Paul Ward and Jeff Hall of Capital Kiwi Project. Photo: Gianina Schwanecke / Country Life
By Gianina Schwanecke
Standing beneath the 110-metre wind turbine atop Terawhiti Station on Wellington's southwest coast, there is barely a breeze blowing.
Below these steep hills, the ordinarily dark and choppy seas of the Cook Strait are smooth like glass and the sky is a soft pink as dusk beckons.
With such excellent conditions, Paul Ward, founder and project lead for Capital Kiwi Project, is especially hopeful we will be treated to a kiwi call tonight.
"Everything is primed to hear those birds."
Tune in to the sound of kiwi with Country Life
Since 2022, 138 kiwi-nui (North Island Brown kiwi) have been released onto the farm here, which forms part of a "very intense" 24,000-hectare network of protection comprising more than 4600 traps.
On Terawhiti alone, there are about 1000 traps targeting the kiwi chick's number one enemy: stoats.
While adult kiwi can fight off stoats, the challenge lies between chicks hatching and getting to a "fighting weight of about 1.1-1.2 kilos", Ward says.
The "surprise arrival" of two kiwi chicks on the property late last year - Wellington's first wild-born birds in over 150 years - demonstrated a "proof of concept" for the project.
With some diligent pest-management and a bit of a helping hand, kiwi could reestablish themselves in the wild and go on to find mates and breed.
"Our job is to supercharge those efforts. It comes down to maths and a bit of sex," says Ward.
Views from the hills of Terawhiti Station expand out to the South Island. Photo: Gianina Schwanecke / Country Life
Jeff Hall, the project's field services ranger, says people are often surprised by the adaptability of kiwi and other manu species.
"They can just about live anywhere," he says.
Several of the birds released were fitted with transmitters, allowing the team to track and monitor their progression like we are doing now.
Hall has been happy with the initial monitoring results and is proud to say they have not lost any adult birds. Some have even gained weight, about 20-25 percent more, since being released, leading to jokes they're frequenting the Karori takeaways over the Mākara hill.
The team tries to check with the transmitters about once a week or a fortnight, and is able to get valuable information back about where the kiwi are and what they might be doing based on the number of pings they get. It comes down to "line of sight".
"It's always a bit of a needle and haystack when it comes to walking a ridge," Hall says as he sets the transmitter up. It is even rarer to hear the birds calling.
The steady blips of the radar confirm there is a monitored kiwi a few hundred metres in the gully below.
Jeff Hall attempting to track a nearby kiwi. Photo: Gianina Schwanecke / Country Life
We cannot see him, but it is still exciting to know he is there.
Ward says the ultimate goal is to have "no monitored birds whatsoever" and to leave them to live their wild lives.
"The great thing about what we've been able to do here on Terawhiti, is it's a working farm. There's cattle, there's sheep, but big chunks of it have been retired from being intensively grazed. They're in carbon sequestration and basically being allowed to regenerate.
"It's not 'either or' like it has to be a remote island or national park, but kind of 'and and'. So we can in our working environments, productive environments, also create spaces where our native wildlife can thrive.
"Huge credit to the landowners who have given trust in the project and this kaupapa and allowed us to put that network of protection across their land."
The existing road infrastructure on the farm, enhanced by the wind farm, has also been a "massive boon" for the project.
"It means that these steep, gnarly, scrappy Wellington hillsides are hugely accessible for putting a trap network on."
The sun having now set, we continue down a well-cut farm track that is bordered by swathes of bush and scrub country.
Hall pulls out the transmitter to check for another kiwi he thinks might be nearby, while Ward eagerly points out what he thinks to be kiwi poo and checks for the iconic three-toe print which has become synonymous with the Capital Kiwi Project.
A kiwi burrow on Terawhiti Station, near Wellington. Photo: Gianina Schwanecke / Country Life
No luck, so we carry on down the ridgeline where we stop and wait a while.
Ward is in the middle of telling me just how hardy the species is when we hear it: a low whistle in the distance which grows louder as we quieten. An answering call suggests there are at least two kiwi nearby.
As we make our way back up the ridgeline we hear more, at least three or so pairs, all calling to each other in the hills surrounding the capital city.
It is moments like this which make the past few years' efforts all worthwhile for both Ward and Hall.
"It's pretty special," Ward says.
"You get the chills when you hear those birds calling from the hills. There's been seven or eight years that's gone into this effort to return kiwi. Our landowners, our iwi, our communities that have put so much into it. So when you do hear those birds calling ... it's a real thrill.
"It's been based on the will of the people of Pōneke to bring back some of the wild things to town."
You can find more about the Capital Kiwi Project here.