Another kiwi bird spot in the wild!
North Island brown kiwi sighted and Trounson Kauri Park seems to be teeming with them!
Imagine a moonlit night. We're in Northland. The cloud is refracting the bright, white light, enlarging Earth's nearest neighbour, so it looks like a giant lantern in the sky. With the clouds come occasional showers of fine drizzle, which barely penetrate the thick forest, but you can occasionally feel one or two cold splashes on your skin.
We're walking beneath the thick canopy, provided mainly by ancient kauri trees. Many of them are hundreds of years old, while some standout mega-trunks are easily over 1,000. The moonlight collides with their wide, bobbly trunks, highlighting the large dried drips of gum and turning them blue in hue. Wind whistles through the tops of the trees, but can't reach us down at the bases.
Occasionally a pūkeko squawks, setting off the entire tribe. The racket peaks, then dies off as quickly as it started. A ruru cries in the distance, deftly by comparison: "mooore pork!" The forest is in night mode.
Above: our first kiwi sighting, Rakiura, 2023, during the day, of course!
As we tip-toe round Trounson Kauri Park's wooden boardwalk, my head fills with memories of my previous failed kiwi missions here. Trounson was my first ever DOC campsite, back in late 2009, and the excitement my brother and his girlfriend at the time shared as we zipped round that track was soon met with disappointment; there was the time I lay in wait for an hour - silently, alone - finally hearing a rustle, only to find myself staring into the eyes of a possum; and then there was my most recent stay, where I inadvertently invited an extremely drunk American to join Lennie and I on the walk, only to stand in the forest listening to him blather on and slur his reasons we weren't going to see any kiwi. From bad luck to bad choices, I had written this place off.
A small branch slaps and some leaves rustle. We're back in the present now and there's something in the bush to our right. Most likely a possum, right? Or maybe a wasted American, attempting to crawl back to camp? We stand alert, in silence, Zoe's head torch illuminating the ferns and small ponga leaves in red light. Another similar sound indicates its maker has moved. I point and we track its movements, listening for every rustle, click or hint of a sound. Like a ninja, it occasionally moves silently, reemerging again some metres from where it was last heard. This is not the movement of a possum.
We shuffle to our left along the track, eyes transfixed on this giant red circle of possibility. Then Zoe spots it. Right there in front of us, no less than one metre away. That giant unmistakeable beak poking through the foliage. Half a metre high, I catch its eyes in the torchlight. It's a kiwi bird, a wild one, just rummaging its way through this forest. We're both breathless. I can't believe it: the countless hours I've spent in this forest, waiting for this scene and tonight it arrived.
Have you ever seen a kiwi bird in the wild?
The image above is a young kauri tree, taken just moments before our face-to-face encounter. Sorry, our glimpse at this North Island brown kiwi was brief and our mate soon moved on elsewhere into the bush, so no photo. Trounson Kauri Park must’ve had a fresh delivery.
Weta get around. When staying in Punakaiki I went for a short ride up Bullock Creek, stopped off at the ocean beach for a walk on the way back. Leaned my bike against big logs several times on that ride, both river and seaside, and when later went to clean the drivetrain (ready for Paparoa Track next day) found a passenger!
It was ok, put in the bush by the cabin I was in and it had wandered off later
https://flic.kr/p/2n95xeK