Meeting Her Changed Everything
In 2013, I met a bird who would change the way I heard the forest. Her name was Kahurangi. A kōkako with blue wattles like bubblegum beneath her beak, a gaze full of curiosity, and a call that could stop you in your tracks. She lived in the forest aviary at Pūkaha, and from the moment we met, she became a part of my daily rhythm, my work, and without question - my heart.
Over the ten years we spent together, she shaped the way I understand bird husbandry, enrichment, and the deep importance of telling their stories. She taught me how to advocate, for her, for kōkako, and for all of Aotearoa’s wildlife-with compassion and purpose.
I’m grateful for every day we had—for the trust, the laughter, the shared silences. I carry her with me always.
One of the first photos I took of Kahurangi. She was the main sign feature as you drove up to Pukaha.
A Bird Like No Other
Kahurangi wasn’t just any bird. She was raised by people, and because of that, she had this unusual closeness to humans. Not tame, not trained, but engaged. She had presence. She would hop along branches to come see me, tilt her head when I spoke, mimic my whistles, and investigate anything new I brought into her space. Shoelaces. Sunglasses. My camera. She’d examine them like a scientist - or a mischief-maker.
She loved people. When visitors approached her aviary, she would bounce over with bright eyes and a soft hop, as if welcoming old friends. She made everyone feel chosen, as if they were lucky to be in her presence (and they were). She’d mimic whistles, follow voices, and delight in interaction. She didn’t just exist in her space, she filled it.
My camera was always a favourite to investigate!
Our Daily Rituals
Every morning, I’d do my rounds caring for the other birds, but I always saved Kahurangi for last. I knew once I entered her home, I wouldn’t want to leave quickly. We'd whistle back and forth to each other, go exploring around the aviary together, and clean out the pond while she bathed on the edge.
There were times I entered her aviary and she’d greet me with a small gift, a twig or stick she had chosen. She always placed it in my hand after proudly carrying it to me. I still have one of those little sticks on my desk in the office. It reminds me of her every day.
If I was having a hard day, she knew. If I was distracted, she’d remind me to be present. And when I sat with her, really sat, there was something grounding in her company, reminding me of what was important.
Always giving me a reason to smile
A Gentle Mother
During breeding season, Kahurangi showed another side of herself. She would build a perfect nest, and in it, lay small, lilac-spotted eggs, delicate and beautiful, like her.
She trusted me completely. While she incubated, I’d bring her food, check in on her, gently groom her feathers. And in one of the most moving moments of my time with her, she allowed me to rest my hand beside her eggs as she left the nest to feed. She returned quietly, carefully, stepping over my hand to settle back down, protecting her precious gems.
It was a level of trust I’ll never forget.
Her stunning eggs, while always infertile, she still treated them with care
Her Gift to the World
Kahurangi was an ambassador. Visitors met her and left changed. She helped people fall in love with kōkako, and with the forest itself. Children, elders, birders, people who didn’t know what a kōkako was -they all remembered her. She made sure of it.
She showed people that birds have personalities, relationships, and stories. She made conservation personal.
The Song Goes On
I still feel her absence, like a quiet space where a song used to live. But I also carry her with me. In every kōkako call I hear now, in every visitor who pauses in the bush to listen out for one, and in the way I do my work
For me, she was more than a bird. She was a companion, a teacher, and a friend. I’m grateful for every day we had together, for the trust, the laughter, the shared silences. I carry her with me always.
Rest easy, Kahurangi. Your song still echoes in the hearts you opened, and mine most of all.
She loved the camera!
When I first started volunteering
