These women were staunch trampers and experienced trappers. They ‘leapfrogged’ from trap to trap, taking turns to open the box, discard kills, rebait and record with the efficiency of a well-oiled, predator-killing squad. Bending or kneeling over a trap with a loaded pack looked onerous, as Wilson confirmed: “Trapping is tougher than normal tramping because we’re constantly bending over with full packs, and we take a bit longer.”

We also took a while to negotiate DOC’s new detour track, routed around a massive slip caused by Cyclone Gabrielle in 2023. The detour was sheer and slippery with few handholds and little benching. DOC senior ranger Demelza Low later said detour options were limited given the water courses and active slips in the area. “We plan to take another look to see if there are any viable alternatives.”

After five hours and 90 traps, Iron Gate Hut was a welcome sight. The 10-bunk hut, built in 2019 to replace a leaking six-bunker, is a great base for the trapping team and, with its efficient fire cranked up, a cosy place to settle and chat about Ruahine whio.

Local deerstalkers initiated the Oroua Blue Duck Protection Project in 2007. Wilson was invited to take it on as a volunteer coordinator in 2011, and extra funding was secured to extend the network. The project now operates more than 600 DOC200 traps throughout Ōroua Valley and on ridgelines leading to the tops, as well as Goodnature A24 traps along the Ōroua River. There’s another huge trap network in the Pohangina Valley.

“We check 180 traps every month, year-round, to Iron Gate Hut, up to Tunupo Trig and near the forest park entrance around Alice Nash Heritage Lodge,” says Wilson. “The river traps and those on the tops are checked when conditions allow. Low kills on the tops are helpful. Our A24 lines in the Pohangina are serviced two or three times a year.”

That’s a lot of trap checking. “We’ve placed our traps along the tracks where they are easily accessible. That’s pragmatic; if you want volunteers to help, you don’t want to wear them out. That’s why we have our social trappers.”

About 10 regulars help on the Ōroua/Pohangina lines and there are 10 more that can be called on. Many are active tramping club and Search and Rescue members. A few are deerstalkers. University students and corporate groups, such as Vestas Wind Turbine staff, have also been involved.

“I’ve seen how these community projects have paid off,” Wilson says. “Around the country, community volunteer conservation has exposed a big part of the population to real-life conservation and all its benefits. It gives you a sense of connection, a sense that you’re doing something good for the place.”

Wilson is also chair of the Ruahine Whio Protection Trust, established in 2014 to secure funding for whio conservation throughout the Ruahine. Funding comes from various sources, not least from the trust’s annual ‘Wild Ruahine’ calendar – with photos by volunteers.

Projects funded include Te Potae o Awarua, run with DOC support across 20,000ha and 50km of traplines in the north-western Ruahine. Several Ōroua trappers also volunteer here and are helping to expand the project southwards to protect whio in the upper Maropea and Wakelings catchments. Helicopter access is covered by the trust with funding from Horizons Regional Council’s contestable biodiversity fund. Several Ruahine trapping projects fall under the umbrella of the Ruahine Whio Protectors Collective. Some have received DOC community conservation funding (CCF) at various times, though Wilson noted that fewer CCF projects were approved this year.

Financial help also comes from other sources. The Allan Rosoman Charitable Trust has funded heli-flights to the Pohangina traplines; Zeagold Foods supplies eggs for bait; and Goodnature reduced its trap prices.

DOC Palmerston North biodiversity rangers Dan Tuohy and Ruby Bennett jointly stated that trapping in Ruahine Forest Park, particularly by social trappers, plays a crucial role in conservation.

“Volunteers bring diverse skills and a passion for the environment, which enhance the effectiveness of their projects and mean that conservation efforts can be sustained over the long term. Volunteer trappers also make significant contributions to DOC’s knowledge by reporting species such as whio, kiwi and Powelliphanta, which help us understand where pest control effort is paying off. It’s about having many passionate eyes on the ground.”

“We just get on with it,” says Wilson. “We’re a local community, heart and soul operation.”

In 2021 Wilson was awarded a QSM for her services to wildlife conservation. “Don’t go on about that QSM,” she grumbles, then relents. “Of course, the award was for everyone. I couldn’t do it all myself, and okay, it does need someone to lead it all, but it’s fun! We’re just lucky we have whio here and that we can do this for them. And I love it up here, it’s my home away from home,” she says, pausing on a steep, bushy track, eyes shining. “And what else would I do? I’ve been to every hut in the Ruahine!”

In the morning it was raining. We settled in for a relaxing hut day, but when the rain eased the social trappers couldn’t help themselves. Boots, parkas, eggs and gloves were sorted and off we climbed, checking more traps on the steep track to the tops. My body had a few niggles after a wee crash on the slippery track the day before, so I headed back to the hut, feeling a bit of a wuss compared to this fit bunch. At least I was able to have the fire going when the others returned, three sodden hours later. Except for Wilson, who spent a further hour or so upriver, checking and doing a touch of maintenance to traps en route to Triangle Hut.

Ruahine social trapping is not just for older trampers. Kate Procter, 15, was nine when she started going out. “I was keen on the outdoors and fortunate that Wilson let me come on some trips,” she says. “At first I just carried eggs and recorded catches. About two years ago Mum and I started doing the Tunupo line.”

This line is no easy walk in the park, it requires a staunch climb through tawai/beech forest, tūpare and tussock to the 1568m Tunupo Trig.

“Mum used to watch me check the traps, but now we leapfrog, each doing our own. We do 54 traps, carry about five dozen eggs, and it takes us about six hours return when we are rebaiting. We go every month, as long as the conditions are okay. The ranges look beautiful in all weathers.”

A highlight, she recalled, was the day they cleared a stoat on the way up and another on the way back – from the same trap. Proctor is close to achieving a Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award, in part for her volunteering, and hopes to continue trapping. “I love knowing that we’re making a difference for the whio.”

Her mother Helen says it’s nice to share these outings with her daughter. “I’m lucky that she’s so keen. We have heaps of laughs out on the track.”

Zoology student Sofia Selim is a volunteer coordinator for Massey University’s Wildlife Club. “One of our key initiatives is volunteering for the Ruahine Whio Protectors,” she says. “This gives students the opportunity to learn skills and gain field experience that can help them with future jobs in conservation and related fields.

“We head out on Sundays about three times each semester to check traplines in the Ōroua Valley. Wilson provides us with eggs for bait. We check 54 traps over three lines and finish with a picnic by the river. Most of us are students of ecology, zoology or veterinary science, and wildlife conservation is our passion. Volunteering gives us a chance to contribute to the community, support native wildlife, enjoy the outdoors and meet other people.” That social trapping thing again.

Callum Taylor, 19, started trapping last year as a tramping club member. “In summer we’ll do day trips up the Ōroua to Iron Gate Hut checking traps and back down the river checking the A24s. I also do a small line of 20 traps on my own, on farmland beside the park, and I’ve been helping on the Te Potae project in the Northern Ruahine – we fly in for that, which is incredible.

“I love working with Janet and the other volunteers. A highlight is seeing the whio, but it’s really the social aspect that I love. How the community comes together for conservation in the Manawatū is awesome.”

Wilson says she saw more whio fledglings than ever in the Ōroua River this summer, but still feels they are just holding the line. “A mix of trapping and 1080 is regarded as best practice for predator control, and while there has been some 1080 use in other Ruahine areas, in the southern Ruahine whio protection is all by volunteer trapping. We really need guaranteed, ongoing funding to keep this going.”

More support for community-led conservation, including on-the-ground support from DOC staff or contractors, technological advances and good leadership into the future are also on her wish list.

Climate change and bigger, more frequent storms also threaten the future of community trapping, she says. “The whio can escape from flooded rivers into sidestreams or neighbouring catchments, but infrastructure is at risk.” During Cyclone Gabrielle, for example, a slip destroyed the track and several traps in the Ōroua. And in the Pohangina Valley, Leon Kinvig Hut, an important trappers’ base, was almost lost when the river cut away the bank beneath it. The Backcountry Trust has since relocated and repaired the hut.

On Sunday our social bunch headed out with a weekend tally of 32 rats and one stoat. All weekend we’d been looking in vain for whio. Just as we were leaving the river, as if scripted and to say thanks to the trappers, came the distinctive ‘whio’ warning call of a male to his mate who sat, unperturbed, on a rock beside him. For a long time we watched. Neither bird was fazed by the white water surging around them or the gawking, grinning humans.