My name is Margaret Horner and I fell in love with kokako the first time I heard them. Up until then, I wasn’t much interested in birds and believed that bird enthusiasts were rather strange. To me, birds were things that flapped around in the sky and occasionally got brought in by the cat. I could tell a duck from a seagull, and that was about it.
The sound of a few poignant kokako notes ringing out amongst the trees was enough to change all that.
If you aren’t familiar with the kokako, go to the Kaharoa Kokako Trust website and click on the bird song. It’s a strange, haunting sound that resembles a musician trying to extract the perfect note from some mystical flute. That’s what it sounded like to me anyway.
I was captivated from the moment I heard it in the Kaharoa bush near where I live. The only other time I had heard the kokako sing was on the national radio programme. Out there in the forest, the solitary bird sounded to me like a remnant echo of an ancient symphony, tuning up for a grand performance. And I wanted to hear more.
Over time I was to learn more about these birds, and how endangered they are. The bird I heard in Kaharoa was part of a remnant population that was disappearing fast. Very few kokako still live on the North Island mainland, and they are believed to be extinct on the South Island. The only places kokako could thrive were on off-shore islands that were predator free.
I also learned, once I became involved with the Kaharoa Kokako Trust, that I could do my bit to save the local birds by helping out with pest control. Without this protection, all the chicks and many of the mothers are killed by introduced animal predators. By reducing the number of possums and rats in the forest, we enable the birds to fledge chicks so the kokako population can grow.
At Kaharoa I got what I wanted. I can go out into the forest on any still morning and hear the kokako singing. But it’s not one lone, mournful voice anymore, it’s usually a duet, or a whole chorus of notes.
Now what I want is to help spread their song further.
The sound of a few poignant kokako notes ringing out amongst the trees was enough to change all that.
If you aren’t familiar with the kokako, go to the Kaharoa Kokako Trust website and click on the bird song. It’s a strange, haunting sound that resembles a musician trying to extract the perfect note from some mystical flute. That’s what it sounded like to me anyway.
I was captivated from the moment I heard it in the Kaharoa bush near where I live. The only other time I had heard the kokako sing was on the national radio programme. Out there in the forest, the solitary bird sounded to me like a remnant echo of an ancient symphony, tuning up for a grand performance. And I wanted to hear more.
Over time I was to learn more about these birds, and how endangered they are. The bird I heard in Kaharoa was part of a remnant population that was disappearing fast. Very few kokako still live on the North Island mainland, and they are believed to be extinct on the South Island. The only places kokako could thrive were on off-shore islands that were predator free.
I also learned, once I became involved with the Kaharoa Kokako Trust, that I could do my bit to save the local birds by helping out with pest control. Without this protection, all the chicks and many of the mothers are killed by introduced animal predators. By reducing the number of possums and rats in the forest, we enable the birds to fledge chicks so the kokako population can grow.
At Kaharoa I got what I wanted. I can go out into the forest on any still morning and hear the kokako singing. But it’s not one lone, mournful voice anymore, it’s usually a duet, or a whole chorus of notes.
Now what I want is to help spread their song further.
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