the break up of rural communities to fertiliser companies getting out of control."

An iwi representative on the regional council's policy and planning committee, Ms Bailey said the council could do more.

"We are protecting our rivers but we're not protecting our streams and our wetlands - and if you don't have streams and wetlands, you don't have rivers.

"The council is run by the community so we need to tell them that we are not happy and we need things to be done better."

Council environment quality director Fred McLay said in a statement that coastal Taranaki had less that 50 percent of its normal rainfall over the past four months.

As a result, flows in lowland draining streams like the Waitekaure had been significantly affected.

Reports of stressed or dead eels could be attributed to naturally occurring low flows, he said.

That did not wash with Tihikura Hohaia.

"Look at it from my perspective, ... cause I can hear all the farmers out there and the Taranaki Regional Council making excuses for the farmers.

"I'm a farmer. I farm freshwater fish and my ancestors have done so for thousands of years.

"Where's the equality for my rights, when we're looking at my livestock rotting in front of our eyes?"

The regional council worked with landowners to protect and enhance habitat for native species such as tuna, Mr McLay said.

In the Waitekaure catchment there was 52 kilometres of streambank - 77 percent was fenced and 43 percent had riparian planting, he said.

A 2014 Landcare Research study found dairy farming intensification was contributing to an ongoing loss of wetlands in Taranaki.

Just 8.1 percent - or 3000 hectares - of pre-European wetlands remained.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The mass death of eels in a coastal Taranaki stream is being blamed on poor land management and the effects of climate change. About half a dozen mature eels - known to Māori as tuna - lie rotting at the mouth of the Waitekaure stream at Pungarehu, which drought has reduced to a mere trickle.

# data[].attributes.headline
Pressure to ban fishing of longfin eels rises, as industry faces upheaval

# data[].attributes.subject
Pressure to ban fishing of longfin eels rises, as industry faces upheaval

# data[].attributes.body
2016 article. Commercial eeling vs conservation.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Which will become extinct first: New Zealand's ancient and unique longfin​ eel, or the industry reliant on harvesting them?

As debate continues about whether the "extraordinary" longfin eel will die out, some South Island eelers are giving up due to the prospect of more upheaval.

A commercial eel industry spokesman said a bomb had been placed beneath South Island eelers, and there was more uncertainty to come.

Longfin eels are the largest and longest-lived freshwater eel in the world.

They are only found in New Zealand, where they have existed for over 20 million years, woven into Maori legends of serpent-like taniwha creeping through rivers and darkened caves.

READ MORE:
* Eels just as worthy of protections as kereru
* Eel farming could be the way ahead
* Longfin eel fishing needs to stop - Commissioner
* Protection plan for longfin eel proposed

Despite being an at-risk species with the same classification as kereru and great spotted Kiwi, longfins are still fished commercially. They have been sold overseas in luxury cat food.

The Ministry for Primary Industries (MPI) has been pressured to step in to protect the species, following a 2012 report by Parliamentary commissioner for the environment Dr Jan Wright claiming longfins risked becoming extinct.

MPI recently separated the South Island's eel stock into shortfins and longfins, and is reviewing catch limits. One option is a moratorium on all commercial longfin fishing in the South Island.

This week, Wright reiterated her belief that without such a moratorium, the species would be in trouble.

"I have not seen any evidence that alters my assessment that the longfin eel population is in serious trouble and on a slow path to extinction," she said

"We must be cautious in our management of this extraordinary creature."

The Green Party also supported a ban: "Just as we stopped hunting and eating other threatened species such as kiwi and kakapo, we can stop commercial fishing of longfin eel," environment spokeswoman Eugenie Sage said.

Following Wright's 2012 report, an international panel determined the longfin population had fallen, but there was not enough scientific evidence to support a ban.

Splitting the eel stock meant eelers had to overhaul everything about their businesses, including where they fished and who they could sell to. The prospect of a complete ban posed a risk to the entire industry.

Commercial eel industry spokesman Bill Chisholm said splitting the stock should not have happened, and fears about the impact of commercial eeling were not justified by science.

"They [MPI] crossed the line professionally. It's unprofessional to come up with proposals for longfin eels which did not give due regard to the science," he said.

"We're happy to take cuts and restrictions and bans if the science backs up. In this respect, the science doesn't back any of it up, and this process should never have happened."

He cited a recent report from Niwa that found about 70 per cent of longfin eel habitat was not fished commercially. He said longfins tended to live in the mountainous high-country, where little fishing took place, due in part to the prevalence of national parks.

Even without a ban, some eelers were not meeting quotas because the changes had been too difficult.

"One of the possibilities is that the fishery won't recover. The fishermen will think bugger this, it's not worth catching eels anymore . . . and that's the end of that."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Pressure to ban fishing of longfin eels rises, as industry faces upheaval

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Which will become extinct first: New Zealand's ancient and unique longfin​ eel, or the industry reliant on harvesting them? As debate continues about whether the "extraordinary" longfin eel will die out, some South Island eelers are giving up due to the prospect of more upheaval.

# data[].attributes.headline
Paradise for eels? Getting to know the secrets of NZ's new icon

# data[].attributes.subject
Paradise for eels? Getting to know the secrets of NZ's new icon

# data[].attributes.body
2017. Lots of interesting titbits about tuna.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
As New Zealand's "Mr Eel", Niwa's Dr Don Jellyman has heard every tall tale. And some of them may be true.

There is the classic one about the unlucky haymaker. Jellyman was told the yarn again by a commercial eeler friend.

"It was hot mid-afternoon and the guy stripped off starkers, went to lay in the stream. An eel came along and grabbed hold of his 'old fella' - gave it the spinning treatment."

Yeah, that old urban legend, Jellyman replied. "But he said no. He had visited the guy in hospital himself."

READ MORE:
* Saving Doris the friendly eel at Christchurch's Antigua Boatshed
* Longfin eels get a foot hold on slippery slope to extinction
* New Yorkers develop a taste for Kiwi eels
* Central Otago Lamprey breeding grounds discovered for first time

Ouch. So maybe it did happen. Certainly eels do scavenge animal carcasses by coiling in circles to rip off lumps.

Another is the reports of eel balls - claims of writhing masses of up to 100 eels tumbling together down streams at night.

"I've never seen it, but I've heard of duck shooters on the Waikato that have seen it. And there's one reference to it in the scientific literature - in Canada," says Jellyman.

Plausibly it could have something to do with eel migration - behaviour to synchronise their departure, or even mimic spawning behaviour, as the eels prepare for their 2000km trek to their distant ocean breeding grounds.

But until someone gets a photograph, it remains another tantalising mystery of a still fairly mysterious creature.

Eels have a changing place in the heart and imagination of New Zealanders. While not quite yet ranking with kiwi and tuatara on the front of tourist t-shirts, they are becoming an iconic creature in being clearly the most impressive native species living in our lakes and rivers.

Jellyman - at 70, still a researcher at the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research (Niwa) in Christchurch - says it is amazing how much attitudes have changed if you think back to when he was a Pakeha kid growing up in Blenheim.

Then the natural king of the water was the trout. Eels had a bounty on their tails literally.

"The local fish and game council used to pay us. The prevailing wisdom was they didn't coexist well with trout. Anglers were encouraged to kill them. So we would go out on a Friday night. And for small boys, tuppence an eel tail was not a bad little earner."

Jellyman says despite their abundance, eels were not valued even as food. The left-over carcasses were burnt or fed to the chooks. But then even whitebait was so plentiful in those days that the chickens got it by the bucketful.

Now, he agrees, attitudes have done a 180. Eels have become a national bicultural symbol.

They are starting to appear everywhere in New Zealand art and sculpture. In post-quake central Christchurch, they have become a special feature of the Avon River's new landscaping.

Terraced steps down to the water make the perfect overhang for eels to lurk and wait for a friendly feed - even if it is chips from a leftover takeaway.

But how much do we really know about them, and how good a job are we doing to protect them? Is the new respect being matched by our deeds?

★★★

I'm just a glorified technician, says Jellyman. What he loves is getting out in the wilds at night with a torch.

If he is not tagging migrating eels with local iwi at Te Waihora/Lake Ellesmere, he is tracking lampreys looking to spawn in the unlikely location of a Christchurch drainage culvert - another story he can talk about.

Jellyman got into eels by accident. While working at Victoria University's marine department, he found he was good at field work. "But I soon learnt I was quite a poor sailor." This prompted a switch from saltwater to freshwater science.

Also, the late 1970s were when the commercial exploitation of New Zealand eels was beginning to take off, he says. The Japanese in particular were interested in exports of live glass eels - the young returning from the sea - that they could grow on in ponds.

Jellyman was given a research budget to answer the basic aquaculture questions, like how fast eels would develop in captivity. The answer was that when fed in a tank, they could put on as much weight in a year as in a decade in the wild.

He says for various reasons, that trade never took off. But eels did become a new export commodity as adults, smoked or frozen. Europe, as well as Japan and Korea, still buy them. And so he found himself becoming the go-to guy for eel fishery expertise.

So what is our eel story? Why does New Zealand seem like some kind of eel paradise?

Jellyman says there are 19 species of freshwater eels in the world. They are all descendants of tropical marine eels living off Indonesia. And their extreme spawning habits have made them a real evolutionary puzzle.

Early naturalists knew that when adult eels went to sea on their one-time breeding trips at the ends of their lives, they couldn't be spawning just in coastal waters. Baby eel larva were never found there. So where did they go?

Eventually in 1920, after years of trawling the oceans and tracking backwards along a trail of smaller and smaller specimens, a Danish researcher discovered that North Atlantic eels swim all the way to the Sargasso Sea near the Bahamas.

The eel larva then get swept back homeward by hitching a lift on the Gulf Stream.

Jellyman says North American eels "detrain" from this ocean current early. It is only a short hop from the Bahamas for them. European eels have to hang on much longer.

To navigate this way, eels - like other migrating animals - use crystals of magnetite to sense the Earth's magnetic field. An in-built compass.

But even into the 1960s there were huge controversies. Jellyman says one UK researcher was more or less drummed out of his post at the British Museum for suggesting European adult eels could never actually make their 5000km trip to the Sargasso without feeding.

In a paper to Nature, he argued it had to be the case that every year, they just swam to oblivion. The entire European stock would be replenished instead by the spawn of US eels carried across the Atlantic on the Gulf Stream's favourable tide.

Jellyman says genetics has confirmed the eels are different species. Also laboratory experiments have shown the European eels could keep going for that long without being able to eat.

"A colleague in the Netherlands put them in these swimming tubes and left them there for months. It turns out eel swimming - that long sinuous motion - is very efficient."

Anyway, one of the Holy Grails of Jellyman's own career was to find where New Zealand eels spawned. New Zealand has two species - the longfin and then the shortfin, a smaller, more lowland, species that also turns up in Australia.

Or in fact, New Zealand is now known to have three species as the Australian or Speckled longfin was found to be widespread in small numbers north of the Waikato River in the 1990s.

At Niwa, Jellyman spent years tracking radio-tagged adults as they left New Zealand, then computer modelling ocean currents to prove the young could be returned to the right places. That has showed our eels head to warm, plankton-rich, waters between New Caledonia and Fiji.

Jellyman says a shared breeding ground would explain why Australian longfins would occasionally show up as a mottled-back interloper here. But it makes another mystery of how the species manage to maintain their distinct genetic identities.

The New Zealand longfin is particularly adapted to the colder alpine waters of the South Island and can grow to monster size.

On the wall of his office, there is a photo of Jellyman grappling an 18kg giant, about as long as himself, he found near Barrytown on the West Coast. A veritable taniwha.

He says shortfins don't reach the same weight or age. The females are about 20 years-old when they head to sea as "silver eels" - turned from a dull grey to a reflective silver as their ocean-going camouflage for the spawning trip.

Longfin females are usually 40, and can be nearer 100 years-old, when they feel ready to go. A big longfin can carry 40 million eggs.

But what about New Zealand being an ecological paradise for eels?

Jellyman says take away introduced trout and salmon, and eels are the apex freshwater predator. New Zealand doesn't have pikes, catfish, or even crocodiles, to compete. So the eel is top fish and - by world standards - reaches high population densities.

Jellyman says New Zealand's geological rawness and isolation means it has a unique freshwater story generally.

We have only some 35 fish species in total, most of them small like galaxiids. And almost all - again unusually - retain a life cycle connection to the sea.

Galaxiids spawn in rivermouths. Their eggs wash out on the tide and the fry return after winter as runs of whitebait. Most of the bully species and others, like the rapid-living torrentfish, do the same, Jellyman says. "The closest relative of the torrentfish is the blue cod."

So what has happened is New Zealand has been colonised by marine species becoming adapted for freshwater as adults. It was too disconnected for true freshwater species to reach. And the marine ones have then kept up their original saltwater breeding habits.

Also, the harsh nature of the New Zealand landscape explains why most of the native species are small and slippery in shape, he says - suited to living among pebbles and boulders.

"It's a pretty hostile environment our freshwater rivers. They're fast and stony and have high bedload movements. You've got to be pretty robust to survive in that."

So eels, being sea-going, could get here where other more sleek and speedy predator fish - like trout - couldn't. And although being slow ambush predators - adept at sneaking up on prey under cover of darkness, using their keen sense of smell - they flourished because of their varied diet.

Jellyman says as well as "inhaling" koura or freshwater crays, galaxiids, and baby ducklings with a sudden big suck, they spend the nights nosing for snails and water insects. They scavenge for dead possums and anything else lying limp in the waterways.

There is not a lot of food in New Zealand waterways, which makes eels slow-growing in the wild. But their versatility means they get everywhere and hundreds can turn up out when you bait a trap, Jellyman says.

So accidents of geography give New Zealand freshwater ecology its quite particular character.

Getting back to the question of the changing place of the eel in our national identity, Jellyman says Pakeha used to regard eels as a trash species. "They were the cold and slimies."

He remembers the reverence with which he was once offered a pricey eel dish in Japan - taken from some special spring on the slopes of Mt Fuji. And the importance of eels - or tuna - to Maori is obvious. It is in so many place names like Waituna and Kaituna.

However now he thinks Kiwis are beginning to appreciate the dark mystery and slow-moving grace of eels. They are not flashy but do speak to an earthiness and spirituality. "Perhaps I'm biased, but there's an inherent beauty in the way they glide about in their very energy conservative way."

With wry amusement, Jellyman tells of one of the many TV nature documentaries he has consulted on - this one by a gung-ho gamefishing type from the UK. "He wanted something dramatic. So that episode was called 'Flesh Ripper'." Jellyman's expression says it all.

The film crew team went down to Fiordland. "There's a sequence there where the guy got a chain mail glove and smeared it with paua guts. Of course an eel came up, sniffed it, and grabbed hold of it. Then he's lifting it up shouting 'Look at this, look at this!'."

In another demonstration of the notorious aggression of these Kiwi river monsters, the crew threw a deer carcass in a stream and filmed it jiggling in the water as a host of eels spun to take off bits.

The frothing water was meant to suggest piranhas in the Amazon. Jellyman shakes his head. Such is the power of the cultural imagination. But it highlights the quite different relationship bicultural New Zealand may be forging with its most impressive native freshwater fish.

★★★

Attitudes have certainly evolved. But how well are our eels actually being cared for?

A big part of Jellyman's job has been establishing the science for a sustainable fishery. He says in the unregulated 1970s, when an export market first became a possibility, people clearly thrashed the eel population.

New Zealand was sending about 2000 tonnes abroad - not a great weight, but a problem when eels have such a slow breeding rate.

If it takes 40 years between generations of longfin, then it is only now that the full effects of removing those spawning females would be visible, Jellyman says.

Eels were brought into fisheries' quota management system from 2000. The export volume has come down to around 500 tonnes. Longfin quotas were cut again a few years back on a precautionary basis.

Jellyman says eels still seem relatively plentiful - compared to our other endangered species. And as habitat generalists, they can survive even in some rather dank, low oxygen, water. "If your eels are dying, you know you have a real environmental problem."

However we have poor data about the actual number of baby glass eels returning each year, he says. We can't be sure about the current restocking rates.

And then for shortfin eels especially, lowland development is removing a lot of their wetlands and coastal streams. While for longfins, there is another source of population pressure that many don't want to talk too much about.

Longfins like big rivers and inland lakes. Which means they have to mix it with the national hydrodam network.

The dams are good at providing eel races the young can climb. Or elvers are trapped at the bottom and lifted past the dam. But then there is the return journey as adults when they have to face the grilles and blades of the turbines.

"They get munched. On the Manapouri, it would be 100 per cent mortality for the eels that get sucked in," Jellyman says bluntly.

It is an international concern for dam owners. All sorts of attempts have been made to steer adult eels towards safe races using strong lights, ultrasound or low-voltage electricity. None of it works, says Jellyman.

Dams can stop their turbines and lower their spillways when eels are on the move. It is always a dark and stormy night they pick. Yet that is an expensive and unpopular option for a national power generator.

Jellyman says he can see in the future - as the longfin becomes more of a recognised taonga species - this turning into a bigger deal with the New Zealand public.

A sombre thought. But Jellyman perks up. Another research project for him is Lampreys - piharau or kanakana to Maori who value them as a customary dish.

Lampreys are also largely unloved. They are called the vampire of the seas because they live by attaching themselves to other fish with their circular rasping mouth, sucking blood and bodily fluids. Then in a reverse of the eel lifecycle, the adults swim far up rivers to spawn in freshwater.

Jellyman says most people never see them, but Maori knew how to catch them with traps of punga fronds draped over stony hollows where the migrating lampreys would collect to take a daytime rest.

They were prized for being rich in oils - Jellyman's face says they might be an acquired taste. However, until 2013, no one actually knew where they spawned in New Zealand until it was found they preferred the safety of nesting under large boulders.

Using radio tracking, a male was found guarding eggs under a rock in the Okuti River, near Banks Peninsula's Little River. Now Jellyman has found another possible far more surprising site - behind the wooden frames of drainage ditches in Marshland, right on the suburban edge of Christchurch.

"That whole area is destined for some kind of development with the new motorways, so the council asked us to have a wee look. And it's hard to think of a less lamprey-oriented environment than these box drains. But they must be spawning somewhere."

So happily Jellyman will be out with his aerial, keeping track of tagged adults to confirm if this is the case.

It seems the more we learn about our native species, the more there is to learn. And so "Mr Eel" continues his research.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Paradise for eels? Getting to know the secrets of NZ's new icon

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
As New Zealand's "Mr Eel", Niwa's Dr Don Jellyman has heard every tall tale. And some of them may be true. There is the classic one about the unlucky haymaker. Jellyman was told the yarn again by a commercial eeler friend. "It was hot mid-afternoon and the guy stripped off starkers, went to lay in the stream.

# data[].attributes.headline
Mystery of the longfin eel's breeding ground

# data[].attributes.subject
Mystery of the longfin eel's breeding ground

# data[].attributes.body
2019 - article & podcast. A look at the science used to investigate the travels of tuna.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
NIWA freshwater ecologists are trying to solve one of the great mysteries of the natural world: where New Zealand's longfin eels go to breed.

They hope sophisticated satellite tags deployed on nine female eels in the Waikato River will reveal exactly where in the Pacific Ocean the spawning grounds are located.

Worldwide there are 16 species of temperate freshwater eels that live in continental waters such as lakes, rivers and estuaries. New Zealand's endemic longfin eels are the largest and longest-lived of these.

These species all breed only once, at the end of their life. They all spawn far out in the open ocean.

And we are only just starting to find out where all of them go on their once-in-a-lifetime breeding migrations.

NIWA's Dr Paul Franklin says finding out where our longfin eels, or tuna, go to spawn is a bit of a holy grail for fish biologists.

Dr Don Jellyman, also from NIWA, made the first attempts to track longfin eels back in the early 2000s. These early pop-up archival satellite tags were bigger and heavier than more modern versions, and Don had limited success with the ten he deployed.

One came off about 1000 kilometres northeast of New Zealand. The most successful tag released from the eel after a journey of 2500 kilometres, popping up 700-or-so kilometres east of New Caledonia.

This huge area between Tonga and New Caledonia seems the likely breeding zone but Paul is hoping to get a more precise location.

On average, migrating temperate freshwater eels swim at about one kilometre an hour, which means they cover about 24 or so kilometres a day. Some slow ones may travel as little as two kilometres in a day, while others cover up to 50 kilometres a day.

European eels, for example, cross the entire Atlantic Ocean. At that average swimming speed it will take them seven months to cover 5000 kilometres. And spare a thought for the Norwegian eels that have to swim up to 9000 km to reach the Sargasso Sea spawning area.

Even if our longfin eels aren't swimming quite that far, they're still swimming at least 2500 kilometres.

New evidence suggests that, contrary to previous beliefs, the eels almost certainly don't breed until the year after they migrate

The females leave here in April and May and the first glass eels come back in August which is not enough time for mum to swim there, spawn and have her tiny larvae drift back in the same year.

Don's previous research, and similar research on a number of other temperate freshwater eels, has shown that migrating temperate eels spend a lot of time during the day in deep cold water, at depths of around 500-900 metres. At night, they come up into warmer shallower water, just 100-200 metres deep.

Researchers think there may be several reasons for this. Avoiding getting eaten is a big one. Studies with northern hemisphere eels have shown that predation is a huge risk, with up to three quarters of tagged eels getting munched en route.

The female eels are also juggling temperature and pressure, trying to time when their ovaries mature with maintaining a comfortable temperature during their long swim.

Professor Kim Aarestrup, from the Technical University of Denmark, has been in New Zealand helping NIWA with the eel tagging. The New Zealand longfin eel is the seventh eel species he has tagged. He describes it as the 'king of eels' for its large size (up to two metres long and weighing up to 25 kilograms) and longevity (living from 40 to more than 70 years).

Only female eels have been tagged as they are significantly larger than males and are better able to cope with the small amount of drag that the tag causes. Paul plans to tag a tenth eel in the Waikato this year.

Paul says the tags have been programmed to release over five to eight months, and even if some tags fail or come off early he is hopeful of getting enough data to solve the mystery of the eel spawning grounds.

A team of Australian researchers has recently tagged a number of shortfin eels in south Victoria. This is the same species as in New Zealand, and Paul says it will be very interesting to see where they migrate to spawn.

Listen to NIWA freshwater ecologist Eimer Egan talking about using eel earbones to find out information about their life history.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Mystery of the longfin eel's breeding ground

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
NIWA freshwater ecologists are trying to solve one of the great mysteries of the natural world: where New Zealand's longfin eels go to breed. They hope sophisticated satellite tags deployed on nine female eels in the Waikato River will reveal exactly where in the Pacific Ocean the spawning grounds are located.

# data[].attributes.headline
NZASE Resource - Growing tuna kuwharuwharu at school

# data[].attributes.subject
NZASE Resource - Growing tuna kuwharuwharu at school

# data[].attributes.body
Quick read on a school working with local iwi to grow and release tuna kuwharuwharu. Good detail, suggestions and links to learning further resources (e.g. School Journal). Visit NZASE for more great resources.

# data[].attributes.body
Conservation Volunteers NZ

# data[].attributes.body
from Conservation Volunteers NZ - includes posters, stories, and the reading exercise posted above.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It's no wonder tuna are considered a taonga (treasure), having graced lakes, swamps, rivers and streams in Aotearoa for more than 23 million years. Tuna kuwharuwharu play an important role in Māori culture and have been studied for many generations to determine life cycles, ages, habitat and migration patterns. Female longfins, as they're commonly known, reach breeding maturity at anywhere up to 100 years of age. They will then swim to Tonga where they lay millions of eggs before they die. They can grow to be more than 2 metres long making them the largest eel in the world.

The longfin eel is a truly amazing creature and we hope that by using these resources you, your children and/ or students come to love the tuna as much as we do. This eel is endemic to New Zealand and is also our top freshwater predator which makes them extremely important to the biodiversity of our waterways.

Sadly, eel populations are now declining, and they are considered an 'At Risk' species. The main cause of the decline has been human activity: pollution, deforestation, hunting, dams and culverts are all threats. The longfin eel sure does have a lot to deal with these days. These resources will help you understand more about these special creatures, their lives, threats and what we can do to help them. Dive right in and enjoy!

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Tamariki For Tuna - Longfin Eel Educational Resources - Conservation Volunteers New Zealand

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Species: Tuna / Longfin eel / Anguilla eieffenbachii Location: New Zealand - Endemic Status: At Risk - Declining Threats: Habitat loss and degradation, eel fishing, barriers to migration, pollution and high nutrient levels reducing oxygen in water are all threats to survival. Our work: Habitat restoration and improvement through riparian planting, litter clean ups, monitoring and education.

# data[].attributes.body
Developing meaningful connections with local whānau and hapū will give learners the opportunity to understand the local context for this and many other topics of investigation.

# data[].attributes.headline
Te hopu tuna - eeling (Te Ara - The Encyclopedia of New Zealand)

# data[].attributes.subject
Te hopu tuna - eeling (Te Ara - The Encyclopedia of New Zealand)

# data[].attributes.body
Thorough but simple history of eeling methods, including historical images and references to tikanga of different rohe/areas.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Eels were an important food for Māori.

Tuna

The Māori word tuna means eels and some other fish that look like eels. It includes:

longfin eels

shortfin eels

ngōiro (conger eels)

tuere (hagfish)

para (frostfish)

piharau (lampreys).

Eels in tradition

In one tradition, a giant eel called Tuna frightened the demigod Māui's wives. To punish Tuna, Māui cut him in half. One half turned into the conger eel, which lives in the sea. The other half fell in a river and became a freshwater eel.

Pā tuna - eel weirs

Māori built weirs to catch eels. These were fences in a river or stream, lined with brush or ferns so the water could get through but eels could not. Eels swam along the fence, which led into a net and then a trap.

In the 19th century, Europeans removed eel weirs so they could sail large boats on the rivers.

Hīnaki - eel pots

Hīnaki (eel pots) were woven from plant stems. They were put in rivers or streams, with bait inside - worms, insects or even birds. Inside a hīnaki's opening there was a circle of pointed sticks or a special net, so eels could get in but not get out again.

Hunting with torches

People often caught eels at night, using a torch with a spear or net. Torches were made by burning kauri gum, leaves or wood. Today battery-powered torches are used.

Other methods

People felt around in the water and grabbed eels, or hit them with a stick. Or they 'bobbed' for eels - using a bait of worms, grubs or spiders, in a bag or tangled in flax.

Eel migrations

Every year eels swim out to sea to breed. Māori often caught many of them at this time, using traps, or digging ditches that the eels swam into.

Cooking and preserving

People wrapped eels in leaves and roasted them, or cooked them in small baskets. They also preserved eels by drying, or by partly cooking them over a fire.

Keeping live eels

Live eels were sometimes kept in cages in streams, and fed potatoes and other food. People also put live eels into ponds or lagoons, where they were easy to catch.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Eels were a vital food for Māori, who caught them using weirs built on rivers, or with traps, nets, spears and bait. Large numbers of eels were captured on their yearly migrations to the sea, and live eels were kept in cages or ponds as a ready food supply.

# data[].attributes.body
A mini-documentary based in the Wairarapa. Stories of connection to waterways and tuna, memories, change, and loss.
Produced by Lake Stories Aotearoa New Zealand.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Six Wairarapa residents share their memories of the tuna heke; the seasonal eel migrations and traditional harvesting practices. With changes to land use, the diversion and degradation of waterways, and pressures of commercial eeling, our storytellers raise concerns about the future of tuna and the health of Wairarapa Moana.

Storytellers: Taiawhio Gemmell, Joseph Potangaroa, Teresa Aporo, Sam Ludden, Matt Paku and Mahia Mikaera.

DURATION: 20 min

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Whakapapa Kōrero - LAKE STORIES AOTEAROA NEW ZEALAND

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Six Wairarapa residents share their memories of the tuna heke; the seasonal eel migrations and traditional harvesting practices. With changes to land use, the diversion and degradation of waterways, and pressures of commercial eeling, our storytellers raise concerns about the future of tuna and the health of Wairarapa Moana.

# data[].attributes.headline
Eels and whitebait beneath the streets of Wellington? Council wants to find out

# data[].attributes.subject
Eels and whitebait beneath the streets of Wellington? Council wants to find out

# data[].attributes.body
2019. Could tuna be lurking beneath our urban centres? See also the streams beneath the streets.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Greater Wellington Regional Council (GWRC) will carry out a survey of the underground streams beneath Wellington, where eels or even whitebait species may live.

The city is home to a large network of piped and underground streams, and the council says it wants to know how healthy those streams are and what is living in them.

Greater Wellington Senior Environmental Scientist Dr Evan Harrison said scientists will crawl into the streams and set traps and low-light motion detection cameras to see what fish and invertebrates are there.

"This is the first phase of our underground survey and we'll be focusing on piped streams in Miramar, Hataitai, Wellington CBD and Island Bay," he said.

"It's a trial to see what results we can get, with a view to monitoring other areas in the future."

Wellington City Council Urban Ecology Manager Daniela Biaggio says above-ground sampling of Wellington's streams have shown a surprising biodiversity.

"Our above ground surveys are showing that despite the amount of development and pollution, our urban streams still hold wildlife treasures such as kōaro (whitebait) and tuna longfin eels," she said.

GWRC-contracted scientists recently found a kōaro living in the small Kumutoto Stream near Victoria University - far from the ocean.

Senior Environment Scientist Evan Harrison said "to get there, this fish would have had to climb through piped sections of the stream under the city, all the way from the harbour!

"It really brings home to us the importance of looking after our city waterways to protect the fish that are literally living under our feet," Mr Harrison said.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Eels and whitebait beneath the streets of Wellington? Council wants to find out

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Greater Wellington Regional Council (GWRC) will carry out a survey of the underground streams beneath Wellington, where eels or even whitebait species may live. The city is home to a large network of piped and underground streams, and the council says it wants to know how healthy those streams are and what is living in them.

# data[].attributes.body
Watch as a juvenile eel attempts to pass over a man-made structure.

Barriers to fish migration are a major threat to our taonga native ika/fish. Look at a river or stream near you - are there dams or 'perched' culverts that might prevent fish migration?

Thames High School students identified a fish barrier using eDNA technology!

# data[].attributes.body
A model eel weir housed at Te Papa museum.

# data[].attributes.headline
Kei hea ngā tuna - waiata and mini documentary

# data[].attributes.subject
Kei hea ngā tuna - waiata and mini documentary

# data[].attributes.body
Kei hea ngā tuna – Where are the tuna? is a waiata (song) that affirms the importance of tuna/eels, and the desire of ahi kā for whānau to return home. Suzanne Murphy of Kohunui Marae guides us through the rich treasure of artworks that adorn the wharenui, Tuhirangi. Each work provides an insight into the interconnectedness of people with their lakes, rivers and wetlands, the coast, lands, fish, birds and trees that have sustained the families of Kohunui Pā over generations.
Produced by Lake Stories Aotearoa New Zealand.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Kei hea ngā tuna - Where are the tuna? is a waiata (song) that affirms the importance of tuna/eels, and the desire of ahi kā for whānau to return home. Suzanne Murphy of Kohunui Marae guides us through the rich treasure of artworks that adorn the wharenui, Tuhirangi. Each work provides an insight into the interconnectedness of people with their lakes, rivers and wetlands, the coast, lands, fish, birds and trees that have sustained the families of Kohunui Pā over generations.

Storyteller: Suzanne Murphy.

Recorded at Kohunui Marae, Pirinoa, Wairarapa, in January 2021.

Duration: 22 min

The art of tukutuku was taught by Aunty Flo Reiri, her daughter Topsy, and Angie Pourou who came to Kohunui Marae in 1989. Principal tukutuku artists were Myra Wineera, Bessie Couch, Alberta Wirihana, Ruby Flutey and Edison Te Kanae Wineera. They soon developed their own style, creating a combination of traditional and folk art unique to Kohunui.

The carved murals were produced by Puriri Ethnics in Hastings.

The waiata was composed by Suzanne Murphy, Victor Te Maari, Eruha Te Whaiti and Frances McNally Te Maari.

Still photographs by Pete Monk.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
KEI HEA NGĀ TUNA - LAKE STORIES AOTEAROA NEW ZEALAND

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Kei hea ngā tuna - Where are the tuna? is a waiata (song) that affirms the importance of tuna/eels, and the desire of ahi kā for whānau to return home. Suzanne Murphy of Kohunui Marae guides us through the rich treasure of artworks that adorn the wharenui, Tuhirangi.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This hinaki (eel/fish trap) was used to catch koaro fish ( Galaxias brevipinnis).It is made from slim manuka (tea tree: Leptospernum scoparium) stems and dressed muka (flax fibre) cord.

# data[].attributes.headline
A creature of mystery: New Zealand's love-hate relationship with eels

# data[].attributes.subject
A creature of mystery: New Zealand's love-hate relationship with eels

# data[].attributes.body
Good, broad coverage of tuna from The Guardian.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
For many years, the top-rated attraction in the Tasman district of New Zealand was a cafe famed for its rural setting, seafood chowder - and tame eels.

For a few dollars you could buy a pottle of mince and a wooden stick to take down to the stream, where a blue-black mass was shining, writhing, waiting.

The largest eels were as thick as your arm and equally muscular; their eyes, blue and cloudy like an old dog's, belied their vigour. They would lunge at the outstretched smear of meat, their pink mouths agape, often beaching themselves in their enthusiasm.

"I admit I was a little scared," wrote one visiting American on TripAdvisor. Other reviews warn: "Hang on tightly to your stick."

The Jester House Cafe outside Motueka recently reduced its operation to one day a week, after 30 years of facilitating eel encounters - including mine. When I was growing up in the area, feeding the eels was a favourite activity to share with visitors from out of town. On my last trip there, in 2014, a boyfriend took a photo of me, arms and eels outstretched, that I later used on my dating app profile.

I can't say whether it worked for or against me. As an attraction, feeding eels may seem surreal, even ill-advised: they are widely reviled. In fact, Jester House is one of many "eel encounters" across New Zealand. The Wop Wop Wetlands eco-park in the lower North Island markets itself as "fun for the kids and good for the eels". At the National Kiwi Centre in Hokitika on the South Island's west coast, "giant eels" share top billing alongside New Zealand's national bird.

It reflects eels' surprising prominence in Kiwi culture, largely unsung within the country and unheard of further afield. The two main native species of eel, the longfin and shortfin, are nowhere near as iconic or beloved as birds like the kiwi or kākāpo - yet for most New Zealanders, they are far more immediate, sometimes in unexpected ways.

A cultural treasure

Generations grew up with Patricia Grace's 1984 picture book Watercress Tuna and the Children of Champion Street, telling the story of a magical eel who brought together a multiethnic community. To the Māori people, who know them as tuna, eels are an important taonga (cultural treasure), revered for hundreds of years as a source of food, figure of legend and caretaker of the waterways.

In the absence of large native mammals, eels are striking within New Zealand for their size and otherness. Longfins, an at-risk species, can grow to 1.5m long and more than 20kg; the largest - always females, and often over 100 years old - can reach 50kg, making them the biggest and oldest eels in the world. They can travel far inland, while shortfins tend to stick to coastal waters. Between them they cover most of the country's waterways.

Though they're nocturnal, eels can be readily drawn out from their hiding places by food, especially meat - hunters, gutting their kill in streams, have told of being overwhelmed. Many New Zealanders learn to attract them by cracking an egg into the water, though they will certainly settle for less. (I recently succeeded with crisps.)

Eels' immediacy means encounters are common, especially among people who had rural childhoods. They may have fished for them, eaten them, killed them for sport, kept them as pets. Most New Zealanders will have at least spied them on a bushwalk, nestled in the tree roots at the water's edge - then perhaps decided against a swim. Some (though not many) have been bitten. "I wasn't expected to be attacked by an eel or eels, but I will go back," said one woman of her experience at Raparapahoe Falls in January.

My friend Sophie remembers a piece of primary-school wisdom, gleaned from growing up swimming in rivers in the Mackenzie basin: "The first person in had to do a massive bomb to scare the eels." When her principal's son was bitten, two of his classmates caught and killed the suspected culprit in retaliation. They brought its body to school and laid it out on the tennis courts for inspection; the brave touched it. Sophie remembers it as being a metre long: "It was horrifying."

Other eels have had better fortune, embraced as pets and even elevated to being local celebrities. In Dunedin in February, a pet eel was rumoured to have prevented necessary flood mitigation work. A ban on eel fishing was proposed in Christchurch in 2016 to protect a tame longfin named Doris. Last year an eel named Eel McPherson, kept in captivity for 35 years by a Whangārei family, disappeared from her pool, presumed swept away by heavy floods. "I could go out to a creek right now and get another," said Eel's caretaker - but "it wasn't just any eel".

And one is unnamed but notorious: in 2012 a man presented at Auckland City hospital "with an eel inside him" for removal. A source told a journalist it was "about the size of a decent sprig of asparagus"; 33 hospital staff were later disciplined for looking at the X-ray and records.

It adds up to what Don Jellyman calls the "love-hate relationship" between people and eels in New Zealand. An emeritus freshwater fisheries scientist at the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research, he has been fascinated by eels since he was a boy. "I used to make pocket money out of killing them," he says - paid a tuppence per tail by local authorities in Blenheim.

In the 1950s and 60s it was common for bounties to be paid on eels, deemed a threat to trout and salmon. (They have also been known to kill livestock stranded in ditches.) But later research showed that eels helped those fish to flourish and bounties were brought to an end.

By 1975 eels were New Zealand's second-most valuable fish export after rock lobsters - leading to a sharp reduction in numbers. Over the past half century there has been growing recognition of their importance to Māori culture, ecology and commerce - but it is an often uneasy relationship. "There was always that suspicion that eels were everywhere and big and slimy and dangerous, often with very little foundation," Jellyman says.

He has handled "thousands" of eels, some more than 1.5m long and says he has only been bitten twice. "It was entirely my own fault - probably plunging my hand in a bucket of eels and sticking my finger down one's mouth by mistake."

While he was a trainee technician in the late 60s, Jellyman's study of saltwater fish was thwarted by chronic seasickness ("I thought, this is not a goer"). It led him to revisit his boyhood fascination with eels and find that "these weren't just aquatic vermin - they're hugely interesting".

'Survivors of all sorts of disruption'

Indeed, the life of an eel is an astonishing story. The larvae, called leptocephalus, emerge from marine trenches deep in the Pacific Ocean, and reach New Zealand by drifting on currents. Before entering freshwater, they morph into what are known as glass eels of only a few centimetres long. Then they grow - slowly relative to many other fish, sometimes only millimetres each year.

Each summer the elvers migrate further upstream, sometimes leaving the water to navigate obstacles such as waterfalls and dams. "There would be very few places in New Zealand that they couldn't get to," says Jellyman, though hydroelectric dams and reduced water levels have proved a challenge; at some tough spots, his institute has installed little ladders to aid the elvers' passage.

Eels have survived the ice age and continental drift, they have been around for 50m-plus years

Don Jellyman

Having found a place to live, the eels stay put for years - sometimes becoming part of a community. Those resident in Western Springs Lakeside Park, near inner-city Auckland, are spoken of as friendly neighbours. (In te reo Māori, the area's name is Te Wai Orea, meaning "water of eels".) In Christchurch, where Jellyman lives, the post-earthquake rebuild has included terraced steps down to the Avon River, making a feature of feeding them; his grandchildren love to visit what they call "granddad's fish".

Jellyman is hopeful that engaging people with eels - "getting away from the image that they are scary and to be avoided" - will encourage their protection. Within New Zealand, their fishing is now managed both for species conservation and under the Treaty of Waitangi, with the Māori people granted continued access to fish resources. But historic take of the oldest, largest longfins has had an impact on the species, now classified as declining; while shortfins, too, are threatened by habitat loss, degradation and fragmentation.

In a reversal from the eradication programmes of old, there are now initiatives across New Zealand to boost eels' numbers, such as the "urban sanctuary" in the Manawatū River. But local initiatives can only do so much in the context of eels' global oceangoing.

Eventually, sometimes after decades, most eels will set out for the sea, back to the tropics to breed. Māori - whose intricate understanding of eels' biology and movements long predate European settlement - call this annual migration heke. But eels everywhere radiate out from temperate waters, then make this final journey back to spawn then die.

New Zealand longfin eels will travel about 4,000km back to the deep-sea trenches from which they emerged. For eels in Europe, it can be as much as 10,000km from the North Atlantic to the Sargasso Sea near the Bahamas, over months of swimming. "And they do that on an empty stomach," Jellyman says. "That in itself is amazing!"

But more than what there is to learn about eels, what drew Jellyman in is what remains to be found out - the "marine mystery". We still do not know with specificity where New Zealand's eels start their lives (though it is probably the South Fiji basin); a longfin larvae has never been found.

The precise spawning area is the "holy grail" of eel research, Jellyman says. But so far, efforts to locate it - primarily by tagging migrating eels, and sifting vast areas of ocean to look for smaller and smaller larvae - have been unsuccessful, and the attempt is increasingly impeded by the climate crisis. The impact of warming ocean temperatures on currents could have major repercussions for eels' migration.

Even if their first and final destination can be located, conservationists have little sway over the deep sea. "All we can do is ensure that there are good numbers of eels going out," Jellyman says.

They have adaptability on their side. Throughout history, long predating humans, eels and their ancestors have flexed to move with the changing world. "Eels have survived the ice age and continental drift, they have been around for 50m-plus years - they've just hung in there," Jellyman says. "They are survivors."

But against a backdrop of myriad threats, "it seems that eels may be losing the battle here", he says. For scientists, the gaps in understanding nonetheless remain to be closed. The enigma of eels is what keeps Jellyman working into his 70s, well after he "technically" retired: "I just have that ongoing interest and respect for what is really an amazing species ... I can't quite let it go," he says. (Indeed, his passion is infectious: his son is also a freshwater specialist at the institute.)

But over half a century of study, Jellyman has also learned to appreciate eels' mystery - knowledge that long predates his. Some 20 years ago, he remembers, he gave a talk about eels at a North Island marae. Afterwards, a Māori elder or kuia approached him. "You know a lot about tuna," she said. "Do you know everything?"

No one could ever know everything about tuna, Jellyman replied. "That's good," said the kuia. "They are a creature of mystery, and there needs to be some mystery left."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
A creature of mystery: New Zealand's love-hate relationship with eels

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
For many years, the top-rated attraction in the Tasman district of New Zealand was a cafe famed for its rural setting, seafood chowder - and tame eels. For a few dollars you could buy a pottle of mince and a wooden stick to take down to the stream, where a blue-black mass was shining, writhing, waiting.

# data[].attributes.body
Short summary article, but perhaps a starting point for schools in the district to research more.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
An example of hīnaki. Part of the Te Awamutu Museum collection.
The Waipā district has always housed waterways rich in food resources for local hapū.

The hapū of the Lake Ngāroto and Te Kawa wetland areas were well-known for their organisation and for their distribution of eel rights. The wetlands housed thousands of tuna (the Māori word for freshwater eels) that would be caught seasonally during their migration towards the ocean.

When the star system of Matariki (also known as the Pleiades) appeared in the east, it was time to prepare for the eel harvest. Eels were not only a key food source, but also used for trading for other items from other groups. This time was known as moana tuna heke. Once the spring rains had arrived, people from all over the island would gather to harvest eels, meet other family members and even arrange marriages.

The main method of catching tuna was to use hīnaki. Hīnaki were traps woven from plant fibre with bait inside. Tuna could enter the hīnaki but could not escape because of the sticks pointing inwards at the entrance to the trap.

Hīnaki were usually used with rauwiri (eel weirs) which were fences within the river that forced the tuna towards the hīnaki.

At low water levels, the remnants of a rauwiri can still be seen today in the Mangaohoi Stream in Te Awamutu.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
An example of hīnaki. Part of the Te Awamutu Museum collection. The Waipā district has always housed waterways rich in food resources for local hapū. The hapū of the Lake Ngāroto and Te Kawa wetland areas were well-known for their organisation and for their distribution of eel rights.

# data[].attributes.body
This one requires a payment ($10-20), unless you manage to catch it on Māori Television. Worthwhile for the beautiful story-telling and kōrero around history, connections, and the present.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The Outline

This fascinating documentary looks at the extraordinary life-cycle of the precious longfin eel, and the efforts of Māori tribes and hapū to protect their old friend from a threatening world of dams, destruction and dirty water.

The details

The longfin eel (tuna) has a legendary history among iwi Māori - it inspired the design of the legendary Ruapekapeka pa during the Land Wars, and is revered by iwi as both tipuna and mokai. Travelling across New Zealand, Māori community members, experts, and conservationists share the stories, traditions, and efforts they're making to keep the tuna alive.

Kaitiaki Bill Kerrison continues a crucial 30 year-old catch and release programme rebuilding tuna stocks on the Rangitaiki from Murupara to the Whakatane coast. In Whanganui, Ben Potaka describes the building and destruction of enormous mid-river eel traps - the amazing pā tuna. A wānanga held at Taumutu Marae on the shores of Lake Ellesmere is a particular highlight, as this 'kete ika' (fish basket) has such a strong eel-harvesting tradition.

Our Role

Full production: from concept to delivery, including post-production.

the production

1 x 44"

Cast: Bill Kerrison, Ben Potaka
Director: Emily McDowell
Producers: Gary Scott, Fiona Apanui-Kupenga
Broadcaster: Māori Television

For more please contact info@gibson.co.nz

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This fascinating documentary looks at the extraordinary life-cycle of the precious longfin eel, and the efforts of Māori tribes and hapū to protect their old friend from a threatening world of dams, destruction and dirty water.

# data[].attributes.headline
Te Runanga o Waihao - Canterbury example

# data[].attributes.subject
Te Runanga o Waihao - Canterbury example

# data[].attributes.body
See the importance of tuna in the history of Waihao Marae and surrounding features through the front page of this website, through whakatauki (under the History tab), and through the the page on The Hao Eel.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Te Rūnanga o Waihao Incorporated Notice of Special General Meeting (SGM) This meeting will be held at 26 Māori Road, Morven, Waimate on Sunday 8th November 2020 at 10.30am The Whanau Meeting and then Lunch will follow. The purpose of this meeting is to: Consider, and if agreed, make changes to The Rules of Te [...]
Read More

Te Rūnanga o Waihao Incorporated Notice of Annual General Meeting (AGM) As per Section 8 of The Rules This meeting will be held at 26 Māori Road, Morven, Waimate on Sunday 18th October 2020 at 10.30am Lunch will be provided following the meeting. _______________________ Agenda: Karakia/Welcome Apologies Minutes of Previous AGM Receive and consider the [...]
Read More

If you are a registered whanau member and wish to access the login section of this website, please contact the office for your user name and password details. Once you are logged in you have access to previous minutes, policies, reports and other important documents that you can access and read from the comfort of [...]
Read More

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Te Rūnanga o Waihao Incorporated Notice of Special General Meeting (SGM) This meeting will be held at 26 Māori Road, Morven, Waimate on Sunday 8th November 2020 at 10.30am The Whanau Meeting and then Lunch will follow. The purpose of this meeting is to: Consider, and if agreed, make changes to The Rules of Te [...]

# data[].attributes.body
Great resource covering: general identification and science, threats, history - including quotes from kaumatua, and ideas for education.

# data[].attributes.body
Short video intertwines the importance of this taonga and the techniques used to prepare the delicate 1930s piece for display.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, Wellington, NZ

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Skip to main content

Learn about the complex work that was involved in displaying a large hīnaki pūrangi (eel trap) made in the 1930s for the Rongowhakaata iwi exhibition.

You might also like

Ko Rongowhakaata: The Story of Light and Shadow

Ko Rongowhakaata: The Story of Light and Shadow

Explore the land, people, and stories of Rongowhakaata, an iwi whose unique art reflects their innate creativity, rich history, and innovative spirit.
On now
On now
Exhibition Ngā whakaaturanga

Watch: Prophecy and the arrival of Captain Cook in 'Tiwha, Tiwha Te Pō | Dark, Dark is the Night'

Watch: Prophecy and the arrival of Captain Cook in 'Tiwha, Tiwha Te Pō | Dark, Dark is the Night'

English explorer James Cook's visit to Tūranga is marked by suspicion, violence, and misunderstanding. Endeavour crew kill four Tūranga people. Nobody is held to account for the deaths.

Watch: Ko Rongowhakaata opening pōhiri (ceremony)

Watch: Ko Rongowhakaata opening pōhiri (ceremony)

Watch the live-stream replay of the incredible 600-strong pōhiri, (ceremony) opening 'Ko Rongowhakaata: The Story of Light and Shadow'.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Watch: Preparing a hīnaki (eel trap) for the Rongowhakaata exhibition

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Skip to main content Learn about the complex work that was involved in displaying a large hīnaki pūrangi (eel trap) made in the 1930s for the Rongowhakaata iwi exhibition. Ko Rongowhakaata: The Story of Light and Shadow Ko Rongowhakaata: The Story of Light and Shadow Explore the land, people, and stories of Rongowhakaata, an iwi whose unique art reflects their innate creativity, rich history, and innovative spirit.

# data[].attributes.body
When humans put dams on rivers it can be a big issue for our migratory fish. This quick video describes how Watercare (Auckland) traps and transfers elvers and whitebait above their dam.

Questions:

1. What do you think is meant by 'consent process' as mentioned in the video?

2. Is there another action Watercare might need to take to ensure that these migratory fish can complete their life cycle?

3. Find out how many dams are on your local awa/river (or area, or the country!). What do you think might happen to migrating fish numbers if there is more than one dam on a river?

This could be a good opportunity to investigate barriers to fish passage - then use design thinking to develop potential solutions to these issues.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Native fish given help to continue migration journey

# data[].attributes.headline
Methods of taking eels (electronic text collection)

# data[].attributes.subject
Methods of taking eels (electronic text collection)

# data[].attributes.body
From 'Fishing methods and devices of the Maori (sic)'
If you can excuse the dated language and lack of macrons, this is a detailed account of eel catching methods across a number of areas. Fascinating for those who want to dig a little deeper.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Methods of Taking Eels.

The commonest methods of catching eels practised by the Maori were represented by the eel-pot and the bob. He did not use a hook in taking this fish, and I have never gained any evidence from him that the gorge was ever employed. Other methods employed were spearing, netting, striking, and taking by hand. The eel-fisher had to be adaptive. Eels that would not take bait were taken by other means, principally in trap pots set at weirs. In deep rivers and lagoons weirs were impracticable, hence eel-pots were set in the open waters.

Eel-bobbing was, it may be said, universally followed in Maoriland, and the term toi is employed to denote the practice-he toi i te tuna. This word toi is given in Williams's Maori Dictionary as meaning "to fish for eels, kokopu, &c., with a bob." Apparently its primary meaning is "to entice, to lure"; and patoi carries the same meaning. The made-up bob is generally termed mounu or tui. The latter word describes the threading of the worms on a string in order to form the bob. Tui toke and tautau noke denote a bob made with earthworms ( toke, noke), and tui huhu one made with the grub called huhu. They are also termed tori and herehere tuna. Having obtained the worms, the would-be bobber would take some fibres of flax or cabbage-tree leaf ( Phormium or Cordyline), or a shred of the inner bark of Hoheria (ribbonwood), and a fine piece of manuka or a rush-culm, to which the twine-like fibres were attached, and then proceed to make his bob. By means of using the slight twig or rush as a bodkin he would pass the threads through a number of worms lengthwise, and so produce a worm-enveloped string. A number of these were made, and the ends of the fibres tied together. These ends of the strings are left long enough to be utilized in tying the various doubled-up strings of worms to the rod. Manuka is a favoured material for the rod, being a strong, tough, and pliant wood. Many preferred to leave at its outer or upper end the bases of diverging branchlets to form a knob to prevent the line slipping off. These rods are termed matire, matira, katira, kotire, patō, ngatire, manana, and possibly a few more names. The eel is a strong fish, and has a very powerful grip. When an eel finds his teeth entangled in the fibres of a bob he becomes excited and tugs and twists about in a very vigorous manner. As soon as an eel has a good grip on the bob it is advisable to swing him ashore, ere he breaks away. Eel-bobbing is conducted at night, but is occasionally practised in the daytime, as during a flood, when the waters are much discoloured, though some kinds of eels are not taken at such a time.

The above account of the bob was obtained in the Bay of Plenty district. Another description given by Ngati-Porou of Waiapu, simply corroborates it, but adds that the threaded worms are pushed together at the middle part of the string when the latter is doubled and tied. A short length of cord connected the bob with the rod.

The Otaki natives tell us that the very best bait for eels is one of spiders. A number of these were collected and enclosed in a small bag, about 6 in. long, made of flax. The eels eagerly assail the bag and their teeth become fast in the fibres of the flax. Small pear-shaped bait-containing bags like the above were sometimes used for putting in eel-pots.

Waiapu natives apply the name of kaitau to the strands of flax-fibre on which worms are threaded in making a bob. They prefer to thread all the worms on one string and then so double up that string that it forms many pendent loops. This bob is attached to one end of a cord about 10 in. in length, the other end of which cord is secured to the matire, or short rod. The actual bob and the short cord are included in the name tautau noke. The bob was employed for taking kokopu as well as eels, and these informants, told me that occasionally two small fish would be taken at once, each being suspended from a different loop of the bob. Manuka is preferred for a matire, and a two-pronged one is, or was, used for kokopu; to each of the prongs a bob would be attached. When fishing for papauma, a small fresh-water fish, yet more prongs and their attached bobs were used. I am told that when the nose of an eel-fisher itches the fact is accepted as a sign that he will be successful, but cannot say as to whether this holds good when he fishes for kokopu. A great many puhore (unlucky acts, signs, &c.) were believed in by fishers, but we do not hear so much about lucky signs or omens.

Eel-fishers at lagoons or on the muddy banks of streams, &c., sometimes erected a small elevated platform, termed a puhara and puwhara, from which to conduct fishing operations. When an eel-bobber arrives at his fishing-place he kindles a small fire and procures some fern (bracken) fronds to serve as a seat. In some cases an eel-fisher would deposit his catch in a pit, called a parua, dug in the bank at a convenient spot. Others would kill the eels with a wooden club ( patu tuna and ripi tuna) and cast them up the bank. Mr. W. H. Skinner describes another method of killing eels, by means of sprinkling fine, dry earth or sand over them. The eels soon died under this treatment, and the bruising caused by knocking the fish on the head with a wooden club was avoided. This method was adopted when the eels were to be preserved. (See Journal of the Polynesian Society, vol. 21, p. 107.)

Another method was to put the eels into a hoop-net called, a whakarino, as they were caught. ( See fig. 33.) A bag-net made of page 123dressed Phormium fibre was attached to a wooden hoop, and a straight wooden handle was secured by one end across the hoop. This handle would be secured to the bank, stage or stakes in such a way that the lower half of the bag-net was under water. Each eel, as it was caught, was placed inside the bag-net, which, being of a small mesh, it could not escape from. Being still under water, however, we will suppose that the eels still felt at home to some extent until other things happened. The net being largely under water, there was no undue strain on it or the handle, which latter might simply be stuck in the bank in a horizontal position. This method of bestowing a catch was employed when throwing ashore was impracticable. A Waiapu note is to the effect that this fish basket or net was also used for other species, not eels alone; that it was secured to the puwhara, and was distended and kept open by means of two sticks, in place of the hoop described above. Also that a hoop-net used as a fish-basket, and made of strips of undressed Phormium leaf plaited, was known as a waikawa. The Tuhoe folk used the whakarino fish basket or bag, page 124 but called it rohe, and they do not seem to have provided it with a handle, but attached it to rods or anything handy in order to steady it.

The species of earthworms used at Waiapu as bait for eels and kokopu were-

The wharu is said to be an excellent bait to use in eel-pots. A dark-coloured earthworm of the Wellington district the writer found useless for eel-fishing.

Members of the Ngati-Porou Tribe also told me of a form of net called a korapa that was used by eel-fishers formerly. It seems to have been similar to that used by the Tuhoe folk for taking kokopu, and termed by them a kape. It was a form of hoop-net mounted on a straight handle, and used as is a scoop-net. It was employed for taking eels (probably for kokopu also) at night. When a fish entered the net the shaft was raised and the outer end, with attached net, elevated, so that the fish slid from the receiving net into a second bag-net secured lower down the shaft. This secondary net was known as the ngake. Eels were also taken by hand during the day, sometimes with the aid of a spear. Persons so engaged searched for them under banks, under stones, &c.; sometimes they were felt for with the feet in muddy places. This form of fishing is called rapu tuna (eel-seeking). Eels are proverbially slippery gentry to deal with, and are very difficult to hold, but natives have a knack of holding them by means of compression between the fingers, not the ordinary thumb versus fingers grip. When seeking eels at night by torchlight, a pursuit known as rama tuna, either the spear or hand-net was used. Eels are found lying on the bottom in calm reaches and pools, and can be approached closely if the eeler is careful not to agitate the water.

Sir J. E. Alexander, in his Incidents of the Maori War, tells us that in the Waikato district eels were taken "by grubbing for them with their hands in the sedgy banks, then killed with a bite behind the head, spitted, roasted without cleaning, and devoured. Sometimes half a dozen Maoris would sit in a semicircle facing the bank and up to their middles in water, while another would tramp the eels out of their holes; they were then dexterously caught as they passed between the legs and bodies of the watchful group." This trampling or feeling process is termed takahi tuna. As to the killing of eels by means of biting their heads, this was certainly done by the Maori in the case of the smaller kinds. An enthusiastic native eeler was seen wading waist-deep in the mud of a recently drained pond; as he secured an eel he placed its head in his mouth, gave it a vigorous crunch with his powerful jaws, and then threw it out on the bank, where his wife collected the catch in a sack.

Patu tuna, or "eel-striking" by means of a thin striking implement, could be practised only in shallow waters, as occasionally found in lagoons. This usage obtained at the Chatham Isles in the shoal waters of the Whanga Lagoon. The striker used, as described by Potts, was made with a round hand-grip, broad blade with thick back and bevelled to a thin edge, and was about 3 ft. long. These were used at night when seeking eels by torchlight. A companion of the striker strung the smitten eels and dragged the string of eels after him or her through the water as they advanced. The two sabre-like implements marked "Eel-killers" seen in the Auckland Museum may have been used in this manner, or they may simply have been used by bobbers for despatching eels already caught.

The taking of eels by hand and spear has been almost abandoned, apparently, of late years, at least in some districts, in favour of what is termed "jagging," which is effected by impaling the eel on a hook lashed on to the end of a short rod used as a handle. In this method the implement has to be jerked suddenly toward the operator in order to impale the eel on the hook; with the eel-spear the operator thrust it from him. One sees this method practised in daytime, as well as by torchlight. Two persons frequently work together at jagging or spearing, one taking the eels and the other carrying the torch and the captured eels, which are strung together.

The torches used in these nocturnal takings of eels and kokopu (the so-called trout of our settlers) were of several different materials. The following note from the Rev. Mr. Yate's An Account of New Zealand shows that the inflammable gum of the kauri pine was used in torch-making in the far North: "A large torch, made of flax tied together, with a little resin from the kauri tree placed in the centre, is set fire to, and carried before the man whose office it is to spear the fish. The light of the torch attracts the eels from their hiding-places and they become an easy prey. The darkest nights are chosen for this purpose." The flax-leaves mentioned would be long, dried leaves of Phormium tenax. Natives often use the dry leaves of Cordy-line for the same purpose. Such bundles of leaves used as torches are tied together in a very loose manner. Dried lengths of supplejack (Rhipogonum scandens) are sometimes used for torch-making, and the bark of the manuka (Leptospermum) is another material so employed. Another material consists of long and narrow split pieces of heart of rimu (the so-called red-pine) tied so as to form a bundle. Some will thrust into one end of the bundle a short rod to serve as a handle, as we insert the handle in a "birch broom" made of manuka brush. The rimu wood that contains resinous matter is preferred for the above purpose. But the most favoured material for torches seems to be mapara, or kapara, the hard heart-wood of the kahikatea tree, a Podocarpus. This wood used to be sought in the forests, and found at places where such trees had decayed in past years. Though the sap-wood of the tree decays in a short space of time, yet mapara is extremely durable.

Eel-spears ( matarau) were made by lashing a number of sharp-pointed tines to a shaft some 3 ft. or 4 ft. in length. Occasionally these tines were fashioned from whale's bone, but as a rule hardwood was utilized. Another material so employed was katote, the very hard, black parts of the trunk of the tree-fern; but they were often fashioned from ordinary hardwoods, the mapara alluded to above being a much-favoured kind. The shaft ( tata) may be of almost any timber, but the tines ( mata) must be a hard material, for obvious reasons. The attached points were braced by means of lashing across them one or two wooden cross-pieces, termed kaua-erua. These implements can scarcely be termed true grains, inasmuch as the points or tines were not barbed. ( See fig. 34, p. 127.) In late times short lengths of wire and other pieces of iron have been used as tines. A single-pointed eel-spear was known as a taotahi. The following extracts from Out in the Open, by T. Potts, corroborates some of my notes:-

"Spears of hard wood, such as manuka, were made very long and thin, or a stout shaft was fitted with a kind of grain made from the steel ramrods of old Tower muskets, or junks of stout fencing-wire; these rods were firmly secured together so as to form a seven-tined weapon, each tine barbed on one side only. This description of implement is used in river and estuaries. As the fishers tread the mud, the spear is constantly thrust down, a peculiar though slight vibratory motion is communicated to the shaft of the spear, which tells at once that the prey is struck. This method of spearing requires care and attention; the inexperienced may not heed the intimation so faintly expressed, and thus allow the fish to escape, more or less sorely hurt, when the weapon is raised for another thrust.... As soon as a fish is taken, a needle made from a bird's wing bone attached to a strip of flax is passed through the gills into the mouth, and the eel is strung and added to the bunch already secured.... On some of the larger inland lakes eels are speared from the boat.... This sport is there pursued in bright sunny weather, when the surface of the lake is calm. The spear is a long manuka shaft, fitted with a page 127 stout wire hook barbed at the point; when an eel is marked, the hook is gently moved under the fish, when with a sudden upward jerk the prey is hooked. In some parts of the North Island the natives have a fashion of sniggling in favourite pools with such a hook attached to a line; by the aid of a stick this is carefully placed below an eel, when a sudden pull forces the hook into the fish."

The following item, taken from the account of Sir George Grey's overland tour from Auckland to Taranaki, published in 1851, shows how iron was being employed at that time in the manufacture of native fishing implements:-

"They have a bayonet fastened on the end of a pole about 8 ft. long, which they thrust into the banks as the canoe drops quietly down the stream, in places where they know by experience that there are eel-holes in the mud. When the man with the spear has transfixed an eel, he calls out " Ka tu" ("Struck"), and, while he holds on by the spear, another man jumps out of the canoe with a large hook in his hand, about the size of a shark-hook, with which he pulls the eel out of the mud after feeling for it with his hands, in which operation the natives often get severely bitten by the large fish. During the time that the canoe is going down the stream, and the spearer is thrusting his weapon into the banks, one of the natives, generally the man who steers the canoe, repeats the following charm for the success of the fishing:-

Hei kai mau te tangata
Makutu mai, mahara mai
Kei reira to hara
Harahara aitua, harahara a tai
I pakia ai koe, i rahua ai koe
Niniko koi tara, kia u o niho
Niniko koi tara koe
Kei te tai timu, kei te tai pari kei Rangiriri
Hau kumea, hau toia
Nau ka anga atu, anga atu
Nau ka anga mai, anga mai."

This effusion calls confusion upon the person who, by means of magic arts, is preventing fish being caught, and also implores the fish to allow themselves to be caught. It was apparently intended for fishing with line and bait, not for spearing.

We have one more eel-taking practice to scan ere dealing with the most important means of circumventing Tangaroa ara rau-the weir and eel-pot-and that is the koumu, a method that was also employed in taking the upokororo, or grayling, and inanga. H. T. Tikao, of Rapaki, makes some remarks on this practice, as given in Appendix I, and as it was practised at the Waihora Lagoon. The method consisted of excavating a number of channels about 4 ft. to 6 ft. wide through the gravel bank that divided the lagoon from the sea. These ditches were not, however, carried completely through the spit; they were excavated to such a depth as enabled the water to flow readily down them for some distance. ( See fig. 35.) Where the gravel deposited was of a more open nature, containing less sand and silt, the flowing waters would escape through the gravel, and here excavation ceased. Thus when eels felt the "draw" of the flowing water and sought to reach the sea by passing down the newly formed channel they found themselves caught as in a trap, for the eel-hunters took good care that they did not return. When Tuna of the many ways passed into a koumu he might abandon hope. This mode of taking eels is alluded to by Tikao as whakaheke, a term employed in the North Island to denote the trapping of eels in nets set at weirs. It was practised at Waihora from February to May (about), and on the dark nights of the moon. A quaint belief among local natives was that the eels liked to reach the sea in order to miti (lick up) the foam produced by wave-action. Great numbers of eels are said to have been taken by this method when eels were running freely. The eels were actually taken in a funnel-shaped hoop-net called a kohau, and many persons would join in the task. When a number were taken in a kohau it would be borne away and the catch emptied into a parua, or pit dug for that purpose. After May the netting of flounders commenced at Waihora. The eel-taking-in the koumu, says Tikao, was continued until the morning stars swung upward.

Sketch by B. Osborne

Mr. Potts speaks of eel-weirs formed by the natives at Lake Waihora, at which weirs they set eel-pots so as to catch both incoming and out-going fish.

Mr. W. J. Phillipps contributes a note anent this method of taking eels at Lake Forsyth. Local natives informed him that it was a practice to deposit white or light-coloured objects, such as bleached bones, on the bed of the awa, or channel, to enable watchers to discern eels as they entered the channel. To these white objects the term whakaata, an expressive word, was applied. When a number of eels had entered the channel, then a funnel-shaped hoop-net (kohau) was placed therein, the open mouth of the trap facing inward; the eels were driven back by assistants and, in their endeavour to regain the lagoon, passed into the net. In the other method described the mouth of the net faced the lagoon.

Some accounts of taking fish in this manner explain that when a number had entered the koumu the end was blocked. In vol. 50 of the Transactions of the New Zealand Institute Mr. Downes describes the koumu as worked at Okorewa, on the sandspit that separates Onoke Lake from the ocean. The description of how the eels are taken there, however, differs from accounts I have collected, for when a number of eels had passed into the channel and the hole excavated at the end thereof they were smothered by means of throwing quantities of sand into the water. This resembles the practice mentioned by Mr. Skinner and quoted above.

Near Minginui, on the Whirinaki tributary of the Rangitaiki River, I was shown an old ditch that was dug in olden times to connect the Tuna-kapakapa Creek with the Whirinaki River. At certain times, when eels were on the move, the creek-waters were diverted into the ditch for a while, and then allowed to run down the old channel, to leave divers eels flapping and squirming (kapakapa) in a waterless ditch.

Many charms were employed by fishermen, and the eel-fisher was much given to utilizing the potent aid of such effusions. The following is said to have been employed for both eels and kokopu; it was collected in the Waiapu district:-

Kai mai ra, kai mai ra
Ki te uru ti, ki te uru ta
Taku wahine konekeneke whanau tama te ika
E Kopu .. e! Kopu nui, kopu roa, kopu tahunahuna
E tu matawhai noke rite kano [?]
Kei whea ano koe kia u ki taku matire
E mui ana, e rango ana, e auau ana
Katahi na tuna, tuna, pāra, pāra, kopu, kopu whakaheia
Tena ano ra te warewarenga o to waha te mau na
Tukia i to puku nui, tukia i to puku roa
Mau ka ahu atu, mau ka ahu mai
Ahu mai kia u.

The following was repeated by those who engage in bobbing for eels; it was collected in the Matatua district:-

To poa, to poa
To poa tahuri ke, to poa karapa ke
Tikina mai kumekumea
Tikina mai takatakahia
Tikina mai haparangitia
Tangaroa kia u, Tangaroa kia ngoto mai
Oi whiwhia, oi rawea to poa, tahuri mai.

The earnest appeals to fish to come and be caught contained in these charms are touching. In the following specimen from the same district the lower world, Raro, seems to be appealed to, possibly because fish abide in "the waters under the earth":-

E Raro! E Raro!
Te Po, te Po tahuri ke, te Po tahuri mai
Tau mounu tikina mai kumekumea
Tikina mai takatakahitia
Tikina mai haparangitia; kia u, kia ngoto.

In his little work on Maori proverbs Sir G. Grey inserts the following: " Tena te puna kei Hawaiki, te pu kei Hawaiki, te puna kei Rangiriri" It is said that the repetition of the formula will cause eels to enter an eel-pot. This effusion may be rendered as "The source is at Hawaiki, the origin at Hawaiki, the source at Rangiriri." It contains a reference to the mythical place of origin of fish, as heretofore explained. It may have been clear to the Tuna folk why they should enter an eel-pot and seek destruction on account of the utterance of these words, but man of the Steel Age marvelleth at their simplicity.

The taumaha ritual recited over the first eels caught during a season was, among the Tuhoe folk, the same as that repeated over the first birds caught, but the name of Tangaroa was inserted therein. It runs as follows:-

Taumaha kai te motumotu, kai te ngarahau, kai te kapekape
I aua kia mate, i aua kia irohia
Ka ma Tupakākā, ka ma Rakaihika
Ka ma te kapiti, te kapiti ki tamaoa
Tena taumaha, taumaha ka eke
Ka ma nga pukenga, ka ma nga wananga
Ka ma hoki ahua, tenei tauira.

In account of the taking of eels by Ngai-Tangihia at the Pou-kawa Lake we are told that as each man secured an eel he made it fast to a cord that was attached to his leg. Thus as he proceeded through the shallower waters he towed his catch after him, as was done by South Island natives at Waihora Lagoon.

It is interesting to note that at far-away Nukuoro, in the Caroline Group, matira is the name of the bamboo, used far and wide as fishing-rods. The natives of Nukuoro are Polynesians who speak a Maori-like tongue.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The commonest methods of catching eels practised by the Maori were represented by the eel-pot and the bob. He did not use a hook in taking this fish, and I have never gained any evidence from him that the gorge was ever employed. Other methods employed were spearing, netting, striking, and taking by hand.

# data[].attributes.headline
He Reo Whakamana - giving voice to the tuna and their kainga (home)

# data[].attributes.subject
He Reo Whakamana - giving voice to the tuna and their kainga (home)

# data[].attributes.body
A short introduction and inquiry process, a simple waterway assessment tool, and some videos about tuna, from Te Wai Māori, the Māori Freshwater Fisheries Trust.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
He reo tō te wai, he reo anō tō te tangata, kotahi tonu te whakapapa, whakakotahitia.

Water has a language, and so too do people have theirs, both born of one whakapapa, united.

This whakatauki acknowledges th e importance of using our language and the language of our taonga in decision-making processes. We are excited to invite tamariki to get to know their awa and use their voice to share their findings for example with local councils and other decision-makers .

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Tuna and their kainga, our waterways, are under threat.

# data[].attributes.body
The information in this Padlet has been curated by Taupō for Tomorrow for public use. Only a small number of the resources have been produced by the programme, we have done our best to credit the others appropriately. We have also done our best to ensure the sources of information are as reputable as possible, however we cannot promise 100% accuracy on all links.

How to use:

Scroll the columns to see more content.

Click images to embiggen, or to go to webpages.

Underlined text also links to elsewhere.

Links not working? Feedback? Stuff to add? Please contact educator@troutcentre.com

# data[].attributes.body
NZ longfin eel are called 'tuna kuwharuwharu' in Te Reo Maori.

There are numerous names for different parts of the lifecycle and appearance, from different iwi and hapū.

Take some time to investigate local kupu for tuna - it's likely to be wrapped in kōrero around harvest and use of tuna (a great example: Kei Hea Ngā Tuna).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Download

The App

This Māori dictionary is now available as an app. With the iPhone, iPod Touch, iPad, and Android app you can use the dictionary anywhere without the need to be online.

iPhone / iPad / Android

Buy

The Book

Te Aka Māori-English, English-Māori Dictionary and Index by John C Moorfield. This dictionary comprises a selection of modern and everyday language that will be extremely useful for learners of the Māori language.

More info

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This Māori dictionary is now available as an app. With the iPhone, iPod Touch, iPad, and Android app you can use the dictionary anywhere without the need to be online. iPhone / iPad / Android Te Aka Māori-English, English-Māori Dictionary and Index by John C Moorfield.

# data[].attributes.body
Beautifully presented clear information covering all the basics and science.
NIWA has multiple layers of information and articles on tuna - it's worth exploring the Tuna Information Resource for more in-depth understanding.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
However, many communities are reporting that both the abundance and size of these freshwater taonga are declining. Te Kūwaha, NIWA's National Centre for Māori Environmental Research has been working with whānau, hapū and iwi for more than a decade to co-develop methods for the protection, restoration and economic development of these species.

# data[].attributes.body
One page of the best bits to know.

# data[].attributes.body
The basics - mostly text.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Eels migrate up streams as elvers to find suitable adult habitat. After many years they return to the Pacific Ocean to breed and die.

# data[].attributes.body
Great underwater photos

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
If you're following our Facebook group you are familiar with the photography of Jason Gunn Burton. Jason writes:

"These are New Zealand longfin eels, which are the largest and longest lived freshwater eels in the world.

They are threatened with extinction and the population is in decline.
They face alot of issues unfortunately, including commercial fishing believe it or not.

They are nocturnal creatures but also optimistic hunters, so I'll take some old mince along, drop a bit in the water, wait 5 or so minutes and they'll come out.
I have about 4 spots around the Wellington area (capital city of New Zealand) where I feed longfin eels. I'm always searching creeks for New Eels.

I've been bitten a few times, hurts a bit.
They are not shy, remembering they are New Zealand's top freshwater predator so I guess they have nothing to fear."

Thank you Jason for allowing us to share your photography here!

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Longfin eels - the photography of Jason Gunn Burton

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
If you're following our Facebook group you are familiar with the photography of Jason Gunn Burton. Jason writes: "These are New Zealand longfin eels, which are the largest and longest lived freshwater eels in the world. They are threatened with extinction and the population is in decline.

# data[].attributes.headline
Great website about all things longfin eel

# data[].attributes.subject
Great website about all things longfin eel

# data[].attributes.body
Clear information on identifying longfin, the threats they face, and conservation news. Doesn't appear to have been updated recently, but still a good resource.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Manaaki Tuna is a multi-disciplinary group comprised of academics, teachers and researchers from Massey University, iwi, hapu and environmental groups who have joined forces to address the plight of the tuna - the longfin eel. The group supports the call for a moratorium (rahui) on the commercial harvest of the tuna initiated by freshwater ecologist, Dr Mike Joy, and is looking at ways to link ecosystem science and matauranga Maori perspectives with community management approaches required to protect the species.
Learn More...

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Manaaki Tuna is a multi-disciplinary group comprised of academics, teachers and researchers from Massey University, iwi, hapu and environmental groups who have joined forces to address the plight of the tuna - the longfin eel.

# data[].attributes.body
An overview of whakapapa, importance, and more, in both te reo Māori and English. Of interest - a list of some of the many names for tuna.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Tuna (the Māori word for eels) are important to Māori, but pressure on some species is resulting in their decline.

He taonga whakahirahira te tuna ki te Māori, engari nā runga i ngā kōkiritanga o te wā kua heke haere ētahi momo.

Whakapapa

There are different creation stories for tuna in Aotearoa. One narrative states that tuna was a child of Te Ihorangi who came from the union of Ranginui and Papatūānuku. Te Ihorangi's children included Ngōiro (the conger eel), Tuere (the blind eel) and tuna.

He maha ngā kōrero orokohanga mō te tuna i Aotearoa. E kī ana tētehi kōrero he tamaiti a Tuna nā Te Ihorangi, ā, nā Ranginui rāua ko Papatūānuku a Te Ihorangi. Ko Ngōiro rāua ko Tuere ētehi atu o ngā tamariki a Te Ihorangi.

Importance / Te noho taonga mai

Tuna are very important for tangata whenua and that is re-iterated through our literature. Many marae around the motu are adorned with carvings of tuna alongside their tupuna. They were heavily relied upon by our tupuna as a source of kai and important events were oftenscheduled around the harvesting of tuna. They were kaitiaki of our streams, rivers and lakes, they were a vehicle for knowledge transmission and they were used as environmental indicators.

He tino taonga te tuna ki te tangata whenua. Inā noa atu ngā kōrero mōna i ā tātou kōrero tuhituhi. He maha hoki ngā marae hōrapa nei i te motu e whakarākai ana i ngā whakairo ki te tuna i te taha tonu o ō rātou tūpuna. I whakawhirinaki atu ō tātou tūpuna ki te tuna hei kai, ka mutu, he mea āta whakarite ngā hui rangatira kia tū i te wā e hopungia ai te tuna. He kaitiaki i ngā manga, i ngā awa me ngā roto. He pātaka kōrero, he kaitohu hoki rātou i te wairua o te taiao.

He Kai

Tuna were one of the main sources of protein in the diets of our tupuna. They were a rich source of omega 3 and other essential fats and oils, and they were caught in abundance with relative ease.

Tuna can be stored live in 'pātaka tuna' for over twelve months and eaten as required. They can also be preserved or dried and kept for months. Easy storage of tuna provided tupuna with a good source of protein at a time when conventional refrigeration was not available.

Because tuna come in many different sizes, they are a very versatile food. We have found many creative ways in which to eat them: you can grill them, bake them, boil them and smoke them. You can jelly them, fry them, steam them ... you can cook them any way you like! You can experiment frugally, with tuna, in ways you may not be able to do with other fish or meat.

Ko te tuna tētehi o ngā kai pūmua matua ki ō tātou tūpuna. He tino putunga o te hinu 'omega 3' me ētehi atu ngako, he ngāwari ki te hopu, ā, makuru ana te riro mai.

Whakaputungia orangia ai te tuna i ngā pātaka tuna mō te tekau mā rua marama neke atu, ā, ka kaingia i te wā e pīrangitia ai. Kōtutungia ai, pāwharangia ai mō te hia nei ngā marama. Nā te mea he pēnei rawa te ngāwari ki te rokiroki i te tuna, ka māmā noa iho te whātoro atu hei kai pūmua i te wā o te kore hiko, o te kore whata tio.

Nā te mea he huhua ngā momo rahi o te tuna, he huhua anō tōna whakaritenga hei kai, arā, he rorerore, he tunu, he kōhua, he whakaauau, he petipeti, he parai, he tunu ki te koromahu - kei a koe te tikanga o te tunu. Nā te mea e makuru ana tēnei kai, e taea hoki te whakamātautau engari kāore e taea te pēnei i ētehi atu ika, mīti rānei, he moumou te mutunga iho.

Te mahi kai

Māori have used mātauranga to sustainably take tuna without adversely affecting the population. This knowledge emerged from observations of their life cycle, habitat needs and migration patterns. Today, tangata whenua have customary harvest rights over tuna fisheries in their rohe for special events and hold 20% of the commercial fishery. However, there has been a steady decline in numbers of tuna, encouraging iwi to reduce or completely restrict harvesting in their rohe. Numerous iwi around the country have chosen not to fish their allocated commercial quota to assist in the revitalisation of customary harvest.

Nā te mātauranga o te Māori i mōhio ai ia ki te tiaki me te hopu tuna i kore ai i pā he mate ki tōna rahinga. Nō te aronga a te Māori ki te taiao tōna mōhio ki ngā hurihanga oranga, ki ōna kāinga noho me ōna hekenga. I ēnei rā kei te tangata whenua tō rātou anō mana hopu tuna ki ngā nōhanga tuna i ō rātou rohe mō ngā hui rangatira, ā, e 20% te whiwhinga mai i te puna ika tauhokohoko. Ahakoa rā, he rōnaki tonu te heke haere o te tuna. Nā konā kua whakatau ētehi iwi ki te whakaiti i te hopunga, ki te whakatū rāhui rānei i ō rātou rohe. He maha tonu ngā iwi huri noa i te motu kua tatū kia kaua e mau i a rātou te rahinga tauhokohoko kua tohua ki a rātou, mei kore tēnei e āwhina ki te whakapiki ake i te rahi o te tuna tērā e mau mō ngā hui.

Longfin eel / Tuna pakikau roa
Image: Philippe Gerbeaux

The many names of tuna / Ngā tini ingoa o te tuna

Tuna have many names depending on their size, colouration, and maturity, among other things. Many iwi also have their own name for certain varieties of tuna. Some examples include:

Hao: about 30 cm in length

Pāpaka: small, black tuna captured at the beginning of their migration but are typically returned because of their size (small)

Puhi: a very sleek, firm-bodied tuna with light colouration; captured en mass during their migration.

Riko: about 1 m long with a greenish back

Paranui: dark with a thick skin

Matamoe: large type of eel; brown and grey in colour

Kōkopu tuna (also a name for galaxias species): this variey of eel is about 1.8 m long and weighs about 30 kg

Kūwharuwharu/ōrea/kirirua: large variety that can grow up to 2 m long and weigh about 50 kg

Tahimaro: a very large, black tuna; often territorial and sometimes aggressive

Ruahine: thick-bodied, large longfin tuna; often caught in the migration. These are typically returned.

Tuna are known to pākehā as simply the longfin ( Anguilla dieffenbachii) and shortfin eel ( Anguilla australis).

He maha rawa ngā ingoa o te tuna nā runga i te āhua o te rahi, te tae, te pakeke me ētehi atu mea. Kei tēnā iwi, kei tēnā iwi ōna anō ingoa mō ngā momo tuna. Hei tauira ēnei:

Hao: e 30 cm pea te roa

Pāpaka: he iti, he tuna mangu ka hopungia i te tīmatanga o te hekenga, engari whakahokia ai nā tō rātou itinga

Puhi: he whīroki, he tuna tinana pakari, he teatea te kiri; he inati te rahi ka mau i te hekenga

Riko: 1 m te roa, he āhua karera tōna tuarā

Paranui: he kākarauri, he kiri mātotoru

Matamoe: he tuna nui; he parauri, he kiwikiwi ōna tae

Kōkopu tuna (he ingoa anō hoki tēnei mō ngāi 'Galaxias'): 1.8 m te roa, e 30 kg pea te taumaha o tēnei momo tuna

Kūwharuwharu/ōrea/kirirua: he nui tēnei momo, ka tupu kia 2 m te roa, kia 50 kg pea te taumaha

Tahimaro: he tuna nui, he pango hoki; he tuna āta wawao i tōna kāinga noho, he tukituki hoki

Ruahine: he mātotoru te tinana, he tuna pakikau nui; hopungia ai i te hekenga o te tuna. Whakahokia ai ēnei momo.

He iti te wehewehe a te Pākehā i te momo tuna - he 'pakikau roa', he 'pakikau poto' rānei, ka mutu i reira.

Longfin eel with fungal growth on lips / Tuna pakikau roa me te hekaheka i ngā ngutu
Alton Pirrie

Healthy eels mean healthy water / He tuna ora, he wai ora

Tuna are able to help iwi assess water quality and habitat diversity. As longfin eels are quite susceptible to pollution, their health is also an indication of the health of the ecosystem in which they live. Tuna are examined for disease on the skin, fins, and mouth. In times of very poor water quality the lips of the tuna become completely covered with fungal growth, which may prevent it from feeding. This sometimes results in the death of tuna.

Mā te tuna ia ka mōhiotia e te iwi te kounga o te wai me te nōhanga. Nā te mea ka raru te tuna pakikau roa i te para, ko tō rātou oranga tētehi tohu o te oranga o te rohe e noho rā rātou. He mea āta tirotiro te tuna mehemea kua pā te mate ki te kiri, ki ngā pakikau me te waha. I te wā ka kino te paru o te wai, ka kapi katoa ngā ngutu o te tuna i te hekaheka, ā, e kore pea e taea e ia te kai. Ki te pērā rawa te kino, ko te mate pea te otinga atu.

Threats to tuna / Ngā mōreareatanga ki te tuna

The life cycle of tuna is very complex, and during different life stages they rely on different habitats to live in and migrate through. This makes it very difficult for us to sustainably harvest in this day and age due to the high demand on our natural resources and the increase in Aotearoa's population.

Pollution, the building of dams, loss of vegetation and overfishing are the major threats to tuna populations in Aotearoa. Coupled with their life cycle it is very difficult for tuna populations to increase without our help. To learn more about how to sustainably fish in your rohe please contact your local hapū. You can also help by not taking the large female breeding tuna. The 'big' tuna are nearly always the females. Please leave these tuna so they can breed. You can help by planting harakeke and grasses to provide good feeding and refuge places for our tuna. If you are a keen whitebaiter you could help by checking your early morning catch for glass eels and returning these to the stream. Night fishing is illegal and will contain many glass eels. Ensure people know that fishing at night is illegal and damages our tuna fishery.

He tuatinitini te hurihanga oranga o te tuna, ā, i ngā huringa o tōna oranga ka whakawhirinaki atu ki ngā nōhanga rerekē hei kāinga, hei wāhi hekenga hoki mōna. Nā tēnei āhuatanga he uaua ki te hopu i runga i te tika i ēnei rā, nā te nui o ngā pēhitanga i ngā rawa me te nui haere o te tangata i Aotearoa.

Ko te pokenga, te whakatū matatara, te matenga o te māheuheu me te inati o te mahi tuna, he mōrearea katoa ki te rahinga o te tuna i Aotearoa. Nā ēnei āhuatanga katoa, me tino uaua e piki ai te rahi o te tuna ki te kore e āwhinatia, e tautokona e te tangata. Kia mōhio ake ai koe ki te mahi tuna i runga i te tika i tōu rohe, me whakapā atu ki tōu anō hapū. He tautoko nui te kore e hopu i ngā uwha whakaputa uri. I te nuinga o te wā he uwha ngā tuna nunui. Tēnā koa waiho ēnei kia mahi i tā rātou mahi. He tautoko nui anō te whakatō harakeke, pātītī, hei wāhi whāngai, hei taumarumaru hoki mō te tuna. Mehemea koe he tangata mahi īnanga, e taea hoki e koe te tautoko mā te tirotiro i tō kupenga i te atatū, mō te tūpono he tuna 'kōataata' kei roto, ka whakahoki ai ki te awa. He takahi ture te hao īnanga i te pō, ka mutu, inā te nui o ngā momo tuna nei ka mau ki te kupenga. Me whai kia mōhio te tangata he takahi ture te mahi īnanga i te pō, he tūkino i te tuna tōna mutunga iho.

Telling tuna apart / Te momo tuna

You can tell these two species apart by some of their characteristics:

Ka mōhio koe ki te rerekētanga o tētehi i tētehi atu mā ēnei āhuatanga ō rāua:

In the past our tupuna transmitted large bodies of knowledge intergenerationally through oral transmission (speaking) and through practical transmission (the activity of eeling). Nowadays we get most of our food from the supermarket, and thus the opportunity to transmit the learning of the past has been diminished. It is important to continue both these streams of learning - oral and practical. If you are keen on persuing this form of education contact your hapū or wānanga.

I mua rā he nui te mātauranga i ākona ki ngā whakatupuranga mā te kōrero me te mahi ā-ringa. I ēnei rā, nō te toa hokomaha te nuinga o ā tātou kai, nā konei i heke ai te ākona o te mātauranga o mua mō te wāhi ki ngā kai. He mea hira te whai kia mau tonu ēnei ara e rua o te ako, arā, mā te kōrero me te mahi. Me he kaingākau koe ki te whai i tēnei momo mātauranga, me whakapā atu ki tō hapū, tō wānanga rānei.

Tuna life cycle / Te hurihanga ora o te tuna

Eel diagram - look how hard it is to be a tuna! Shaded images behind the tuna are the barriers or pressures that tuna face throughout their life cycle e.g. drop culverts, dams, predation, human consumption. View larger (PDF, 1,120K)
Download the information on this page as a brochure (PDF, 1,380K)
Information collected in collaboration with Te Wānanga o Raukawa.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Tuna (the Māori word for eels) are important to Māori, but pressure on some species is resulting in their decline. He taonga whakahirahira te tuna ki te Māori, engari nā runga i ngā kōkiritanga o te wā kua heke haere ētahi momo. There are different creation stories for tuna in Aotearoa.

# data[].attributes.body
Diagram

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Any eel in New Zealand can be called 'tuna', but this is the longest lived (and the coolest, we think). While you might see them in freshwater, eventually they will travel out to the ocean to breed.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Longfin eel life cycle | Learning | Taupō for Tomorrow

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Any eel in New Zealand can be called 'tuna', but this is the longest lived (and the coolest, we think). While you might see them in freshwater, eventually they will travel out to the ocean to breed.

# data[].attributes.body
Good summary of lifecycle, food, threats. Of interest is the reference to surface tension helping elvers climb up wetted rock faces - could be a good linked side-project to investigate the effects of surface tension.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The New Zealand longfin eel ( Anguilla dieffenbachii) is New Zealand's only endemic freshwater eel. Our shortfin eel ( Anguilla australis) is also found in Australia and some Pacific Islands. We also have a recently introduced longfin eel from Australia ( Anguilla reinhardtii).

Longfin eels can be identified because the dorsal (top) fin is longer and extends further forward than the anal (bottom) fin. In the shortfin species, the dorsal and anal fins are of a similar length.

Our native longfin species has been an important food resource for Māori for hundreds of years. Consequently, Māori have extensive knowledge of the longfin eel's migratory routes. Unfortunately, the New Zealand longfin is classified as a threatened species because of its gradual decline in numbers.

Life cycle

The life cycle of eels has long been a mystery. Its complex stages are still not fully understood because longfins have never been seen spawning. This is what scientists think happens.

The eels breed only once at the end of their life cycle. In the autumn, these adult eels leave the rivers and streams and head for the ocean. From there, they make a long journey of thousands of kilometres to a place somewhere in the South Pacific ocean. Scientists think the spawning grounds may be close to Tonga.

The females then release between 1-20 million eggs. The manner in which the eggs are fertilised by the male eels is still unknown. The mature eels then die. The eggs float to the surface, hatching into very flat looking, leaf-like larvae called leptocephali. These larvae then float on ocean currents back to New Zealand. Scientists think this can take about 15-17 months, although there are no records of capturing these larvae.

Once back in New Zealand waters, the larvae change into glass eelstransparent juvenile eels. The glass eels enter estuaries where they develop colour and become elvers - small adult longfin eels. The elvers then swim upstream to find a place where they can grow into adults. A decade or more later (anywhere between 10-100 years), adult eels head out to sea to spawn and the cycle continues.

Elvers

Elvers can climb as well as swim. Moving upstream often requires the ability to negotiate waterfalls, steep uphill rocks and even dams. As long as the surface is wet and rough, the elvers climb their way upstream. Surface tension holds them to rock faces. Eels are nocturnal so they move mostly through the night. During the day, they seek cover in cracks under waterfalls. Elvers have been observed climbing vertical surfaces up to 43 m tall. They lose their climbing ability once they reach about 12 cm (probably because they become too heavy to be held by surface tension). Elvers also slither overland through wet grass to get to remote and inaccessible waterways. They can migrate over 130 km inland over one summer. Longfin eels have been found up to 361 km inland in freshwater streams and high country lakes.

Food

Longfin eels are omnivores. This means they are general or opportune feeders - eating both plant and animal life, depending on what's available. As elvers, they mostly eat insect larvae, worms and water snails. As they get bigger, their diet includes small fish, crayfish and small birds, such as ducklings.

Threats

The decline of longfin eels can be attributed to a number of factors, overfishing being one of them. New Zealanders showed an interest in the longfin eel as a commercial fishery in the 1960s. Fishing numbers increased well into the 1970s when it became apparent that significant stock numbers were reduced.

Drainage, hydro development, irrigation schemes and river diversions also affect eel numbers by reducing their habitat. Culverts and dams impede or prevent their migration.

Water pollution also affects eels. Sewage and effluent from industry discharged into rivers and nutrients leaching from soils into waterways can result in large quantities of oxygen being removed from the water. The result of this oxygen depletion is that the eels will either die or move away. Toxins in the water such as minerals and hydrocarbons from mining tailings can also kill eels.

Nature of science

Activity ideas

Useful links

Published 19 March 2014

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The New Zealand longfin eel (Anguilla dieffenbachii) is New Zealand's only endemic freshwater eel. Our shortfin eel (Anguilla australis) is also found in Australia and some Pacific Islands. We also have a recently introduced longfin eel from Australia (Anguilla reinhardtii).

# data[].attributes.body
If tuna could speak, what would they say?
He Reo Whakamana is short video series about restoring the mana of these taonga – listening to what they are telling us about their health and wellbeing.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
He reo tō te wai, he reo anō tō te tangata, kotahi tonu te whakapapa, whakakotahitia.

Water has a language, and so too do people have theirs, both born of one whakapapa, united.

This whakatauki acknowledges th e importance of using our language and the language of our taonga in decision-making processes. We are excited to invite tamariki to get to know their awa and use their voice to share their findings for example with local councils and other decision-makers .

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Tuna and their kainga, our waterways, are under threat.

# data[].attributes.body
Summary and link to further information on pressures that affect New Zealand tuna.
Note - the link does actually work despite appearances.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Tuna - pressures on New Zealand populations

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Freshwater eel populations around the world are in steep decline. In New Zealand, although longfins are still one of the most common freshwater fish, there are concerns about the scarcity of very large specimens. There are also indications that elver recruitment into New Zealand waters, especially amongst longfins, is declining.

# data[].attributes.headline
Understanding taonga fish populations of NZ

# data[].attributes.subject
Understanding taonga fish populations of NZ

# data[].attributes.body
The sciency-read - for those who want all the details this covers it. From Te Wai Māori, the Māori Freshwater Fisheries Trust.

# data[].attributes.headline
Climate change vulnerability report – species summary: Tuna (Longfin eel)

# data[].attributes.subject
Climate change vulnerability report – species summary: Tuna (Longfin eel)

# data[].attributes.body
Assessing the vulnerability of taonga freshwater species to climate change. Short summary with easily understandable graphics showing exactly where in the lifecycle tuna may be affected.

# data[].attributes.headline
Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand - eels

# data[].attributes.subject
Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand - eels

# data[].attributes.body
The basics, but with some interesting side facts. Tip - click on the images to learn more about specific things.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Eels - Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Where do freshwater eels come from? Aristotle claimed they sprang straight from river mud, and some people thought they grew from bits of skin, or even horsehair. In 1896 an Italian discovered that a tiny 'saltwater fish' was in fact the larva of the freshwater eel. We are gradually ...

# data[].attributes.body
Fisheries New Zealand manages freshwater eel fisheries under the Quota Management System (QMS).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Fisheries New Zealand manages freshwater eel fisheries under the Quota Management System (QMS). Learn about the QMS requirements for commercial eel fishers.

Management of freshwater eel fisheries

Fisheries New Zealand manages freshwater eel fisheries under the Quota Management System (QMS).

Commercial eel fishers must own annual catch entitlement (ACE) for freshwater eel fisheries. The amount of ACE available to them will depend on the total allowable commercial catch limit we set for that year.

Freshwater eels include:

longfin eels - Anguilla dieffenbachia

shortfin eels - Anguilla australis

A third species, the Australian longfin eel ( Anguilla reinhardtii) also occurs on the North Island, but is not abundant and is managed with shortfin eel stocks.

Eel fisher requirements

Commercial eel fishers must meet QMS requirements relating to:

covering catch with ACE or paying deemed values

reporting

area closures

size limits - eels must be between 220g and 4kg in most areas

method and gear restrictions.

Find out about fishing under the QMS
Fisher agreement to increase longfin stocks

Commercial eel fishers have voluntarily put measures in place to increase the abundance of longfin eels, including agreeing not to land:

any migratory female longfin eels

longfin eels in Lake Ellesmere (Te Waihora).

Eel fishing banned in protected areas

Fishers with ACE have the right to take a certain amount of eels from a particular eel stock. However, they must not fish for eels in protected areas managed by the Department of Conservation (DOC).

You can sometimes get permission (a concession) from DOC to fish for eels in a protected area - although generally not for reserves or national parks.

Managing for sustainability

Fisheries New Zealand is managing eel fisheries throughout New Zealand to make sure they are sustainable. We:

separated South Island eel stocks into shortfin and longfin stocks in 2016, so management can now be tailored to each species

set new Total Allowable Catch (TAC), Total Allowable Commercial Catch (TACC), and recreational and customary allowances for all South Island quota management areas to allow for sustainable use while increasing numbers of eels (particularly longfin eels)

will set new North Island catch allowances in the second half of 2018.

Find out more

Who to contact

If you have questions about freshwater eel fisheries, email info@mpi.govt.nz

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Fisheries New Zealand manages freshwater eel fisheries under the Quota Management System (QMS). Learn about the QMS requirements for commercial eel fishers. Fisheries New Zealand manages freshwater eel fisheries under the Quota Management System (QMS). Commercial eel fishers must own annual catch entitlement (ACE) for freshwater eel fisheries.

# data[].attributes.headline
Submission on review of management controls NI tuna

# data[].attributes.subject
Submission on review of management controls NI tuna

# data[].attributes.body
2018 - Submission on the review of management controls for the North Island longfin eel fisheries. There's some fancy scientific language in here, but it still clearly lays out the issues and why the submission is being made. Great for older students to use as an example to create their own submissions.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
TAC submission NI eels 2018 Manaaki Tuna

# data[].attributes.body
2016 - Ngāi Tahu example of a trap and transfer programme.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It's probably the world's largest eel, and it's a renowned climber - able to scale tall waterfalls. But the large-scale dams on the Waitaki River hamstring our endemic longfin eels from accessing their habitats, thereby threatening their long-term survival. However, help is at hand, as kaituhi Mark Revington reports.
When adult longfin eels are ready to leave New Zealand to release their eggs somewhere in the South Pacific, John Wilkie (Waitaha, Kāti Māmoe, Ngāi Tahu - Kāti Hāteatea, Kāti Huirapa, Ngāti Hawea) is there in the Waitaki valley to give them a hand.

As juvenile eels, known as elvers, move upstream looking for somewhere to live, John is there to help them past dams on the Waitaki River, the large braided river that drains the Mackenzie Basin.

The eels' journey is part of a cycle that is thousands of years old. John Wilkie has been part of it for the past 15 years, and for the past five years, Patrick Tipa (Waitaha, Kāti Māmoe, Ngāi Tahu) has been helping him.

"I can remember as a kid we used to catch and eat tuna," Patrick says. "We always wanted to catch the largest eel." Now, he looks after their survival.

John and Patrick's passion ensures life goes on for the longfin eel in one of the most modified landscapes in the country, a place where people have fished, hunted for birds, and gathered and cultivated plants for the past 1000 years.

The Waitaki river starts at the foot of Aoraki. It flows through three lakes - Benmore, Aviemore and Waitaki - and through three hydroelectric dams, one at the foot of each lake. Its tributaries include the Ahuriri and Hakataramea rivers.

Te Rūnanga o Arowhenua, Te Rūnanga o Moeraki, and Te Rūnanga o Waihao are the kaitiaki rūnanga for the Waitaki catchment.

"I have a huge affinity for them. New Zealand is the only country in the world where they live. They are bio-accumulative, so they can tell us so much about waterways. They are an amazing animal."
John Wilkie Waitaha, Kāti Māmoe, Ngāi Tahu - Kāti Hāteatea, Kāti Huirapa, Ngāti Hawea

The longfin eel ( Anguilla dieffenbachia) is the largest freshwater eel in the world and is unique to New Zealand. Its life cycle is complex, and many aspects are still unknown to science. Over his years working with the eels John Wilkie has developed a particular kinship for these animals, which he says become almost like pets, a sentiment shared by Patrick Tipa.

"I have a huge affinity for them," says John. "New Zealand is the only country in the world where they live. They are bio-accumulative, so they can tell us so much about waterways. They are an amazing animal."

The work on giving eels a hand up was started years ago by Ngāi Tahu customary fisheries expert, the late Kelly Davis. "It started with surveys and studies by Kelly in the Waitaki system," says John. "The outcome was a trap and transfer system on the Waitaki. The elvers are trapped and then taken further upstream."

Recently the work has been given a technological twist thanks to Iain Gover from Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu who has developed a field data collection app that records details of the catch to a central database.

Longfin eels undergo a dramatic transformation as they get ready for their journey into the Pacific. They grow slowly and can stay in freshwater for years. Studies show that males migrate on average after 20 years and females after 30 years.

They live in a variety of waterways, including farm drains and large ponds. As they ready for their long journey into the Pacific, their bodies change colour.

If they aren't caught and helped downstream to spawn, they can remain locked in waterways inland. To catch them, John and Patrick rely on Iain's technological wizardry, and their knowledge of eels.

"One of the first things I learnt was if you want to know about eels, you have to think like an eel," says Patrick. "Where would you go? What environment would you look for?"

John says it amazes him sometimes that they are still catching mature eels in the back country, despite their work in shifting elvers upstream. "I still get really excited when I catch anything over four kilograms. I've been doing this for five years and I keep thinking there can't be a lot more up here."

The elvers arrive from the ocean as tiny glass eels, and slowly change colour to grey-brown as they move upstream. Although tenacious climbers, obstacles like the Waitaki dam can be too much to overcome. Therefore, John and Patrick trap the young eels and move them into the high country. Eels grow into maturity in the high country once they find somewhere suitable to live.

The Waitaki dam is the first obstacle along their path, says John, and all sorts of methods were tried to overcome the problem, including fish passes, which didn't work.

A large part of their effort has been negotiating access to waterways in the high country, a process started during the land tenure review process, says John. "During that process we got to know the high country farmers, which made access much easier. The interest they have in the programme is amazing."

When TE KARAKA caught up with the pair, they had just been up at Ōmārama Station, where Country Calendar had been filming. Part of that included coverage of the work of John, Patrick, and others in ensuring the longfin eel's survival.
Patrick has also visited schools in the area to raise awareness of the issues, including several visits to Ōmārama School, where interest in the eels and waterways has led to other projects, like native planting to improve habitats.

And although Meridian Energy, which manages the Waitaki hydro scheme including eight power stations from Lake Tekapō to Lake Waitaki in the MacKenzie Basin, has often been painted as the bad guy, the company has put money and resources into trapping and transferring eels.

But it is still a huge job, and the information the men have gathered over time is crucial. "I often say to John that the knowledge he has is invaluable," says Patrick.

"For me it's a big learning curve. It has become a passion."

Despite eels not being included as a taonga species in Schedule 97 of the Ngāi Tahu Claim Settlement Act 1998, there is recognition that when it comes to the Waitaki catchment, they are a taonga.

While the catchment has changed, perhaps irrevocably, due to hydroelectric generation, farming, and pollution, and the longfin eel population is generally thought to be in decline, the work of John and Patrick and others may tip the balance in the longfin eel's favour.

"We are trying to get to the point where it is sustainable, and we still protect the interest of mana whenua," says John. "When we catch and measure the mature eels, we only take those over four kilograms. And there is the knowledge that the eel you are looking at, and weighing and measuring, you will never see again."
About the longfin eel
Longfin eels live mainly in rivers and inland lakes, but can be found in almost all types of waters, usually well inland from the coast.

Eels are slow growing - a longfin may grow only between 15-25 mm a year. They can also live for many years. Large longfins have been estimated to be at least 60 years-old.

Longfin eels breed only once, at the end of their life. When they are ready to breed, they leave New Zealand and swim 5000 kilometres up into the tropical Pacific to spawn, probably in deep ocean trenches somewhere near Tonga.

When they reach their destination, the females lay millions of eggs that are fertilised by the male. The larvae are called leptocephali, and look nothing like an eel - they are transparent, flat, and leaf-shaped. The larvae reach New Zealand by drifting on ocean currents.

Before entering fresh water, the leptocephali change into a more familiar eel shape, although they remain transparent for up to a week after leaving the sea. These tiny "glass" eels enter fresh water between July and November each year, often in very large numbers.

Eels take many years to grow, and it can be decades before an individual is ready to undertake the long migration back to the tropics to breed. The average age at which a longfin eel migrates is 23 years for a male, and 34 for a female. The adults never return, as they die after spawning.

Sources: Department of Conservation, Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
For the love of the longfin eel - Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
When adult longfin eels are ready to leave New Zealand to release their eggs somewhere in the South Pacific, John Wilkie (Waitaha, Kāti Māmoe, Ngāi Tahu - Kāti Hāteatea, Kāti Huirapa, Ngāti Hawea) is there in the Waitaki valley to give them a hand.

# data[].attributes.headline
Giant eel delivers petition to Parliament

# data[].attributes.subject
Giant eel delivers petition to Parliament

# data[].attributes.body
2013 - good example of people working together to be heard. More articles and blogs about this project can be found with a simple search.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
New Zealand

Last week a 200 metre longfin eel made of recycled cloth snaked its way up to Parliament, delivering of a petition of 10,000 signatures to stop commercial fishing of the fish.

The petition, begun by Forest & Bird, Green Peace, Manaaki Tuna and ECO, demands an end to the commercial fishing of the longfin, which is currently classed as 'at risk and declining' by the Department of Conservation. Iwi also supported the measure, emphasising that the extinction of the tuna (eel) would be a huge cultural loss.

The Ministry for Primary Industries has introduced a minimum and maximum (4kg) size for the longfin, however Massey University Senior Lecturer, Dr. Mike Joy, says that faster-growing females are more likely to be fished out. "The females are always larger than the males. Because there's a minimum size and because females grow larger first, fishermen are more likely to catch females." A 4kg female would measure well over 1 metre, says Dr. Joy.

This will have major impact on the future of the species; females are not only more likely to be fished out, they also take longer to sexually mature - between 30 and 100 years compare with 15 to 45 years for males.

Dr. Joy said: "People think that New Zealand's Quota Management System prevents unsustainable fishing practises but this is really quite far from the truth - no longfin eel quota has ever even come close to being met - how can management like this have any impact on controlling harvest levels?", adding, "with all the additional threats eels are facing, in my opinion, extinction is inevitable if they continue to be commercially fished at current levels."

New Zealand has two main species of eel; the Longfin and the Shortfin. The Shortfin is more common than the Longfin and is not threatened. In the South Island, both species are managed under the same quota, despite the fact that one is threatened. This is an outrage, says Dr. Joy. "There's nowhere else in the world that have one quota for two different species. One could go extinct and you wouldn't even know it."

The eel tapestry, started by American artist Stephanie Bowman, has been touring the country over the last two years and features work from thousands of people within and beyond Aotearoa.

Bowman has also produced a children's story about the longfin which highlights the dire state of our waterways and the creatures that inhabit them. The 'star' of the book, a mother eel called Velvet, was then immortalised in an

enormous fabric eel that graced the steps of Parliament today.

The 100 panels on the tapestry have been added to by around 5000 people from schools, museums and individuals from Kaitaia to Invercargill. Each panel measures around two metres, which is the same size as the largest female longfins that reach maturity.
Related articles
The next journey for Velvet's Travelling Tuna Tapestry will be aboard a sailing board to Tonga and back - representing the longfin's journey to spawn in the depths of the Tongan trench where it mates and dies and its offspring journey back to the parent's same river.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Ecology: Giant eel delivers petition to Parliament - NZ Herald

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
New Zealand Last week a 200 metre longfin eel made of recycled cloth snaked its way up to Parliament, delivering of a petition of 10,000 signatures to stop commercial fishing of the fish.

# data[].attributes.headline
What's polluting our urban harbours and streams?

# data[].attributes.subject
What's polluting our urban harbours and streams?

# data[].attributes.body
2017 - not explicitly about tuna, but good coverage of threats to urban streams, and therefore urban tuna.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The Environment Ministry's landmark Our Fresh Water 2017 report concluded New Zealand's most degraded streams were in urban areas. Nikki Macdonald investigates the state of the Wellington region's streams and harbours, and what's ailing them.
From the creek mouth, the plume of brown pushes all the way across Owhiro Bay, dumping its toxic filth straight into the capital's Taputeranga Marine Reserve.

Upstream, past the junked plastic crate and garden hose unfurled like a sea snake along the creek bed, two young apple trees are heavy with rosy fruit. Their owner is now weighing up whether they're safe to eat, their roots diving deep into the contaminated orange sludge that's been periodically pulsing down from the T&T landfill upstream since November.

The creek's resident eels have names and dedicated feeders. The skinny elvers have disappeared but MoFo is still there. Another old-timer was found dead in the creek bed a few weeks earlier.

Upstream further still, before the dead gull, Martin Payne and 60 other volunteers are cleaning up the stream's litter-strewn banks. Over two hours and 300m of stream, they remove 120kg of rubbish. About half is polystyrene and soft plastics - shopping bags washed down from the city council landfill, caught in the same branches where a juvenile shag perches.

Payne and his Friends of Owhiro Stream team are among thousands of weekend warriors nationwide, who give up their time and energy cleaning and replanting scrappy little urban streams. They might not look like much, but they're often spawning grounds for threatened native fish and conduits for contaminants that end up in harbours and estuaries.

But gumboots and gardening gloves are only a small part of the solution. The health of a stream depends not just on the habitat around it, but on what's going into the water coursing through it.

Payne's an electrical engineer by training. "I haven't been doing so much of that lately," he laughs. He estimates the streamcare group collectively invests well over 1000 hours a year. But that's not all potting out plants, because when the stream is full of toxic landfill leachate that might as well be for nothing.

"It's a mix of physical restoration work and then we put our suits on to go to resource consent hearings. It's only when you have those two things together that you can actually make progress."

CHEMICAL CONTAMINATION

Owhiro Stream is a perfect microcosm of the pressures making water quality in urban streams worse than their much-talked-about rural neighbours. Rural waterways have hogged the headlines, because of their rapid and alarming decline in the face of nutrient overload from intensified farming, which leads to rivers and lakes choked with algae.

But urban streams and harbours are also sick - smothered in sediment running off pasture, forestry, roadworks and bare-earth subdivisions; putrid with ammonia and sewage leaking from ageing and cracked wastewater pipes; contaminated with metals washing off impermeable landscapes at levels so high they're toxic even without heavy rain runoff.

Greater Wellington Regional Council last year trialled fish counts at seven randomly selected stream sites around the region. Wairarapa's Waipoua River, just below the Tararua Range, clocked in with 177 fish from seven different species, including eight endangered longfin eels. In Stokes Valley Stream and Masterton's Opaki Stream, however, researchers failed to find a single fish.

And then there are the legacy contaminants - Wellington Harbour's industrial history is written in its sediments, a constant reminder that what goes into streams today can affect harbour health for decades.

Pesticide DDT was banned in urban areas in 1989, almost 30 years ago. Yet all but one sample site in Wellington Harbour exceed early warning levels for DDT and mercury, both of which bioaccumulate - increasing in concentration up the food chain to high levels in large, long-lived species such as dolphins and birds of prey. Lead is the only historical contaminant that appears to be reducing.

"If we knew then what we know now we could have pushed harder," Cross concedes.

T&T declined to comment, saying all the relevant information was on the regional council's website.

Payne is also concerned about Wellington City Council's plans to extend its southern landfill, which would engulf a section of an Owhiro Stream tributary.

The current landfill area only has eight years of useful life remaining. It has put its extension application on hold following the stream group's opposition. Payne wants to see efforts to reduce waste, rather than simply appropriating more space to accommodate it.

Councillor Iona Pannett agrees. She also wants to see plastic bags outlawed - the council has spent $20,000 trying to prevent rubbish blowing away, but acknowledges its landfill is the likely source of Payne's 60kg of collected plastic and polystyrene trash.

"We need to look at the whole waste system," Pannett says. "We are so far behind on this in New Zealand."

Sediment smothers streambeds, obliterating fish habitat. In this extreme example, a structure in Wainui Stream is completely submerged within seven years. PHOTO: SUPPLIED

SMOTHERING SEDIMENT

In 2007, Niwa marine ecologist Kura Paul-Burke mapped the mussel beds in the Bay of Plenty's Ohiwa Harbour. "It was fantastic", she recalls - a 2km continuous stretch of mussels, numbering an estimated 112 million.

In 2009 she put on her dive gear and went down again. The usually grey harbour bed was alive with a carpet of orange sea stars. Pretty, she thought, until she saw the devastation.

"Behind them was this distinct line - mussels ahead and dead shells behind them."

She estimated the mussel numbers had dropped to 16 million, with 58 per cent of the area of the original bed wiped out.

In 2016, she went down again. The visibility was so bad she needed a torch to see and had to wipe the silt from mussel-shaped objects to check they were actually shellfish. In just 10 years the mussel count had fallen from 112 million to 480,000 and Paul-Burke has no doubt of the cause.

"Humans - our activities. Forestry, farming, horticulture, people building houses, roads - all of that gets washed into our harbour."

Sediment is also the biggest issue facing Porirua Harbour and its nationally significant estuary habitat. Unlike Ohiwa Harbour, its cockle beds had been recovering - until last year. The 2016 cockle count was down, although it's not yet clear exactly what that means.

But the harbour is far from out of the woods.

Porirua Harbour Trust chairman Grant Baker stands at the mouth of Porirua Stream, where it empties into the Onepoto arm of Porirua Harbour.

"The quality of the harbour is totally dependent on what is coming down from the catchment," he says.

All these hard surfaces - the concrete stream sides and piped outlets, prevent fish travelling upstream and coming out onto the banks to spawn.

On the ridge beyond the highway, a digger bucket swings as it munches at the other side of the hill, clearing sections for the Aotea subdivision. On the stream-side of the hill, workers are planting to limit erosion.

On the harbour's Pauatahanui Inlet side, behind Duck Creek, roads give way to bare clay as another new subdivision goes in. Further back still, satellite photos show denuded hilltops where pine trees are being harvested.

What you can't see is the Transmission Gully roadworks. Even with their "state of the art" sediment control, they're expected to dump up to 2500 tonnes a year into the harbour - 7 per cent of its annual sediment load.

Muds also affect the creatures living within the estuary beds, filling in the spaces so oxygen can't penetrate. You lose sensitive species and there's less liveable habitat, so fewer critters.

"And those are the things birds and fish live on. So it hammers it that way."

While cockle numbers in Porirua Harbour are holding up, they're getting smaller, as they have to use more energy filtering sediment as they feed.

Around the country, estuaries are in serious trouble, due to algal choking caused by nutrient overload (usually from intensive farming), Stevens says. New River and Jacobs River estuaries in Southland are among the worst.

"There's no oxygen in the sediments. They're black, they're muddy, they stink of sulphides and there's just nothing living in them. They're toxic."

Sediment also chokes stream life, says freshwater ecologist Mike Joy. By radio-tagging native bullies and galaxiids​ he discovered they spent 90 per cent of their time in the spaces between rocks and boulders in healthy streams. Smothering those rocks in sediment is like forcing a building of apartment dwellers to live only on the roof.

Sediment monitoring often misses the point, as it focuses on cloudiness, which measures suspended sediment rather than what is deposited on the stream bed, Joy says.

"It's a bit like if the house is on fire and there's a whole lot of smoke but you can get down low and get out of it and then hopefully it blows away and you're alright. It's what gets left behind that they can't handle. That's when the habitat gets lost."

Joy wants to see stricter monitoring of earthworks to improve sediment retention.

It's five years since the Porirua Harbour Strategy was introduced to improve the harbour's health. Baker says there's been plenty of planning, but little tangible progress.

"Show us something that has actually improved. Tell us what change you are making. Because we don't believe there's any evidence of change."

However, Porirua Harbour Strategy co-ordinator Keith Calder defends the strategy's record. A huge amount of work is going on behind the scenes and it was always expected to take 10 years to make meaningful change, he says.

"We're getting all the bits of the jigsaw puzzle in place."

Progress so far includes special recognition of the harbour in regional planning documents, new trade waste, wastewater and stormwater bylaws and a new land management officer, employed to work on sediment reduction.

They've set up school education programmes and plan to label drains running straight to the sea.

Greater Wellington Regional Council has also set up a whaitua committee - the second of five catchment-based groups of local people who will decide how water is to be managed in their area. Committees for the Wellington Harbour and Hutt Valley, Kapiti Coast and Wairarapa Coast are yet to be established.

As part of the whaitua process, scientists up and down the country are modelling possibilities for different land uses, business as usual and water-sensitive design.

Progress has been hampered, however, by four major floods in the past two years, which will inevitably blow out sediment loads. The big question, Calder says, is is this the new normal?

SEWAGE SEEP AND OVERFLOW

Greater Wellington Regional Council controls 689 resource consents to discharge potential contaminants either directly to waterways, or to land in a way which might affect waterways.

They include: GW staff using pesticides to control aquatic weed; district councils discharging sewage to rivers or the sea in heavy rainfall, industries such as Winstone Aggregates, road builders and landfills discharging stormwater contaminated with sediment and chemicals; and farms discharging effluent to land.

In 2015 and 2016, there were 278 incidents of non-compliance with consents, ranging from farm overstocking to excessive sediment discharge.

Over the same period, there were 707 reported incidents of water contamination, resulting in:
▪ 44 infringement notices
▪ 10 abatement notices
▪ 88 formal warnings
▪ 57 advisory notices
▪ 332 advice letters

Reported incidents included:
▪ Red dye in a stream in Fraser Park (no enforcement action)
▪ GWRC workers spraying chemicals into Kuripuni Stream, where people collect cress (advice letter sent)
▪ Wet cement dumped into Kaiwharawhara Stream (formal warning issued)
▪ 22 dead eels, after a mulch pile caught fire and the run-off spilt into Waikanae's Waimeha Stream (formal warning issued)
▪ A Masterton portaloo tipped over, spilling into a stream (no enforcement action)
▪ White paint dumped into Masterton's Solway Stream. Had happened before, resulting in death of neighbouring sheep (no enforcement action)
▪ Bright red water gushing from stormwater drains at Island Bay Beach (formal warning)
▪ Decapitated goat in Pauatahanui Inlet (no enforcement action)

Health warning signs are erected every time sewage is discharged into the sea from Wellington's Moa Point treatment plant. PHOTO: ROBERT KITCHIN/FAIRFAX NZ

SEWAGE CONTAMINATION FROM TREATMENT PLANT OVERFLOWS

During heavy rain, the Moa Point, Porirua and Seaview treatment plants can't cope with the water volumes, so discharge sewage to rivers or the sea. Kapiti District Council, however, has storm basins, which store untreated wastewater during heavy rain, so it can be treated after the storm has passed.

While fully treated sewage is technically safe, authorities warn against swimming nearby for 48 hours.

DISCHARGES FROM PORIRUA TREATMENT PLANT TO THE SEA, WEST OF TITAHI BAY

2016/17 - 17 discharges of partially treated sewage, totalling 30,877 cubic metres

2015/16 - 19 discharges, totalling 44,474 cubic metres

Wellington Water says Porirua is its oldest treatment plant. It underwent an upgrade in March 2016 and another upgrade, due to be completed by 2020, will help reduce heavy rain overflows.

DISCHARGES FROM MOA POINT TREATMENT PLANT TO OUTER LYALL BAY

2016/17 - 7 discharges, totalling 852,071 cubic metres, of which 94,333 cubic metres was only partially treated

2015/16 - 1 discharge of 20,748 cubic metres, of which 1477 cubic metres was only partially treated

Wellington City Council says it is investigating options to improve the city's sewerage system, including increasing the Moa Point plant's capacity and increasing sewerage system storage to reduce peak flows.

DISCHARGES FROM SEAVIEW TREATMENT PLANT TO WAIWHETU STREAM

2016/17 - 13 discharges of fully-treated sewage, totalling 777,072 cubic metres ( 488,889 of that was for maintenance rather than rain)

2015/16 - 2 discharges, totalling 14,898 cubic metres.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What's polluting our urban harbours and streams?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The Environment Ministry's landmark Our Fresh Water 2017 report concluded New Zealand's most degraded streams were in urban areas. Nikki Macdonald investigates the state of the Wellington region's streams and harbours, and what's ailing them. From the creek mouth, the plume of brown pushes all the way across Owhiro Bay, dumping its toxic filth straight into the capital's Taputeranga Marine Reserve.

# data[].attributes.headline
Eel survey prompts call for rāhui on two Northland rivers

# data[].attributes.subject
Eel survey prompts call for rāhui on two Northland rivers

# data[].attributes.body
2019 - Northland example of finding only particular size classes of tuna. Interpret in context of tuna life cycle and longevity.
Could also be used as a starting point for discussion on rāhui as a management tool, and the application of rangatiratanga over taonga under Te Tiriti.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A rāhui is being recommended on commercial eel fishing on two Northland rivers following a summer survey of eel numbers.

Environmental River Patrol founder Millan Ruka along with Whatitiri hapū members have just completed the catch-and-release survey on the Wairua and Northern Wairoa rivers west of Whangārei.

The survey was funded by conservation charity Reconnecting Northland and overseen by MPI Fisheries, which sets and monitors the commercial eel take.

Over summer, Mr Ruka and his helpers have been lugging fyke nets, poles, and unwieldy measuring troughs up and down the two rivers and streams that feed them.

Mature native long-fin eels could still be found in places not easily accessible to commercial fishers but they were few and far between, Mr Ruka said.

"We haven't collated all our data yet, but there's a very clear trend that where there's easy access to the rivers, and where a commercial fisherman can deploy his tinny and range a long distance on the river, there's no long fin, or very low numbers and no big ones."

Most of the eels caught and released in the survey were relatively young, and well under a metre long, Mr Ruka said.

It was likely they were former elvers caught at the Wairua hydro power station by hapū and transferred upstream since 2012 in a conservation project, he said.

"We're effectively doing the hard yards and the commercial guys are reaping the benefit," Mr Ruka said.

He had asked the industry to voluntarily avoid the area for the few weeks that the survey was underway, but the commercial fishers had ignored the plea.

"We found 19 nets on one stream when we came to survey it - the guy had just thrashed it, and that's pretty disappointing," Mr Ruka said.

The result of the survey would be reported to MPI with a recommendation for a commercial rāhui, to allow eel numbers to recover, Mr Ruka said.

No restrictions applying on commercial fishing in surveyed area

It's the endemic and endangered longfin that the Whatitiri hapū are most concerned about.

The females don't breed till they're at least 30 years old and they do it just once, swimming off to the Tonga Trench to spawn and die.

Nathan Warner, who grew up near Wairua River and helped with the survey, said 20 years ago there would have been one or two really big long-fins in every deep pool in the Karukaru stream and plenty of shortfins.

"From what I can see, the eels are predominantly short fins, but I remember in my youth we ate mainly the long-fin variety."

But that was no longer the case and though there's an allowable cultural take of 10 tonnes, marae up and down the river could no longer rely on catching a feed of eels for their manuhiri.

NIWA's eel expert Don Jellyman said the big eels should be there.

"There is a maximum size limit - commercial fishers have to return to the stream any eels that are four kilos and above," Dr Jellyman said.

"So we'd always hope there'd be a residual population of large eels that may have been previously caught but released by commercial fishers. That's a concern if they're not there."

Although the longfin eel is classed as 'at-risk and declining', commercial fishers are allowed to take 34 tonnes of longfins a year from northern rivers.

The total allowable catch was reduced from 39 tonnes last year, based on estimates of the relative abundance of the fish.

But those fisheries estimates did not tally with what Mr Warner had seen during their survey.

"When I was a kid, if we were standing in a river like this I'd expect to see big fat tuna, [eels] curled up in those little pools just waiting for you to turn up with a gaffe and throw them up on the bank," he said.

"But while the water's still flowing, one of these valuable assets that should be there, is not."

MPI said it had spoken to the commercial fisher who worked part of the Wairua river during the survey.

But the fisherman was a quota holder, and MPI had no power to restrict his activities, it said.

Fisheries NZ could restrict commercial activity for sustainability or cultural reasons, but there were no such restrictions applying in the area where Mr Ruka conducted the survey.

MPI says commercial fishers are required to report regularly on where they are fishing, and the ministry commissions scientific studies to ensure numbers remain sustainable.

It said 36 percent of the eel habitat around the country was commercially fished, leaving the remaining 64 percent as a refuge from commercial fishing.

However, Mr Ruka said MPI had no way of knowing whether the take in a particular catchment within the northern fisheries zone, stretching from south of Auckland to Cape Reinga, was becoming unsustainable.

"Our rohe awa [rivers in our district] has reached that point, but no-one has a concern that great lengths of the Wairua River have been decimated," he said.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Eel survey prompts call for rāhui on two Northland rivers

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A rāhui is being recommended on commercial eel fishing on two Northland rivers following a summer survey of eel numbers. Environmental River Patrol founder Millan Ruka along with Whatitiri hapū members have just completed the catch-and-release survey on the Wairua and Northern Wairoa rivers west of Whangārei.

# data[].attributes.body
Conservation Volunteers offering support to schools, groups, and clubs in Auckland and Wellington to learn about longfin eel.
2018 - so check if still operating

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Earlier this year, Conservation Volunteers New Zealand developed some educational resources as part of our Wild Futures Programme and with support from Mobil Oil New Zealand Limited (Mobil). These resources focused on the protection of our chosen threatened species, the longfin eel which is a taonga species and a great indicator of water quality.

Due to continued generous support from Mobil, we are now able to offer schools, groups and clubs in the Auckland and Wellington areas the chance to take part in the next step of this programme. As part of this, we could come by the school to have a talk with the kids about the longfin eel, its threats and what we can do to help. We could also look at getting you all out somewhere in your local area for a day of conservation activities. Activities very much depend on time of the year and needs of the park but are most likely to be litter clean ups and invasive plant removal. We could do some water testing in smaller groups if we can find an appropriate freshwater location. Tree planting is also possible but only during planting season (late May to early September). These events are aimed at teaching children about the longfin eel, their threats and how to protect this amazing creature and its habitat.

If this is something that you may be interested in, please get in touch so we can talk through the details. By participating in this programme you will be helping to support the future of New Zealand's threatened species. To find out more please contact Siobhan in Auckland, [email protected] or Natalie in Wellington, [email protected] .

Interested in checking out our free longfin eel educational resources? If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, you can download the pdf here. It will come as a zip file. Do let us know if you have trouble opening it.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Tuna for Tamariki - Get your kids group involved with longfin eel - Conservation Volunteers New Zealand

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Earlier this year, Conservation Volunteers New Zealand developed some educational resources as part of our Wild Futures Programme and with support from Mobil Oil New Zealand Limited (Mobil). These resources focused on the protection of our chosen threatened species, the longfin eel which is a taonga species and a great indicator of water quality.

# data[].attributes.body
Researcher Erina Watene-Rawiri describes the life cycle of eels.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Researcher Erina Watene-Rawiri describes the life cycle of eels. Updated science: In this video Erina explains that the leptocephali - eel larvae - 'float' back upstream on the current. Current scientific belief is now that the larvae are not passive drifters but have some swimming ability to get them where they need to go.

# data[].attributes.body
NIWA researchers are working with iwi to try to unlock the secrets of New Zealand tuna—freshwater eels. Short introduction to the research, but valuable for the excellent footage of glass eels (part of the tuna lifecycle).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
NIWA researchers are working with iwi to try to unlock the secrets of New Zealand tuna - freshwater eels.
Every year tiny, glass – or juvenile -  eels wash in on the tide at river mouths along our coast.
But where do they come from and how do they get there?

# data[].attributes.headline
Rescued from the dinner plate, 100 eels to hunt invasive fish dirtying Auckland reservoir

# data[].attributes.subject
Rescued from the dinner plate, 100 eels to hunt invasive fish dirtying Auckland reservoir

# data[].attributes.body
Using native species to control introduced species - an interesting concept to discuss (what are the limitations, why might it work in this case, but not elsewhere?)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Rescued from the dinner plate, 100 eels to hunt invasive fish dirtying Auckland reservoir

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A quiet infiltrator has been breeding in an Auckland reservoir, lowering the water quality, so a slippery hero needed to be brought in. More specifically, 100 of them. Longfin eels are seen as the answer to deal with an introduced predator that can decimate an eco-system.

# data[].attributes.body
Eels in action underwater.

# data[].attributes.headline
Fanimals - Lily works to protect tuna in her backyard

# data[].attributes.subject
Fanimals - Lily works to protect tuna in her backyard

# data[].attributes.body
2019 - Good footage and discussion of tuna from rangatahi perspective. Note: there is no evidence that tuna return to the particular stream that their parents came from, but they do typically return to streams where tuna are present.

This is also available in Season 2 Episode 26 of Fanimals on TVNZ.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Log into Facebook to start sharing and connecting with your friends, family, and people you know.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.embed_code
After a 7 year personal campaign to protect and educate others about the plight of the NZ longfin eel, I finally got my 4 minutes of air time! Thank you to Fanimals and Conservation Kids NZ. I hope you all learn a little about how amazing eels are and take it upon yourselves to tell others to keep them from harm! Lily💚
Posted by Team Twenty Fifty on Wednesday, March 20, 2019

# data[].attributes.body
2021 - text below from the Fish Passage Action Team
This rare footage captured by Tim Olley shows a medium-sized NZ Longfin eel taking advantage of a flood event to migrate upstream across what is normally dry land.

Note how the eel is using burst swimming between long rest periods...

Less vegetation and an unnatural stream bed means that eels have to work harder when migrating in such situations.

Also, due to a lack of cover, eels are very susceptible to predation from birds at these times...

# data[].attributes.headline
Kids Greening Taupō - Nature Connector: Tuna

# data[].attributes.subject
Kids Greening Taupō - Nature Connector: Tuna

# data[].attributes.body
Some good ideas for extension/investigation.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
Kids Greening Taupo | Learning Through Nature

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Shortfin eels are not threatened and are found in New Zealand, Australia and some Pacific Islands.

Click HERE if you want to learn more about the differences between the species.

New Zealand's eels can live up to 100 years and breed only once at the end of their lives. They live in freshwater, but in order to breed, they migrate from lakes and rivers to swim all the way through the Pacific Ocean to near Tonga. Watch this fantastic video, made by Issie Barrett, with a fun catchy song all about this amazing feat.

Forest and Bird have written an excellent short article about New Zealand longfin eels that is great for kids to read. It is a simple piece of text, but is packed with information about these amazing creatures. Click HERE to read it.

Click HERE to download an awesome pdf with information and activities for kids made by DOC. It includes a maze, wordfind, quiz, and spot the difference.

The DOC website has lots of interesting information about longfin eels and some links to more articles about them. The great activities for kids listed below, are straight from their site, please click HERE to see the full website and original source. We think they are fantastic ideas!

Activities for students

Find out about the eel fishery in New Zealand and the problems associated with fishing a slow-growing, long-lived species.

On a map, trace the journey of the longfin eel as it leaves New Zealand to breed. Work out how far it travels.

Design a board game. You could call it "Eels and Ladders". Players move around the board, winning points for actions that protect the longfin eel and losing points for actions that harm it. For example, one square could read "You go to the Environment Court to stop a company discharging toxic effluent into the river. Move ahead 5 squares." Another square could read "You drain a wetland, reducing the habitat for eels. Go back 6 squares".

Discuss attitudes and feelings about eels. What do students think of when they hear the word eel? What does an eel feel like? Get students to make up poems about eels by putting up on a board all the words they associate with eels. .

Hold a class debate on a proposed drainage scheme which would reduce the level of water in a river where eels live.

Read Watercress Tuna and the Children of Champion Street by Patricia Grace. Have students write and illustrate their own stories about an eel.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Learn About New Zealand Eels (Tuna) - Kids Greening Taupo | Learning Through Nature

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
New Zealand has two main types of eel (tuna in Māori)- the shortfin and the longfin. There is also a spotted eel that occasionally visits from Australia. Longfin eels are at risk and are declining in number. They are found only in New Zealand. Unfortunately, they are easily affected by