He sat up on the neighbour's fence as brash and loud and obvious as any silly little twit teenager, yelling for his mother to being him food.
It was one of those really nice, feel-good reads in the newspaper that evokes fond memories and an acknowledgement of quality.
Over the past few months, I've been party to several discussions about huts in the outdoors and their use by members of the public keen on tramping and/or hunting.
OPINION: I wouldn't change those memories of being a farm kid for a million bucks.
I'd got home somewhat earlier than usual, and walked in the door just in time to listen to the 4pm National Radio news.
It wasn't long after World War II that we shifted from Te Mapara to the Otewa Valley, at the back of Otorohanga, and it's there that I can remember some of the first things of farming life.
OPINION: About a century and a half ago, vast kahikatea forests stretched from Te Kuiti in the south to Thames in the north.
OPINION: I take my hat off to the pig-hunters who follow their dogs through the rough stuff out the back of Tokoroa, the Coromandel Peninsula, the Rangitoto Ranges, Waitomo, Taumarunui, the Urewera, and elsewhere. For sure, there's still some seriously tough guys – and girls – out there.
KINGSLEY FIELD - © Fairfax NZ News
OPINION: Explosives in the shed, party lines, digging out thistles and ragwort and dealing with bloat were all part of farming in the not-too-distant past.