Kiwis and Tuis

The iconic NZ bird and informal mascot of the nation is of course the Kiwi. Such that the locals are more than happy to be called Kiwis rather than the long winded “New Zealander”. And “kiwi” often works much better as an adjective of course. However outside zoos, most human Kiwis are unlikely to ever see a kiwi, due to their shy, nocturnal habits and threatened status. Incidentally there are several breeds of kiwi – varying in size between a hen and a turkey! When the Maoris landed and found the place full of not only kiwis but the even larger flightless moas, it must have been like Christmas dinner every day for a couple of centuries. If the moas are anything like most local birds they would have had no fear of danger and would have carried on browsing until surprised by a spear.
But the nomination for second place in the most popular bird stakes must be the Tui.
Tuis are like starlings in drag. They are just slightly larger than a starling, with a similar profile, and with dark, shiny iridescent feathers. Around their necks is a tasteful wispy white collar and under their chins, what looks like a rather fluffy white bow tie.
They feed mainly on nectar and fruit, depending on the season and are a common sight in the suburbs and parks of lovely green Wellington. The Tui has a long proboscis like tongue which enables it to probe down and access the rich feed of nectar that these flowers provide. There is a well known breed of NZ beer named after them, which tends to increase their "brand recognition".
But it is in the vocal department that the tui excels. It’s not so much a song, as a distinctive riff, comprising an extensive range of squeaks, trills, creaks, caws, quacks, hoots, “ow”s and any other sound they can imitate and hence add to their repertoire.
And if there happens to be an alpha tui sitting on the tree outside your door, as there was the other day, you can see that it is not just a case of: take up a wide stance, open your beak and let rip. It is much more of a performance than that, with lots of mannered head movements. Like a very expressive tenor in the opera, intent on communicating the full range of emotions to the back row of the circle. I suspect the point of this is to display the bow tie to best effect, to potential mates and local rivals, as it bobbles about in a highly visible and slightly comical manner like a couple of animated pompoms.
In the picture is a tui we saw feeding on a wild rata flower in South Island. Sadly these beautiful flowers result from buds which are a most delectable food to the accursed possum. This was in one of only two areas where we saw them in bloom.

West face of the golf course

This is another nice walk from Kingston shops. If you can get someone to drop you at the bottom of the hill it is even nicer. The walk proper starts opposite the playing fields at the bottom of Farnham St. Pick up the City to Sea signs and head turn back to the right across the small park. The path takes you down some steps past some lovely tree ferns. You emerge onto a quiet side road. In front of you is the council tree and shrub nursery. Your route turns right and then left along the boundary of the nursery. This morning there was a kingfisher perched on a wire, along with a few starlings.
You emerge onto the edge of the Berhampore Golf Club and your path lies along its margin. It then turns away from the golf course, towards Brooklyn ridge, which is still high above you. The path here is a wide logging path with plenty of evidence of fairly recent tree felling. The city founders replaced the original forest with fast growing pines, which are now being gradually felled to allow native trees to return. Stay with the main path ahead and do not get seduced by the side paths. Although they look promising they are just logging dead ends. As you climb, the path turns right towards the ridge and becomes extremely steep. The surface is crumbling rock, as the top soil on these ridges is not much more than a smear. It is amazing that trees and large shrubs can grow so successfully. Look for the enclosure with half a dozen goats on the slope to your right. They are being used to clear honeysuckle and clematis which choke the shrubs. This morning there was a small, vocal flock of Rosellas (Australian parakeets) perching on an area of dead scrub. Boots and a stick are helpful to get you up this almost vertical incline. The track then enters the scrub and there is a final pull up to Quebec Street. There are fine views from the ridge, with the harbour in one direction and the Cook Strait in the other.

Gulls and herons

There are two types of gulls found in the Wellington region. The small Red-billed kind – compact, pristine and glamorous. You will see them anywhere near the sea in small groups. If there is a chance of scraps from humans there will be a local pecking order firmly established..
The other kind is the much larger – but fortunately more reticent - Black Backed Gull. Although only the adults are black backed and the juveniles are mud coloured. But juvenile or not they are good sized birds, very similar in appearance and call to the herring gulls found in UK. I was looking at a discarded wing feather the other day and it was a fair bit longer than my shoe.
From our vantage point on the Brooklyn ridge, the gulls daily routine can be observed. In the morning they head south, down the valley, heading for the landfill. Hundreds of them can be seen wheeling above it like snow flakes. And in the evening a ragged and well-fed procession flaps back towards the city centre. Where, I guess, they spend their nights roosting on man-made cliff tops. Worth considering for anyone thinking of buying an apartment in the centre.
But they don’t spend all their day at the dump. If you go to Owhiro Bay in the middle of the day you will see where they all hang out when they have gorged on the food that human Wellingtonians throw away. There is a stream here which normally forms a lagoon at the top of the beach. A perfect spot to take on fresh water, rinse the smell of rubbish off your plumage and then retire to sit on a rock, digesting and socialising.
In the photo you can also see a much rarer bird – a reef heron. (Unless is it is a melanistic form of the common White Faced Heron?) I have seen one (the same one probably) here before. They have a peculiar way of feeding which we observed down in Golden Bay. It will crouch down in shallow water, imitating a Kiwi or more probably a lump of driftwood, until it sees some prey – and then a long neck suddenly flashes out from the huddled, un-heron blob, like the strike of a venomous snake.