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  • Silent hunters on the wetland edge: urban cats and nature conservation

    Silent hunters on the wetland edge: urban cats and nature conservation

    The dark side of the cat

    A cat carrying a bird in its mouth while another cat observes nearby, set in a garden with stone pathways and decorative animal statues.
    Cats doing what cats do.
    Photo by Robert | Visual Diary | Berlin on Unsplash

    In the autumn evening, a cat lies on the fence, with focused eyes and slightly wagging tail, this patient hunter is quietly locking onto a target and preparing to attack.

    Cats are the standard feature in almost neighbourhoods in New Zealand. They are elegant, lazy, affectionate, and sometimes unpredictable. Some of them are pretty welcomed , moving freely around neighbourhoods everyday, accepting feeding and petting.

    Behind these soft furs and friendlypurring, there is an ancient, untamed instinct hidden – hunting. Hunting is not just about hunger. Most cats were are well-fed—some are even fed multiple times a day. Yet, the urge to stalk, chase, and kill remains.

    Travis Wetland: A natural island in the city

    Wetlands, green spaces, and bushes are the last shelter for local plants and animals. These “ecological islands” are often located right next to the communities where we live.

    Travis Wetland is a freshwater ecological oasis, located on the edge of Christchurch. Surrounded by residential areas, roads, and commercial development, it remains a vital refuge for more than 53 species of birds and many native invertebrates.

    Living around this wetland, there are hundreds of free-moving domestic cats living. They can walk through the grass without permission, quietly enter the ecological core area, and become hunters of these small lives.

    A sleek black cat crouches on a wooden fence, focused with its golden eyes, poised as if ready to pounce, surrounded by lush green foliage.
    A Patient Hunter
    Photo by Kristin O Karlsen on Unsplash

    Silent pressure & hidden trail

    It is easy for people to imagine a cat lazily lying in the sun by a windowsill, but what about the other side of their life when they step out the door?

    Over the course of a year, 21 pet cats living near Travis Wetland were installed with GPS collars as part of a study by Lincoln University and the Christchurch City Council. The research, led in part by Shelley Morgan and Adrian Paterson, revealed some surprising results.

    Researchers did not capture many cats with prey in their mouths (although more than a few did bring their prey back to their home). But there were other situations: cats were often visiting the edge of the ecological core of the wetland, where native birds, lizards and insects breed.

    A close-up of a small bird with dark brown feathers and a distinctive long tail, perched on a log in a green and grassy environment.
    Fantail(Rhipidura fuliginosa)
    Photo by Callum Hill on Unsplash

    The cat threat does not necessarily come from killing, sometimes, just “attending” is enough. Birds may abandon their nests if they sense a nearby predator. Lizards may interrupt their mating if they feel targeted. In nature, energy is precious, and fear itself is also consumes energy.

    More than half of the monitored cats entered Travis wetland at least once. Some of them went more than 200 metres into the wetland while their owners sleeping, crossing habitats and breeding areas for rare native lizards, insects and ground-nesting birds.

    More than half of the monitored cats entered Travis Wetland at least once. Some of them went more than 200 metres into the wetland while their owners sleeping, crossing habitats and breeding areas for rare native lizards, insects and ground-nesting birds.

    But not every cat causes the same amount of harm.The study found that younger cats—those under six years old—were more active and risky. They travelled further, spent longer inside the wetland, and brought home more prey. Some even swam across water to reach nesting islands. In contrast, older cats tended to stay near home and moved less.

    A small number of energetic cats were doing most of the damage. Researchers called them “super-predators”. This suggests that cat behaviour and age both matter. While most cats seem harmless, a few individuals can quietly cause serious impacts to local wildlife.

    This means the cat you see curled up by the fireplace in the afternoon may be walking the narrow line between urban life and ecological harm at night. It’s not the cat’s fault, and it’s not your fault, but it’s keep happening.

    A cat with black and white fur is sitting behind a window screen, looking outside. The window frame is made of weathered wood, giving a rustic feel to the scene.
    Cat by the Window
    Photo by Aleksandar Popovski on Unsplash

    Night walkers & tiny bells

    Cats are typical “crepuscular” animals, that is, they are most active in the dawn and dusk. This explains why you see cats running around the living room at 10 pm or staring at the wall at 5 am. They don’t listen to a clock, they listen to the call of instinct.

    Sunset and just after is also the time when many cats go out for their “night patrols”. According to the data from the study’s cat GPS tracking, cats move more frequently and walk farther at night. Some cats hardly go out during the day, only sneaking through the garden and visiting the fields after dark.

    So, what can we do to reduce the impact of out furry friends? Some owners hang small bells on their cats’ collars, hoping that the sound will alert potential prey and give them time to escape. This method seems simple and effective, but the effect actually varies from species to species.

    There is a study by University of Otago have shown that bells have a certain deterrent effect on birds and the study by Geiger shown that have little effect on lizards or insects because they are not sensitive to sound. Also some smart cats can even learn to “walk silently” – so that the bell doesn’t ring at all.

    A black cat peeking from behind a concrete structure, with one green eye visible and a blurred background showing hints of light.
    Nightwalker Cat
    Photo by amir esfahanian on Unsplash

    So, while bells may help a little, they are not a panacea. As with everything in this story, the answers are never simple.

    Draw a ceasefire zone

    Some solutions are simple, and others need some creativity.

    In some parts of New Zealand, there is talk of creating a cat-isolation buffer zones — areas around nature reserves where cats are either required to be kept indoors full-time, or where cats are banned or a curfew(Wellington City Council. 2024) is imposed on cats near reserves (although curfews seem not work for protecting birds or lizards)

    This idea is not to punish cat owners but to protect the most vulnerable parts of the ecosystem. Because may be the problem is that house cats may be found curled up in warm blankets, purring softly, eyes half-closed, and when just hours earlier, those paws may have landed a fatal blow on a small bird, or pinned a native skink to the ground.

    Free-roaming cats in New Zealand are subject to different local management depending on their relationship with humans (such as companion cats, stray cats, and wild cats), but there is currently a lack of unified national laws(Sumner, C. L. 2022).

    Threatened-Nationally Critical Skink: Alborn Skinks(Oligosoma albornense)
    Photo by James Reardon

    Some newly built areas even state in the purchase agreement that cats are not allowed to roam freely, and sometimes even completely prohibit cats(Preston, N. 2023).

    To some people, such regulations may sounds really extreme. But to naturalists, it is a way of respecting boundaries, a quiet commitment to leave even a small area and keep distance for the creatures that have lived here long before we came here.

    We would much rather have this scenario: ‘In the autumn evening, a cat looks out of a window at a fence, with focused eyes and slightly wagging tail, this patient hunter is quietly locking onto a target that it would love to attack. Frustrated, it curls up and goes back to sleep.’

    This article was prepared by Master of Pest Management  postgraduate student Linfeng Yu as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Research paper: Morgan, S. A., Hansen, C. M., Ross, J. G., Hickling, G. J., Ogilvie, S. C., & Paterson, A. M. (2009). Urban cat (Felis catus) movement and predation activity associated with a wetland reserve in New Zealand. Wildlife Research, 36(7), 574–580. https://doi.org/10.1071/WR09023

    References

    Geiger, M., Kistler, C., Mattmann, P., Jenni, L., Hegglin, D., & Bontadina, F. (2022). Colorful Collar-Covers and Bells Reduce Wildlife Predation by Domestic Cats in a Continental European Setting. Frontiers in Ecology and Evolution, 10. https://doi.org/10.3389/fevo.2022.850442

    Housing development near Auckland imposes cat ban to protect wildlife. (n.d.). 1News. Retrieved 5 May 2025, from https://www.1news.co.nz/2021/08/11/housing-development-near-auckland-imposes-cat-ban-to-protect-wildlife/

    Preston, N. (2023, July 1). No cats allowed: Growing number of new neighbourhoods banning pets. Oneroof. https://www.oneroof.co.nz/news/no-cats-allowed-growing-number-of-new-neighbourhoods-banning-pets-43855


    Responsible cat ownership. (2024, October 17). Wellington City Council. https://wellington.govt.nz/dogs-and-other-animals/cats/responsible-cat-ownership


    Sumner, C. L., Walker, J. K., & Dale, A. R. (2022). The Implications of Policies on the Welfare of Free-Roaming Cats in New Zealand. Animals, 12(3), Article 3. https://doi.org/10.3390/ani12030237

  • Burning branches — flammability and shoot architecture

    Burning branches — flammability and shoot architecture

    In mid-February 2017, at about ten at night, I walked out to the street outside my south-Christchurch home and took a photo of the hills to the south-east. A large vegetation fire was stretched across the hills, which were lit black and orange, with strips of flames and glowing smoke. The blaze was at least 4 km away, but the blackness flattened the scene, and the fire and smoke seemed above me almost, and growing. You could almost believe the hills themselves would burn down.

    The Port Hills fire approaches the city. Image by Joe Potter Butler.

    I took that photo on the fourth day of the 2017 Port Hills fire. It took more than 60 further days for the fire to be fully extinguished. A life was lost, 1600 ha of land was burned, and nine houses were destroyed. Like many people in Christchurch, I was left wondering, why did it burn so fiercely and for so long? Why did this ridge burn, but not that gully? Why did some trees recover, and send out new shoots, while others perished?

    Along with floods, earthquakes, and other things, fires like the 2017 Port Hills fire are described as “natural disasters”, but how natural was this fire really? Prior to human settlement — which began around 800 years ago — fire in Aotearoa was rare. NZ was mostly covered in relatively moist, old growth forest. Because of this history, few New Zealand plants are fire-adapted. However, in Aotearoa and globally, wildfires are becoming more damaging and more frequent, threatening life, property, and ecosystems.

    Understanding what plant species burn, how they burn, and why, is crucial to understanding and managing fire risk across the modern Aotearoa landscape. A recent paper sought to investigate these questions and was led by Azhar Alam, with Sarah V. Wyse, Hannah L. Buckley, George L. W. Perry, Xinglei Cui, Jon J. Sullivan, Dylan W. Schwilk, and Timothy J. Curran.

    Most studies have assessed flammability (how easily they burn) of plant species by looking at leaf flammability in isolation. Azhar felt that there were limitations to this approach; that on its own leaf flammability didn’t fully capture how a fire really behaves when burning a plant in the real world.

    The authors preferred to assess shoot flammability. “Shoot” here means the young branch and branchlets of a plant, and all the leaves that are attached. The authors felt that — compared to just leaves — shoot flammability would better describe how a plant ignites and burns, and, in particular, better captures canopy flammability.

    This is important. Canopy flammability strongly influences how easily a fire moves from tree to tree or shrub to shrub. If we want to understand — and even predict! — how a fire might move through a stand of pines, gorse or kānuka, compared to a stand of old growth native forest.

    Aftermath on the Port Hills. Image from Adrian Paterson.

    Rather than just burning the shoots of a bunch of plants and recording the relative flammability of the species, the authors were interested in recording the effect of shoot architecture on flammability. “Architecture” here means how many branches and how tightly branched the twigs and leaves of a shoot are. For example, Kapuka has a few, large leaves with little branching, whereas korokio has many, small leaves and lots of thin, interlacing branchlets.

    The authors collected six shoots each from 65 plant species that you commonly find in  Aotearoa forests and gardens, including 35 indigenous species. 

    For each shoot, a number of leaf and shoot architecture traits were recorded. It was these traits that the authors predicted would show a strong relationship to flammability. The leaf traits recorded were:

    size of the leaves (total area),

    thickness of the leaves,

    leaf surface for each gram of leaf mass,

    dryness of the leaves.

    The shoot architecture traits recorded were:

    “branchiness” of the shoots (measured both as how many “main” branches each shoot has, and also how many branches the shoot has when you count all the branches the main branches have, all the branches those branches have, and all the branches those branches have and so on,

    “twiggyness” of the shoots (measured by twig mass per given volume of shoot),

    proportion of flammable mass (fuel) there is in a given volume of shoot,

    The shoots were all burned on a “plant barbecue” and their flammability was recorded.

    But what exactly is flammability? And how do you measure it?  There are four key factors that determine flammability of plant shoots:

    How quickly do shoots ignite? Ignitability.

    How much heat do they release once alight? Combustibility.

    How long do they burn for? Sustainability.

    How much of each shoot is consumed by the fire? Consumability.

    The results of these burning tests were clear. All shoot architecture traits and leaf traits were strongly related to shoot flammability.

    Among the shoot architecture traits, greater “branchiness” was shown to increase a shoot’s ignitability, consumability, and maximum temperature, while a greater amount of flammable mass (fuel) for a given volume of shoot was shown to increase a shoot’s fire sustainability and consumability.

    Fire glow on the Port Hills. Image by Adrian Paterson.

    Of the leaf traits, leaf dryness was key. In fact, leaf dryness increased all aspects of flammability more than any shoot architecture or leaf trait. Leaf thickness decreased flammability across the board.

    While leaf architecture traits were not as significant as leaf dryness in affecting shoot flammability, they were still significant. Demonstrating their importance is crucial for improving the management of fires and fire risk. Plant traits are already used in fire behaviour models to predict what fires will do.

    Including shoot architecture traits in these models has the potential to improve their power and precision. Understanding what a fire is likely to do gives us the power to change what it will do by planting low-flammability tree species to create fire breaks,  or buffering properties with lawn or pavement. This knowledge will save property, ecosystems, and even lives.

    If you drove through Arthur’s Pass, in the South Island this summer gone (2024-25), you probably drove past the charred and blackened beech trees and snow tussocks near Castle Hill; evidence of a fire that burned through 1,000 hectares of scrub, grassland and forest last December. This is a scene we can expect to see more and more in Aotearoa in the coming decades. Improving our ability to anticipate and manage fires and fire behaviour will only grow in importance as we move further into our new climate future.

    This article was prepared by Master of Science student Joe Potter-Butler as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.









  • Cat conundrum: Conservation, cameras, and capricious companions

    Cat conundrum: Conservation, cameras, and capricious companions

    You are probably well aware of the feral cat issues here in Aotearoa New Zealand and the detrimental impact that cats are causing in our unique whenua (land). However, if you are new here, let me get you up to speed. The popularity of these adorable companions –1,134,000 companion cats and 196,000 strays, to be accurate – has come with a tremendous cost to native wildlife in Aotearoa New Zealand.

    With over a decade of experience in the veterinary industry, I’ve witnessed animal welfare concerns from both perspectives. I’ve seen the devastating impact cats can have on native wildlife, as well as the suffering of unwell, neglected feral cats. This dual perspective made becoming a cat owner myself all the more meaningful, thanks to a foster failure named Professor (pictured below), who quickly stole my heart. After adopting him, it was an easy decision to create a comfortable indoor life for him. Knowing the toll that cats can take on wildlife populations and thinking about his health and safety, it was an obvious decision for me to keep him as an indoor cat. But unfortunately, 196,000 cats in Aotearoa New Zealand do not have the cushy indoor lifestyle that Professor has become accustomed to.

    Learn about what the experts have to say on cat management here: https://predatorfreenz.org/stories/animal-welfare-agencies-views-on-cat-management/

    Professor the foster failure. Original image by Chloe Mc Menamin.

    Now what does the science say about monitoring cats that don’t have a cushy indoor lifestyle? In 2019 a team of scientists at Lincoln University carried out a study to better understand just that. They deployed a camera detection system across two pastoral sites in the Hawke’s Bay region. One system was placed systematically (on a grid) and the other strategically (placement where the researchers believed cat activity would be the highest). Their goal was to compare which camera trap placements would be the most effective method for monitoring feral cat populations. While feral cats are notoriously difficult to detect due to their low densities and cryptic behaviours, these researchers did get some interesting results!

    During a telephone interview, with primary author Dr. Margaret Nichols (Maggie), Maggie cheerfully shared how she began to question the use of her time after processing countless images of hedgehogs enjoying the smell and feel of the ferret pheromones used to lure in the cats. Then things took a surreal turn when she found herself pondering reality itself—prompted by turkeys performing what looked suspiciously like synchronised dances.

    But, dear reader, that wasn’t the only captivating creature caught on camera. No! The top-featured animal was… you guessed it… a sheep! Yes, you read that correctly. A single sheep nearly drove Maggie to madness after it camped out in front of one of her cameras for four entire days, triggering over 500,000 images. Poor Maggie! I’d be pulling the wool from my jumper too if I had to process that many sheep shots. Surprisingly, cats turned out to be the least detected animals of all—truly showcasing their cryptic behaviour and highlighting just how important this research was to carry out.

    Against all odds Maggie and her colleagues persevered – through the thousands of sheep, hedgehogs and dancing turkey’s images to reveal a striking discovery. Camera traps placed at the forest margins detected more cats compared to those in mixed scrub or open farmland. Specifically, at forest margin an average of 3 cats were detected per night at Site 1 (Toronui Station made up of a mixture of open farmland and native forest) and 1.7 cats at Site 2 (Cape to City ecological restoration area). This compelling pattern suggests that strategic placement of cameras in these areas is likely to maximise cat detection. Hats off to Maggie and the team, what a cool discovery.

    Hedgehog self-anointing after contact with the pheromone. Image source Research Gate (Garvey., nd)

    Well, there you have it reader – strategic camera placement at forest margins in the Hawke’s Bay area is the most effective way to monitor feral cats, but this is just the beginning of cat monitoring research in Aotearoa New Zealand. If you are like me and feeling inspired by Maggie and her colleagues’ findings, you might also be wondering where to even start tackling the feral cat population in your local area.

    While science and data are fascinating, the telephone interview with Maggie wisely reminded me that the best part of her research experience were the organisations and the people involved along the way, particularly the Hawke’s Bay Regional Council , Predator Free South Westland, and Lincoln University. She reported that working with various stakeholders made the project not only successful but also deeply rewarding. She also noted that all research projects take more time than you think and to never underestimate the possibility of processing 500,000 sheep photos when doing camera monitoring!

    Image of feral cat caught on camera during study. Orginal image provided by Dr. Margaret Nichols

    What a great reminder that in life it’s not just about success or how long things take; it’s about the experiences and friendships you make along the way. Thank you, Maggie, for sharing that wisdom.

    This article was prepared by Postgraduate Diploma in Applied Science student Chloe McMenamin as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Now reader it is over to you, want to learn more about how you can help? Check out the The National Cat Management Strategy Group, or if you want to learn more about feral cats here in Aotearoa New Zealand check out what the Department of Conservation has to say.

    Read full study here:
    Nichols, M., Ross, J., Glen, A. S., & Paterson, A. M. (2019). An evaluation of systematic versus strategically-placed camera traps for monitoring feral cats in New Zealand. Animals, 9(9), 687. https://doi.org/10.3390/ani9090687

    Image refernce:

    Garvey, P,M. (nd). FigS3: Hedgehog self-anointing after contact with the pheromone/kairomone vial [Supplemental material]. ResearchGate. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/311713979_FigS3_Hedgehog_self-anointing_after_contact_with_the_pheromone_kairomone_vial

  • The munchy mountain mystery of the lost bark beetle!

    The munchy mountain mystery of the lost bark beetle!

    Have you ever bitten into a slice of bread, only to find out that it’s gone mouldy? Yuck! But what causes mould, and how does it spread? This was a mystery solved by scientists in the 1800s.

    Fungal branches. CC BY-SA 4.0 Rafał Szczerski

    Mould in bread is caused by a fungus (fungi for multiple). Fungi are made of many tiny branches that grow into a huge maze. These branches reach out to find food from the environment around them; the branches spread from a central point to search for food at the edges. As resources run low, the middle of the fungus dies, creating an expanding ring of live branches. There are many types of fungi out there, and mould is one type that we try to avoid when we store our fruit, vegetables, and bread. When scientists discovered fungi, they solved one mystery, but there are new questions to be answered.

    One mystery involves a type of insect that loves to eat fungi: beetles! Specifically, beetles in the group called Brontini. These little guys eat fungi when they are larvae (baby beetles before they’ve become adults). Usually, the these larvae eat fungi under the bark of trees, but recently a special Brontini beetle was found. This beetle, called Protodendrophagus antipodes by scientists, lives up in the mountains of New Zealand, above the treeline in the alpine zone. Protodendrophagus antipodes is a long name, so we’ll call them Anti.

    Anti (Protodendrophagus antipodes) larva. Photo credit: John Marris.

    Anti are special for more than one reason. First, they live way up in the cold alpine area, which is a harsh environment to live in. The freezing temperatures and dry environment even stop trees from growing there! Second, every other species of Brontini beetle feeds on fungi under tree bark. Confusingly, the area where Anti lives doesn’t have these fungi. Since it’s too high up the mountain for trees to grow, there’s no fungi under tree bark for the beetles to munch on. And so, one group of enthusiastic scientists decided to figure out what these little guys eat. Let’s meet our investigators!

    Our team is made up of three skilled diet detectives: John Marris (“The Mastermind”) – the strategic leader who knows the ins and outs of beetles; David Hawke (“The Brains”) – a science whiz with a flair for chemistry; and David Glenny (“The Sidekick”) – your friendly neighbourhood plant expert. Together, the team solved the mini mystery in the mountains: where is the food for Anti?

    Lichen on rock. CC BY 4.0 Caleb Catto

    In 2018, the team went into the Southern Alps on an exciting trip to examine the scene and gather more evidence. They found two very important clues. First, there were lots of lichens in the areas where the beetles live. Second, sometimes the beetles lived where there wasn’t anything else to eat. I bet you can guess what our prime menu suspect is!

    You’ve probably seen lichens around, though you may not have known what they were. Lichens grow on trees and rocks, but they’re not just one species; lichens are an example of a “symbiotic relationship”. This is when two organisms work together to boost each other’s chance of survival. In this case, the organisms work so closely together that the lichen itself is actually made up of both species! The body of the lichen is a strong skeleton built from fungus. Inside that skeleton live algae, plant-like organisms that can use the sun to make food. In this way, the fungus keeps the algae safe, and the algae feed the fungus. Win win! Cha-ching!

    Spores from a fungus. CC BY 4.0 Aurora Storlazzi

    Since lichens are made up of fungi, this seemed like a pretty good place for our detectives to start. Every good private eye needs evidence to make their case. Thankfully, our clever detectives saw a way to test their theory: the stomach contents of the beetles! They collected some Anti as “evidence” and looked at the food in their stomachs. Inside they found spores that came from a lichen fungus.

    “What is a spore?” you may ask. Remember that maze of branches that make up a fungus? Well, sometimes the branches can’t find enough food for the fungus to eat. If that happens, the fungus has a new strategy to survive: spores! These are little circular pieces of fungus that can spread to new areas and find the fungus a better home.

    CC BY 4.0 Luis Prado

    But their work wasn’t done yet: the detectives found more than just lichen spores in their beetle stomachs. They also found a whole bunch of mystery food which they couldn’t identify. The scientists needed to confirm that lichens really are the only food eaten by Anti. So, the scientists put their thinking hats on and decided to find a new way to solve this puzzle. They chose to use an approach called the “stable isotope test”.

    An isotope is a special form of elements, such as nitrogen and carbon, and organisms at the bottom of the food chain absorb them from the environment. If an animal eats something, then the isotopes of the animal should be pretty similar to its food.To solve this mystery, the scientists tested the isotopes of Anti and all of the potential foods in the area. A good detective looks at all the possible solutions, so they tested the soil, the mosses, the lichens, the tiny mountain plants, and even a type of spider.

    At last, the detective work was done. Their test showed just what we’re all thinking: the Anti beetle really does eat lichen. The link was so clear that David Hawke called it a “textbook example” of the test in action. The scientists were very excited because lichen-eating is pretty rare for beetles.

    After all their investigation, the detectives could finally declare: “case closed!” Now we have a new mystery: how do these beetles survive in the extreme cold of the alpine zone?

    This article was prepared by Master of Science student Heidi Allan as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

  • To bait, or not to bait…: wētā foraging and brodifacoum

    To bait, or not to bait…: wētā foraging and brodifacoum

    I am lucky that my parents live right down the road from the Brook Waimārama Sanctuary. This 690 hectare fenced sanctuary is home to many native species and is about to be home to 40 spotted kiwis (Exciting!!!!). Within this Sanctuary there are “wētā hotels” that offers a haven for wētā, although I have also seen a giant leopard slug in there as well. I often visit the Sanctuary, it has a lot of history and diversity. Sanctuaries offer a safe space for vulnerable native species away from large predators. The surrounding predator-proof fence keeps the bad things out and the good things in. Unfortunately, the rest of New Zealand isn’t exactly pest free, with a lot of our native species being hunted down every day by introduced pests.

    Predator Free 2050 is an exciting goal that is only 25 years away. With our unique flora and fauna, why wouldn’t we want our beautiful country to be predator free? Predator Free 2050 has a focus on removing several pest species (rats, mustelids and possums). Pest Free Banks Peninsula (PFBP) is a local project focused on protecting our beautiful coast, islands and land within Banks Peninsula. PFBP has several methods and tools to eradicate and monitor pests. A common toxin used by PFBP is brodifacoum.

    File:Female tree weta on tree fern.jpg
    A Tree Weta (Image from Avenue , 2010, CC BY S.A 3.0)

    There are concerns about whether toxins, specifically brodifacoum, is killing our native species. These tasty but deadly treats are targeted at mammalian pests, but native invertebrates have also been munching away at the cereal baits that contain the toxin when they come across it. Brodifacoum-laced baits became a popular pest control toxin in the 1990s.

    Quail Island is an island found near Lyttelton. The original vegetation was believed to be a broadleaf-podocarp forest, a rare forest type seen only in small areas around New Zealand. Since 1998 volunteers have been working at restoring the native ecology of the island by regularly planting native trees and targeting pests with toxins. Evidence of native birds breeding would be a good indication that restoration efforts are working and that pest control can make Quail Island a place where native species can flourish.

    Two tree wētā spotted in a wētā hotel at the Brook Waimārama Sanctuary (Photo taken by Author: Kayla Valentine)

    Brodifacoum bait has been used on Quail Island. It is highly effective at reducing mammalian pests. Its purpose on Quail Island was to stop reintroduction of rodents. Due to Quail Island being close to the mainland, mammalian pest are able to cross over at low tide. This slow invasion prevents Quail Island from being completely predator free.

    On Quail Island the brodifacoum baits were found to have been nibbled by wētā and other invertebrates! This discovery flustered scientists. How many other native invertebrates have yet to be identified for consuming the bait?

    This discovery led to increasing concern for our wētā species, many endangered or threatened. How many have died due to our toxic baits?

    A monitoring tool showing possible wētā trails within the Brook Waimārama Sanctuary (Photo taken by Author: Kayla Valentine)

    Studies focused on invertebrate consumption of baits have primarily used baits containing 1080. The studies that involve brodifacoum have also only focused on short-term effects (14-21 days) and one-off consumption of the bait. These hungry invertebrates are likely going for more than one course of their bait snack.

    Mike Bowie and James Ross wanted to determine whether wētā were regularly consuming these forbidden snacks and whether they would survive when they did. They tested in the field and did a laboratory experiment too. The laboratory experiment consisted of wētā being fed either baits with or without brodifacoum and then monitored for 60 days for insect mortality. The field test involved monitoring traps around Quail Island for invertebrate activity.

    Unfortunately, the wētā were hungry. For the field test they found that wētā and invertebrates would line up and wait their turn to eat! The wētā had distinct bite patterns when eating the bait, compared to pests such as mice. Wētā bite marks were easy to identify. In the laboratory test there was no significant difference in mortality of wētā (50% survived that were fed bait, 71% survived that were fed the control ). Mike and James determined more research was needed to be done in order for results to be more conclusive.

    Quail Island from the Peninsula at low tide. (Image from Greg Hewgill, 2006, CC BY 2.0, Flickr)

    So, what does that tell us exactly? The baiting methods we use to get rid of the bad things are also attracting the good things! Our native species are eating the toxins we are using to remove the pests that are eating our native species! We need to find a compromise, a less risky option for our often overlooked native invertebrates.

    Brodifacoum is also a risk to birds’ species! If a bird eats an invertebrate that has eaten brodifacoum, they will be affected by the poison as well. Joanne Hoare and Kelly Hare agree with this and suggest using non-toxic or less toxic methods for pests to protect native species. There seems to be a common theme with studies done on brodifacoum… its toxic for every species! There are several concerns, not just about birds and wētā consuming the bait but many other invertebrates and species consuming it as well.

    So, to bait or not to bait? Mike Bowie and James Ross showed that although there were no significant differences in mortality through the laboratory test, the wētā were eating the bait in the field test and laboratory test. I believe that in order to protect our native species, a less toxic baiting method should be considered. This will reduce long-term harm to species such as wētā. All though brodifacoum is highly successful at getting rid of pests, it can also harm other species. If there are other methods that reduce that risk, we should start with those methods then move to toxic baits as a last resort option on ecologically sensitive areas, such as Quail Island.

    The author, Kayla Valentine, is a postgraduate student in the Postgraduate Diploma of Science at Te Whare Wānaka o Aoraki Lincoln University. This article was written as an assessment for ECOL 608 Research Methods in Ecology.

  • Wings of change: Protecting parrots where they belong

    Wings of change: Protecting parrots where they belong

    I had always wanted a parrot as a kid.

    My obsession was inspired by Meena, a Bangladeshi animated TV series created by UNICEF, where the protagonist, Meena, had a clever parrot named Mithu who could speak and even help with homework from school. In the very first episode, Meena wishes to go to school, but her parents don’t think it is worth educating a female, a sad reality in many Asian countries, even now.

    Determined to learn, Meena finds a creative solution: Mithu goes to class for her, memorising the lessons and teaching her later. Having grown up with this story and often seeing parrots caged in people’s houses, I had subconsciously believed that parrots were meant to be pets, friends to humans rather than untamed animals.

    That belief was shattered the first time I saw a flock of parrots flying freely in the jungle. As I saw them calling to one another, I came to see that they were more than simply colourful birds living in cages; they had families, friendships, and a world of their own.

    And then another surprising revelation struck me: Mithu wasn’t even a parrot; he was a parakeet! I discovered the distinction during my first birdwatching trip as an undergraduate. In that moment, I realised how early influences, particularly those from television, can shape, and sometimes mislead our views of the natural world.

    Indian Rose-Ringed Parakeet
    A caged rose-ringed parakeet © Geoff McKay / Flickr

    This memory came flooding back as I read about kea (Nestor notabilis), a playful and highly intelligent alpine parrot of New Zealand. Unlike the caged parakeets of Nepal, kea are renowned for their curious nature, a trait that has both fascinated and frustrated humans. Kea are unique among parrots. Their sharp intelligence and flexibility have allowed them to survive in the harsh alpine conditions of the South Island of New Zealand.

    Using observations in a plantation-native forest matrix, a team of researchers led by Aitken in 2023 conducted a study in the Whakatipu Kā Tuka (Dart-Rees Watershed) area and discovered that kea were commonly seen in plantation forests. These birds, although strongly associated with alpine and native forest habitats, spent a surprising amount of time in exotic plantation woods, probably because these managed landscapes offered new foraging options.

    Aitken also tracked individual kea and mapped their home range and habitat use using VHF (Very High Frequency) radio transmitters that were attached to three individuals as lightweight backpacks. This method confirmed the keas’ active usage of plantation forests, not only for foraging but also as part of their usual range, and helped to better understand how they navigate various settings over time.

    This kind of fine-scale tracking is relatively new for kea and adds an important layer to our understanding of their behaviour in human-modified landscapes. However, it is worth noting that catching wild kea for such work is not a small feat – thanks to their sharp beaks and mischievous personalities!

    Kea
    A kea in its natural habitat CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 fremat/Flickr

    Kea are opportunistic omnivores that consume a wide variety of foods, ranging from seeds, native fruits, nectar, to even meat from dead animals. Jodanne Aitken, a PhD student at Lincoln University, found that although kea frequently fed on seeds from Pinus radiata trees in plantation forests, their poop told a fuller story. The faeces was full of insects and other invertebrates, showing just how flexible and opportunistic their diet really is. In plantation forests, they take advantage of exotic tree species and the insects that come with them.

    In contrast to many birds that avoid human-dominated landscapes, kea seem to do OK in them; curious and always eager to explore.The study also found that kea were more active in the morning and that their behavior changes with seasons, possibly linked to food availability or breeding. What’s truly fascinating is how their sharp intelligence allows them to survive not just in harsh alpine conditions, but also learn how to make the most out of new environments, like the pine plantations.

    Jodanne in action detecting kea. Image by Adrian Paterson

    Just like Mithu, the parakeet from my childhood who memorized lessons for Meena, kea are constantly learning from their surroundings. It is this intelligence, combined with their bold and exploratory nature that makes them such incredible survivors.

    While plantation forests provide new foraging grounds, they may also expose kea to new threats. This raises a vital question: are we simply giving kea new places to forage, or are we asking them to survive in habitats that may not fully meet their needs? Human-modified landscapes, while rich in opportunity, also bring risks such as increased exposure to toxins like lead or conflict with people. These findings offer hope for kea resilience in human-altered habitats, while also informing future forest management practices.

    On the other hand, the parakeets of Nepal, such as the Alexandrine and Rose-ringed parakeets, are often kept as pets, and their social skills and intellect are used for human entertainment rather than for their survival. The thought of birds with such intricate habits and close social ties being denied their natural life saddens me.

    Wild parakeets form large flocks, communicating and interacting in their own ways across wide-ranging Himalayan landscapes. Unfortunately, they face growing threats from habitat loss due to urban expansion, deforestation and especially the illegal pet trade. In fact, both Alexandrine and Rose-ringed parakeets are among the most commonly trapped and sold birds in south Asia. Without stronger awareness and conservation action, their role as seed dispersers and forest connectors may be lost.

    While it is heartbreaking to see parakeets in cages, it is crucial to remember that simply releasing pet birds into the wild isn’t the solution. Doing so can introduce diseases to native bird populations or create invasive species that disrupt ecosystems, as has happened in parts of the world where feral parrot colonies now compete with native wildlife. The real solution is prevention: parrots should never be taken from the wild in the first place. Instead, our focus should be on protecting their habitats and fostering respect for their role in nature.

    What if we saw Nepal’s parakeets not as possessions but as individuals with a right to freedom? Kea, despite facing habitat loss and human-wildlife conflicts, still roam wild, adapting to changing landscapes. Their ability to explore, learn, and interact with their environment is a reminder of what many of Nepal’s parakeets have lost.

    An AI generated image of Nepal’s parakeet and New Zealand’s kea in their natural habitat © OpenAI

    Kea’s willingness to venture into plantation forests for sustenance demonstrates their adaptability, but they are not immune to human pressures. Habitat changes, exposure to toxins, and climate change are pushing their predators higher into alpine zones, creating new challenges for their survival.

    Meanwhile parakeets in Nepal often face shrinking natural habitats with fewer options for survival. While kea find new ways to navigate a changing world, Nepal’s parakeets are being held back by cages or by degraded ecosystems. If we could foster the same appreciation for the natural behaviors of our own native birds, perhaps we could shift away from the practice of caging them and towards efforts that protect their wild populations.

    Kea are naughty, sometimes destructive, but ultimately, they are wild; free to roam and explore. Nepal’s parakeets deserve the same fate. Instead of keeping them as pets, we should prioritize protecting their habitats, enabling them to play and be curious in the Himalayan forests of Nepal. The lesson is clear: birds, whether in Nepal or New Zealand, belong in the sky, not behind bars.

    This article was prepared by Master of Science student Naresh Shrestha as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Read full research article here:
    Aitken, J., Paterson, A., Ross, J., Orr-Walker, T., & Young, L. (2023). A preliminary study of kea (Nestor notabilis) habitat use and diet in plantation forests of Nelson, New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Zoology. https://doi.org/10.1080/03014223.2023.2251904

  • Keeping up with the Kiwis: Translocations and their forever holiday homes

    Keeping up with the Kiwis: Translocations and their forever holiday homes

    New Zealanders, also known as the ‘kiwis’, are known for tramping up great mountains, and travelling around the globe. For the actual kiwi bird, their adventures are limited to islands and protected environments. Even our New Zealand mascot, Goldie the kiwi, manages to ‘fly’ all around the world, which I’m sure would make the national birds jealous.

    That’s not to say that actual kiwi don’t get around. Our national icon is the most translocated bird in New Zealand. We have been translocating kiwi since not long after the Treaty of Waitangi (1840) due to predation and habitat loss, often with limited success. When we try our hardest to save populations through transfers, most or all birds die. So, we created protected (fenced) sanctuaries that allow a safe environment for kiwi and other native species to thrive. But after decades of conservation work and relocating kiwis out of their homes to a safer habitat, are they truly happy in their new homes?

    Fenced Sanctuary – Zealandia. Image by Russellstreet

    Methods for successful translocations have been developed. Methods, including the introduction of Operation Nest Egg (ONE), allows the hatching chicks to become mature before releasing into the wild. These methods has required the involvement of community groups, iwi and hapū. However… there are no resources that include information from past kiwi translocations, so we don’t know the past outcomes, whether they were effective, or how to improve them — which is wild!

    Researchers at Lincoln University, Peter Jahn and James Ross, and other colleagues reviewed 102 kiwi translocation projects (mainly from the last four decades — older information having been lost or ‘poorly documented’), and they examined the mitigation translocations and rehabilitation releases. But how do you define a ‘successful’ translocation?

    We can’t assume that if we release birds into a new environment that everything will magically lead to success. We must investigate if the kiwi population can settle in, grow in numbers and maintain a healthy balance on their own for it to succeed long-term. The primary goal of translocations is to “establish or restore a population with a high probability of persistence”. Unfortunately, kiwi behaviours have made it hard to grow a population, as they are irregular breeders and take several years to reach sexual maturity.

    To address this, objectives were set for releases:

    • To grow all kiwi populations by at least 2% per year.
    • To sustain genetic diversity, each translocation will have at least 40 unrelated individuals released (a ‘founder population’).
    • A minimum timeframe of 15 years is required for the population to grow (and adapt to its new environment).

    By collecting data and analysing the translocation trends over the decades, we can better understand how different projects affect the survival of kiwi taxa.

    Stewart Island Brown Kiwi (Tokoeka). Image by Jake Osborne

    Since 1863, there have been 102 translocations, with an impressive 76 kiwi translocations just in the last 20 years. Translocated kiwi species included: Rowi, Great Spotted Kiwi, Little Spotted Kiwi, Tokoeka, and Brown Kiwi. Most of the release sites (63% since the 1860s) were in the North Island or on offshore islands (sorry Lincoln — too much farmland). However, 20 of these projects’ reports do not exist or are unavailable. But here’s what is fascinating… just over half of the translocations (58%) introduced kiwi taxa where they were not seen before (a giant leap of ‘kiwi-kind’)!

    In the past, effects to reduce harm for the kiwi were deemed as an ‘emergency’ to secure populations. Recent translocations cited ecological restoration and supporting kiwi taxa across different areas as a priority (which supports natural differences, and resilience – perfect for long-term conservation outcomes)!

    Unfortunately, not all kiwi species have received the same level of attention. Those with more attention are spoilt with support (more management) and obtain an improvement in their conservation status. Other kiwi species are not as lucky, such as the Great Spotted Kiwi, Fiordland Tokoeka and Rakiura Tokoeka, as their conservation status has worsened. So even though translocation effort aims for an improvement in kiwi populations, other factors, such as population sizes and lack of predator control, make this already difficult job… even more challenging.

    If you look at past scientific literature on initial survival of released birds, these translocations will be reported as ‘successful’, which seems good, right? But are they ‘self-sustaining populations’? Only one project (Zealandia) has been considered as ‘successful’ due to having an increased population. Even worse…. there is little information on the genetic make-up of the new population (which defeats the purpose of becoming a long-term project).

    Little Spotted kiwi at Zealandia. Image by Kimberley Collins

    For future translocations, the number of releases should be adjusted (by changing the total number kiwi released in a specific area) depending on the situation — for example, when there is a low founder population, or a high mortality rate. If a population is not looked after, this can result in reduced fitness and genetic variability. Having a database that holds the records of all the kiwi translocations would make it easier to analyse the factors that could influence kiwi populations.

    So, what does the future hold for kiwi translocations? The main recovery goal, which was “restoring former distributions of all kiwi taxa”, has shown an increase in populations through translocations. Translocations have created new populations on islands, which can “fill in the gaps” in nature, which is a huge win! Guidelines suggest releasing 40 kiwi into a new population and that they are not related to the ‘founder population’ (this number can vary depending on specific factors to maintain high diversity).

    As translocations start from newly established populations, it’s only through time that we will see if kiwi populations can further grow and maintain sufficient genetic diversity.

    This article was prepared by Master of Science student Jessica Przychodzko as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Jahn, P., Fernando Cagua E., Molles, L. E., Ross, J. G., & Germano, J .M. (2022). Kiwi translocation review: are we releasing enough birds and to the right places? New Zealand Journal of Ecology, 46(1): 3454. https://dx.doi.org/10.20417/nzjecol.46.1

  • Forests from grass: natural regeneration of woody vegetation on hill farms

    Forests from grass: natural regeneration of woody vegetation on hill farms

    If you’ve spent any amount of time travelling around Aotearoa New Zealand, you will have noticed the abysmal amount of forest trees in much of our country. Pre-human New Zealand was almost entirely covered in indigenous forest. You may have heard that statement before, but let’s just appreciate it for a second. 96% of the North Island and 72% of the South used to be lush with native podocarps, hardwoods, broadleaves, and beech trees. 

    Over the course of our relatively short history, we eventually destroyed a massive 14 million hectares of indigenous forest to make way for housing, industry, and farms. We were particularly keen on clearing drier and more arable regions like Canterbury and Central Otago, which have lost nearly 90% of their original vegetation. 

    By 2002, only a quarter of that indigenous vegetation remained. Don’t get me wrong, I like living here, that people can make money here, and I like eating fresh food. But, damn, I also like breathing oxygen…

    In all seriousness, native trees play much more important roles than that. Native forests can protect us from wildfires, help us avoid droughts, increase soil, water, and air quality, reduce erosion, and provide habitat for unique native species that do their part in making all of these ecosystem services available to us. As well as that, the land itself, the rugged forests, and activities like hiking through native trees forms part of our cultural identity, not to mention a reasonable chunk of our tourism industry.

    What’s more, our native forests store an incredible amount of carbon – an estimated 1.7 billion tonnes.

    In order for New Zealand to transition to a low-emissions economy and reach its climate change targets by 2050, we need to plant a lot more trees …up to 2.8 million hectares’ worth. The Productivity Commission suggested that most of this land could come from marginal farmland. As it turns out, there is an estimated 2.8 million hectares’ worth of suitable hill country that could be converted to forest. Hill country is essentially steep slopes at higher altitudes. It’s referred to as ‘marginal’ farmland because the economic gains are quite low compared to other landscapes. Steeper gradients are prone to erosion, and high-altitude climates don’t always lend themselves to agricultural productivity.

    Steep slopes at high altitudes are key characteristics of New Zealand’s hill country (own photo).

    So, how do we go about converting hill country farmland into a thriving native forest? Pedley, McWilliam, and Doscher discuss the factors that we must take into account.

    Hill country revegetation projects are tough for the same reasons as hill country farming is tough, there are costs associated with buying nursery-raised seedlings and then planting on difficult terrain. As Pedley and colleagues suggest, the cheaper alternative is to simply let nature do its thing. Allowing forests to regenerate naturally is a form of passive or minimal interference management (MIM). Landowners, especially farmers, are among the most well-placed in the country to protect and expand our country’s native forest cover, and MIM is an attractive solution to the costs.

    When it comes to revegetating farmland, Pedley and colleagues point out two major considerations.

    One difficulty is that pasture grasses often suppress native seeds from establishing, so it’s important to help the seeds get a head start. The easiest way to do this is with nurse crops, which shade out the grass, shelter the natives, and protect them from browsers (particularly possums and ungulates, like deer and goats). Nurse crops can be exotic or indigenous shrubs and trees, and even existing weeds, like gorse, can be made useful. This is because NZ natives generally prefer to start out in the shade, eventually growing tall enough to overgrow the nurse crops.

    Next is the issue of livestock that can be detrimental to natural regeneration. It does depend on which livestock species you have and which tree species are regenerating. Cattle can be extremely destructive to new plants, paddocks, and pre-existing vegetation. Sheep, on the other hand, don’t really seem to make a difference, though they tend to snack on broadleaved species that are a necessity for a healthy forest ecosystem.

    Cattle should be reduced or excluded entirely from a revegetating area. Sheep can be reduced or excluded until there are a good amount of established seedlings, which usually aren’t as palatable to them. Just don’t forget to also keep out those pesky possums and unwelcome ungulates.

    Cattle can be destructive to pastures and newly planted vegetation (“Cow Path to the Forest” by Tristan Schmurr, CC BY 2.0)

    The most important part of natural regeneration is that the seeds have to come from somewhere. This means that the existing native vegetation on your property is one of your most important assets. This is the ‘passive’ part of the process and the money-saver, because you won’t need to buy seeds or establish nurse crops – the trees have got it covered. The native trees will shade out the grass in the space directly adjacent, enabling the seeds to gain a foothold and gradually expand the forest. Fencing off this area, or the paddock the trees are in, is enough to start the process.

    A fair warning though: promoting natural regeneration with MIM can be slow, particularly through grazed pasture. Pedley and colleagues detected an annual regeneration rate of 0.2% from 2003 to 2019 at a southern Banks Peninsula station. At a time when New Zealand desperately needs to plant more trees, MIM is one of the ways landowners with limited resources can contribute, though more active management strategies will speed up the process. For example, consider pest management to exclude browsers (e.g. trapping, hunting, or fencing) and supplementary planting, especially if your remnant vegetation is limited to a few individual trees or species.

    Policy and the barriers to getting involved

    Finally, especially for those of us in the political and conservation sectors, I think it is our responsibility to encourage native tree planting among landowners, while understanding their barriers to doing so.

    The most obvious barrier in converting farmland to forestry is the loss of income, however minor it is. Landowners meeting certain land and forest requirements may be eligible to participate in the New Zealand Emissions Trading Scheme (NZ ETS). With one hectare of ten-year-old forest, you might earn anything from 8-24 NZU per year, depending on the tree species. If sold at $58 per NZU, that’s an annual income of $464-$1392 per year – for essentially leaving the land alone. These figures grow as the forest matures, and with better policy, these figures could grow even more.

    Our policies currently favour exotics over natives, and plantations over constantly-regenerating forest. Not all models consider the amount of carbon stored in the forest understory, which is much denser and richer in a native forest compared to a pine forest. New evidence shows that native ecosystems store much more carbon than previously thought, and over a much greater period of time than pine species.

    Another barrier to entry is our individualistic culture around climate change action. Many sheep and beef farmers report that pro-biodiversity action is not necessarily about a lack of resources, but the belief that their actions don’t benefit their own farms, or that they aren’t helpful in the bigger picture. It’s important that we change this mindset, because 89% of New Zealand’s emissions are created by our primary industries.

    MIM cuts costs, but adding more trees to your property and protecting them not only benefits the landowner and the immediate environment, but also the rest of the country. It benefits the natural resources on which we all rely, stabilises the landscape, and protects us from fires and droughts. Natural regeneration of natives results in improved biodiversity outcomes, with higher richness and abundance of plants, birds and invertebrates, which not only make all of this possible, but also make the system sustainable. This means that landowners can cut costs in the long run by working with nature, using its natural characteristics and processes to their advantage.

    In any case, growing a forest on a farm is not an overnight process

    It requires a lot of patience, but those who are able to encourage native regrowth are safeguarding the country’s biodiversity and resources for all of us, and contributing to our sustainability. Native forests hold a much more strategic long-term position in the bid to plant more trees, and hill country farmers are the most well-placed to allow their regeneration.

    Perhaps one day we will have the privilege of living and working alongside the lush and bustling forests that once supported us, as we learn to support them.

    Mature beech forest (own photo).

    This article was prepared by Master of Science student Sarah Gabites as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Based on the article by Pedley, D., McWilliam, W. and Doscher, C. (2023). Forests from the grass: natural regeneration of woody vegetation in temperate marginal hill farmland under minimum interference management. Restoration Ecology 31:3. https://doi.org/10.1111/rec.13852

  • What went wrong with Himalayan tahrs in New Zealand?  

    What went wrong with Himalayan tahrs in New Zealand?  

    How would you feel if an animal deeply respected and protected in your homeland was treated as a trophy animal and hunted in another country for being invasive? I was heartbroken to discover the fate of Himalayan tahrs when I first arrived here in New Zealand.

    A proud Sherpa with Chhomolungma (Mt. Everest) in the background (Hey! He looks exactly like the author of this blog!!!) Photo: ©Author

    Being from a native Sherpa community in the Khumbu region (popularly known to the world as The Everest region), I grew up roaming around the high alpine environment of the Himalayas. The region lies in the Sagarmatha National Park and Buffer Zone (SNPBZ) and is home to majestic mountains including the highest peak in the world, Khangri Chhomolungma (Mt. Everest in English), as well as stunning rugged terrains, glaciers, lakes and diverse flora and fauna.

    A photo of male Himalayan Tahr taken on the way to Everest base camp trail Photo: ©Author

    The Khumbu region is habitat to many endangered wild animals including snow leopards, musk deer and red pandas. Due to its rugged environment and mountain slopes, the region is also a suitable native habitat of the Himalayan tahr (Hamitragus jemlahicus). We call them “Ri Rau” in Sherpa language meaning “Wild Goat”.

    A herd of Himalayan Tahr seen on the way to Everest Base Camp Trail Photo: ©Author

    I was around 6-7 years old when I first saw a herd of the Himalayan tahrs grazing on the hills near my hometown Lukla while walking with my father. I remember watching and admiring them for hours hiding behind a rock. I was immediately mesmerized by their presence. The male stood out with their glossy thick brown coat of straight hair as if they came straight out of a salon, with strong dark horns surrounded by the females and their young ones. I was especially stunned by their ability to move confidently and swiftly across the rocky slopes. That moment still relives fresh in my memory. Since then, whenever I saw them, I always paused for a moment to admire their elegance and capturing the moments for memories.

    The Himalayan tahr is currently listed as Near threatened on the IUCN Red list. In their native habitat they are mostly predated by common leopards and snow leopards. Due to anthropogenic activities such as habitat loss and illegal poaching, their population have been declining, and they are now protected in their native Himalayan environments.

    When I first arrived in New Zealand, I discovered that the Himalayan tahrs are considered as invasive species, and they are hunted for recreational purpose in the country. I was really surprised by this as they are protected in the region that I come from. After doing some digging, I found out that the Himalayan tahrs were introduced in New Zealand in the early days of European settlements for sport, gifted by Duke of Bedford to help with recreational hunting option for emigrating Englishmen and released near the Hermitage at Mt Cook in 1909. As New Zealand doesn’t have any natural predators of Himalayan Tahrs, their population escalated rapidly reaching a population size of tens of thousands over the Southern Alps.

    A Trophy Hunted Tahr
    Photo: Image generated by ChatGPT (DALL-e) by OpenAI

    The Department of Conservation of New Zealand (DOC) has been working on Himalayan Tahr population control since 1993 under the Himalayan Tahr Control Plan (DOC, 1993: HTCP) which allows limited population of around 10,000 tahrs within the seven defined management units. However, the tahr population has grown beyond the limitation of management plan in recent years, making it difficult to control them. The HTCP also includes a defined feral range to contain their population and permits farming or holding in game estates for commercial hunting only within the designated range.

    A report from Lincoln University, conducted in 2020 by Geoff Kerr, Garry Ottmann and Fraser Cunningham studied the potential for containing tahrs in game estates outside their feral range to reduce demand on the wild tahr resource as recommended by the Game Animal Council (GAC, 2014). Three GPS tracked male tahrs were released in the High Peak Game Estate on 19th December 2018 to monitor their behavior and movement pattern inside the enclosure over a twelve-month period. While one tahr died of unknown causes, the remaining two were kept there until 24th December 2019. The study was done on the hypothesis that tahr containment within a game estate outside of their feral range would be successful.

    The trial was successful showing that Himalayan thar can be effectively contained in game estates outside their feral range. GPS data showed minimal fence interaction, and the tahrs quickly adapted to their new territory. Most boundary activity occurred during the breeding season. The study also suggested potential for larger scale commercial operations due to their herding behaviour.

    Despite extensive research and ongoing control efforts, Himalayan tahr continues to threaten New Zealand’s native biodiversity by heavily grazing on tussocks, alpine herbs, and shrubs, plants that have no evolutionary history of mammalian herbivory, thereby disrupting the natural ecological balance.

    This problem also raises a serious question of human intervention with nature. More than wondering how to manage tahr populations, I find myself asking: What are they even doing here in the first place? Himalayan tahr has become invasive in New Zealand because people introduced them here without realizing its future consequences and it has backfired us, leaving us to manage the aftermath of our own decisions.

    Witnessing the realities of a Himalayan tahr changing from a revered mountain dweller in my homeland to trophy hunted invasive species in New Zealand, has been an emotional and eye-opening experience for me. Looking at the conservation dilemma of tahrs between two different countries has challenged my perception and shown how the value of wildlife depends on the context. The Himalayan tahr’s journey, much like my own, has crossed oceans and adapted well into the new environment but the only difference is that the tahrs didn’t choose to come here. The Himalayan tahr’s story is a very powerful reminder of how human actions can disrupt the natural ecosystem. As someone who grew up admiring their beauty in the Himalayas, I hope their fate improves in the future.

    The author, Ngima Chhiri Sherpa, is a postgraduate student in the Master of Applied Science (Environmental Management) at Te Whare Wānaka o Aoraki Lincoln University. This article was written as an assessment for ECOL 608 Research Methods in Ecology.

    ​Paper Reference: Kerr, G. N. ., Ottmann, Garry., & Cunningham, Fraser. (2020). Himalayan tahr on game estates outside the tahr feral range. Centre for Land, Environment & People, Lincoln University. https://digitalnz.org/records/44715317 

  • Kiwi Hedgehogs : A Journey of Curiosity and Connection

    Kiwi Hedgehogs : A Journey of Curiosity and Connection

    Curiosity often starts with a sense of wonder and a desire to understand the world around us. If you are a parent, I hope you have noticed and observed this in your children. Their endless questions and fascination with the world are a beautiful reminder of the joy and excitement that comes with learning and discovery.

    I have four lovely daughters, among them four-year-old Arshifa Gul is a bundle of curiosity and always gives me a tough time replying to all her unexpected questions. She also loves watching animated movies, stories and travelling. Back in 2023, I took her to the Pakistan Museum of Natural History for the first time. She was shocked by seeing the animal models and skeleton structures, especially the huge dinosaurs and their roaring, Asiatic lions and their growling, and the realistic models of sharks and dolphins. At first, she was quiet, observing closely, making sure they couldn’t attack. Then, her surprising questions began. “Why is the dolphin here? Who made the dinosaur roar? How did they get so big? When did they live?”

    As a wildlife biologist, I’ve worked with animals for years, but her questions confused me! It was the first time that I struggled to explain my own field. Her curiosity pushed me to think deeper and find ways to explain complex concepts in simple terms. Our trip ended but Arshifa Gul’s questions did not. Her curiosity shifted to linking the roars and growls to the human voice of the animals she heard in the animated movies


    AI-generated image (Grok) of Arshifa Gul standing in awe before a towering dinosaur skeleton in a museum, her eyes wide with wonder, surrounded by animal models like lions and dolphins.

    The next morning at breakfast, Arshifa Gul excitedly shared her thoughts about the characters from her favourite animated movie, “Allahyar and the Legend of Markhor”, set in Pakistan. She talked about the boy Allahyar and his animal friends, then asked where these animals lived, how big they were in real life, what their calls sounded like, and if we could visit them. I said yes we could, but explained that Khunjerab National Park, home to the markhor and snow leopard, was seven hours away.


    Landscape of Khunjrab National Park, Pakistan © Nisar Ahmed

    Her curiosity turned our breakfast into an adventure planning session. I gathered information on the park’s history, species like snow leopards, ibex, and Marco Polo sheep, and conservation efforts, including a trophy hunting program initiated by IUCN and WWF. 80% of the total benefits from this hunting initiative goes to the local communities while the remaining 20% is invested in habitat protection and improvement.

    We visited the site, and she enjoyed the trip thoroughly and I answered most of her questions and her confusion cleared regarding voices and the original habitat of different species. Answering her is always tough, but it makes me see the world through her bright, wondering eyes, full of love for animals. She makes me realise how important it is to nurture this curiosity, not just in her, but in all children.

    Curiosity is a powerful force that drives us to explore, learn, and grow. Arshifa Gul’s curiosity inspired me to write about the introduction of European hedgehogs into New Zealand. The European hedgehog, also known as the West European hedgehog, is a charming little creature native to Europe.

    Hedgehogs can live in a variety of terrestrial habitats and are mostly active at night. They have a slow, hesitant way of walking and often stop to sniff the air. Unlike other hedgehog species that 

    Hedgehogs have fascinated people for centuries. Their spiky charm has made them popular in history, from ancient amulets to modern pop culture icons, like Sonic the Hedgehog. Did you know that New Zealand is the only country outside Europe where European hedgehogs have successfully been established in the wild? This fascinating story of how these spiky little creatures made their way to both the North and South Islands of New Zealand is filled with twists and turns.

    Back in the 1869, acclimatisation societies in New Zealand introduced European hedgehogs to control pests. For a long time, it was believed that hedgehogs were first introduced to the South Island and later spread to the North Island. However, a molecular study in 2013 challenged this view and suggested that hedgehogs were independently introduced to both the islands directly from Europe. This means that the North Island had its own separate introduction of hedgehogs, rather than receiving them from the South Island.

    To uncover the truth, researchers from various universities, including Lincoln University, turned to historical records, especially old newspaper articles. They discovered that there were at least four independent shipments of hedgehogs into the North Island before 1900 (which were not documented in the first publication back in 1975). These findings confirmed that the North Island’s hedgehog population did not originate from the South Island. This study highlights the importance of combining observational data, molecular studies, and historical records to understand the introduction pathways of species.


    Hedgehog searching for food © Author

    The European hedgehog population thrived well in NZ, too well, as it has now become problematic for native wildlife. For example, they prey on ground-nesting birds and compete with native species for food. Leading conservationists have classified them as a pest, and the Department of Conservation New Zealand has launched a campaign to protect native species from hedgehogs.


    Arshifa Gul’s questions and the hedgehog share a common thread. Curiosity drives us to explore and learn. Whether it’s a child marvelling at a museum exhibit or scientists unravelling ecological puzzles, curiosity bridges wonder and action. It reminds us that conservation isn’t just about saving species—it’s about nurturing the spark that makes us care. As parents, educators, or stewards of the planet, or a teacher we can foster curiosity by encouraging, sharing stories, and exploring nature together by using interactive technologies.

    The author, Muhammad Waseem, is a postgraduate student in the Master of Science at Te Whare Wānaka o Aoraki Lincoln University. This article was written as an assessment for ECOL 608 Research Methods in Ecology.

    Reference: Pipek, P., Pysek, P., Bacher, S., Cerna Bolfikova, B., & Hulme, P. E. (2020). Independent introductions of hedgehogs to the North and South Island of New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Ecology, 44(1), 3396. https://doi.org/10.20417/nzjecol.44.7