Shrek the Hermit Sheep has dominated the headlines here in Southland this week.Finally caught after 8 years of evading the fall muster, Shrek had a huge fleece which made the headlines of local papers and TV news. Shrek was living as a "hermit" sheep, away from his flock in the high hills of Otago district, near Cromwell. This is rugged, rocky tussock country, above 900 meters, very tough going. He apparently survived the harsh winters by finding a cave in the rocks for shelter, not to mention his huge fleece. The Shrek frenzy culminated this week with his live shearing on the Holmes TV show last evening. Final weight of his fleece was 27kg! His owners at Bendigo Station made a charity event of it, with proceeds going to Cure Kids. Events included an online auction of locks of Shrek's fleece, and an inpromptu "Full Monty" performance which raised $700 at a local bar. Phone calls can be made to a freephone number to donate $10 and be entered in a drawing for two tickets to the Australian premiere of the movie "Shrek 2". My opinion is that this story resonates with Kiwi's not only because its unusual, or they appreciate sheep, but because it resonates with so many New Zealander core values. Shrek is an individual; he leaves the flock to live his own life. He endures rugged country and harsh weather with only his wits and his warm wooly coat. He scratches out a living in an area where grass and clover is difficult to find. This bloke does it his own way. And finally, he is wily, tricky and difficult to capture. But when he is brought in, he's not wild- he's really just a nice, gentle sheep.

Last Saturday we drove over to the Borland Road in Fiordland National Park. This is a road that penetrates 90 km into Fiordland and was constructed in order to build the power station on Lake Manipouri. About 14 windy, narrow, potholed km along this road, it crosses over a saddle in the Hunter Mountains. From there a short trail climbs up about 300 meters above the treeline. It was a beautiful blue fall day, even a bit of a hot hike. Click here to see the view. There are small tarns, lots of alpine plants and wonderful views. Beautiful country. The highlight for Vicki however, was during the drive over. Taking a short cut on a gravel New Zealand back road, we looked down into the valley below and watched as shepherds and dogs moved a flock of about 1000 sheep from one paddock to the next. From the top of the cliff, the sheep began ina pattern that looked like Brownian motion, which suddenly organized and flowed like sand in an hourglass through the paddock gate.

Today is ANZAC Day. While ANZAC is the name of a biscuit commonly found in the stores here, it really stands for "Australia and New Zealand Army Corps", and was the designation used for the cove assigned to those troops taking part in the ill-fated invasion of Turkey, at Gallipoli, in 1915. The invasion was a bust, the forces were pinned down on the beaches, suffering daily shelling, starvation, disease and lack of water for 9 months before being evacuated. Out of 10,000 Kiwis in the Allied forces, 3000 were killed and 5000 were wounded. To compare on a per capita basis, it would like the U.S. today sending over 3 million troops, and having 2.4 million of them killed or wounded. ANZAC day commemorates the Gallipoli campaign, and all the sacrifices and losses made by Australian and New Zealand servicemen and women since them, including the Korean War and Desert Storm campaigns. Kiwi's here tell me that in recent years, families have become more involved, and more younger people are honoring this special day.

We bought poppies this last week and I've been wearing mine on my polarvest in the office. One old fellow looked at it and told me, "Good on ya, mate. If it wasn't for you Yanks helping us out in the Coral Sea, I'd be slant eyed and speaking Japanese". "If it wasn't for the British, I might be speaking German", I replied. "Our countries all have a lot in common."

This morning, like thousands of people in New Zealand, we awoke at 6 AM, dressed and walked down to the Memorial Hall in Winton for the "Dawn Parade". This is a simple ritual of rememberence, following a traditional order of bugling, wreath laying, and the reading of the following poem:

The ANZAC Dedication:
For the Fallen
by Laurence Binyon

They shall not grow old,
As we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning,
We will remember them.
We will remember them.

The Hymns are the "Navy Hymn", with special words for Anzac day, and "Our God, our help in ages past". In Southland, there is also a bagpipe lament, reflecting this area's Scottish heritage. The Hall was filled with about 350 people. Many of the older patients I have met in practice here. Family members, some teenaged boys, pin on the medals or ribbons of their grandparents or parents. The local fire and ambulance brigades were there in uniform, and a few of the older men were still squeezed into their old service uniforms.

It is a solemn 20 minutes, but very moving. It led me to reflect about Memorial Day in the U.S., which seems to have become more of a "beginning of summer" holiday, barbeque time and shopping day, rather than a time for remembrance. Perhaps our current involvment in the Middle East will change this. I was particularly moved by the last stanzas of one hymn (click the link if you don't get the irony right away):

Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday,
Is one with Ninevah and Tyre!
Judge of the nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget, Lest we forget.

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boasings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the law-
Lord God of hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget,
Lest we forget.