The big carrot, L&P bottle and corrugated sheep - what they say about NZ

In New Zealand, every town seems to be the capital of something, and what better way to make it official than to build a giant version of it. From Paeroa's world-famous-in-NZ L&P bottle to Taihape's size-200 gumboot and Ohakune's towering 7.5m carrot, what do our "big things" say about us as a country?

Since the L&P bottle appeared in Paeroa in the late 1960s, these monuments have marked our highways. They tell a story about New Zealand - but whose story, exactly?

Dr Maja Zonjić, a researcher at Victoria University, has documented 117 big things and estimates there are at least 150 scattered across the country.

She says what we chose to monumentalise in corrugated iron and fibreglass reflects the values and industries that defined those communities.

"They represent an element of a town's identity, but an element that reflected what was important to a particular group of people who had the financial means, skills and capital to install them," Zonjić said.

The pattern is clear. Zonjić's research found that about 60% of New Zealand's most well-known big things represented agriculture, farming and dairy.

Te Kuiti built a giant shearer to celebrate its status as the sheep-shearing capital of the world. Morrinsville and Hāwera milked their thriving dairy industries with cows. Ohakune rooted for a carrot, Cromwell picked a bowl of fruit, and Waitomo kept it crisp with a big apple.

The most represented item across big things is our national bird, with nine kiwi monuments spotted around the country — several of them in the "Kiwiana capital" Ōtorohanga.

Their colossal designs were deliberate. They had to be instantly recognisable from fast-moving roads so motorists could safely pull over.

"If it was just a large red blob in the distance and you couldn't quite tell what it was, it wouldn't stop you, but if you're driving down the road and you see a massive red apple, it would," Zonjić said.

In 1994, Nancy Drake's Tīrau wool store was struggling. She went five consecutive days without making a sale on one occasion.

Then her husband John finished building a giant corrugated iron sheep's head on the front of the building. The next day, the Drakes' store made $1000.

The local council took notice of this success. When Tīrau needed new public toilets in 1998, they built them as a giant corrugated dog, and in 2016, the woolshop was extended in the form of a ram.

Once a sleepy Waikato town at a major state highway junction, Tīrau became a mandatory pit stop off the back of the trio of massive metal farm animals. Even the street lamps are made of corrugated metal.

Ohakune's carrot tells a similar success story. What originally sprouted as a construction for a bank commercial, then donated to the town in the 1980s, evolved into a vegetable-themed adventure park that attracts around 13,000 visitors per month.

"The Ohakune Carrot is a big drawcard for both domestic and international markets," Visit Ruapehu general manager Jo Kennedy said.

"It's quirky and one of a kind — a vegetable-themed adventure park that attracts both families and the young at heart."

The park was transformed from wasteland into an award-winning attraction by local volunteers, Kennedy said. International small group tours now include Carrotland in their itineraries as interest in agritourism grows.

The carrot was also celebrated at the annual Ohakune Carrot Carnival, which draws visitors from across the country.

Zonjić said while some big things deliver clear economic value, tourists stop because they're passing through, not because the big thing is their destination.

But for all their visibility, not all big things have stood the test of time. Some disappeared when businesses shut up shop, others were taken down by councils who couldn't afford the maintenance.

Dale the Spider in Auckland was taken down a few months ago during Avondale's redevelopment. The Springfield donut was destroyed in an arson attack. Olive the cow in Hāwera had her tail chopped off as part of a protest.

Before Google Street View arrived in New Zealand in 2008, many big things in remote areas were never photographically documented. When the people who built them moved away or died, the stories of these structures went with them.

"A lot of these things that would have been built before 2008 are completely lost to history," Zonjić said.

She said people had the misconception that big things were an "outdated artefact" or "no longer relevant to Kiwiana identity".

"They continue to be built every year, and community boards, people and towns are deeply invested in maintaining them."

Cromwell's fruit bowl recently had a new information station added, explaining the town's history.

Katikati, not content with being the mural capital of New Zealand, was recently fundraising to build a gigantic avocado, staking its claim as the country's avo capital.

"If you're in any doubt about whether these things matter, go into any community Facebook page of any town navigating something to do with their big things," Zonjić says.

But big things by design tell simple stories. And simple stories leave things out.

"In their hyper-visibility, they do have the effect of silencing the stories they're not telling," she says.

Many celebrate industries built on land use that involved historic dispossession. They represent a particular New Zealand — rural, agricultural — that doesn't reflect everyone's experience.

"That doesn't mean contemporary agricultural industries aren't incredibly important and worthy of celebration," she clarifies.

"A multiplicity of truths can be true at the same time."

After years studying these structures, Zonjić has developed an unexpected attachment to objects many dismiss as roadside kitsch.

"Once you know the amount of people that made that happen and really cared for this thing, it's really hard not to be invested in it," she says.

Sixty-five years after the L&P bottle appeared, we're still building these things. Still maintaining them at considerable cost. Still arguing about them on community Facebook pages.

The stories we choose to tell in corrugated iron and fibreglass about the carrots, cows and soft drinks that shaped our towns aren't going anywhere fast.

Zonjić has just released a companion to her research, A Tiny Book of 100 Big Things in Aotearoa New Zealand, which catalogues 100 of the country’s largest roadside sculptures. Profits from the book support scholarships for social sciences and humanities students.