Kit matches my enchanted expression with one of his own, his pale-green eyes alight beneath his tight black curls. I notice for the first time how small and neat his ears are, and how thick his neck. Just like a horse, he exudes power and strength through his size, but there is also a softness to this man, an innate sense of safety and of care. Everything about him says that he is a good person.

‘It’s so beautiful here,’ I remark, looking around as Tui and Keith continue to splash about in the river. ‘The space and the scope of the place – and the colours.’

‘Glad you like it,’ Kit replies, squinting at me as shafts of sunlight hit the surface of the water. ‘I’ve never been to England, but I’ve heard it’s not that different to here.’

‘From what I can tell, New Zealand is a lot like England …’ I pause. ‘If you fed England a hefty dose of steroids. We have all the same ingredients as you guys, just on a far smaller scale.’

‘New Zealand is one of the safest countries in the world, you know,’ he says, with patent pride. ‘You could go and live in the woods if you wanted to and nothing would eat you. We don’t have wild lions, bears or wolves – and none of those big ugly crocs that the Aussies have to put up with.’

‘What about poisonous plants?’ I ask, and he shakes his head triumphantly.

‘Nah, and the water is safe to drink, too. Help yourself to any river or stream you like.’

Keith lifts his hoof and makes an almighty splash of approval, causing Tui to laugh even louder.

‘Is that why you have so many extreme sports on offer here?’ I joke, stepping backwards to avoid getting soaked. ‘To redress the balance a bit?’

A flicker of amusement crosses Kit’s face, and he folds his arms before replying.

‘Why sit at home growing your gut when you could be jumping off a bridge?’ he jokes. ‘You know, now that you’re here, you should do it.’

‘What – a bungee?’ I laugh with incredulity.

‘Why not?’ he says. ‘You don’t even have to jump – you can sit in a chair or be strapped to a tricycle. I even saw a dude leap off with a barrel over his head once.’

‘Utter lunacy!’ I exclaim, lifting a hand to wave back at a thoroughly overexcited Tui. Keith has stopped splashing now and has dropped his head to drink. The Dart River is so clear that I can see its stony bed, and the bubbles collecting around Keith’s fetlocks as the water rushes past his hooves. The shoreline is littered with the gnarly carcasses of rotting plants, but when I point them out in dismay to Kit, he merely shrugs.