Penelope Bieder: Defending the pest-proof fence

There it is again. The unmistakable, mournful call of a kiwi. A pale gold half-moon swings high above Blue Mountain, its cold brightness glittering through the bush as we stand on the verandah at home, scarcely believing what we are hearing.

Twenty-five years ago, every kiwi in our remote upper Coromandel valley was mauled to death by the Rhodesian ridgeback-cross dog of a long-since departed neighbour. Twenty-five years of silence, while we sadly followed the nationwide decline of this wonderful creature.

It just has to be a kiwi calling in the bush behind us, such a long, sad sound, and as we turn to go back inside, far across the valley comes a reply.

It's true, then. They are coming back, and huge thanks are due to a combined Department of Conservation and Moehau Environment Group (Meg) initiative a few kilometres north of our place. They have set up the Moehau Kiwi Sanctuary, covering more than 18,000ha combining private land and just over 7000ha administered by DoC.

I am utterly amazed when I learn, then, that Baggins, a feisty female brown kiwi, born near Sandy Bay (about 30km north of here) four years ago, is living across the road from us. I know this because she is wearing one of DoC's transmitters, worn by about 80 kiwi in the forests near Mount Moehau.

Not only are the transmitters telling DoC where they are, they also provide information about whether their intensive stoat trapping is working. Stoats will kill baby kiwi up to 1000g in weight - if there is no stoat control the survival rate is about 5 per cent. Up on the steep northern ranges, in almost impenetrable bush, a group of committed environment volunteers work with DoC to get transmitters on the new kiwi. The little kiwis' survival rate is now 80 per cent, the best in the country. Put another way, brown kiwi here are doubling in numbers every six years.

However, getting rid of the stoats has meant an increase in possums and rats, which are busy killing other birds. DoC is attempting to counter this fur tsunami, by setting bait stations 75m apart. And stoat work is ongoing, helped by Zeagold Foods donation of 80,000 eggs for instance, plus support from BNZ Kiwi Recovery and Forest and Bird Society, among others.

Stoat control has been so successful there have also been four or five releases of brown teal (pateke) at Port Charles. They are thriving - but, surprisingly, their biggest threat is cars because they are a nocturnal creature.

Flocks of kaka are returning, and the rare banded rail has been seen once more at Port Charles and Waikawau Bay.

Pim de Monchy, DoC's programme manager, biodiversity threats, is a busy man.

He smiles ruefully when I congratulate him on these statistics.

"We still have a long way to go before any proposed pest-proof fence becomes a reality. DoC supports its erection because of its potential value in pest control.

"We're working with Environment Waikato and Meg on a 10-year conservation plan for the Moehau area. We've identified that we'd like to eradicate all feral goats and possums by 2016.

"No other species are planned or feasible within that timeframe, though we will carry out sustained control of rats, stoats, weasels and feral cats."

And they are not going to let a small setback like the vandalising of the pest-proof fence sample last weekend, dishearten them. Most local people are hugely supportive and keen to be involved.

South of Colville, at Papa Aroha, where I live, a 7km stoat trapping line has been set up by local landowners, and the upsurge in environmental awareness on the Coromandel has meant that community initiatives will soon link up, providing a continuous sweep of protection for the birds.

De Monchy believes the fence from north of Colville across to Waikawau Bay will be a useful tool in preventing widespread re-invasion, but it will need to be supplemented by traps and bait stations. It will cost about $1.5 million, a huge amount for the tiny local population to raise. De Monchy hastens to quell fears raised recently by a couple of residents.

"There is no way we are suggesting that people can no longer have cats and dogs, and there is no plan for any quarantine where the fence crosses the roads north to Port Jackson and Port Charles." he says.

"We are simply aiming to protect our investment in pest control."

Next evening, these words translate into that truly wonderful sound - a morepork is parked on its usual branch - and I swear it turns its head when its new flightless neighbour again greets the moon.

* Penelope Bieder is a Coromandel writer