BirdCare Aotearoa's clinical manager Lynn Lewis-Beron assesses the condition of an injured heron. Photo / Jason Oxenham
Writer Joanna Wane and photographer Jason Oxenham go behind the scenes at BirdCare Aotearoa, New Zealand’s largest wild bird hospital and rescue centre, which is facing tough times in 2023.
Nestled in native bush, it’s the type of retreat that would get a five-star review on TripAdvisor. Squid and seafood marinara on a menu tailored to specific dietary requirements, with berries and homemade apple sauce for dessert. Rooms cleaned twice daily. A complimentary soft toy provided as company for solo guests. Laser therapy to reduce inflammation; spray baths to cleanse and refresh. The daycare facilities are excellent, too, with room service on demand.
“I came in one day and a staff member in the nursery looked like a zombie,” says Anna Schimmel, an Auckland wedding dress designer who volunteers at BirdCare Aotearoa and joined the trust board in July. “I asked if she was all right, and she told me she’d been feeding the [baby] birds every 10 minutes, from 7am to 7pm, for the last three weeks. So it takes a lot of commitment.”
Based in Green Bay, New Zealand’s largest hospital and rehabilitation centre for wild birds manages more than 6000 admissions each year. In the peak season, there’s often a long queue of people waiting with sick or injured birds to be assessed in the triage room, and there’s a heartbreaking story behind every one.
Two fledgling riroriro [grey warblers] each weighing barely six grams — little more than a teaspoon of sugar — were brought in one day apart after separate cat attacks in two different locations. One suffered a punctured wing; the other ruptured its abdominal airspace. Both survived. So did a ruru [morepork] that was hit by a car on Waiheke Island. Given oxygen, medication and subcutaneous fluid therapy, the wee native owl spent two months in an outdoor aviary regaining its weight and strength and was then released back on to the island.
A kākā with spinal trauma and an injured wing from flying into a window was treated in intensive care and then in a general ward for almost three months before it fully recovered. A baby kererū that was admitted after yet another cat attack wasn’t so lucky, dying from organ failure. Seabirds are snagged by fish hooks or become entangled in fishing lines. Often, their stomachs are found to be full of plastic.
Research co-ordinator Ariel-Micaiah Wijaya, who joined BirdCare Aotearoa as a volunteer almost four years ago, is doing her PhD at Auckland University on the impact of light pollution and plastic ingestion on seabirds.
Like all the staff and volunteers who keep the hospital running, she’s passionate about New Zealand’s birds and heartbroken by the collateral damage she sees on a daily basis — from pet owners who don’t put collars on their cats to fatal outbreaks of botulism caused by ducks feeding on bread that’s become rotten and toxic after being thrown into the water.
“We had a northern giant petrel come in who’d been struck by a boat and regurgitated up plastic,” she says. “He was absolutely beautiful. We all loved him. Sadly, he died after three or four nights.”
An entire ward at the hospital is dedicated to seabirds and waterfowl. On the day we visit, the patient roster ranges from day-old ducklings to a gangly cygnet still covered in the soft grey feathers that will be shed as it transforms into a black swan.
Wijaya carefully transfers a gaggle of black-and-yellow-striped paradise ducklings into a bath of warm water, where they race around splashing excitedly before being dried out back in their cage. A common cause of death for ducklings is hypothermia if they become separated from their mother or are abandoned. “Often they don’t make it, which is why we give them heat lamps, so they can stay nice and toasty.”
Certified by the Department of Conservation (DoC) to handle and rehabilitate wild birds, BirdCare Aotearoa is run by a charitable trust that was bequeathed the Green Bay property in 2012 for use as a bird rescue centre. Under the helm of internationally recognised wildlife specialist Lynn Miller, who recently moved on after four years as general manager, it’s now evolved into a world-class hospital and rehab facility.
However, it still relies on donations and grants to stay afloat. Run by a handful of permanent staff and a roster of volunteers, its operating expenses are more than $600,000 a year — that’s about $100 per bird. The financial position remains so precarious, a fundraising appeal was recently launched to keep the doors open. One of the biggest costs is food for the birds, which chow through cubic metres of fruit and vegetables every month. The berry consumption alone by kererū fledglings, prone to clumsy crash-landings, is off the charts.
A reference folder marked “Diet Book!” lists the specific requirements for dozens of different species, from shags to songbirds. Multiple freezers store vast quantities of key ingredients such as peas, corn, spinach, marinara mix and (apologies to the squeamish) baby mice and chicks for carnivorous raptors and hawks. A “bug board” tracks the crickets, beetles and mealworms being bred in-house.
Native birds, including many endangered or protected species, make up about 40 per cent of the centre’s clientele and are released where possible back into their home territory. Sometimes people have driven for hours to bring in an injured bird, and even pigeons and pūkeko aren’t turned away. There’s a difference, however, between a rescue and what’s termed the “abduction” of a fledgling mistakenly believed to be abandoned (see below).
In the ICU unit, a malnourished kororā [little blue penguin] is being carefully monitored in one of two incubators purchased from the proceeds of a special fundraising event. Warmer sea waters have reduced their food supply. Other items on BirdCare’s donation wishlist range from expired or unwanted insulin syringes (for injecting fluid into some of the tiniest birds) and tumbling compost bins to two new aviaries, an X-ray machine, and an industrial washing machine and dryer. Up to 100 towels go through the laundry every day.
None of the birds require 24-hour care — in the wild, they all sleep through the night — but a couple of staff camped out at the centre during last summer’s storms in case access was cut off by the flooding. There was no power for a week, but someone lent them a generator and donated the petrol.
New volunteers are always welcome, especially if they’re prepared to commit for the long term. A widower who lives nearby signed up after his wife died, “which filled part of the hole”. He drives all over Auckland to pick up supplies, including milk and biscuits he donates to the staff. Today, his mission is to find some pilchards and swap out a hose connector at the hardware store.
No experience is needed for non-medical duties, but it’s not glamorous work, chopping vegetables and cleaning out filthy cages covered in poop while the hands-on staff are busy treating parasite infestations and fixing broken beaks and wings. “There are lots of groups that look after people, which is great. But we also need to look after our wildlife,” says volunteer Kathy Neilson, a retired nurse. “One of the joys is having a bird come in that doesn’t look good, then seeing it recover and be released. That’s an absolute joy.”
BirdCare Aotearoa is a DoC-certified hospital and rehabilitation centre in Green Bay that cares for sick, injured and orphaned wild birds. Open for admissions daily from 8am to 3pm. See birdcareaotearoa.org.nz or email volunteer@birdcareaotearoa.org.nz to find out how you can get involved.
This old-fashioned pie is a classic for a reason.