No Luck with Non-Avians

After a failed attempt to get mates at the pub and the complete reticence of the local workmen to acknowledge my presence, I decided to seek company from the birds.

New Zealand is a bird lover’s paradise, filled with a host of peculiar specimens who do things contrary to expectations. There are penguins that can’t abide the cold and cheeky parrots living in the snow covered mountains. The kiwi is an adorable, flightless puffball so iconic that the people of this land have taken its name to refer to themselves.

A good place to see some of these birds is the Willowbank Preserve in Christchurch.

I bought season passes for myself and the NPR and we took a tour one frosty morning last week.

The kiwi is a nocturnal creature whose numbers have been threatened due to predation by such introduced animals as the stoat. In response, NZ launched a program called Operation Nest Egg (ONE) where eggs are taken from the wild and chicks are raised in safe surroundings until they are large enough to fend for themselves.

The kiwi house at Willowbank has about four kiwi pairs in large enclosures designed to look like their forest homes. The house is dimly lit but the first thing the eyes pick up on is the steady pace of a kiwi hunting for food. When one comes close, you can hear a snuffling sounds as they clear the nostrils located at the end of their long beaks.

The NPR was amused by them for about 10 minutes and then her attention span ran out. She was further scandalized when I reached over the fence to touch one of the kiwis that was snuffling around by my feet.

I made contact with its fur-like feathers suddenly which startled both me and the kiwi. It took off toward the nearest tree and I leaped backwards with a small shriek.

I wish I could describe the look the NPR gave me then, but the light was dim. Suffice it to say, I could feel her disapproval radiating in my general direction.

I decided to return to the preserve without her so I could spend more time observing avian behaviors. Many people tire quickly upon hearing my rapturous tales of bird encounters so I’ve accepted a certain need to go out alone and keep things to myself.

I went to Willowbank earlier this week and found that they were selling bags of farmyard feed for cheap. I had also tucked some organic carrots into my purse which I purchased from the little farmer’s market down the street from my house.

I spent a long time watching one of the kiwi snuffle around before heading to the Kea enclosure. Kea are the world’s only alpine parrots and they are extremely playful and insatiably curious. Like many native NZ birds, they have no fear of humans.

I took out a carrot and laid it on a rail next to a Kea who began to nibble on it immediately, getting carrot pieces stuck to his face in the process. I sat on a sun-warmed bench and was approached by another bird who pressed his head against my boot before hopping up on the bench beside me and pressing his head against my purse. I pulled out a carrot and put it on the bench. He threw it on the ground and raised himself to full height so he could peer into the bag. I pulled out another carrot and he threw that one on the ground as well. He gently grabbed the side of my purse and attempted to pull it open until I gave him another carrot. He took it in his mouth and fluttered off to play with it and take a few nips.

I fed the rest of the carrots to the Clydesdale in the farmyard and wondered over to an enclosure where a frisky young otter came out a made little mewing noises at me and two women with small children.

I saw a charming fantail, pet some of the tame eels in the pond and watched the tui drink nectar from a bowl.

I left the park with an enormous sense of well being.

I recently bought a book called, “An Extraordinary Land: Discoveries and Mysteries from Wild New Zealand.” I spent one evening reading all about the Kakapo and its “booming bowl.”

One of the passages particularly warmed my heart’s cockles:

“This butter-yellow kakapo was people friendly, so a hide was set up to observe him. But the kakapo decided the hide was there for amusement and would take a break from booming to use the roof as a slide and a jungle gym. He then began to use the space below the floorboards as a booming bowl.”

It seems as if most of my friends in this country are destined to be feathered. I could do worse.