Tūī were named and fed, kākā and kākāpō were kept as tame birds, and karoro (seagulls) acted in useful roles — all revealing the relational way Māori engaged with the natural world.
Kāhu were acknowledged as rangatira, a significant tohu. Some would say, "Kāhu don’t show up for nothing!".
The ability of the kāhu to fly high, provided a birds-eye view over the whenua, moana and ngahere as one interconnected system.
The following kōrero is told from the perspective of the kāhu — a being who belongs to the land, who holds memory through whakapapa, and who has always lived alongside tāngata (humans), rākau (trees), wai (waters) and hau (winds).
I have always known this land by the way it breathes. By the warmth rising from the wetlands. By the lift of the wind along the ridgeline.
Before the lines were drawn, before the trees were thinned, we watched the people move like the rivers — never staying too long in one place, always speaking to the land before taking.
They knew us then. They watched our flight before they spoke. They listened when we circled low, and they waited when we did not come.
The ngahere fed us all — the rimu to the tūī, the kōwhai to the kererū, the fallen logs to the insects, the insects to the birds, the birds to the people.
Everything had a voice.
Then the winds changed. Strange birds arrived on the water. The land grew louder, but not with song.
Trees fell without karakia. Rivers were straightened. The people stopped looking up.
Still, we circled.
We have seen flags raised and cut down. We have seen names replaced. We have seen silence where forests once answered.
And still — we fly.
Because the land remembers. And so do we.
For the kāhu, before 1840 there were no borders in Aotearoa, no Crown and no private ownership. All that existed were interconnected iwi, hapū, and ecosystems.
The living landscape was made up of dense bush, thriving wetlands, waka routes along awa and moana, pā, kāinga, māra kai and tikanga — governing the balance.
Rangatiratanga already existed.
From the perspective of the kāhu, authority flowed from the whenua to the people, not documents.
The kāhu noted the shifting of the winds with the arrival of the Crown. The unfamiliar ships now traversing the waterways, the new patterns of movement on the land, resource extraction and missionaries speaking of God and governance.
They watched as Hone Heke was labelled a rebel in his attempts to uphold the mana of his people. They understood that Hone was not anti-order but in fact pro-mana, pro-rangatiratanga and deeply observant of the ever-increasing imbalance and the need to restore order.
The kāhu, who witnessed the time of Te Tiriti o Waitangi, observed many hui across the land. There was much kōrero, tohe (debate) and indeed silence at times. They understood that the decisions being made were weighed spiritually, not just politically. The kāhu had a part to play, as they had always, in significant times for tūpuna Māori.
Te Tiriti was not just signed — it was entered into within a Māori world view that read tohu, whenua and wairua alongside words.
Post 1840, the kāhu sees the fracturing of what was. The land is carved up, the rivers are rerouted, the forests are cleared, the people are displaced and discord creates distance where relationships once stood.
For the kāhu, the flagstaff was not a symbol, it was a rupture. When Hone Heke, along with Kawiti, began to chop down the flagstaff, they were not rejecting partnership, they were attempting to rebalance the disorder and displacement of authority.
The kāhu saw it all. Circling silently in the sky. Providing tohu for all who took the time to look up. The kāhu was there in times of war, the confiscations, the urbanisation, the resistance, the renaissance.
The kāhu was able to adapt, survive and continue to participate in the cycles of life, as are te iwi Māori.
Today the kāhu circles marae and motorway alike. The kāhu is still circling in the sky, a tohu to all who look up.
The kāhu continues to remind us to see the whole picture, and when making decisions, remember to consider the tohu, the whenua and the wairua alongside of the words.
Ko te kāhu e rere ana i runga i a tātou katoa — i mua i te Tiriti, i te wā o te Tiriti, ā, tae noa mai ki tēnei rā. He kaihāpai ia i te tirohanga whānui — kia kore tātou e wareware ko wai tātou, nō hea tātou, ā, mā wai tātou e tiaki.
Headline: The hawk’s view
