Himantopus novaezelandiae

For a birder wandering around in a strange land, it doesn't get much better than this. This is the rarest wading bird in the world, the Black Stilt, or Kaki, and it's in the wild. It's one of two stilts in New Zealand (the other being the widespread Pied Stilt, or Poaka) and the only one that's endemic.

Like all the endemic birds that are now battling extinction in New Zealand, Kaki were once common throughout the country. Since the arrival of Europeans in the mid-1860's, they have declined drastically--reaching as few as 23 adults in 1981--and are currently listed as critically endangered. There are a number of factors contributing to their decline, but it is perhaps the combination of so many threats that has struck such a devastating blow.

The Kaki's favored breeding habitat was the braided river systems that are a unique feature of New Zealand. These rivers are distinctive in that water runs in ribbons in a wide swath over a chunky gravel bottom; the gravel bars formed by the channels of water make for well-protected nesting sites for Kaki, as well as other endemic species like Black-Fronted Tern, Black-Billed Gull, and Wrybill. The development of hydroelectric schemes beginning in the 1950's had a severely detrimental effect on the health of braided river ecosystems. Water flow was manipulated heavily: first withheld, leaving the normally protected gravel bars exposed, and then released at tremendous volume, drowning out the islands completely. The birds could not nest in the rivers with these events occurring, and so their breeding success dropped sharply. The danger of hydroelectric operations to river birds' survival has since been realized and acknowledged, yet such operations continue in the face of substantial energy demands.

Of course another factor in the Kaki's decline is the introduction of exotic mammals, mainly mustelids, that prey on the birds and their eggs. Extensive weed invasions in the river beds provide cover from which these ferrets, stoats, and weasels can hunt, thereby contributing to the problem.

Thirdly is the issue of hybridization with the Poaka. Male Kaki will always opt to breed with a Kaki female, but if there aren't any around (and indeed males outnumber females 3:1 in the wild) they would seem to rather breed with a Poaka female than not at all. Left in the wild to their own devices, not much can be done to prevent these star-crossed romances, so a strange threat to the Kaki's existence lies in the vulnerability of its genetic integrity.

With just 23 birds left, 1981 saw the emergence of a plan of action, to bring the Kaki back. Efforts to date have boosted the wild population to about 80 birds, three-quarters of which are male and all of which live in the MacKenzie Basin. All chicks are reared in a breeding facility outside the town of Twizel. Chick survival rates have been dismal in the wild--during 1992-1999, just 4% of wild chicks made it to adulthood--so now all birds are bred in captivity. The facility keeps several breeding pairs of adults, and collects all eggs from the wild pairs, so that all eggs can be incubated on site. This strategy has substantially increased chick survival rates. Once the chicks reach about 9 months old, they are released into the wild, to fend for themselves and become part of the wild population. This is a huge effort for the Department of Conservation, and so far it has been a relatively successful one.

So it is perhaps obvious that I am no longer in Oamaru, and rather in the MacKenzie Basin. I was beginning to feel a bit unwelcome in my hostel yesterday--sometimes the energy falls out of your favor like that. So I woke up early this morning to a radioactive orange sunrise over the harbor and thought about my next move. Then I packed it up and drove straight to Lake Tekapo. I was last here two months ago. I haven't really thought much about my time here since, but when I arrived I suddenly remembered how much I love it here. The scenery is some kind of soul tonic and reminds me a lot of the Great Basin in eastern California, where I am most happy. The turquoise of these glacier-fed lakes of the interior is the most wondrous color on Earth. And the birds aren't bad either, it would seem.

I drove out along the western shore of Lake Tekapo, to Lake Alexandrina Wildlife Refuge, and had a field day with the birds out there. Australasian Crested Grebes and NZ Scaup with chicks. Ducks, shags, coots, Pukeko....and Black Stilts. Two of them. That's more than 1% of the entire world population. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but it's incredible. I really never thought I'd see one outside the breeding facility. Just watching this bird forage along the shoreline made me nervous. What if a Harrier comes and swoops it away? What if it gets sick? What if a piece of space debris falls out of orbit and through the atmosphere and lands right on top of it? I found myself stepping very gingerly through the brush, for fear I might accidentally snap a twig and startle it to death. You never think about an individual bird's fragile existence like this. Not until you know it constitutes one of a hundred in the world.

Well, I think they made it through the day. After spending a couple hours with them this afternoon I went back at sunset and they were still there. I actually learned of this pair from a visit I made to the DOC office in Twizel two months ago. The ranger on staff suggested this very spot for a reliable pair, so I know they've been here at least that long, each day wandering back and forth across the lakeshore, picking little invertebrates out of the mud. Remarkable, really.