New Zealand is well known for many things. For some it’s the country’s volcanoes, stunning scenery, vineyards and fjords. For others, it’s the home of those loathsome hobbits from the trilogy Lord of the Rings (don’t get me wrong, I liked the trilogy – but hobbits? Give me Sauron any day).
In the pool below the waterfall, hundreds of fur seal pups were busy training for the rigours of life in the open ocean, without fear of being gobbled up by killer whales
Perhaps less well known is the importance of New Zealand as a Mecca for the world’s seabirds. Indeed, the country is known as the seabird capital of the world, and those masters of both air and sea can be viewed with relative ease at numerous locations around the coast.
Arguably one of the best places to catch up with New Zealand’s seabirds is the small port of Kaikoura, nestled along the side of a snow-capped mountain range on the rugged east coast of South Island.
It’s a quiet and unassuming place, its ‘main street’ hosting a collection of gift shops selling jade jewellry, small cafes and a couple of bars which all close far too early.
It’s also the base of a company called Albatross Encounters – from where one can book a trip to meet the aforementioned seabirds. So it was that the next day I found myself bobbing up and down in a small boat, pitifully thankful that the sea was dead calm in light of the copious amounts of New Zealand cider downed the night before.
The pale grey sea stretched away to a pale grey sky, both seeming to meld in the distance.
We motored along for about 20 minutes until we found ourselves over the Kaikoura Canyon – a deep underwater trench from which cold, nutrient-rich waters arise.
In other words, perfect conditions to support large populations of foraging seabirds.
With motor stilled, our guide soon spotted the first of the albatross, effortlessly gliding low over the water on 3.5-metre-long wings.
With the largest wingspan of any bird in the world, the Wandering Albatross was a sight to behold as it soared towards us, wings barely millimetres above the water.
Behind the first, another hove into view, and then another – all three cruising in towards us on their impossibly long wings. While they were the epitome of grace in the air, their mode of landing was rather less elegant. Gigantic feet splayed, they skied their way across the surface, splashing water in glittering arcs as they finally came to a complete halt.
The birds had found what they were looking for – fish. With huge yellow beaks leading the way they attacked their prey, pausing only to attack each other in their quest to get as much food as possible.
While they began to make short work of their food, they were joined by a posse of Northern Giant Petrels who had also come in to see what the fuss was about.
Large birds in their own right, they were even more enthusiastic and vigorous in their feeding habits. Beaks jabbed and poked at everything around them as they joined the fray, and occasionally two would rise almost entirely out of the water as they battled each other over scoffing rights.
Sufficiently distracted in their pig-like grunts of rage, these momentary battles allowed the diminutive Cape Petrels to nip in between the churning waters to scoop up bits of bobbing fishy flesh. These beautiful black and white seabirds adopted a Jesus-like approach to the water, at times appearing to literally walk along its surface.
Unfortunately, their quest for fish is proving to be the downfall of seabird populations worldwide. It is estimated that up to 300,000 seabirds (including our own Yelkouan and Cory’s Shearwaters) are killed by longline fishing vessels alone each year, of which 100,000 are albatross. Caught on the multitude of hooks extending from these vessels, they are dragged into the depths of the deep blue, struggling futilely as they drown.
Their plight has drawn attention from conservation groups around the world, and some fisheries are now trying to minimise this by-catch through a range of different measures – but it is increasingly looking like too little, too late for some species. Of course, it’s not just the seabirds which are being killed off in such alarming numbers due to mechanised fisheries, but turtles, whales, dolphins and sharks. It’s worth bearing in mind the next time you order fish at a restaurant, or buy it from the supermarket.
There are a number of websites and even iPhone apps available which let you know if the fish you are eating comes from sustainable fisheries or those that attempt to minimise bycatch.
In front of us, the feeding frenzy was reaching its peak. Albatross beaks whipped huge chunks of fish into the air, while Giant Petrels thrashed and churned the water to get their fill. The Cape Petrels fluttered up and down, narrowly avoiding scything bills as they snatched up the remains. And then, just like that, it was all over.
As a few scales began their long descent into aquatic darkness, the flock settled down and started a far more leisurely clean-up operation – ruffling feathers, dunking heads and doing curious backwards manoeuvres not unlike the moonwalk to get the remains of their feast off their feathers.
Satisfied with their cleanliness, they departed one by one – running clumsily along the water until they were airborne, after which they soared away into the grey horizon.
While this not-to-be-missed avian spectacle was most assuredly the jewel in Kaikoura’s crown, the town has much more to offer. Towering over it is the snow-capped Kaikoura mountain range, with numerous trails to explore.
Whale watching tours depart the port every day to view the resident sperm whales and pods of dusky dolphins, along with killer whales and those leviathans of the deep – the blue whale.
Meanwhile, back on land, a drive along the coast brought us up close and personal with numerous New Zealand fur seal colonies. From the roadside, pups watched us with soulful eyes while belligerent bulls fought each other, occasionally casting hopeful glances at the assembled (and generally disinterested) females.
We also stumbled across the incredible Ohau Falls about 10 minutes from town. This tumbling waterfall was set about one kilometre upstream from the ocean in a lush jungle setting surrounded by ferns. In the pool below, hundreds of Fur Seal pups were busy training for the rigours of life in the open ocean, without fear of being gobbled up by Killer Whales.
Having swum all the way upriver, they spent hours jumping and leaping in the cool waters, chasing leaves (and themselves) around with complete abandon. It was captivating to sit on a mossy rock and watch them at play.
As dusk drew near and cider beckoned we stopped to watch the setting sun blaze out on the horizon. Silhouetted for a moment, a Wandering Albatross hove briefly into view, heading onwards into the open ocean.
One could only imagine where it was off to next as the South Pacific stretched away towards the Antarctic. Then it slipped over the horizon and was gone… and we adopted its namesake and went ‘wandering’ in search of a bar.