Ducking, diving, and dancing in the air. Twisting and turning like an acrobat. The pīwaiwaka or fantail (Rhipidura fuliginosa) is one of the most often seen and widely distributed of our native birds on the New Zealand mainland.
Incredibly adaptable, this little bird can thrive in many different environments, from the snowline in the mountains down to the shoreline at the beach. This species of pīwaiwaka is native to Aotearoa New Zealand, but other pīwaiwaka species can be found all around the world.
Pīwaiwaka dine on insects and other invertebrates. Have you ever been followed by a pīwaiwaka? As we walk, we disturb insects in the leaf litter. The pīwaiwaka are not chasing you, but are chasing the insects that you stir up as you are walking.
Pīwaiwaka are not a threatened species. This is because they are brilliant breeders and dedicated parents. Peter Reese, an old friend of mine, is a photographer of New Zealand birds. He took the photograph of the mother pīwaiwaka feeding her chicks (he also banded her leg). Pīwaiwaka can brood up to four times in a breeding season. Peter told me that this pair had three broods in this nest and raised 11 chicks, four in the first, three in the second and then another four.
The parents feed the chicks for the first week or so. The father would then take the chicks away while the mother refurbished the nest to make it ready for the next brood. The father feeds the mother while she incubates the eggs and will even take a turn on the nest. Once the chicks have hatched, both parents feed them. The parents will incubate the chicks until they have grown feathers and can huddle together to keep warm.
For Māori, the pīwaiwaka was believed to have been responsible for death. The demigod Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga wanted to rid the world of death. To do that he needed to crawl inside the sleeping Hine-nui-te-pō, the goddess who welcomes souls to the other side. Māui took birds to act as sentinels to alert him if she started to wake. As Māui crawled inside Hine-nui-te-pō, his legs flailed around wildly. The pīwaiwaka thought Māui looked hilarious and laughed, waking Hine-nui-te-pō from her slumber and she crushed Māui. He was never seen again.
Pīwaiwaka ready to fly away. Photo/Lisa Reweti
I was brought up in a superstitious household. If a pīwaiwaka flew into our house, my mother would shout, "It's a bad sign. Someone is about to die." We would all look nervously at one another, wondering who it might be.
Last Sunday, after hearing a ruckus, I found my father in the dining room clutching a curtain. "I've trapped it," he said. "The cat brought it in. We have to get it out of the house." I peered around the curtain, expecting to see a sparrow.
I saw a pīwaiwaka, desperate to escape the house, the cat and us. I reached out and caught it. It was tiny and the feathers were so soft. I could feel its frantic heartbeat as I quickly checked it for injuries. No damage done. Lucky escape. I carried it outside and opened my hand. It stayed long enough for me to take a picture. Then in a flurry of indignant feathers, it was gone.
And no one died.
•Lisa Reweti is the programmes presenter at Whanganui Regional Museum.
