From Connection to Action – What I took away from Day Two of the Endangered Species National Hui
- 1 day ago
- 10 min read
By Sarah Churchouse, Restore Rodney East
If Day One of the Endangered Species National Hui left me thinking deeply about connection, Day Two showed me what can happen when that connection turns into action.
I arrived for the second day still processing everything we had heard on Day One — the incredible interconnectedness of our forests, wetlands, rivers and oceans, the species that depend on them, and the importance of protecting the places they call home.
Day Two was about people and their ability to create change. It was about leadership, courage, persistence and finding ways to make people see, understand and care. We are not separate from the natural world. We are part of it.
DAY 2: A day of action, courage and change
Mike Smith – There is always something you can do
The first speaker was Mike Smith, and his story was a powerful reminder that we should never accept being told that something is too big or too powerful for us to change.
Mike spoke about his fight against oil exploration and the campaign that stopped deep-sea oil drilling in New Zealand. At its heart, he said, it was a story about power — and about challenging the assumption that power always belongs to those with the money, the corporations or the government behind them.
His message was essentially, they will tell you there is nothing you can do.
So people did something.
Mike brought Greenpeace into the campaign and connected with people who had fought similar battles before. People got into the water and made themselves visible. They made the issue impossible to ignore.
Make the invisible visible.
Eventually, that public pressure helped bring about change, including an amendment to the law. The distinction Mike made between legal licence and social licence really resonated with me. I’ve always understood that something being legally permitted doesn’t necessarily mean it has the support or acceptance of the community. What his story demonstrated so powerfully was how social licence can be challenged and changed when people organise, speak up and make their opposition impossible to ignore.
The decisions that eventually lead to change aren't always made in Parliament first. Often, the groundwork is done by ordinary people who stand up, organise, protest and refuse to be invisible.
Mike's story was a powerful reminder that people have more power than they sometimes realise.
Te Ao Rangatahi – Open the door
Next came Te Ao Rangatahi, with Leighjyn Tamaki, Tessa Thomson and Jonny MacKenzie, giving us an opportunity to hear what a thriving future looks like through the eyes of rangatahi.
Their message was incredibly clear: te taiao is us.
If we want young people to care about and protect our whenua, awa and moana, they need opportunities to understand them, experience them and build that connection. One suggestion was to make te taiao part of the school curriculum, because you need to understand something to protect it.
But the conversation went much further than education.
As environmental leaders, we need to open the door. We need to create genuine opportunities for young people to participate, contribute and make decisions — not simply give them a token place in the room. We need to be prepared to let them take the driver's seat, trust what they have to offer and give them the opportunity to shape the future they are going to inherit.
During the Q&A, we asked the rangatahi what they wanted the future of our taiao to look like. What would a thriving future look like to them? What did they want to see protected, restored and changed?
Their answers were bold and direct. They talked about stronger marine protection, stopping fast-tracking, getting rid of the Amendment Bill, ending bottom trawling and returning land to mana whenua.
What struck me was how important it is that we actually ask rangatahi what they want, rather than assuming we know what their future should look like.
And then we need to listen.
Open the door. Give rangatahi the opportunity. Trust what they have to offer.
They aren't just the leaders of tomorrow. They are already thinking about, speaking up for and helping shape the future they want to live in.
Rangitahi Wharepapa and Emma Giesen – Put people first
Rangitahi Wharepapa of Te Whānau a Apanui and Emma Giesen from Trees That Count shared an incredibly uplifting story from the East Coast about reconnecting communities with whenua through native tree planting.
The project follows the journey of a kākano, or seed, as it grows into something much bigger — healthier native ecosystems around homes, kura and marae.
Native trees are now flourishing on marae, bringing more manu back. People are planting trees around their own homes, while wānanga are bringing knowledge back to the whenua and connecting schools and tamariki with planting.
Since 2016, Trees That Count has supported the planting of 3.3 million native trees through 858 projects, with around 30,000 people and businesses taking action.
The message to put people first. When people reconnect with whenua, the environmental outcomes can follow. Planting a tree becomes much more than putting a seedling in the ground. It becomes an opportunity to reconnect people, knowledge, culture, community and place. And then, as those trees grow, the birds and biodiversity can return too.
Olivia Haddon and Jessie Stanley – Make people care
Then we heard from Olivia Haddon of Te Whānau o Pākiri and Jessie Stanley of Save Our Sands Mangawhai Pākiri the multi-generational fight to protect Pākiri and Mangawhai from sand mining.
Their story goes back generations. The Haddon whānau have deep connections to Pākiri, their tūrangawaewae, on the northern edge of the Hauraki Gulf. Laly Haddon and her daughter Olivia grew up on those sands and have witnessed first-hand the dramatic changes that have taken place in the marine environment.
That really brought the story to life for me. This isn't simply about an environmental issue or a campaign against an industry. It is about people watching the place they love change over generations, remembering what was once there and fighting to protect what remains.
The Haddon family story is also captured beautifully in Songs of the Sea | Laly Haddon – Pākiri, Hauraki Gulf, a collaboration with New Zealand Geographic. It brings together an archival interview with the late Laly Haddon and a more recent interview with Olivia, reflecting on what growing up on the shores of Pākiri was like and what has changed since.
It is well worth watching.
The story of the fight against sand mining goes back decades, with the Pākiri Tribal Committee seeking control over sand removal as far back as 1947. It became an extraordinary multi-generational campaign.
In 2025, after around 80 years of campaigning, offshore sand mining at Pākiri and Mangawhai ended.
What resonated with me was the way the campaign found ways to get into people's hearts and minds. How do you make people care?
The answer wasn't necessarily complicated. A $35 tara iti costume, a small dinghy and people heading out onto the water wearing the costumes and holding signs alongside a dredging ship.
It was visual. It was memorable. And it made the invisible visible.
Sometimes we can explain an environmental issue a hundred different ways, but one powerful image can make people stop, look and understand.
The story of Pākiri was another extraordinary example of what can happen when mana whenua and communities stand together and refuse to give up.
And perhaps that is why these stories matter so much. They don't just tell us what has been lost. They remind us what people remember, what they are fighting for and what can still be protected.
The Songs of the Sea series has a similar purpose — to inspire a new generation to take responsibility for restoring the vitality, the mauri, of the Hauraki Gulf.
That feels like a responsibility we all share.
Gerry Kessels – Alive does not mean secure
Ecologist Gerry Kessels brought us back into the forest with kōkako and pekapeka-tou-roa and another powerful lesson about connection. Kōkako depend on healthy, mature forests and the incredibly complex relationships between trees, epiphytes, insects, fungi and birds. They rely on a wide range of food throughout the seasons. Pekapeka-tou-roa move across landscapes, connecting forests, wetlands, farmland and urban edges as they forage and roost. Neither species fits neatly inside the boundaries we have drawn on maps.
Gerry reminded us and challenged us to maintaining those connections and protect the complexity of the ecosystems that support species.
Alive does not mean secure.
Just because a species is present doesn't mean the work is finished.
The kōkako asks us to protect deep, mature forest and the ecological complexity that has developed over thousands of years. The pekapeka asks us to restore the pathways that allow wildlife to move through farms, forests and cities.
It was another reminder that conservation isn't just about saving individual species.
It is about relationships — between species, between places and between people and the natural world.
Wendy Ambury – You cannot save a species in isolation
Then came Wendy Ambury and the Love Bittern Project, bringing us back to matuku-hūrepo. This presentation brought so many of the themes from both days together — species, habitat, people, technology, communication and action.
Matuku-hūrepo are incredibly secretive birds, but their booming call can travel up to five kilometres. That sound tells us something important: the wetland is alive. But around 90% of our wetlands have been lost, and we are continuing to lose them.Wendy's message was very clear: You cannot save a species in isolation.
If we continue to lose wetlands, we will continue to lose bittern. Matuku need clean, clear water to hunt. When wetlands become degraded and murky, they struggle to see the fish and eels they rely on. Their nests sit low among the reeds, only around 20 centimetres above the water, so the health of the wetland is absolutely critical to their survival. Create the habitat and they will come. Matuku don’t stay in one place — bitterns are mobile birds. They use multiple wetlands to feed and can fly long distances. There may now be only somewhere between 600 and 1,000 matuku-hūrepo left.
But Wendy's story wasn't one of despair. It was a story about mobilising people. She has taken the message right across Aotearoa, connecting with schools, communities, wetlands, workshops and hui. In 2025 alone, she travelled the country engaging people in the Love Bittern Project.
And then came the Great Matuku-hūrepo Muster. Because these birds are highly mobile, the same bird could potentially be counted at different wetlands on different days. The national muster synchronises the counts during the spring breeding season, when males are more likely to stay in one place.
More than 1,000 people registered to take part. Think about that.
More than 1,000 people looking for one of our most endangered birds.
That is what happens when you make a species visible. You give people something to care about, and then you give them a way to participate.
Suddenly, an endangered bird becomes a national community effort.
Michaela Insley – Mauri is relationship
The final session of the day was with Michaela Insley, from Te Whānau a Apanui, Ngāti Porou and Te Whakatōhea.
Michaela brought together storytelling, photography, creativity and mātauranga to explore the meaning of mauri.
Mauri can be described as the life force, vitality or essential quality of a living being or entity, but Michaela challenged us to think beyond trying to give it one simple definition. Our connection with te taiao. Our connection with place. Our connection with stories and knowledge passed down through generations.
She asked us to consider how we have been taught to see the world.
Do we see ourselves as individuals, or as part of something much bigger?
Do we see the environment as a resource, or as a relationship?
And perhaps the most important question was: what is our response?
What do we bring to te taiao?
What impact are we having?
It isn't enough to simply talk about mauri.
We need to work with it.
That felt like a fitting way to end the day.
From connection to action
As I look back over the two days, I realise that what initially seemed like a huge collection of different stories was actually one story.
Day One, the extraordinary interconnectedness of our taiao — from the tops of ancient forests, through wetlands and waterways and out into the ocean.
Day Two showed me what happens when people recognise those connections and decide to act. We heard about Māori leadership and mātauranga Māori.
We heard about science and technology. We heard from communities who have fought for generations. We heard from rangatahi who are asking us to open the door and trust them. We heard about people making the invisible visible and finding creative ways to bring environmental issues into the hearts and minds of the wider public.
And through all of it, the same message kept coming back.
We are part of this.
We have a responsibility.
And we have agency.
And then there was the hope
I left feeling incredibly inspired by what is actually being achieved by the people in that room and by communities right across Aotearoa. Because these people aren't sitting back and accepting decline.
They are doing the mahi. They are restoring wetlands, planting forests, protecting waterways, removing pests, restoring connections, standing up for the ocean, sharing knowledge, supporting rangatahi and bringing communities together.
They are changing minds.
They are changing laws.
And they are creating the conditions for nature to recover.
There is a bounce-back happening in te taiao.
It may not happen overnight, and there is still an enormous amount of work to do, but we are seeing what is possible when people come together with purpose.
Species are returning. Forests are regenerating. Wetlands are being restored. Birdsong is returning. Communities are reconnecting with whenua. Knowledge is being passed between generations. Young people are stepping forward.
And perhaps most importantly, people are refusing to accept that decline is inevitable.That gives me hope.
The challenges facing our taiao are enormous, but so is the mahi happening across Aotearoa. After two days surrounded by people who are actively protecting and restoring our natural world, I didn't leave feeling defeated by the scale of the challenge. I left energised, and dreaming of the events night after night.
Because Day One showed us why connection matters.
Day Two showed us what happens when people turn that connection into action. And together, the two days left me with a very simple message:
Te taiao is us!
Māori leadership and mātauranga Māori are vital to our future. Science is vital. Community knowledge is vital. Rangatahi are vital. Everyone has a role.
We need to listen, learn, open the door, make the invisible visible, protect what remains, restore what has been damaged and take the pressure off.
Because nature has an extraordinary ability to recover when we give it the chance.
The forest wants to live.The wetlands want to live. Our rivers want to live. Our oceans want to live.
And the people in that room are showing us that te taiao can bounce back if when all of us to carry that mahi forward together.
