Zealandia lets visitors see some of the world's rarest creatures up close - and it's just as exciting after dark. Photo / Jacqui Gibson
Zealandia lets visitors see some of the world's rarest creatures up close - and it's just as exciting after dark. Photo / Jacqui Gibson
Travel writer Jacqui Gibson takes a night-time walking tour of Zealandia Te Māra a Tāne, Wellington’s urban eco-sanctuary, and discovers a new world on her doorstep
On the second hour of my night-time walking tour, my fellow hikers and I are trailing along Swamp Track when our guide calls out the words we’ve all been dying to hear: “Kiwi ahead! Gather quietly near me and turn off your torches.”
At last.
Quickly, we form a half circle in front of a thick patch of bush where a pukupuku (little spotted kiwi) is feeding among the leaf litter.
This time, I barely had to leave my city apartment, much less my hometown.
I’m here in Zealandia Te Māra a Tāne, Wellington’s 225-hectare eco-sanctuary and the world’s first fully-fenced urban wildlife reserve.
Set up in 1995 to create a safe refuge for the city’s declining native bird population, the charity has completely transformed a barren bush block and former city reservoir into a flourishing wilderness area.
Safe within its 8.6km predator-proof boundary are more than 40 rare native wildlife species, including more than 150 pukupuku (little spotted kiwi).
NZ's national birds are just some of the feathered inhabitants at Zealandia. Photo / Tom Lynch
Some, including kākā, are boldly venturing beyond its perimeter to make their homes in inner-city suburbs such as Highbury, Brooklyn, Ngaio, Northland and Te Ahumairangi Hill (the northwestern end of the town belt).
My sold-out Zealandia By Night tour starts at 7pm but here’s still plenty of daylight left as our party of 12 head inside to grab headsets and torches and take a seat in Zealandia’s exhibition room.
Tour guide Katie Underwood quizzes us on what we’d most like to see on our two-and-a-half hour walking tour. Kiwi top the list, followed by tuatara, takahē, ruru (morepork) and glow worms.
Earlier, Katie confides: “If we don’t see a kiwi on these tours, people are understandably disappointed. But that’s nature for you. I did have a bad patch earlier where I hosted three tours in a row without a kiwi sighting. Now, thankfully, we’re back to seeing one or two each night.”
Tour guide Katie Underwood loves showing visitors around the sanctuary. Photo / Jacqui Gibson
A 15-minute movie catches us up on the story of Zealandia. We learn how humans over the centuries destroyed native forest and all but wiped out Wellington’s endemic wildlife.
Today, Zealandia’s 500-year goal is to restore the park’s flora and fauna to the time before human contact.
Katie is a founding member of Zealandia and one of the sanctuary’s longest-serving volunteers and tour guides (she’s clocked up more than 25 years).
At bag check, she says: “This job was a challenge in the early days because there was so little bird life. You’d be ecstatic if you saw a tūī.”
Wellington’s blue sky is turning shades of yellow and pink as kākā fly overhead and dozens of kāruhiruhi (pied shags) roost in Zealandia’s lower reservoir.
It’s not always so peaceful.
That afternoon, Katie saw a devilish kārearea (New Zealand falcon) flying kamikaze style through the valley on a mission to grab a seagull in its talons for lunch.
It’s 7.30pm by the time we make our way through Zealandia’s final cordon and gather at the sanctuary’s mauri stone.
Inside the fence, we learn how the fence was designed to keep out cats, mice, possums, rats, stoats and other nasties.
Zealandia's reservoir at dusk. Photo / Jacqui Gibson
As Katie updates us on Zealandia’s volunteer, education and research programmes, we arrive at Birdsong Gully.
Pushing buttons attached to information plaques, we listen to a selection of pre-recorded avian calls hoping to identify the species they belong to in the hours to come.
I think I recognise the sound of a male hihi (stitchbird) on a walk to Wetlands Lawn.
The feathered owner of the shrill whistle is camouflaged in a stand of tarata (lemonwood) trees. But I can easily make out the silhouette of his tiny body and his giveaway yellow neck and shoulder feathers.
Later, I spy my first takahē pair (two of only 500-or-so left in the world). Then, I see four slow-blinking tuatara roaming Zealandia’s research area.
Hours later, when I sight a pepeketua (Maud Island frog), I’m just as taken by the galaxies of iridescent glow worms lining Te Māhanga Track.
I do wonder if it’s disruptive having tourists traipsing through the sanctuary every night?
“Tourism is vital for a charity like ours,” Katie explains when I ask the question over a mug of hot kawakawa tea before the tour disperses.
“Every membership, every tour, every donation and anything bought from the store or cafe helps keep this place running.”
She says Zealandia is conscious to limit visitor numbers to give wildlife the quiet and space they need, while making sure the visitor experience is a good one.
Outside waiting for my ride home, I think back to Katie’s parting words.
“Don’t you find coming here, being in nature, and seeing some of the world’s rarest creatures up close, boosts your sense of wellbeing and hope in the world?”
