When I was a kid growing up on a farm in rural North Canterbury, crime was never far from our minds.

There was a spike in drug-related theft - fuel, farm equipment, anything easy to pinch.

We lived 45 minutes from the nearest station.

My father bought a guard dog, though she was more likely to lick an intruder than scare one off.

But she symbolised something: out here, you look out for yourself.

But we did have support too.

The reason that wave of crime didn’t spiral was an old-school country cop based in Cheviot.

He knew everyone, and everyone knew him.

He popped in for a cup of tea and a scone in farmers kitchens and gathered the small scraps of seemingly irrelevant information that turned into arrests.

He knew the people, the farms, the backroads.

He knew which family was stretched too thin, and which teenager needed steering back on track.

He was at every school event and rugby sideline.

He was part of the community’s fabric, woven into daily life in a way that made us all feel safer.

That’s what we risk losing.

Canterbury Police is proposing to close or downgrade rural stations in towns like Culverden, Amberley, Oxford, and Rakaia.

The argument is always the same: low reported crime.

But low crime is not an excuse to withdraw.

It’s proof that a visible police presence works.

Take that presence away, and the risk is crime rises again.

The numbers already tell the story.

According to the Federated Farmers Rural Crime Survey 2023, 59 percent of North Canterbury farmers experienced or suspected crime in the past two years - up from 51 percent in 2021.

Livestock theft and killings are on the rise. Yet 40 percent of farmers didn’t report incidents to Police, a non-reporting rate that has surged by 24 percent since 2021. That’s not “low crime.”

That’s crime going unreported because people no longer believe the Police will come.

And that with the current structure.

And crime in rural areas is not like crime in towns.

A stolen quad bike or broken-into shed might sound small - until you realise that’s someone’s ability to work their farm gone.

Isolation magnifies everything.

When the nearest officer is an hour away, a burglary, a stock theft, or a domestic incident can escalate before help arrives.

This makes people vulnerable – especially the elderly, those in violent relationships and anyone living alone.

Once rural stations close, they rarely reopen.

Once trust between Police and community is severed, it is nearly impossible to stitch back together.

And once young people stop seeing Police as a familiar face at the rugby club or in the schoolyard, you lose the chance to shape safer futures.

Farmers and rural families anchor this country’s economy.

They should not be forced to fight for something as basic and as vital as local policing.

Lose it now, and it will be gone for good.

By Claire Inkson