HLM – Chapter 867 Powerless to Catch Chickens

“Swamphens showed up in town too? Ha! Boss, are you planning to raise them or take them out?” Atulu asked, sounding a little excited.

“Swamphen” is the nickname for the pūkeko, and that’s what the Māori and hunters like to call them, since they’re birds that prefer living near water—marshlands and wetlands are where they’re most commonly seen.

To be honest, pūkekos are very beautiful. If they could just stay quiet and behave, even if they ate the fish, shrimp, and crabs in the lake, Wang Bo wouldn’t mind keeping them around.
But if they wanted to destroy the lavender sprouts, then he had no choice but to get rid of them.

So after thinking for a moment, he said, “Let’s wait and see first. If they keep eating the lavender sprouts, then we hunt them.”

New Zealand does allow hunting pūkeko, but each region has different bag limits. For example, in the Canterbury region of the South Island, each person is allowed a maximum of two per day, while in the sparsely populated West Coast region, the daily limit is twenty.

Sunset Town falls under Canterbury, and although it’s on the edge of the region, it still has to follow Canterbury’s rules—only two can be hunted at a time.

However, because pūkeko can be highly destructive to agriculture, South Island farmers usually show no mercy when they see them ruining their crops. As long as no one is watching, they kill as many as they can.

After watching them for two days, Wang Bo discovered that these wild birds still pecked at the lavender sprouts whenever no one was around. And just like when they searched for shrimp and crabs, these bastards also knew how to scrape at the soil with their claws to dig up the seeds buried underneath. If they were allowed to multiply, it would be disastrous for the lavender fields.

By the weekend in mid‑month, he made up his mind. “No more training today. Switch to real weapons—we’re going to catch pūkeko!”

He made this decision because the number of pūkeko had been increasing rapidly over the past few days. It seemed the lavender sprouts had attracted them. What started as a few dozen had now become several hundred.

The storm had destroyed vegetation in many regions of the South Island. Their favorite tender shoots were in short supply, so the lavender fields naturally became a powerful lure.

Wang Bo brought everyone who was interested. But with each person only allowed to hunt two, it was hardly going to make a dent in the flock.

They drove to the lavender field, and even from a distance they saw the brightly feathered birds pecking at the tender sprouts.

Standing up in the jeep, Atulu exclaimed, “There are so many?!”

Wang Bo felt a headache coming on. “Should we get tourists involved and have them hunt the birds?”

“It’s better not to, Boss. The pūkeko is a non‑commercial game bird. If you use it directly for tourism—meaning hunting—it might cause trouble.”

Uncle Bing, who was driving, shook his head helplessly.

Although pūkeko are considered an ‘agricultural pest,’ they are still classified in New Zealand as a bird species that cannot be traded. This means no one is allowed to kill them for commercial purposes or sell them in the market.

Atulu asked, confused, “I know they can’t be traded… but since when did they become a non‑commercial game bird?”

Uncle Bing said, “Aren’t they?”

Atulu insisted, “Definitely not! We can let tourists hunt them—just control the bag limit. But in any case, I still don’t recommend it. Are we really going to let tourists wield guns on our land?”

Wang Bo had only been talking casually; even if he did want to develop something like that, today certainly wasn’t the day.

For their group alone, hunting pūkeko wouldn’t be easy. This bird species is one of the rare ones in New Zealand with sharp vision, keen hearing, and a very high level of alertness. The moment the vehicle approached, they immediately started running frantically.

Wang Bo opened the door and waved at Zhuang Ding: “Go! Hunt them for me!”

Little Wang, Zhuang Ding, Queen, and the Fat Cat brothers—these furry ones sprang forward instantly.

“Woof woof!” Two soft puppy barks sounded from inside the jeep. Wang Bo looked down and saw the little Lab police pup and the little German Shepherd police pup bouncing excitedly.

Uncle Bing lowered his hand gently at them. “Quiet. Sit.”

Immediately, the two little puppies closed their mouths and sat obediently.

Wang Bo was stunned. “This is your training result?”

Uncle Bing glanced at him and said, “Not really a result. Labs and German Shepherds are the smartest dog breeds. Teach them a little and they learn quickly.”

But from his tone, Wang Bo could hear the pride. Of course Cool Soldier Uncle was showing off—he was very satisfied with his work.

Pūkeko are indeed alert. They can run and fly fast, and all of that is true. But against Little Wang and Zhuang Ding, these land‑based predators, they still weren’t a match.

Little Wang was the fastest runner—and he liked bullying the weak, though only the weak. As he charged behind a pūkeko, he suddenly leapt into the air.

That pūkeko was just about to take off; its wings barely flapped it one meter into the air before Little Wang came crashing down on it with a “Mount Tai Smash” and pinned it!

The Fat Cat brothers were too chubby and had been slacking in training. They failed to catch any—either the birds flew away or dove into the river. The cats could only stare helplessly from the shore.

The Queen was clever; she picked the weakest one and caught a pūkeko with a limp.

Other pūkeko escaped into the lake, thinking they were safe. They floated around happily, staring with little eyes and taunting the incoming group.

Suddenly, a head popped out of the water.

Zhuang Ding snapped his jaws shut around a pūkeko with perfect accuracy, injuring its wing instantly. The remaining birds panicked and flapped into the air, screeching. In the chaos, Zhuang Ding surfaced two more times and bit two more wings.

With their wings injured, those birds were doomed—they couldn’t fly or swim, and were left spinning in pain on the water.

And so, Zhuang Ding leisurely carried three birds back to the shore.

Uncle Bing looked at Wang Bo. “Each person is only allowed two.”

Wang Bo said, “Is Zhuang Ding a person?”

“No.”

“Exactly.” Wang Bo grinned slyly. “So he’s not subject to the legal limit. Each of us can only get two. The rest are up to him.”

Zhuang Ding dropped the three pūkeko and dove back into the lake for more. His stealth was unbelievable—even flying chickens couldn’t guard against him.

Bowen tied the captured birds together and grinned wickedly. “It’s going to be easy to deal with these chickens today.”

“Oh?”

“How so?”

“There’s a hot spring over there. After killing the chickens, we can just dig a pit and toss them in. The hot spring will loosen all the feathers.”

At the mention of that, Wang Bo felt a little uneasy. “Don’t get too close to that area. I invited experts from the University of Otago’s geology department to take a look. If there’s no volcano and only geothermal activity, then we go digging.”