The Kea: a New Zealand problem/Chapter 7

by George Reginald Marriner

CHAPTER VII.

 

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THE SHEEP KILLER.

 

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In sin and shame o’ertaken,
Thy glory shall sink in gloom.

—John Liddell Kelly.

The Keas have several methods of attacking sheep, and it depends largely upon the kind of ground as to which one is used in a particular instance.

They may attack in large numbers up to one hundred and twenty, or merely in ones and twos. Usually one or two old birds, known as “sheep-killers,” do the killing, and the others share the spoil.

It is quite a mistake to suppose that all Keas kill or even attack sheep. Just as we have comparatively harmless tigers, who will not attack man except under provocation, and also “man-eaters,” who seem to take a special delight in killing men; so, among the Keas, many of them never attack sheep, while others, usually old birds, seem to enjoy nothing better.

Again, the Keas do not, as many people suppose, choose the lambs or weaklings, but in most cases the choicest of the flocks is killed.

The usual mode of attack seems to be as follows. The bird settles on the ground near its quarry, and, after hopping about here and there for some time, leaps on to its prey, usually on the rump.

If it cannot obtain a firm grip with its claws, the movement of the sheep may cause it to fall, but the Kea seems rather to enjoy the sensation, and so tries again until it has securely perched itself on the sheep’s back.

Then the murderer begins cruelly to pull out the wool with its powerful beak, until it gets down to the flesh.

The sheep, which for some time has been moving uneasily about, gives a jump as the beak enters the flesh, and then commences to run wildly about here and there in vain efforts to rid itself of its tormentor.

When, however, the poor beast discovers that it cannot dislodge its enemy, it seems to lose its head, and rushes blindly about, usually at a high speed.

Sometimes the birds run the sheep to death, and then gorge themselves on the dead body. At other times they

A sheep killed by Keas. A Merino Ram found on Top Flat, Mt. Algidus Station.

never really reach a vital part of the animal’s anatomy, but, after severely wounding it, they leave it, and the poor brute wanders about with a large gash, sometimes four or five inches across, on its rump, and torn open so much that the transverse processes of the vertebrae can be seen. The sheep struggles along until blood-poisoning, caused by filth and exposure, sets in, and the unfortunate beast lies down and gives up the struggle. The animals must suffer very severe torture as they wander about, the large wound exposing the flesh to insects and to extremes of weather.

This method of killing accounts for the number of sheep that are found in the paddocks at shearing time, wounded or dead, with nothing but a scar showing on their rumps.

While staying at the Mt. Algidus Station, I was fortunate enough to see three sheep that had been attacked in this way by the Keas.

On the Top Flat, near the base of the Rolleston Range, on a large terrace sloping down to the Mathias River, we found a splendid merino ram, lying dead just where two wire fences met at right angles. It looked as if the sheep had been cornered there and wounded.

There was an ugly wound on the rump about eleven inches from the base of the tail, the gash measuring four inches by five in width and about two inches deep. One half had been torn down to the sinews, while the lower half was eaten down to the bone; the body cavity, though just pierced, did not seem to have been disturbed. From all appearances the animal had died from blood-poisoning and exhaustion, as the wound was very black and dirty.

Just near this, belonging to the same mob, we found a live ram running about with the others, with a dirty gash on its rump, in a situation similar to that of the wound in the other animal.

The wound was V-shaped, and along the sides it measured four inches by six inches. It had partly healed, but was festering very badly, so that there was very little hope for the unfortunate sheep.

At Lake Coleridge Station, near the homestead, a four-toothed merino ewe was found wandering about with a large circular wound on its back, somewhat nearer the head than in the former cases. It was put into the yards to await my arrival, but it died before morning. The wound was four inches by three in size, and had just entered the body cavity.

When this sheep was skinned it was seen that the whole back was more or less black, which seemed to point to blood poisoning, as none of the organs were injured.

Though the cases cited are horrible enough, the wounds are often more severe; for not only are the kidneys injured, but often the intestines are torn and pulled out through the wound. Sheep have been found with yards of their intestines, all hardened by exposure to the sun and air, dragging along the ground.

In discussing the effect of the horrible cruelties practised on the sheep by the Keas, Sir W. Buller gives the following account.

“On the surgical operation performed on the living sheep by the Kea, an interesting paper was read before the Pathological Society of London in November, 1879, by the distinguished surgeon, Mr. John Woods, F.R.S. He exhibited the colon of a sheep in which the operation known as colotomy had been performed by this parrot, of which likewise he produced a specimen, both having been sent to him for that purpose by Dr. DeLatour, of Otago.

“Mr. Woods was informed by his correspondents that, when the sheep are assembled, wounds resulting from the Kea’s ‘vivisection’ are often found upon them, and not infrequently the victims present an artificial anus, a fistulous opening into the intestines, in the right loin.

“The specimen exhibited was from a sheep that had been so attacked. It consisted of the lumbar vertebrae and the colon, showing the artificial anus between the iliac crest and the last rib on the right side, just in the place, that is, where the modern surgeons perform the operation know to them as Amussat’s; below the wound the intestine was contracted, while it was enlarged and hypertrophied above.

“The sheep was much wasted. The modus operandi was described as follows:— The birds, which are very bold and nearly as large as rooks, single out the strongest sheep in the flock. One bird, settling on the sacrum, tears off the wool with its beak and then digs its beak into the flesh until the sheep falls from exhaustion or loss of blood.

“Sometimes the wound penetrates to the colon, when, if the animal recovers, this artificial anus is formed. It may be on the left, but is more frequently on the right side. It has been suggested that the bird aims at the colon in search of its vegetable contents, but the Kea’s carnivorous appetite has been too frequently noticed to necessitate any such hypothesis.”

One of my correspondents gives the following account:—“One solitary wether I found on the Kingston Flat, still alive and standing, with a hole half-way down the right flank, and about eighteen inches of the double of his small gut on the ground. I afterwards saw him dead at the same place.”

Often the birds seem to delight in prolonging the sheep’s misery, for a shepherd writes as follows:— “Along with another shepherd, I was out on the ranges attending to the sheep, when we heard the Keas making a great noise. On looking up to where they were, we saw a sheep standing on a ledge of rocks; one Kea kept jumping on to the sheep’s back and pecking at him. The sheep was trying to get away, but could not get off the ledge. Evidently it had been chased by the Keas, and it had jumped on to the ledge. The Keas were at the sheep for fully half-an-hour, and we could not get near to drive them off. When we left, the birds were still worrying the sheep.”

Another shepherd gives the following account:—“I have noticed a wounded sheep standing on steep faces, and the Keas walking round and round it. The sheep would also keep turning round so as to face its tormentors, butting at them and trying to keep them off. They would keep on until the sheep would lose its footing and would fall to rise no more.”

The position and attitude of the bird while on the sheep’s back is well described in the following:—“It was in the afternoon, I was mustering in Boundary Gully, Mount Cook Station, at the time, and had a mob of sheep in hand and was about two chains away, when a Kea, one of several that were flying around, settled on a sheep. The beast at first gave a jump or two, and then made down hill at a great rate. When the sheep got into motion, the bird spread out its wings, and, as the pace became faster, the wings came together at the perpendicular. The sheep continued its race until both were lost to view, after going some distance through the storm.”

These blind rushes often end even more tragically. The sheep in its blind rush often comes to a precipice, and, with the same impulse that brought it so far, it leaps over the edge and is dashed to pieces on the ground below. In this case the Kea leaves its hold as soon as the sheep begins to fall, but follows the unfortunate animal in the descent to satisfy its hunger on the result of its labours.

Mr. Robert Guthrie, of Canterbury, who has spent a large number of years in Kea country, gives the following graphic description of Keas attacking the sheep at their nightly camps:—“At last one clear night, when there was about half a moon, I made my way up to the sheep camp. After a good deal of trouble, I got into a crevice in a rock that I had selected in daylight, within twenty feet of the nearest sheep, and without disturbing them. I lay there for some hours and, just two or three minutes before the moon went down, fifteen Keas alighted, within ten feet of where I was lying, as silent as spectres. They immediately became exceedingly active, running about and picking at this and that amongst the sheep, jumping on and off the sheeps’ backs, the sheep not taking the slightest notice of them. All at once the moon left me, and I could see no more. I waited for more than an hour longer, and during that time there were a few commotions among the sheep, but not a sound from the Keas. I got one dead sheep next day. The next night I was again in my place in the rocks, and had only a few minutes to wait, when the fifteen Keas lit again, as silently as on the night before. They again scattered round the camp, and seemed to be exceedingly busy and active, running to and fro, picking at this and that. It seemed to me that they were after small grubs that are usually found about a sheep camp. They eventually began jumping on the sheeps’ backs and sometimes as many as four would be on one sheep at a time. One would give a peck, the sheep would give a bound forward, and they would all come off. They did not seem to follow the same sheep, but just hopped on to the first one they came to. Sometimes when one got on a sheep’s back in a good position—behind the kidneys facing the head—it would keep pecking and so keep the sheep jumping round and through the mob for a long time. I am quite certain that they thoroughly enjoyed the fun of riding on the sheep

Close view of a wound made by Keas on the Sheep found on Top Flat, Mt. Algidus Station.

and falling off. After about an hour of this sport, I noticed one that had got in a good position on a sheep’s back striking it more quickly and more vigorously than any of the others. It kept the sheep careering in and through the camp in an awful state, until at last it disappeared down the ridge leading down to some overhanging rocks. After about a minute, I heard a Kea call far down the gully. Next day I got a dead sheep at the foot of the rocks where the sheep disappeared. I did not see the Kea come back to the camp, but no doubt it did directly the sheep went over the rocks. At any rate, less than twenty minutes afterwards I again saw a Kea in the correct position on a sheep’s back, viciously striking, and I distinctly saw it lift its head and give one strong peck, when the sheep immediately collapsed and fell down among the other sheep. I think the Kea then left it. I waited for some time, and then went out as quickly as I could. The mob drew out of the camp, but the injured sheep was still sprawling about. I tried to make it stand, but it could not. I came back next day and found it lying in the same place, but black and very much swollen. I cut its throat, and left my gun in my hiding place during the day and came back at night. I got six of the fifteen Keas that night and the others during the next three weeks. There was never a sheep killed on this camp after the night I saw the sheep struck down.”

The case of a sheep jumping over a precipice in its terror is not an altogether uncommon occurrence, as can be seen by the number of marked sheep found dead at the foot of the precipices.

Writing on this subject, one of my correspondents says:—“I write to say that I have seen the Kea at work at a sheep. The latter was driven frantic by the bird’s attack, and ran wildly in any and every direction, eventually making a bee-line down a steep slope, as if blind, took a ‘header’ over a precipice more than a hundred feet high, and was dashed to pieces on the rocky and shingly bottom. The Kea hung on to its prey until the moment the unfortunate animal left terra firma, when the bird relaxed its hold, and flew down almost on the very track of its prey, when it was lost to view by the writer and a shepherd who was there also.”

Sometimes the sheep tears round the flock until it is played out and cowed, when it sinks to the ground and lies with its neck stretched out, a picture of misery.

At other times the terrified sheep, as if making a last despairing attempt to get rid of its enemy, rushes madly forward in one direction, usually down hill, at a terrific speed, quite oblivious of rocks and pitfalls, the Kea meanwhile holding on and balancing itself with outstretched wings. Very soon the sheep strikes a rock or stumbles and rolls over and over down the hill, only to get on its feet again and repeat the performance time after time. When the beast stumbles the Kea rises on its wings, and settles down again on the sheep when it has regained its feet.

This awful race is continued until, bruised by its numerous falls, utterly exhausted by its death struggles and maddened with pain, the terrified animal stumbles to rise no more, and becomes an easy prey to the Kea.

Several men have witnessed these awful rushes, and have also come upon the murderer gorging himself on the live sheep, tearing at the kidney fat and pulling at the entrails.

The following are a few instances illustrating this method of attack.

Mr. J. Sutherland writes:—“In 1887 I was keeping a boundary where Keas were numerous, and on several occasions I saw them attack sheep. I saw a sheep running down the hill with a Kea hanging on. I followed after it, and found the sheep lying in the gully with the Kea tearing away at it. I drove it off. The sheep was not dead, but the wool and the skin were torn, and a hole was made in the sheep’s back, just above the kidney, a wound from which it would have died; however, I killed it to put it out of pain.”

Mr. H. E. Cameron gives the following account:—“One day while mustering in the summer time of 1895, I saw a Kea on a sheep’s back clinging to the wool and digging his beak into its back, and a number of others flying about. I went down to the sheep with some other men. Some entrails had been pulled through a hole in its back and we had to kill the sheep. I was camped at the foot of Davies’ Saddle (Longslip Station) one foggy day, and at three o’clock heard a great screaming of Keas; so I went out to see what they were at. On going down the creek a short distance I saw a sheep coming down the face of the hill as fast as it could, with a Kea on its hips and twelve more birds following and screaming. The sheep, when it got to the foot of the hill, ran under a bank and went down on its knees, the Kea picking away at its back and the others watching as if waiting for a feed. I went up to the sheep, after throwing stones at the birds. When I got up to the sheep, it had two holes in its back, and the kidney fat had been eaten, but the kidneys were lying bare in the sheep. The entrails were pulled out through the hole in the back. The sheep was not dead, but had to be killed.”

A sheep killed by Keas. A four-toothed Merino Ewe found on Lake Coleridge Station.

Mr. A. S. Smith, of Fairlie, writes:—“The first occasion on which I actually saw a sheep killed was one time while mustering. I noticed two sheep that had been passed some little distance, and while in the act of hunting a dog for the sheep, a Kea flew down to the back of a sheep, which made headlong down the hill with the bird all the while on its back. After running some little distance, the beast stumbled and fell; then the bird rose to its wings, and the sheep continued its race down hill, evidently much terrified. The bird then flew on to the sheep’s back again while it ran. This occurred, I should say, three or four times, before the bottom of the gully was reached. When I went to investigate, I found the sheep not quite dead, but bleating with evident pain, it would appear on account of a hole in its back close up to the shoulder.”

Mr. H. Heckler, of Lumsden, writes:—“I was keeping boundary at the Gladstone Gorge after snow muster, and was gathering the stragglers off the high country, when I came across about twenty Keas. Two of them were on a sheep’s back, the balance were flying round him (a stray wether), making a terrible noise. The sheep was going at full speed down the spur. I watched him where he ran to, and followed him down for about three miles. When I got down the sheep was dead, with two holes (one on each side of the backbone) in him, and most of the mob of Keas were picking out the kidney fat. I crawled to the rock where the poor sheep was lying, and the Keas were so busy that I killed three with my stick.”

Mr. Andrew Watherston, writing to me of his experiences in 1904, says:—“I was looking out a mob of wethers, and found that the Keas had been killing them and there were eight dead. As it came on a dense fog I had to return to my hut. Early on the following morning I went out to the wethers again. Arriving where the sheep were camped sometime before sunrise, I could hear the Keas calling, and following up the sound I got to where there were about forty of them. They had about there or four hundred wethers rounded up. The sheep were huddled close together, and the Keas were flying over them, and alighting on their backs. When the Keas started to pick the back of a sheep, it would start to run round and round the mob; the Kea would rise, but as soon as the sheep stopped the bird was on its back again. This continued for a little time; the sheep, apparently getting sulky, lay down with its neck stretched out and its lower jaw resting flat on the ground, when it showed no further resistance but allowed the Kea to pick away at its back. I never knew a sheep, after it once sulked, to show any further resistance. I shot nineteen Keas and left the mob, but, on looking round, I found that they had killed thirty-eight wethers, most of them being quite warm and in splendid condition.”

Many more such instances could be cited, but enough has been said to show the methods and the results of the Keas’ attacks on sheep.

The greatest damage is done to the flocks in winter, when the country is snow-bound. In the mountainous regions, the sheep are usually kept down on the low

Close view of wound made by Keas on the Sheep found at Lake Coleridge Station.

country until the mountains get a good coat of snow, for once the tops are covered there is very little danger of the sheep going far in the snow.

However, if the sheep have been allowed to remain on the tops of the ranges until the snow comes, as is sometimes the case on a big run, they gather together in a basin near the summit and are buried by the snow. It is at this time that the Kea finds them an easy prey, and many a bloody battlefield, the snow being deeply tinged with red, shows where the helpless benumbed sheep have been literally torn to pieces while alive by the relentless birds. Even when men, wading waist high in the snow, climb up to dig the sheep out, the brutal birds will often not leave their prey, but fall victims to the musterer’s alpenstock.

Here are some accounts from eye-witnesses.

Mr. McIntosh, of Lake Tekapo, says:—“I saw again another mob stuck in the snow, in a very rough place which we shepherds could not get to. I watched from the other side of the gully, and, by the aid of my glasses, saw the parrots actually eating the sheep alive while they were caught in the snow.”

Mr. Logan, another of my correspondents, says:—“The sheep were held up by snow, and there were thirteen Keas attacking them. They had some killed and others maimed beyond recovery. They were sitting on the living and the dead, but only one or two of the birds seemed to be attacking the living.”

Mr. Hugh McKenzie writes:—“In 1884, on Lorne Peak Station, Wakatipu, in the month of July, there came a heavy fall of snow. One morning early, myself and two other men went out to look up the sheep; at 10 a.m. we sighted a mob. As we got within about a quarter of a mile of them, we could make out a number of Keas flying about the sheep, making a great screaming noise. We at once hastened on to the sheep, which were stuck on a point of the spur about 3,000ft. in altitude. At a distance of three or four hundred yards, we saw two sheep floundering in the snow with a Kea perched on the rump of each sheep, and at work on the loins. These sheep would be distant from the mob about eighty yards, and fully twenty yards from each other. As we sighted them, however, notwithstanding our singing out, and hurrying up to the sheep, neither Kea quitted his position until we were within twenty yards of them. They, however, did not damage the sheep enough to cause death, as we arrived just in time.”

The last instance is given by Mr. O’Brian:—“Three of us were sent to muster the sheep off this spur, where the snow was, according to our judgment, fullythree feet deep on the top and deeper in places. On reaching the summit of what we called the main top we came across a mob of sheep more or less snowed in. These we dug out of the snow, and, having let them roll down the hill as far as they would, we went further up the spur to see how many more we could find. After a short climb we came across a mob of fifty, also snowed in, and here I caught the Keas in the act of murdering. The birds had already killed three, and several others were dying. The dead ones were very much torn about, and what especially attracted my attention was the way in which the small gut was pulled out through the flank and stretched yards away. There were fully a dozen Keas attacking the mob around the hole, and the place was literally stained with blood, no doubt from the Keas’ blood-stained feet. The birds seemed thoroughly to enjoy killing sheep, and were very bold. I was up to my waist in snow alongside the sheep, and when I was standing still the Keas would come boldly up to me to within five feet. After we had driven the Keas off they flew almost straight to the first mob, and, according to my mates, who went back for the first mob, attacked those sheep in a similar way.”