A Papatoetoe schoolgirl noticed a large, strange bird in obvious distress.
She cared for it at home but, sadly, it died. By comparison with study skins and reference works, Brian Gill at the Auckland Museum could identify it as a barn owl, common in Australian and Pacific Island locations but quite out of place in New Zealand.
That's merely the beginning of the story. Could science explain how it got here?
The gizzard contained the remnants of a house mouse, little help because they're found everywhere. But a tiny ant's head found in the gizzard was sent to Canberra and expertly identified as Australian.
The records of wind conditions were just right for an assisted passage from Australia, which would not have been impossible, but the little fellow's plentiful fat reserves showed he couldn't have winged it that far.
Desperate people, however, have been known to stow away in the wheel bays of aircraft, becoming frozen and asphyxiated at altitude. It seems the well-feathered creature very nearly made it, fluttering to earth as the wheels came out over Papatoetoe.
The author has fond memories of living in Dunedin and of having a specimen identified at the Otago Museum. Perhaps this was a subliminal factor in deciding to become a museum curator, a career he self-evidently enjoyed greatly.
Through the stories in this book, he illustrates the depth and enormous breadth of experience necessary for the job, and accumulated from doing it.
Forget the image of dusty cabinets.
Almost by definition, the stream of quaint finds brought in by the public comprises the unusual, the baffling, the incongruous - the potential museum pieces. Proud bearers of priceless treasure may need to be let down gently, others persuaded to part with their booty - for science and the nation, of course.
The curator's job requires a strong element of public relations, with patience, time for people and a special gift of encouragement for the young and curious.
Not every inquirer is ready to be humble and, reading between the lines, special skill is needed for dealing with self-proclaimed experts.
And if a descendant turns up wanting to see the family's heirloom bird's nest presented decades earlier, it had better be there, somewhere.
It would be a pity to spoil any more of Brian Gill's compendium of stories from this artistically produced (but slightly small-print) volume.
In a book ideal for reading randomly, be ready for birds and bears, frogs and geckos, elephants and giant tortoises (did Captain Cook really present the King of Tonga with what became the Auckland Museum specimen, and did it really live for nearly 200 years? Read on ... ).
But, like a museum curator, be ready for anything.
• Clive Trotman is a Dunedin scientist and arbitrator.
