Found in the Wairarapa, Ned’s shell spirals to the left, a one-in-40,000 phenomenon.
Suddenly, the nation was rallying to help him find a mate, scanning gardens and parks with the intensity usually reserved for spotting a neighbour who has put rubbish in the yellow bin.
Ned reminded us that sometimes the quirks of nature are the best things.
And it was nice to have a sex story that didn’t involve the bloke formerly known as a prince.
Then there was Boom Boom, the enormous stainless-steel dinosaur that appeared in Taupō’s Riverside Park in May.
Towering 7m above the ground and perched on a geometric rock, Boom Boom had the town talking and the internet buzzing.
Some locals loved it, some were bemused, some took to writing angry letters in CAPS LOCK to the local council to express their rage, and tourists, well, they flocked for selfies, because if a giant metal dinosaur isn’t a tourist magnet, what is?
It’s a perfect example of Kiwi small-town art, standing proudly alongside the Gore Trout and the giant sheep shearer in Te Kūiti.
Maybe this is also a challenge to other towns for 2026 to up their Instagram game.
There is room for a giant pavlova in Napier or perhaps a towering RM Williams boot in Christchurch; a boot that out-towers the mighty Taihape Gumboot.
Nature and its sense of scale kept us entertained elsewhere, too.
The Department of Conservation’s playful “695 billion” population count reframed New Zealand as a nation that included every living thing; birds, bugs, plants, fish, and not just humans.
The tongue-in-cheek figure sparked fascination and conversation, proving that even the driest of statistics can be turned into a story that makes people smile.
I’m sure it was a huge boost to the humble male praying mantis who foolishly thinks his luck is in with Mrs Mantis.
DoC’s quirky version of the census also reminded us that every creature has its place, and even the tiniest participants matter when it comes to understanding and valuing the richness of Aotearoa’s natural world.
Creativity flourished beyond the natural world, too.
The Hamilton Kirikiriroa Festival of Weird in March was a celebration of all things delightfully odd.
Street theatre, acrobatics, puppet shows, and ukulele bands turned the city centre into a stage where the unpredictable was the main event.
Locals wandered through juggling acts, impromptu puppet parades, and spontaneous dance-offs, and everyone agreed it was the kind of festival that could only exist in New Zealand.
As a man born in Hamilton, I can safely say it is the perfect city for something like this.
I have seen some weird things over the years, like the time … (that story is for another article).
But the festival might be the answer to the question Hamilton has struggled with for so long: what is the town’s tagline?
They have tried more than you might expect, HamiltON, I once suggested; “Hamilton; it’s like puberty, you have to go through it”.
But the Festival of the Weird makes me think there’s a better one.
“Hamilton, it’s just weird”.
If there’s one takeaway from 2025, it’s that life in Aotearoa is at its best when it is weird, fun, and uniquely Kiwi.
From left-spiralling snails and giant metal dinosaurs to absurd population statistics, and strange-but-brilliant festivals, the year gave us plenty of reasons to smile, share a story, and shake our heads in disbelief.
So here’s to 2026.
And to quote Fred Dagg; “We don’t know how lucky we are”.
May the year ahead bring more surprise snails, giant sculptures, and absurdities galore.
But most of all, may it bring laughing so hard it forces us to expel our drink via our nose.
