Probably Delicious

Walking through pygmy beech trees on an exposed ridge, there is something eerie about the moss and lichen and low cloud drifting through the trees. About the quiet too, because but for the odd chirp and tweet, the forest is silent.

Silent until we reach a point where every step startles kererū nesting in the trees. They suddenly descend from their roosts, whooshing past, their wings beating furiously, sometimes heading straight for us in a fit of confusion.

The New Zealand woodpigeon or kererū is one of the most distinctive creatures you will see in the bush. They are a huge, beautiful bird with shimmering green and white colouring, a classic pigeon barrelled chest, small head and a neat, narrow beak. Noisy and not exactly graceful, in thick forest kererū crash through branches scattering leaves as they go, particularly when drunk on pūriri berries. Unusually for a bird, the kereru drinks without tilting its head back.

Being so heavy, the kererū requires a deep and powerful wing beat. They are known to take-off with a swooping glide before entering a vertical stall, then recover and fly off. The sound can be deafening as they struggle to gain altitude. To the naked eye this manoeuvre can look like a loop-the-loop.

Kererū are sometimes seen sitting quietly on suburban power lines, particularly if there is a stand of bush nearby. Several times I have had the fright of my life when I’ve driven around a corner and suddenly encountered a kererū diving for my windscreen. Only at the last second do they find the power to pull up.

Despite being so visible and admired, or perhaps because of this, the kererū is in decline. The main culprits are the usual suspects: introduced pests and habitat loss. But there is also still a significant problem with poaching (in 2008, two men were jailed as a result of a surveillance operation carried out by the Department of Conservation). Hunters are attracted to the kererū for its plumage and as part of traditional food gathering practices. And I have to admit, on more than one lone occasion, I’ve wondered what the big juicy breast meat would taste like, or whether I would be justified in capturing one if I was lost and starving in the bush. I am, thankfully, still left wondering.