Rangitoto

The island of Rangitoto from Devonport

The Bach Museum

Rangitoto is an island in Auckland bay, just a few minutes from the city, where native plants and bird species are protected. The island was just formed 600 years ago by a massive volcanic explosion. Footprints of Māori and their dogs exploring the island shortly after the eruption can still be found in hardened lava flows. In an effort to return the island to its original natural habitat, and to help struggling endemic species, there are several traps around the island to facilitate the eradication of pests. Each trap had an egg inside so that mice and rats will be tempted by these rather than the eggs of native New Zealand birds. In addition to a few World War II defensive installations, there remains a few holiday bungalows, locally known as baches; however, since 1937 no further building has been allowed. A Museum Bach near the Wharf provides great insight into holiday life of the early 20th century, complete with examples of china, tins, clothing and radios from the period. 

The Kowhai Grove Walk

Despite an interesting human presence on the island, the real draw to Rangitoto is its natural and rugged beauty. I spent approximately four and a half hours on the island, exploring, hiking and taking photographs. I traversed the Kowhai Grove and the Kidney Fern areas before ascending the Summit and volcano crater. The number of different types of trees and ferns were too numerous to identify; however, pohutukawa trees, alternatively known as New Zealand Christmas trees, were ubiquitous on the island. 

The climb to the top of the extinct volcano was arduous for many, even though the tourist map suggested it was a moderate climb. True, no special equipment was required. Yet, the trail went from sea-level to 259 meters (850 feet) in about 2.5 kilometers. Near the summit was the crater of the island and all along the way was evidence of the lava flow from the distinctive black rocks. Once at the top, I smiled when I overheard a father, referring to his young son, state: “Yes, he was the first one to the top…aside from all the other people who were here.”  Walking down the hill I had a better view of the struggle many faced on their ascent to the top. One woman was wearing Beats headphones as she walked up the hill. Perhaps it was motivation; however, I do not think she was communing with nature. 

New Zealand Fantail

There were several interesting birds to observe and photograph. A photograph of the tui remains elusive. However, while walking through an area with a number of ferns I became fascinated with a small bird, which was very vocal, darting around from limb to limb. The bird seemed to be displaying its feathers, and although active and seemingly not shy, I had difficulties focusing on the bird through the lens. After several minutes I heard a group of people walking toward me that included two young boys. I knew that the birds would most likely flee with the approach of loud humans. I took a picture that, although blurry, I thought I could use it to identify the bird and awaited the arrival of the party. Before long a young boy, age about seven, stood less than six feet from me an yelled back to his parents and grandmother, “Hey there’s a person here.”  The mother smiled at me knowingly as she passed and I pressed on. I began the climb up the summit in earnest and there on a tree branch, just a few feet away, were three birds of the same species. The bird were New Zealand fantails, a fairly common bird in rural New Zealand but interesting, vocal and very approachable by humans. I spent all that time, standing among the ferns, well off the trail, with no luck. Ten minutes later,  with a number of people passing, the fantails almost posed for me. 

European Thrush

Because I had read many New Zealand birds were flightless, I was excited about coming into close contact with a brown bird, about the size of a North American robin, who stuck to the ground and only hopped away when it was approached. Under a big sprawling tree I spent several minutes remaining relatively still so that I could snap as many photos as possible. When I asked the volunteers at the historical batch about the birds I had seen and photographed, one woman said, “Ah yes, that’s a thrush, a European transplant.” As I explained my theory about flightless birds in New Zealand, she said that in her garden in England you could not get close to a thrush. In New Zealand, they seem to have no fear at all. Perhaps like many from Britain, they found New Zealand a better place to live. The prohibition of animals (not only rats and mice, but dogs and cats as well) helped all the birds, not just those endemic to the South Pacific.