The Kea: a New Zealand problem/Chapter 4

by George Reginald Marriner

CHAPTER IV.

 

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NESTING.

 

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But o’er my isles the forest drew
A mantle thick—save where a peak
Shows his grim teeth a-snarl and through
The filtered coolness creek and creek,
Tangled in ferns, in whispers speak.

And there the placid great lakes are,
And brimming rivers proudly force
Their ice-cold tides. Here, like a scar,
Dry-lipped, a withered watercourse
Crawls from a long-forgotten source.

—Arthur H. Adams.

Though the Kea has become, during the last forty years, the most notorious of all our New Zealand fauna, yet so cunning was the bird, and so secluded was its retreat, that it is only during the last few years that we have pierced the uncertainty that hung around its home life, and have been allowed to gaze with curious eye upon its nest.

The information concerning its home life that has come to hand in recent years is quite in keeping with the notoriety of the bird, and it can be safely said that its breeding habits are the most striking and interesting of those of our avifauna.

Were the Kea surrounded by countless enemies it could not have chosen a more impregnable fortress in which to rear its young; it is a veritable Gibraltar, and as such it usually remains unmolested.

Not only is the country in which the Kea lives dangerous as well as difficult to travel over, but it is in some of the least inaccessible places in that almost inaccessible country, high up in the mighty peaks, that the Kea makes its home.

I cannot improve upon the graphic description of the Kea’s home given by Mr. T. H. Potts. “It breeds in the deep crevices and fissures, which cleave and seam the sheer faces of almost inaccessible cliffs, that in places bound as with massive ramparts the higher mountains spurs. Sometimes, but rarely, the agile musterer, clambering amongst these rocky fastnesses, has found the entrance to the ‘run’ used by the breeding pair, and has peered with curious glances, tracing the worn track till its course has been lost in the dimness of the obscure recesses, beyond the climber’s reach.

Jack’s Hill and Chimera Creek.
Shewing the precipitous faces in which the Kea nests.

In these retreats the home or nesting place generally remains inviolate, as its natural defences of intervening rocks defy the efforts of human hands, unless aided by the use of heavy iron implements that no mountaineer would be likely to employ.”

Even if the ardent collector manages, with great care, to reach the nest, and is able to obtain a foothold on the side of the cliff, he will often find that a crowbar will make little impression on the opening of the “run,” and nothing less than a charge of blasting powder would suffice to force an entrance.

It is a mistake to suppose that the Kea builds always in such inaccessible positions, though they seem to be the favourite places. The choice is influenced to a large extent by the nature of the surrounding country.

If the mountain sides are pierced by these long narrow tunnels, running for many feet into the rock, these are used; but, if they are not available, the Kea makes use of whatever comes to hand, such as a cairn of stones or a hole in a clay bank.

Even as late as 1882 its egg was unknown to science, and Mr. Potts at that time said it was yet to be described. Even to-day Kea’s eggs are scarce, and one collector has a standing offer to pay £1 per egg.

Though there are several rough descriptions of Kea’s nests already published, I have never seen a description that goes into much detail; and, as far as I know, there were no photographs of nests until those I got were secured.

In order to see a nest myself, and also to procure some photographs of the tunnels in which the Kea builds, I made an excursion up the Rakaia Gorge, into the heart of the Southern Alps, in July of 1907.

Through the kindness of Mr. R. Urquhart, the manager of the Mt. Algidus Station, I was able to make my headquarters at that homestead, one of the centres of the Kea-infested districts. In 1906 Mr. Urquhart had discovered a nest in a gorge, and, as it was practically undamaged, he had offered to lead me to the spot if I could pay him a visit.

The day of our excursion was preceded by a night of heavy hail and snow storms, which swept round the homestead with terrific force. The morning broke wet and gloomy, and the whole adjacent country was enveloped in driving clouds and sleet. Nothing could be seen of the mountain ranges that hemmed us in on every side, except their wooded bases, over which torrents of muddy water streamed down to the valley.

It was ideal weather to see the Kea, but certainly not the weather one would have chosen for a long ride on horseback in order to take photographs on an open mountain side.

We were away in good time; and, with my camera protected with sacks, we slowly made our way over the saddle that separated us from the Mathias River. We crossed the summit in the face of a biting wind, and took the track leading down to the river flat. This was steep and

Natural entrance to a Kea run: The hole goes ten feet into the rock.

slippery, and it was only the surefootedness of the horses that prevented nasty falls. Once down on to the river-bed, we found the air less keen; but the sleet and low hanging clouds made the scene lonely and depressing. “Just the weather,” remarked Mr. Urquhart to me, “for the Keas to kill sheep.” For a long time we rode on, with the river on one side and the snow-clad Rolleston Range on the other, until we suddenly came upon some proof of the Keas’ presence. On the ground in front of us a fine merino ram lay dead, with a ghastly hole torn in its back, and its neck stretched out as if it had died in agony.

Having photographed it, we pushed on to where the Chimera Creek joins the Mathias River; and here, tethering our horses to the bushes, we commenced to climb the steep, slippery side of Jack’s Hill.

The Chimera Creek flows almost through the centre of the hill, and on its way has cut a deep narrow gorge, which is about two hundred yards wide where the stream issues on to the river flat. This gorge runs back for some miles towards the centre of the range. On each side high and prependicular cliffs shut out the sunlight, and, rising as they do from two hundred to a thousand feet in height, they form a long, deep, narrow gorge.

At last we came to the nest, which, fortunately for us, was not in an altogether inaccessible position, but situated in a long narrow tunnel, whose opening was in a small ravine running at right angles to the top of the gorge and opening over it.

It was situated on the top of the western cliff, but, owing to the walls of rock rising sheer out of the bed of the creek, we could not get a foothold anywhere; in order to reach it, we had to climb along the top of the cliff. Owing to the thick drizzle that had now set in, and the fact that the ground sloped to the edge of the gorge, we had to take great care that we did not slip over into the dark ravine below.

In August, 1906, while trying to destroy some Keas that had been killing sheep for some time, Mr. Urquhart discovered the nest and determined not only to rob it, but at the same time to kill the old birds.

So one night, with several of his men, armed with spades and crow-bars, he climbed along the edge of the cliff; but owing to the darkness they were unable at first to locate the nest. As a last resource one of the men imitated the well-known call of the Kea, and the little ones in the nest immediately responded.

The opening of the “run” in which the nest was situated was thus found; yet, owing to the narrowness of the tunnel, the men were still unable to reach the nest. However, with the aid of a crowbar, a large rock was removed from the entrance, and the young birds were captured. The mother bird was killed, and the men put the little ones inside their shirts

Natural entrance to a Kea run: After the removal of a large rock from the entrance. From this nest the four young Keas were taken.

for warmth and safety, and they were thus carried back to the station.

The father bird escaped; and, though Mr. Urquhart returned the next day and stayed an hour or two about the place, he did not catch a glimpse of him until, about to give up the search in despair, he espied the old fellow watching in artful silence from a tree, where he had been probably perched throughout the proceedings. The bird carefully avoided any closer acquaintance.

As no one had been near the nest since then, it was almost intact when we found it; and with the exception of the stone removed from the entrance it was just as the birds used it. To call their breeding place a nest is almost to use a misnomer; for the birds choose a natural tunnel in the rocks, one with a narrow opening, just wide enough to allow them to pass in and out, and then place a few pieces of tussock grass at the far end, where the female lays her eggs.

Such was the one I saw. The tunnel or “run” went about six feet into the rock. The opening, after the removal of the large stone, was in the shape of a triangle. The distance from apex to base was fourteen inches, and the base measured nineteen inches. I squeezed in as far as I could, and found, on lighting a match, that the tunnel narrowed as it approached the end, and here in the narrowest part the nest was placed. This nest, at the time it was robbed, contained four young birds.

On the opposite side of the small ravine were the remains of another nest; but the opening was so narrow that I could not get even my head in, and nothing less than dynamite would have widened it. This hole was thirty inches deep and thirteen inches across at its widest part, but it narrowed rapidly as it left the surface. It ran back some ten feet into solid rock and there again enlarged greatly.

After taking notes of both nests, I set to work to photograph them; and not only was the situation awkward owing to the proximity of the cliff, but our troubles were augmented by the rain and mist, which owing to the lateness of the afternoon made the light very feeble. However, as I had come especially to obtain photographs of this phase of the Kea’s life history, I fixed my camera up in the wet, and, after consulting photometer, gave the plates nearly fifteen minutes’ exposure.

Fortunately, on development the negatives came up well. As already remarked, I think they are the first photographs ever taken of a Kea’s nest.

While trying to trap some Keas on the Glenthorne Homestead in January, 1908, Mr Edgar F. Stead was fortunate enough to find a Kea’s nest, which he describes as follows: “A bird came over and began calling, but would not come near the traps, staying down by the male bird we had caught the night before. I went back and saw her, with tail spread and wings drooping, run to the edge of a bluff and fly off into the ravine without a sound. I guessed immediately that she had a nest, and as soon as there was enough light we started looking for it. When we were just giving up hope of finding it, and were going to turn the male bird loose and follow him, we heard the female call away down in the bottom of a big rock slip, and I caught a glimpse of her as she moved. Hurrying to the spot, we found a lot of loose feathers and droppings, which indicated the presence of a nest. We soon located it, in a long hole, the entrance of which was formed by two enormous boulders, which leaned against one another, forming a triangular space, partly blocked by a third stone. This latter we removed by using a thick vine as a rope, and after much scratching and scraping I reached in, and striking a match, saw the bird on her nest. More scraping and digging among the small stones and earth, and again I reached in, but quickly withdrew my hand, minus a small piece of the middle finger. I then wrapped a handkerchief round my hand, and very soon had the bird out. I handed her to Mr Murchison to hold, and she immediately took a piece out of his coat and clawed him pretty thoroughly, but my attention was on the nest, and, to my joy, I found four pure white eggs. They were laid on the ground among a few chips of rotton wood and bark, about five feet from the entrance of the hole.

“More than satisfied with our night’s work, we returned to the Lake, and that afternoon H. and myself, with many thanks for the hospitality and assistance we had received, left for the Point, en route for home.”

As the Kea is really king of the Alps, and drives all the other birds away from its domain, it is difficult to explain the reason why it chooses such a stronghold for its nest. It is only of late years that the weasels and stoats, introduced from Europe, have made their way up to the snow line, and I doubt if these rodents would be a match for an infuriated Kea.

The most likely reason is, I think, that nesting as they do in a season of fierce storms and cold weather, and their young having to stay for some months in the nest, the parent birds are forced to choose a place where the young may be kept warm and dry.

The Kea’s breeding season commences about June and is continued on to September or even later. The usual time for the eggs to be laid is in July, though some say that eggs have been seen in June. This is, however, the exception rather than the rule. I think it is one of the most striking and interesting facts in New Zealand ornithology that the Kea, living in alpine country, where the severity of the winter is especially felt, builds its nest, lays its eggs, hatches and rears its young, all during the severest months of the winter. During this time, its domain is swept by a succession of severe storms of cold wind, accompanied by snow, which covers the ground many inches deep for months ; and, when the sky is clear, very severe frosts set in, which turn every- thing into a solid frozen mass.

That some birds in warm countries nest in the winter is known; but that a bird should rear its young in winter,^[1] at an altitude of from 3,000 to 5,000 feet, in a country where even near the sea level the other birds dare not nest until the spring comes is, to say the least, most extraordinary. Again, not only must the parents have a difficulty in finding food for themselves among the often frozen surroundings, but at this most difficult time of the year they have to supply extra food for their young.

So far I have heard of no good reason why the Kea should nest in midwinter, and I know of none, unless it be to enable the young to be fully developed before the severe weather again comes round.

The eggs, of which as many as four have been found in one nest, are naturally rare and difficult to obtain. They are about the size of the egg of a domestic pigeon, and in appearance are white, with rough shell and no markings.

Kea eggs.

Through the kindness of Dr. B. Moorhouse, Christchurch, I am able to take notes from six eggs in his collection.

The results are given in the following table:—

	Length c.m.	Breadth c.m.	Long Circum. c.m.	Broad Circum. c.m.
Rangitata Gorge	4.8	4.0	14.5	11	(maximum)
Rakaia Gorge A.	4.2	3.4	11.5	10.5	(minimum)
” ” B.	4.2	3.5	11.5	10.4
” ” C.	4.4	3.3	11.2	10.7
Mt. Cook A.	4.5	3.4	12.0	10.3
” ” B.	4.5	3.4	12.0	10.5
Average	4.43	3.45	12.29	10.57

The eggs vary somewhat in shape and size, as can be seen from the above table, but otherwise there seems to be very little difference.

The young birds stay in the nest for an exceptionally long time. One correspondent states that he found young ones in September and took them out of the nest in December; and from all accounts they seem to stay until they are nearly full grown.

The young Kea’s cry somewhat resembles that of the fully grown bird, but it is weaker and very plaintive. The fledglings’ one drawback as pets is that, even when kept in clean apartments, they have a most objectionable odour.

Mr. Urquhart was good enough to send me two live Kea nestlings from Mt. Algidus, and I was therefore able

Nestling Keas.

to see for myself these interesting birds at this stage of their development.

They were about two months old when I received them at Christchurch, but, though they were nearly the size of a small pigeon, they were quite unable to move about or feed themselves. Their wings were fairly strong, and were sometimes flapped when food was given to them. Their legs were large, yet they seemed devoid of capacity for muscular action, and were never used. Indeed, so helpless were they that when being photographed they did not stir from the position in which they were placed. They kept very healthy, and had an ever-increasing appetite for food. Since their capture, nearly two months before, they had been fed on strips of kidney, which had to be poked down their capacious throats with a small stick.

The following is a description taken two months after hatching:—

HEAD.— Beak: Upper mandible large and black in colour, with the exception of a slight tinge of yellow on the top of the arch. It is neither so long nor so curved as that of the adult bird. Lower mandible of a yellow colour, except the

Nestling Kea.

tip, which is black. The wattle around the nostrils is plentiful and of a light yellow colour. The mouth large, with a drooping sac-like structure on each side of the angle of the beak, which stretches for some distance towards the tips of the mandible. (These sacs were very conspicuous, being composed of a yellow material, closely resembling wattle, and their function seems to be to prevent the food tumbling out of the mouth; for when the beak is open the two sacs are stretched across the gape of the mouth, and form a safe passage for the food to pass down.)

BODY.— Most of the body, except under the wings, is covered with short quills or feathers. Those expanded resemble the adult plumage, being dark green, fringed with dark brown. The large feathers of the wings and tail are just coming out of their quills. The legs are large, dark grey in colour, with black claws, very weak in muscular action, and at present useless. The body and head are still to a large extent covered with long light grey down, which, however, is fast disappearing.

The larger bird was able, after a few days, to swallow food by itself, but the smaller one still required the food to be poked down its throat.

The suggestion has been made that, owing to the continued change of diet in the Kea, the taste for meat has become hereditary, and in proof of this it is stated that young Keas only a few days old have been known to eat meat.

As far as I can ascertain there is at present no proof in support of the suggestion; for, though young Keas can be nourished for some time on meat, this in itself does not prove that the taste for it is natural.

Other cases are known where birds have taken readily to a new diet and yet heredity could have had no influence in the matter.

Through the kindness of Dr. Cockayne and Mr. E. Jennings I am able to publish the following incident:—

While they were on a tour of the Southern Islands of New Zealand in the Government steamer “Hinemoa,” in 1904, a specimen of the flightless duck (Nesonetta Aucklandica) was captured and brought alive to Dunedin. From the time of its capture it was fed solely on bread and milk, which it seemed to take to readily. Now, this duck is found only on the Auckland Islands, where it feeds on crustaceans, etc., which are found among the rocks and the kelp (Durvillea) of the sea shore.

These islands are uninhabited, and are practically never visited by any ship except the Government steamer “Hinemoa,” which pays them a semi-annual visit.

It can almost be taken for certain that this particular bird had never seen bread, much less tasted it; and yet when caught, it at once took to this new food, so entirely different from its natural supply.

Mr. C. V. Rides, of the Acclimatisation Gardens, Christchurch, in a letter to me on the native birds, says that when kept in captivity they change their character to a large extent, and the wild duck, whose natural food is largely young green shoots and herbs and any small freshwater animals available, prefers cakes and buns to the usual wheat and maize.

If birds, as in the cases cited, take readily to new food, it seems to me that the mere fact that the young Keas will eat meat does not in any way prove that the taste has become hereditary.

1. The fact that Mr. E. F. Stead found a nest with egg's early in January, 1908, seems to show that the birds may nest at any time of the year, the choice depending largely on the severity of the seasons and the time when the severe storms occur.