He’s The Northland Cowboy. A DOC ranger who cares for his park from the back of a horse instead of the usual piece of modern machinery.
“They'll give you their very life if you ask for it. If you can build up a kinship and you can speak the same language as them, there's nothing the horse won't do for you."
That’s the kind of passion that Mania Armstrong speaks with when he talks about his horses.
Nobody’s ever talked about a Hilux like that.
After spending the day traversing the 3,500 hectares of Mimiwhangata Conservation Park it’s easy to see how a horse has its advantages.
As the park’s only ranger, there’s the obvious element of companionship, but Armstrong quickly points out all the other benefits.
“He knows this place pretty good. Anything I need him to do, he'll do. If I need him to cross creeks or swamps, go to the ocean, save someone — he'll be a man to use," he said.
“The motorbike can't climb the hill like this. It can't cross the big rivers, whereas the horse can.“
He’s the only DOC ranger in the country to use horses in his day-to-day job.
He admits there are some things vehicles are still needed for but when he can he will always opt for a day of work on the back of Taiaha — the six-year-old co-worker he raised and trained for the job.
“I think that's the definition for me of a good workhorse — they can turn their hand to anything.
“If they're in a track and the trees come down in the storm I can cut a certain section of it, put my lasso on it, put it around my horn. 'Dally up' is what they call it in the cowboy world.”
There’s that word again: cowboy. The American term for a gun-slinging rancher that somehow fits this fluro-clad Māori ranger.
“I'm drawn to the Western. I'm riding in the western saddle. I'm riding in what they call a hackamore or bosal, so it's kind of this kit is more the cowboy kind of kit.”
Since he was a boy he’s always travelled this coastline on horseback.
His connection with horses started with long rides to school with the neighbours at a time when “breaking in” a horse meant getting thrown off enough times the horse was too tired to buck.
Now the art of crafting a companion is more refined.
Armstrong talks about a horse as a mirror. How any action has a reaction, and how there’s no hiding emotion from those knowing eyes.
Training under some of the top horse masters of the world, Armstrong has honed his own Northland way of doing his job.
You’ll find possum traps dotted around the park that sit much higher than normal. A Mimiwhangata special to allow him to tend to each trap without leaving Taiaha’s back.
“I once heard that a good horseman doesn't get off his horse for anything.”
But as he pulls open each trap you can see his physical connection with the horse beneath him. His hands are static. There’s no pulling or kicking — just gentle shifts in weight. With a slight move of the calf, Taiaha knows exactly the position that is needed of him.
For visitors to the park, the cowboy ranger is as much of an attraction as the golden beaches and pristine bush.
“I think it's cool that you can still come to New Zealand, you can come to a campground and the ranger rocks down on the horse and he's like, 'Hey, here's some toilet paper'.”
For the mobs of young campers that follow him in his tasks with handfuls of carrots at the ready, it’s a chance to educate. To show them a way that once was but is slowly being lost.
“For our rangatahi youth, dealing with horses... that's such a wholesome, beautiful thing," he said.
“It lights up a part of a person's soul that I don't think can be lit in any other way.”
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