A friendly Stewart Island robin. Photo / Supplied
There’s nowhere like Stewart Island for seeing New Zealand wildlife. Chris Shorrock explores the best ways to experience this island, all easily reached from Oban, the main village.
As we reached the point, the sun still illuminated the distant Tītī/Muttonbird Islands, and Foveaux Strait was radiant in the evening glow. Of the muttonbirds themselves, though, not a sign. The wait was on.
We had picked up DOC's free "short walks" leaflet at the ferry terminal when we stepped off the surprisingly smooth crossing to Rakiura Stewart Island. The section on Ackers Point promised the chance to spot little blue penguins and muttonbirds returning to their burrows after dusk. Our interest piqued, my partner and I now found ourselves alone by the small lighthouse, on the cusp of dark.
"I thought there'd be more people," Rico suggested. "And more birds."
"Yeah," I sighed. This had been my idea, and it was beginning to look like it might not be the David Attenborough experience I had imagined. "I think we just have to wait a bit longer."
Finally, as darkness began to envelop us, the swooping silhouettes started to circle. Backtracking beneath the canopy of trees, expectant faces of little blue penguin chicks peered from burrow entrances, and the swooshing from above heralded the imminent arrival of the sooty shearwaters - more commonly known as muttonbirds. We waited for the action to begin.
It was shaping up to be quite the action-packed week on Stewart Island. We had already schlepped our way through the infamous mud of the three-day Rakiura Great Walk. Wondering at the clouds of pollen wafting from masting rimu, we had kept our eyes peeled for the native birds the island is renowned for.
Having remained mustelid (read stoat, ferret and similar) -free, Rakiura Stewart Island has acted as an ark for native bird species lost on the mainland. This includes the critically endangered kākāpō, snatched from the brink of extinction when a residual population was discovered on Stewart Island in 1980. Kākāpō have since been removed to smaller islands, where they can be better protected. But we had still hoped to see more than one kākāriki, a few smaller birds, and a whitetail deer – its forebears introduced to the island in 1905 from the US – during the three-day tramp.
Our time in Oban, the sleepy main settlement, proved vastly more fruitful. With a population of roughly 400, the smattering of village attractions is enough to keep you busy for an afternoon; an excellent new museum, a cafe or two, a few tourist-oriented shops, and the island FourSquare. It's not exactly hopping, although the South Seas Hotel does a mean pub quiz on a Sunday evening.
Once you look around, however, you'll see much more going on than first meets the eye. Kākā perform acrobatic displays in the towering gum trees by day, and kiwi can be spotted on village streets by night. Birdsong here is ubiquitous, and the local community's trapping efforts are helped by proximity to predator-free nesting sites on nearby Ulva Island.
Rat-free since 1997, despite occasional incursions – including a current infiltration by some tricky Norway rats – Ulva was New Zealand's first Scenic Reserve. Stepping off the jetty at Post Office Bay – post office long gone – we also stepped back in time. To a time before logging, before rats and possums, deer and invasive plants. To stately rimu stands and the omnipresent red of southern rata in bloom. And music. The melody of thousands of tiny voices singing in harmony. Singing as the whole of Aotearoa once did.
Moving along Ulva Island's well-manicured trails, it took us some time before we began to glimpse these altos and sopranos of the forest. The scrub is dense here, with no mice or rats decimating the seed stock. It helped to slow down, and with regularly placed benches, it was easy to sit and wait for the wildlife to come to us. A Stewart Island robin, watching from a nearby perch, soon dropped in to see what bugs we'd disturbed, followed quickly by a local weka, more likely after our lunch.
It takes about three hours to cover all the tracks on the island, between Post Office Bay and West End Beach. The far northwest point of the island is an excellent spot for a lunchtime swim if you don't mind cold water. Now attuned to the forest environment, the meander back threw up many more sightings; a pair of tīeke scampering through the understorey, a kākā snoozing on a trackside branch, mōhua fluttering in the sunlight. And more tūī, kererū and pīwakawaka than you could shake a rimu branch at. All the while serenaded by our forest choir.
Stewart Island isn't just a great place to see forest birds, though. With this in mind, we headed out with Rakiura Charters the following morning on their Pelagic Bird Tour. Setting sail from Golden Bay, we were still making our way through Paterson Inlet when we came across our first albatross. The too-perfect-to-be-real Buller's albatross paddled patiently at the back of the boat. Nesting on smaller offshore islands, they feed in the rich waters of Foveaux Strait.
And the waters here are clearly teaming with life. As our skipper propelled us towards the Tītī/Muttonbird Islands, we passed marauding creches of New Zealand fur seals leaping through the waves. And the sooty shearwaters these islands are named for. Central to the cultural and community life of Rakiura Māori, the only people permitted to harvest these birds following traditional guidelines, or kaitaikitanga; these birds were everywhere. And every time we stopped, the albatross would find us.
Feeding primarily on squid and schooling fish, albatross also enjoy the scraps discarded from fishing vessels. And they clearly knew which boats to choose. So as our skipper began tossing fragrant handfuls of berley to the expectant crowd of Buller's, the giants began to swoop in. The southern royal albatross is one of the world's largest flying birds, with an average wingspan of over three metres. In the ensuing feeding frenzy, as they ripped the half-frozen block of berley from the skipper's grasp, they dwarfed the surrounding gaggle of other seabirds.
Out of berley, the albatross continued on their wanderings. And we puttered our way back to shore, passing lounging New Zealand sea lions and bobbing little blue penguins en route. In only half a day, we'd ticked off an impressive list of wildlife.
Having explored land and sea by day, we ventured out on a nocturnal expedition the following evening. A three-hour return walk from Oban along the southern shores of Halfmoon Bay, Ackers Point is home to a colony of little blue penguins and muttonbirds from mid to late summer. Spending their days fishing in the waters of the Foveaux Strait, we set off in the golden glow of a late summer evening to see them returning to their nests after dark.
It wasn't just birds returning with their catch, however. As we moseyed along the coastal road, a local fishing boat was also returning to shore. Glistening in the evening sun, a pod of dolphins frolicked in its wake, testament to the bounty beneath the surface here. The waters around Stewart Island are rich in krill and squid, the primary food source of the muttonbirds and an essential part of the food chain supporting the whole ecosystem.
As we reached the point, we still had time to soak in the last rays of sunlight before the nighttime arrivals. Nesting in burrows, muttonbirds rear a single chick yearly in monogamous pairs. Returning nightly with the day's catch, the parents must navigate a dense forest canopy before reaching the burrows below. Unfortunately, their technique leaves a lot to be desired. As we watched, their effortless gliding would suddenly turn into a crazed pinball from branch to branch to ground as they crashed through the canopy with all the grace of a falling coconut. Once this nightly trauma had been overcome, it was a quick – and inelegant – scuttle to their expectant chick at the burrow entrance. The chatter of hungry beaks signalling the much-anticipated arrival. My partner's squawk was an unexpected addition to this cacophony as he softened the fall of one plummeting muttonbird on its way home.
The patient plodding of the little blue penguins was in stark contrast, and as we made our way back, they waddled across the road at regular intervals. It was our last night on the island, and we'd seen it all. Well, nearly: Stewart Island is home to up to 20,000 brown kiwi and is one of the best places to see them in the wild. Having stayed up most nights to look for these elusive creatures, with no luck, we'd all but given up.
"Stop." Rico hissed through the darkness. "What is that?"
Some rustling on the roadside verge. A brown ball of fluff. Almost within touching distance. "Possum?" I suggested.
"It has a beak!" excitement palpable despite his hushed tones.
Completely unperturbed by our presence, the southern brown kiwi continued to probe the grassy banking with its long bill.
"And a penguin," I whispered back as a little blue passed within inches of the kiwi.
Neither batted an eye at the other. My partner and I were captivated. A magical end to our time on this wild island.
STEWART ISLAND
WHEN TO GO Summer months for muttonbird and penguin breeding . Year-round for Ulva Island, kiwi and albatros.
GET THERE: Ferries to Stewart Island Ferries depart from Bluff and take approximately one hour. Flight times from Invercargill Airport are 15-20 minutes.
DETAILS There is limited accommodation so book early; South Sea Hotel is the island's iconic waterfront hotel and social hub. Motel, camping and boutique accommodation are also available.
Dining options include a cafe, a fish and chip van and the South Sea Hotel, which serves big plates of local seafood.
For more information, see stewartisland.co.nz
The trendy spot is just six minutes from the Waikiki beach.