# The Kea: a New Zealand problem/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
AT PLAY.
Living, real, alert for charm or evil, Hurrying in every breeze,—and haunting, Heavy-winged, the vistas of the forest.
—Arthur H. Adams.
The Kea may be a marked bird throughout the whole Dominion; it may ravage the flocks and bring dismay to the sheep farmer; but for all this there can be no gainsaying the fact that it is a most lively and interesting companion. In places where it has not been too much harassed by the Kea-hunter it shows little fear of man, and the traveller can always depend on an hour or two of amusement whenever the bird appears. When one is camping out among the ranges, the birds often come round and amuse themselves at the traveller’s expense. They seem to take the whole oversight of the preparations for camp; they investigate the camp fire; they pull the cooking utensils about; they test the strength of the tent ropes; and, if not driven away, they will scatter the contents of the “swag” far and wide.
Indeed, you can never suffer from ennui while they remain with you; for, while you are driving one away from your tent, another will be trying his beak on the coat that you have hung up on a tree for safety. With their merry eyes, and their shining coats, their perky ways, and their tameness and extreme inquisitiveness, they are welcome and unwelcome at the same time.
The Kea is one of the most inquisitive birds imaginable, and, indeed, it is this trait in his character that has partly brought about his downfall.
Keas make a loud din when together; and, when one is camping out, their incessant screeching and calling are a ​perfect nuisance in the early mornings, sleep being often impossible.
However, the trouble does not stop there: they will often pay a visit of inspection to the tent, and keep one on the qui vive as to what new mischief they will do. Perhaps you hear them rattling the cooking utensils about. That is the merest trifle; but, when they begin to tear the tent,
Keas at play: Investigating a camp.
there is nothing to do but to get up and strike camp as soon as possible.
An experienced Kea-hunter says:—“There is something freakish about the Kea. You have got to the high tops, and perhaps have rested on a rock, keenly alert for any sign of your quarry. There is no indication of a Kea being within a mile of you, but after you have started again and look back, there is a Kea on the very spot that you have just left. Where it comes from is a mystery you don’t pretend to solve. But this is the Kea’s way: sometimes it will shriek to let you know that it is near at hand; at other times it will silently appear by your side, coming apparently from nowhere.”
​They seem to be exceptionally lively around the Ball Hutt Mt. Cook, in the early morning, for numbers of tourists complain of their noise.
Mr. Fitzgerald, in his book “Climbing in the New Zealand Alps,” describes then thus:—“The Kea parrots disturbed our sleep that night by walking up the iron roof, and (to judge from the sounds) tobogganing down and falling off the edge, with shrieks of terror and rage.”
Several people have actually seen them tobogganing down the corrugated iron roofs,—sliding down on feet and tail, following one another in line, falling off when they reach the edge of the roof, and then flying away with shrieks of delight.
Dr. F. W. Hilgendorf gives the following instances of their quaint ways:—“The Kea occurs in large numbers, up to forty-five being seated on the roof of the Ball Hut at one time, and I myself saw them every morning that I stayed there.
“There is one that always comes round when any visitors arrive. The hut is built on a little stone platform, and, when boots are put there to dry, the Kea always pulls them off and throws them over the platform, rolling them with his head from behind, if they are too heavy to pull with his beak. He will even go into the hut and pull boots out from there. He has also been seen to roll stones down a hill, apparently with the object of watching their fall.
“All the Keas about the hut exhibit great curiosity, and when an alarm clock went off in the building they gathered round shrieking at the top of their voices. When a rag was thrown to them, about six of them would swarm on to it and pull it to pieces; but they still more delight in pulling out the packing of a saddle or any other object which presents sufficient resistance.
“They even settled on the backs of the horses that are taken to the Ball Hut, four or five getting on the back of one horse, clawing and scratching there until the horse kicks up and drives them away.”
They are not so tame now as they were in the early days ​but their curiosity is so great that, if anything takes their fancy, they come and inspect it, and talk to one another and shake their heads like a group of solemn judges.
Mr. Fitzgerald gives an interesting instance which he noted when on Mt. Cook. “They were so tame,” he says, “that, if you sat down quietly for a few minutes and held up any bright object that glittered in the sun, they would come and hop all over you, curiosity apparently being their strongest characteristic. . . . . . On this present occasion
A Kea: On the Ball Glacier.
their chief interest seemed to centre on a nickel-plated drinking cup, which I had laid on the rocks close by to dry.
“They are of an inquisitive nature, and did not rightly gather what the shiny object might be meant for; so they came up in line and circled round it, one or two of the bolder spirits even pecking at it.
“This evidently did not satisfy them, so they retired to a neighbouring rock, and gathered in a group to consult, which meant a tremendous screeching and jabbering.
​“It is the manner of Keas to gather together thus and talk to one another in a way which seems quite comprehensible to themselves.
“We threw stones at them to try and make them shift their quarters, but this only had the effect of bringing them back to renew their investigation. Finally we stopped their hideous clamour by hiding the drinking cup, whereupon they slowly dispersed with an injured air.”
Not only do they worry and plague the traveller while he is in camp, but they often follow him up a mountain as though loth to see the last of him. Mr. A. P. Harper gives the following amusing incident in his book.
“Ever since sunrise I have been the object of considerable attention from some Keas.
“At first there were only two or three, but afterwards their numbers increased to fifteen or more. They joined me on the south side of the Fox Glacier, and annoyed me considerably by their inquisitiveness, while I was taking some bearings and photographs, one of them alighting on my back as I was looking at my compass. When crossing the Chancellor Ridge, the Keas that I referred to followed me on the wing; but, owing to the ice being very slippery, my progress was too slow for them; therefore, alighting on the ice, they began to follow me on foot.
“Whenever a Kea makes its appearance we are prepared for some good fun, as their antics are most ludicrous, and their conversation, which is incessant, is almost expressive enough to enable one to understand what they mean. I have had considerable experience with these birds, but have never seen such an extremely funny proceeding as on this particular morning,
“The Keas, having settled on the ice, began to follow in a long straggling line, about fifteen of them. They have a preternaturally solemn walk, but when in a hurry they hop along on both feet, looking very eager and very much in earnest. To see these fifteen birds hopping along behind in a string, as if their lives depended on keeping me in sight, was ridiculously comic.
​“The ice was undulating, with little valleys and hummocks, and the birds would now for a second or two disappear in a hollow and now show on a hummock, pause a moment, and then hop down again out of sight into the next hollow.
“To judge by their expressions and manners they were in a great state of anxiety on emerging from a hollow to a hummock as to whether I was still there. Now and then the one in front would appear craning his neck, and, on seeing me still ahead, would turn round and shriek ‘Ke-a,’ as much as to say ‘It is all right, boys; come along,’ and the others, putting their heads down, would set their teeth, or rather their beaks, and travel for all they knew, a fat one in the rear evidently making heavy weather of it.”
They seem to be ever on the look-out for mischief; and, when a good joke is in view, they take good care not to lose it.
A story is told of a dog that was lying asleep near a hut, when several Keas came down, and (evidently bent on mischief) walked round him, laying their plans.
The boldest Kea then crept up and bit the dog’s tail, thus causing him to wake up and growl; but hardly was his head laid down on the ground again when Kea number two had a pull.
This went on for some time, until at last the dog got tired of it, and retired growling to the verandah.
Their playfulness, though amusing, often becomes a great nuisance, as they can do a lot of damage in a very short time.
The late Mr. Potts is responsible for the following story. “On one occasion a hut was shut up, as the shepherd was elsewhere required for a day or two. On returning he was surprised to hear something moving within the hut, and on entering he found that it proceeded from a Kea which had gained access by the chimney; this socially-disposed bird had evidently endeavoured to dispel the ennui attendant on solitude by exercising its powerful mandibles most industriously. Blankets, bedding, and clothes were grieviously rent and torn; pannikins and plates were scattered about; ​everything that could be broken was apparently broken very carefully; even the window frames had been attacked with great diligence.”
Another case is told of these birds and their love of fun, or mischief, as the case may be.
“On a back country sheep run, a mule, packed with a full load of stores and sundries for one of the out-stations, was peacefully pursuing its way, when on a sudden a Kea perched on the neck of the animal. The unexpected arrival was too much for the gravity of the mule; startled from its
Ready for mischief: Browning Pass.
accustomed demure and patient demeanour, it plunged and kicked till it had freed itself from the Kea as well as its well-packed burden.”
A shepherd from the back country says that “Tents get a fair amount of attention from the Kea. I have left a tent in the morning in good order and condition; and when I returned, at the end of the day’s muster, I have found it torn beyond repair, and the birds seemed to be quite ​enjoying the fun. Clothes hung out to dry at the shepherds’ huts or camp often get torn up, coloured clothes more than white. I, along with two or three other men at a musterer’s camp, saw a Kea take a piece the size of its beak out of a turkish towel, with one peck, almost as clean as it could have been done with a pair of scissors. The towel was almost a new one, so that you will have an idea of the strength of the beak.”
A botanist was one day working among the ranges, and for convenience’ sake left a bundle of precious specimens on a rock. A Kea that must have had a decided taste for botany began to investigate; and when the man returned he found that the whole of his rare collection had been tumbled down the precipice, far beyond recovery.
Not only do they play most outrageous pranks, but they often display a good deal of method in their madness.
One of my correspondents gave me the following instance:—“To show you how tame and inquisitive a Kea is; I was one day resting on a hill when one perched on my shoulder. I caught him and put him in a box an inch thick, but he cut it through by the morning and got out. I then chained him with a dog’s chain, with a leather strap round his leg. The Kea would run the iron chain through his beak until he got to the leather, and then with a stroke or two of his beak he cut it right through.”
Mr. Kinsey of Christchurch, narrates the following curious incident concerning the Keas at Mt. Cook Hermitage:—
Wishing to take some live Keas to town, he had several placed in a wooden box; and, in order to secure them, he placed several fairly large stones on the top of the cage. His daughter some time afterwards found that the stones had been removed, so, after putting them on again, she went and told her father. He, however, knew nothing about their removal; but by keeping watch he was able to discover the culprits.
Through his field glasses, he saw several birds alight on ​the box, and by dint of pushing, with their heads down, they were able to roll the stones off.
Whether it was done for fun, as the birds have been known to do at the Hermitage, or whether it was done as an attempt to rescue their imprisoned mates, I am not prepared to say.
At the shepherd’s hut at the Mt. Algidus Station there was a tame Kea, who kept the inmates from becoming dull by the mischief into which he was always getting. What he loved most of all was to creep into the kitchen, when the cook was absent, and try all the tempting dishes on the table. He would sample the butter, put his feet into the milk, take a mouthful of jam, upset the sugar-basin, and would usually end up by walking into the treacle pot. When he heard the cook returning he would make a dash for the door, and, as his feet were more or less gripped by the treacle, he would upset the pot and leave the table in a state of chaos. At other times he would interfere with the bread and try the meat, but, as soon as he saw the cook’s hand steal towards the long-handled broom, the bird almost fell over himself in his anxiety to get to the door. Outside he worried the kittens and fowls, and once while playing with a ball of string he got so tangled up that he had to be helped to get free.
The birds make very interesting pets, but are very noisy and destructive, and they need a very strong cage in which to confine them.
Though very tame and inquisitive, they are not so easily caught in their wild state as one would imagine. To give a good idea of this I cannot do better than quote from a short article by Mr. E. F. Stead, of Christchurch, who has devoted much splendid practical investigation to the bird life of New Zealand. He gives the following graphic account:—
"The call bird, which had never been in a small cage before, and was very wild when we first put her in the evening before, had got quite used to the surroundings, and had learned how to hang on with her feet and beak, so that she was not knocked about when being carried. It is marvellous ​how quickly a Kea will adapt itself to circumstances. This particular bird, after I had carried her on my back for five or six hours, got so accustomed to the motion that she would call softly to herself, or eat strawberries out of my hand as we went along. If the climbing was rough and the cage was temporarily upside down, she would brace herself with feet and beak, and quietly wait until she was righted. So quiet, indeed, did she become, and so docile, that we
Up to mischief: A Kea playing with a camera bag, on the Fox Glacier.
called her Angela. . . . . We chose a rocky promontory, with a stunted birch on the end of it, for our traps, as it commanded a fine view of the gully and could be seen from our camp.
“Here we set our traps, and, it being already dark, we returned to camp for the night.
“One of the call birds we kept in a wire-netting run near the tent, and also in sight of the bird up by the traps. The advantage of this was that if our distant bird saw others early in the morning, and began calling, the bird at camp would answer and wake us up.
​“At about half past four next morning our ornithological alarm went off, and I got up and hurried up the mountain side. When half way up to the traps, I heard a wild screaming behind me, and looking round saw him sailing over me from across the gully. Almost immediately two others further up answered, and all three presently arrived at the traps. They were a pair and an old male bird, and I sat quietly among the tussocks a few yards away, waiting for them to rush joyfully into the traps after the meat. But not a bit of it; after thoroughly inspecting ‘Angela’ and her cage, and bestowing a casual glance at the traps, they came over and subjected me to a searching scrutiny.
“Finding that I was an object of interest to them, I moved nearer to the traps and tried in vain to call their attention to the dainty viands displayed therein. It was no use. If I sat quite still they went over and had a chat with ‘Angela,’ sitting on the roof of her cage the while; if I moved they hopped blithely round me and my ways. The place they did not hop on was the space covered by the traps.
“As they came quite fearlessly to within a few feet of me, I decided to try and snare them, so I went into a little clump of bush near by and got a rod and a piece of fine creeper for a noose. The Keas accompanied me, hopping round in the trees above my head while I cut the stock and prepared my snare. Having got everything ready, I returned to the promontory, and squatted quietly down under a big boulder.
“Almost instantly a head appeared over the edge above me, and the owner of it gave a quiet little call. Another head appeared, and another, and then, within three feet of me, the birds sat and watched me with a whole world of curiosity in their bright little eyes. Gently I raised the snare and brought it towards the middle one. He took no notice until it was almost over his head and then he quietly took it on his beak and began chewing it.
“Realising that I could not snare them, I went half-way down the hill and called to H. to bring up a coil of wire-netting ​that we had. This we used to make a little run. at the entrance of which we placed ‘Angela’ in her cage, hoping that we could drive the wild birds into it, but half-an-hour’s vain endeavour convinced us of the futility of this scheme.
“Then I decided that I would return to camp for a camera, so that I could photograph the birds, even though unable to capture them. I descended via a shingle slide, and the noise of the stones rattling down with me attracted the birds, which accompanied me down to camp, and when I got back with the camera only one had returned. The sun had by this time risen over the mountain behind us, and the day was bright and hot. Everything was propitious for good pictures, but before I had the camera ready the bird flew screeching up the gully. Very disappointed and hot, we returned to camp.
“That evening at four o’clock we again climbed to the traps. Shortly after our arrival we saw a bird, and I called it down, when it proved to be the unattached male of the morning, readily distinguished by the state of his moult. We set a trap out on the ledge of a rock, evening up the surface with small stones. The bird came down, and taking the stones one by one, dropped them over the edge. Next, standing well outside the trap, he began chewing one of the sticks, with the result that the cage fell down. It was very laughable, but it scared the Kea, and he flew away; nor did we see him again.”