The eye gives it away. Bright yellow. Unmistakable. A splash of gold on an otherwise unremarkable silver-grey body. The yelloweye mullet is named for that striking feature. And the name fits. It is the only mullet species endemic to New Zealand and southern Australia. A fish that belongs here. Not an immigrant. Not a visitor. A local, through and through. The status is native. The presence is established. The Māori names Aua, Awa and Matakawhiti reflect regional variations. They also refer to the fish's habit of swimming in large schools. It is a common sight in harbours and estuaries. Often seen leaping from the water in shimmering silver schools. A fish that jumps for joy. Or maybe just to shake off parasites. Either way, it is a spectacle. The movement is sudden. The visual is striking. The behaviour is characteristic. It filters mud and sand through its gills. This extracts organic matter. Algae, detritus and small invertebrates form the diet. A bottom-feeder with a simple menu. Nothing fancy. Just mud and what lives in it. The method is efficient. The intake is constant. The role is ecological. It cleans the substrate. It recycles the nutrients. The flesh is rich and oily. Traditionally smoked or dried for preservation. A taste of old New Zealand. Before freezers. Before supermarkets. Before fish came in plastic trays. Smoke it over manuka. Dry it in the sun. Eat it in winter when fresh fish are scarce. The tradition persists. The flavour is distinct. The memory is strong. Populations are considered stable. It is a popular target for recreational fishers. They fish from wharves and harbour shores. No formal stock assessment exists. That is not unusual. Many common fish lack formal assessments. They are common until they are not. The assumption is safety. The reality is uncertainty. The monitoring is sparse. That is the yelloweye mullet. A yellow-eyed mullet of the harbours. Schooling in the shallows. Leaping from the water. Smoked over manuka fires for generations. Still common for now. The 'for now' does a lot of work in that sentence. The stability is conditional. The pressure is localised. The future is unclear. It is a fish of memory. The one grandparents talk about catching off the old wharf. The one that still shows up, year after year. Yellow eye gleaming. Silver body flashing. Still common. Still here. For now. It carries on in the shallows. Unseen by the casual observer. But prized by those who know. It remains in the harbour. A testament to the intact estuary. A relic of the wild mud. It waits for the net. Or it does not. The choice is random. The outcome is certain. The fish persists.