It is not obsolete. A large, dark shape stands motionless on a harbour rock. Wings are half spread to the wind. It looks like something left over from the Cretaceous. A design that should have been retired millions of years ago. But the black shag is still here. Still fishing. Still drying its wings on the same jetties where it has always perched. Persistence outweighs obsolescence. Plumage is black with a greenish-bronze gloss on the back and shoulders. In breeding season, a white patch appears on the thigh. A small crest rises from the nape. The bill is long and hooked at the tip. It is perfect for holding slippery things. Eyes are a startling emerald green. Everything else is darkness. The contrast is sharp. Identification relies on this combination of size and colour. Swimming occurs low in the water. The body is mostly submerged. Only the head and neck remain visible. Then it vanishes. A long dive follows. Sometimes twenty seconds. Sometimes forty. It pursues fish underwater. Webbed feet provide propulsion. Wings assist with steering. A cormorant underwater is a different animal from the one loitering on the jetty. The transformation is complete. Agility replaces stillness. After fishing, it perches with wings outstretched. This is not a greeting. The feathers are not fully waterproof. They get wet during dives. Drying takes time. The posture is functional. It just happens to look dramatic. Form follows necessity. The bird does not care for aesthetics. It cares for dryness. Without it, flight becomes impossible. The ritual is daily. The requirement is absolute. Nesting occurs in colonies. Dead trees standing in water are preferred. Nests are large platforms of sticks. They are built high enough to discourage predators. Low enough to provoke constant arguments with neighbours. Three or four eggs are laid. Pale blue-green in colour. They fade to white. Chicks are naked at hatching. Grey down grows later. They look like tiny, angry dinosaurs. The appearance is prehistoric. The behaviour is chaotic. Grey shags are smaller. Little shags are smaller still. Pied shags have white underparts. The black shag is the one that looks like it just came from a funeral. It is considering whether to attend another. The demeanour is sombre. The presence is imposing. Diet is not fussy. Anything from bullies to trout will do. In some parts of the world, black shags have been accused of depleting fisheries. They are usually innocent. But suspicion follows them anyway. Like a bad reputation that never quite washes off. The bird continues to fish. It ignores the accusation. Survival requires calories. Reputation is irrelevant. The kawau was known to Māori as a clever bird. Patient and watchful. It still is. Stand still on a wharf for long enough and one might land next to you. It waits to see what you do next. The observation is mutual. The bird assesses the human. The human assesses the bird. Silence prevails. And that seems to be enough.