Back in August Jamie and I attended a silent Vipassana Meditation course for 10 days. On the last day we were permitted to break the silence and speak with our fellow meditators. One of the gals we chatted with was a Department of Conservation employee about our age by the name of Sarah. She worked for DoC on the west coast of the South Island. We told her we’d be heading that way eventually and asked for some recommendations for potential work or volunteer opportunities. To this she provided two answers that, in the end, shaped our South Island experiences remarkably.
The first suggestion: volunteer as hut rangers at Welcome Flat Hut.
The second: volunteer on Codfish Island (Whenua Hou) with the Kakapo Recovery team.
Taking her advice seriously we obediently applied for both possibilities at a cafe with internet the very same day we departed the meditation centre. By November we knew we were Welcome Flat Hut bound, but to seal our spots with Kakapo Recovery it took months of inquiring emails, patience and persistence. We began to have our doubts on the program’s availability, but in early February we heard back. With a happy screech that only dizzily ecstatic girls can emit, we danced around the room in celebration of such a long anticipated acceptance.
To Sarah, where ever you are, thank you for your shaping suggestions. What follows is my account of our two weeks spent on Codfish Island (Whenua Hou) with the Kakapo Recovery team.
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| http://kakaporecovery.org.nz/ |
But first, A Brief Kakapo History:
Like any sensitive species forced to contend with the impetus of human kind,
the history books tell us a tale as old as time.
Endemic, unique and widespread, the Kakapo were once so abundant you could shake a tree and they’d fall to the ground like autumn apples.
Maori: Kaka (Parrot) Po (Night)
Latin name: Strigops (owl-face) habroptilus (soft-feathered)
Fortunately for everyone but the Kakapo, the husky flightless birds met two requirements: good eating and easy to catch. For hundreds of year the Maori, and for decades the Europeans, introduced stoats, ferrets, weasels, possums and cats dined on delectable kakapo until 1927, when all were thought to be extinct. It wasn’t until the 1970’s that the once thought long gone, were discovered in Fiordland and on Stewart Island. One problem, they were all male. Fortunately in 1980 the first female found since the early 1900’s emerged from hiding. Since then the race has been on to save the kakapo. In 2002 there were 86 on earth and today there are 127 between Codfish, Little Barrier, Anchor and Maud Islands. With the island a pest and predator free Nature Reserve since the late 1980’s, Codfish Island remains a stronghold for the kakapo breeding population, the vast majority of eligible birds residing in its virgin forests.
Information on Codfish Island (Whenua Hou):
1396 hectares. 3km West of Stewart Island. Scenic Reserve in 1915 and Nature Reserve since 1986. Local Maori iwi: Nagi Tahu. Rangatira (chief) Honekai allowed European sealers to settle at Sealer’s Bay with their Maori wives under his protection in the early 1800’s. Whenua Hou translates to ‘New Land’. There remains a strong Maori feminine spirit from the original Maori mothers.
Two days before arriving at the Invercargill DoC headquarters our preparation for Codfish Island began. Due to the sensitive nature of the pest and predator free reserve, the only way to be granted permission onto the island was through a special permit provided by DoC. Furthermore, our clothing and equipment had to be cleaned of any dirt, seed, debris, etc. and inspected thoroughly upon arrival. Only when we passed the biosecurity check point were we officially authorized to travel.
We were transported to Invercargill Airport where we flew via sea plane to Mason’s Beach on Stewart Island. From Mason’s Bay we were ferried to Sealer’s Bay on Whenua Hou via helicopter. Most amazing views from the sky and the view from the beach is unreal.
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| Leaving Invercargill Airport |
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| Our plane pilot & Ranger Jo |
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| Ready for take-off! |
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| Stewart Island |
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| Transferring to the Helicopter at Mason's Bay |
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| Co-pilot! |
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| Coming in to Sealer's Bay for a landing! |
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| We've arrived! |
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| Welcome to Codfish Island (Whenua Hou) |
Upon arrival we received a partial induction to hut life, facilities, equipment and safety. However, our induction was interrupted on this gorgeous hot and sunny day for a priority swim in Antarctic waters!
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| Induction Interruption! |
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| The Rimu tree |
And we’ve arrived at a busy time of year! The first fertile Kakapo eggs since 2009 have been laid and are hatching! Supplemental feed out is especially critical to keep mums healthy so they can keep their little white cotton ball chicks well fed and warm. As of now there is one hatched and growing chick with four fertile eggs to go! The rimu’s mast year (I’ll explain this in a few paragraphs) directly affects the bird’s health and ability to breed. Tomorrow will be our full induction including a guided tour of the tracks we’ll be walking daily on our supplemental feed out trajectory. After that we’re on our own! Let the adventure begin!
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| Sunrise over Stewart Island (Rakiura) |
Everything, from the sunrise to the evening meal and everything in between has been pure magic.
Trekking through the thick native bush with a heavy pack filled with parrot feed rich in vitamins and nutrients to keep the kakapo healthy enough to reproduce. My route today is one of the longest on the island, dipping down gullies and straight up ridges on little more than a slick overgrown dirt strip between beech, rimu and fern groves.
We trudge from feed out station to station, meticulously cleaning and replenishing the food and water holders, making sure not to leave behind any potentially damaging germs.
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| Chris & J-Dub cleaning a feedout station. |
Mostly we stay submerged in the dense bush with a thick canopy over head, but on the last bird’s station we pop out in a stand of stunted, wind blown beeches. This kakapo prefers a view! In each direction you can see an edge of the island. Only about 1300 hectares, it’s not a big place and Stewart Island’s impressive craggy spires can be easily admired from the 3km that separate us. Up nearly as high as the helicopter, I can gaze down on the forest canopy, a dynamic green crop of broccoli heads below me.
All over the island, as if a wee baby giant has finished playing with his blocks, there are massive boulders piled up and scattered about, jutting dramatically up through the mottled blanket of vegetation.
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| J-Dub locating a bird using telemetry. |
Each bird mature and healthy enough to breed has its own feed station located in its home range. A small transmitter device is worn by each parrot like a backpack so their exact location can be determined through telemetry. The amount of food each mossy green puff ball receives is predetermined depending on their weight and whether or not they’re mature enough to breed. They would survive without the supplemental food provided, but they wouldn’t necessarily thrive. Which means do the horizontal kakapo mambo and make some more of the world’s heaviest parrots!
At the moment there are 127 Kakapo on the planet. Two newly hatched chicks currently reside in the incubator just outside the hut. Throughout the day they are monitored, fed and weighed with the hope that they will soon be healthy enough to place beneath the warm belly fuzz of a well prepared kakapo mum. That way they won’t need hand raising and nature can take it's course. To pick an eligible mum each female who laid eggs is given dummy eggs while the real ones end up in our breakfast… Just kidding!!!
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| Jamie and I have a go at nest minding. |
The fertile eggs are incubated and heavily monitored for any signs of pipping. Meanwhile, nest minders sleep in tents near the nests and wait for Kakapo mum to cross a laser beam that alerts them when she’s left the nest to forage and again just before she returns. If she’s gone for too long the theoretical egg or chick would grow too cold and/or hungry and possibly perish. So a good mum stays on her nest most of the night and never leaves for longer than 2-4 hours at a time. The potential mums are carefully selected this way and hopefully soon they will return one evening to their very own lump of crumpled tissue paper (a chick) to raise in their exemplary image.
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| Jamie assists J-Dub's chick health check. |
We sit at the massive communal table over a hot, delicious meal of Katja’s expert design and discuss the day’s findings or past experiences or whatever tickles our confabulatory fancies. Each discussion feels like a learning experience. And with everyone on such wacky, erratic schedules, people coming and going constantly, the place is in a constant buzzy flux. Everyone knowing their purpose and working as a team. What an exciting time!
There is ample evidence that the Kakapo exists, of this I am certain. Photos, videos, artifacts, most rangers and volunteers have seen and/or handled them and for goodness sake there is a chick in the Portocom hut right across from us! But from my own individual experience thus far, the only real clue of their presence is the discovery of a feather on the trail today. Fluffy and grey at the base, then growing upward into a soft, striped moss green. It only stands out when laid against something uniformly brown, like the dirt, otherwise perfectly camouflaged in the sea of green understory. I hold the single feather to my nose, the residual smell of sweet musk and nutmeg tickles my nose. I can only imagine (so far) how nice the whole bloomin’ bird smells! The tui, kaka, bellbirds, Mohoua and kakariki serenade me like a Disney princess while I trek from station to station. Five kakapo to feed today. The sun is out and a cool breeze blows.
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| Mohoua |
The dunes along the beach are windswept and scattered in varieties of tussock, rushes and grasses. They’re beautiful, but strictly off limits at all times. Not only do penguins and petrels nest amongst the clumped vegetation, but a number of Maori urupa (burial) sites signify the last resting places of Ngai Tahu tipuna (ancestors), making the whole area strictly tapu (sacred).
Tonight, just before dinner, a third chick hatched. And we were granted the divine privilege to meet the little one! Still wet and wriggling, the wee thing only about 3 inches, came flawlessly without human assistance into this world. It’s skin a burning pink with silky strips of grey and white down plastered in clumps on its thin, impossibly fragile frame. Already its legs and feet were kicking and clutching, though the bulbous purple lumps where its eyes are will take nearly 10 days to open up and begin to take in this strange new place.
We’re all hoping each chick will blink its chocolate button eyes and be met with the attentive, tender gaze of a real live mama kakapo. But if the eligible mums prove too inexperienced or aloof to take on the challenge, the chick may be peeping into the cold, plastic eyes of a kakapo hand rearing puppet (or the equivalent of). Obviously, the former is ideal and tonight will be the first test of Rakiura’s motherly devotion. Her own chick, born just yesterday morning, is being moved from the incubator to her nest site tonight whilst she hops out into the bush to forage. She’ll return to quite a surprise! Her dummy egg will miraculously transform into a mass of crumpled, hungry, wiggling tissues (a chick) of her very own!
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| Rakiura's chick in her nest. |
The day I met Sinbad was a wet, muddy, grey one. The sheet of clouds hung too low and the rain too heavy to foster a safe landing. So Haley cancelled the plane that was meant to arrive this afternoon that was meant to transport the pin tail feathers from three kakapo we were meant to catch to a lab on the main land. The newly formed tail feathers harbor a reservoir of pulpy, congealed blood and genetic material that, once plucked, can be harvested and frozen in a lab awaiting future research, tests, and scientific findings.
Today was meant to be the day for said tail feather extraction, which would have had us locating the selected birds via telemetry, but the weather held different plans. So I, resuming my original feed out route, plod on through the mud, the rain drumming along absentmindedly on each covering leaf all the while.
As I trod on I spy, just poking up from the duff, a mottled green kakapo tail feather. As I bend to retrieve it I hear a noise familiar by description but virgin to my ears. A low, almost too low to actually hear, breathy but guttural BOOM BOOM BOOM. Nearly feeling it more than hearing, like the deep bass of the car behind you at the stop light. Ah-ha! The infamous BOOMING mating call of the male kakapo! And by the sound of it, this one is close! A bit disappointed in missing this morning’s scheduled catch and opportunity to see a live kakapo, I reckon this intimate auditory moment with a not far off kakapo fella more than makes up for it.
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| Can you see him? |
But wait… Just there… Did something move? Suddenly, there he is! Shyly creeping out of the thin ground cover, one long toed foot deliberately after the other, eying me skeptically. He freezes, then ducks under a tussock lump, instantly vanishing like a professional magician thanks to his expertly crafted mossy green coat of feathers. As he peers out at me I glimpse the fine, soft whiskers decorating his yellow, owl-like face. A massive, curved, faint vein-blue beak is his only giveaway, the rest of him blending in outstandingly.
Counting every one of my lucky stars for this precious encounter with this robust gentle giant, I grab my pack and move on to the next feeding station, only 100 meters down the track. But he hasn’t gotten what he came for. Unknowingly I have accepted his booming coital invitation and Mr. Kakapo has only just begun his quest.
The moment my pack touches the ground again he is off like a bat out of hell, like a bullet from a gun. Out of the bush and no longer a coy flirt, but a green stealth bomber on a mission of procreation. His target: yours truly. Or more precisely, my camo-chic gaiters.
I’m sprinting full speed down the thin, winding track, Kakapo Romeo hot on my heels. His strong beak manages to grab a gaiter edge, and for a stride or two he rides my leg like a stunt double on a wild stallion. Finally I manage to lose the shockingly fast day-breaking night parrot. Thinking he lost his lady fair, I imagine him sulking back to his booming bowl, heart sick and possibly balls blue.
But wait a tic… My pack! Maybe he thinks of it just as I do because as I sneakily double back with hopes of rescuing it I see him perched triumphantly atop my human scented lump of fabric. And he’s doing a victory dance! Or is it a slightly more salacious one? It doesn’t matter because all dancing halts as soon as I round the corner and he’s sprinting towards me head held purposefully low, feet powering him forward like a steam engine with no shortage on steam. Once again I high tail it out of there and luckily I have enough gain on this unlikely track star to leave him behind long enough for him to finally take the hint and slink off into the bush.
Yet again I attempt a reconnaissance mission, this time meeting success. Pack securely on my back, I warily survey my surroundings before I turn to continue on. And there he is. Challengingly plopped in the middle of the very track I need to take. We do a cautious circular waddle dance while I warn him in my best ‘bad dog’ voice, “No Means NO Mr. Kakapo!” until we’ve all but switched places and I use this opportunity to hit the ground running and leave my poor love starved fine feathered (almost more than a) friend behind for good.
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| Richard Henry |
My return to the hut to share my adventure of the day reveals this:
“Sinbad: A male born on Maud Island in 1998, he was hand reared from three weeks old, being the smallest chick of three. His mother is Flossie and his father is Richard Henry. Part of the Fiordland Dynasty and named after the Sinbad valley in Fiordland.”
His father, Richard Henry, was named after the New Zealand pioneer conservationist of the 19th century. He was the last bird rescued from Fiordland National Park in the late 1970’s. With high genetic diversity, Sinbad carries RH’s prized genes that the recovery team hopes he distributes enthusiastically… preferably to his fellow species.
A week since arriving, half way through our stint, the daily routine feels like business as usual. I wake around 7am, watch the sun rise from the bench on the beach, get all of my bird feed out supplies ready, then spend the next 4-6 hours trekking through the wonderland of untouched native bush. The buzz at the hut begins to feel ordinary and I have to remind myself that it’s anything but. Everyone has a job that needs doing and at the end of the day they’re saving a rare species, the heaviest parrot on earth, from the brink of extinction!
Rangers are lucky to get more than two consecutive hours of sleep as their nights are packed with chick feeding and weighing, transporting an incubator-hatched chick up to a new mum’s nest, switching stronger chicks from a veteran mum to a less experienced one, etc. At night watching from a monitor to document each scratch, turn, feed, departure and arrival.
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| Richard & J-Dub perform a health check on a chick. |
Much like a hospital everything in contact with the birds is constantly cleaned and sterilized, weighed and measured, and everyone’s route is mapped out and recorded on the intentions board. Conversations are purposeful, technical and goal oriented.
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| Mark & Daryl |
Downtime for staff is rare and fleeting, but when it exists it is spent napping, playing cards or just catching up happily with one another. Hard work is paying off as hatched chicks are strong, healthy and under the natural food and warmth provider of a moss green giant night parrot mum.
21 March
Jamie’s 25th birthday!
At some stage there is a point where a birthday, a cake, a glass of wine and more than a week of close quarters, shared meals and daytime missions makes a group feel more like a family. I felt it first over breakfast this morning. The ease, the familiarity, the joking and smooth responses. It’s persistence throughout the day seems to cling like mud to our wet gaiters and soggy boots. A shame to think in another week’s time we’ll all disperse, but no reason for lament now. Time to enjoy my best bud’s birthday bash!
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| Jamie's Birthday card drawn by Mark! |
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| A few rounds of Chinese Whispers! |
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| Make a wish! |
The Easter Orchid and Bat Trees (housing NZ’s only native mammal, the short and long tailed bats) are smelt before they are seen. Of a perfume boom and honey-ammonia guano. A sicksweet odor that hangs like a circus tent over a carnival of fetid candies. I play forest games as I cruise the tracks. Find the thing that makes the smell. Usually rewarded by the sight of tiny bleach white orchids smiling up at me from a long dead tree swallowed whole by abundant new life.
26 March
Last day. Last feed out. Big hugs goodbye and a farewell dance on the beach.
Helicopter back to Invercargill over the glorious, choppy sea.
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| Loading the plane |
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| Beach Conga line |
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| Airborn |
Looking back, my experience on Whenua Hou further affirmed my love and passion for being in and learning about the natural world. I am most enthusiastic and fulfilled when working as part of a team, contributing to something greater than myself and feeling a valued element of the whole. My gratitude is immeasurable as my cup spills over with encounters and experiences incomparable and tremendous.
Viva la Kakapo!!!
More pictures in no particular order:
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| Rimu |
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| Tui |
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| Rifleman (tītipounamu) |
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| The dunes with Steward Island (Rakiura) in the background |
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| Campbell Island Teal |
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| Sunset from the bench at Sealer's Bay |
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| Lookout point |
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| Drooping Filmy Fern (Piripiri) |
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| Jamie and Robert |
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| Sunset from Sealer's Bay |
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| Stewart Island (Rakiura) from Sealer's Bay |
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| Bellbird (Korimako or Makomako) |
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| Sealer's Bay |
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| View from the southeast side of the island |
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| Rodriques Beach |
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| Fantail (Piwakawaka) |
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| So happy to be here! |
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| Saturday BBQ |
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| Lisa One - 2 week old chick being hand fed by Daryl |
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| The dunes & Campbell Island Teal pair |
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