Finding Ruru

I’ve long wanted to see our native owl—ruru or morepork. I hear them frequently, both their haunting whoo-whoo call, and also their screech. I’ve heard one fly by me, crying in the dark. During the day I stand staring up into our tall trees hoping to see one sleeping. Distinguishing it against the dark bark of the pines and cypress makes it hard. 

I never expected to meet ruru this way, dead. I found this little fellow and, really, he is surprisingly little, on the side of the state highway on the Kapiti Coast. I was driving to town with my daughter to see a movie. The dark tail feathers were standing up, their fan shifting from side to side in the draught of the passing cars. As I whizzed by, I thought it was a hawk. I determined to look closer on the way home.

On the return trip, the tail feathers had dropped. I could tell by the size and curve of its little humped body, this was actually a ruru. Apart from the dust and small stones, he was in perfect condition. He’d obviously been hit by a car. His eyes were still open, shielded by the transparent extra eyelid. 

I tried to imagine what he saw, eyes fixed on the space into which he was flying. A tree, perhaps, on the other side of the highway. Or a mouse in the newly planted field of cabbages. 

What must the driver have thought? It’s always shocking to hit an animal. I can’t imagine seeing an owl in flight and then realising it’s too late to prevent it.

In New Zealand, our native birds are considered taonga, treasure. They are revered. There are places throughout the country you can take an injured native bird to be cared for. (I once saw a tiny tauhou (silvereye) being tended to at The Nest, the Wellington Zoo animal hospital!) People are encouraged to take any dead native birds to their regional Department of Conservation office. 

I took this one into DOC on my way home. This little ruru will be kept on ice and returned to the local iwi. The feathers will be used in korowai, a traditional Maori cloak, and will become a future taonga.