The speed with which I moved to Arthur's Pass did not allow me to do much preparatory reading, something I always find useful when I travel. Other people's reactions to the news of my move were all I had to develop my expectations of the place, and none of them mentioned this area's most unique feature: the kea.
Kea are the world's only alpine parrot, doubtless a result of this country's unique geographical development. They are also endangered, having been seen as a danger to livestock in previous years. I am lucky enough to be in a place with lots of them, and they are certainly more interesting than most birds I've seen in Wellington or Central Otago.
But I'm not a birdwatcher. New Zealand is known for its wide variety of unique bird species, but I've only heard most of them. What makes kea unique is their behavior. Having evolved in a mountainous habitat with no mammals (all but one of New Zealand's mammals were introduced), kea have developed an inquisitive, fearless nature. The scarcity of food in the mountains means they must leave no stone unturned when feeding, and the lack of predators means they have little to fear in doing so. Wording it as such makes me sound like a biologist, but I borrowed that description from informational signs around town. For those not patient enough to read such signs, meeting the kea can be quite a surprise.
Some might consider the kea a pest. A coworker compares their mentality to that of a monkey (which makes me think of the winged monkeys in The Wizard of Oz). They tend to hang around the deck of our café and force customers to decide whether or not to obey the “don't feed the keas” signs attached to every table. And if the patrons do as the sign says, the kea frequently take it upon themselves to deprive people of sandwiches, fruit, or small snacks. But it isn't just food – remember, they are “inquisitive,” and have also been known to fly away with empty packaging, plates, car keys, and even passports. Before anyone starts thinking of a certain Alfred Hitchcock movie, be aware that none of their behavior is malicious: they have never been known to attack people, no matter what interesting possessions they might gain by doing so. But rather than “inquisitive and fearless,” some of our customers might say “annoying and shameless.”
The interaction between kea and tourist is always fun to watch. Being unique and brightly colored, kea attract attention just by being nearby. Most people, it seems, cannot imagine that such a beautiful animal would think of tearing out the rubber strip from a car's rearview mirror just to get a better look at it. When the kea begin doing exactly that, the reaction tends to be one of complete amazement rather than anger. The stories are endless: tourists distracted by a kea's antics, only to find that their food has been stolen as they turned to take photos; tour buses being delayed because a kea stole the keys; astonished yells of disbelief coming from the deck, where it is made quite clear that food will not be replaced if the birds take it. Although the tourists might be expected to react negatively to the kea in this area, many see the experience as special enough to warrant a photo. It is the kea's audaciousness (and endangered status) that keeps it safe: no one expects them to be so bold, and thus it is a special memory, rather than a special annoyance, when they reveal the full extent of their curiosity.
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| A kea hanging out on our deck. Not an unusual occurrence. |
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| Kea at the top of Avalanche Peak. |
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| As if it wasn't enough to remind us that they can fly up to a peak that took us hours to walk to, they try to take our lunches too! |
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| A common reaction to a kea's presence. Hands on the camera means hands off the food, and a free lunch for a kea. |
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