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Why Hunter became Kaiwhakangau

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There's been no sight of him round the burrow.

Not so much as a fuzzy ear or whisker ….not one fresh dropping.

Wise rabbits are, at this time of the year, deep in the warren – sheltered from global warming, left-leaning politics, the arguable musings of race relations conciliators, buckshot and myxomatosis.

And so in the absence of RR I am going to be more obsequious than a West Wing Donald Trump advisor.

Consult any book of animal evolution and you will find RR's species name is Brian. And it's a name I would have killed for as a kid. Because I was a Hunter in a sea of Brians, Trevors, Kevins, Ronalds and Ians. I stood out simply because of my bloody name and I resented it. I wanted to be Peter …. so much so. I even called a pet hedgehog Peter. I wanted to be one of the crowd and my parents turned me into a neon sign by dubbing me with an unusual name.

Hunter was a fragment of war history – my Dad brought it home from bomber school in Calgary. I was named after a Hunter McAndrew apparently. I never got to meet him, or for that matter, know anything of him. I now wish I did, but that was the way things were.

That was another time.

Over the years most guys got called many things. As a wag once........

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