Sunday, March 8, 2026

The Night the Internet Fell in Love With a Flightless Parrot

Somewhere on a remote predator-free island in southern New Zealand, inside a hollow at the base of a big rātā tree, a large green parrot is asleep.

 

The date is 23 Jan 2026.

Around the world many people immediately start to watch.

If that sounds slightly absurd, it is. But that is also exactly what has been happening during the current kākāpō breeding season, where a live nest camera has opened a tiny virtual hatch into the private life of one of the rarest birds on Earth.

I started watching at 6:30pm (a.k.a, 18:30, as we quickly learn to always refer to the 24-hour timestamp in New Zealand time in the top left corner of the live nest cam — a fundamental reference point for all viewers).

The camera is trained on the nesting cavity that belongs to a female kākāpō named Rakiura. She lives on one of the offshore islands where the species is carefully protected. The nest is deep in a tree cavity, the sort of place you would never normally see unless you were a Department of Conservation ranger checking on the bird.

Now anyone with an internet connection can peek inside.

At first glance, not much appears to be happening. Rakiura spends a lot of time asleep.

 

Yet the chat alongside the video rarely stops moving.

People call out timestamps (ts!) when something interesting happens.

“11:16 – she’s doing that yoga stretch again.”

“12:09 – I think I saw the egg!”

“14:40 – egg rolling”

Someone notices a feather flicking out when Rakiura lifts her head.

It turns out that when you are watching one of the rarest parrots in the world raise chicks in real time, very small things become very exciting.

And then there are the questions.

The chat fills with them.

What is she doing to the egg?

(She’s keeping the egg correctly oriented and ensuring even temperature and moisture exposure.)

When will the chick hatch?

(From lay to hatch is about 30 days.)
How long ‘til she has another egg?

(For kākāpō, the usual gap between eggs is about 2–4 days, with ~3 days being very typical.)

How many eggs will she have?

(Clutch size is usually 2–3 eggs, occasionally 4, rarely 5. If they’re all fertile… well, that’s a story for another post.)

Hasn’t she been away too long? The egg will get cold and die.

That last one was a biggy at the start – the first egg can be left for an almost unfathomable amount of time before it loses viability 12 – 24 hours.

I know. Inconceivable.

The longest Rakiura left her first egg during the early stage was around seven hours.

This is because before the second egg is laid the first egg enters a kind of pre-incubation pause. Development does not properly begin until the clutch is complete, so the egg can safely be left for extended periods.

Some viewers are just discovering kākāpō for the first time. Others have been following the recovery programme for years. A few have developed the kind of detailed knowledge that only comes from long hours reading research papers, searching social media posts and falling very far down the rabbit hole of conservation biology.

But the remarkable thing is not just the bird in the nest.

It is the growing and diverse community forming around it.

People are watching from places like Nelson, Rakiura/Stewart Island, Christchurch, North Island, Germany, Vienna, Ohio in North America, and Australia. One person might be checking in before breakfast. Another is awake at 1 a.m. halfway across the world. Someone else is quietly screen-capturing moments so they can rewatch them later.

All of them are waiting for the same thing.

The moment the mother bird wakes up, stretches her wings, and disappears out into the night (21:03:57 she is leaving, 21:03 and she’s gone, 21:03 She is going out for a feed, 21:03 Rakiura has left the building…).

Because this is the part that surprises many new viewers.

Kākāpō fathers do not help raise chicks.

There is no shared parenting. No partner returning with food. No relief shift at the nest.

The chicks you see on that camera, and every other nest that is currently monitored where kākāpō currently breed, are all being raised by a single mother.

And when Rakiura slooooowly (with the slowness of someone who thinks they can't be seen) creeps out of the nest and vanishes into the darkness of the forest, she leaves her babies alone.

For hours.

If it’s your first time seeing it, it makes you worry,

Hasn’t she been gone too long?
Will the chicks get cold?
What if something finds them?

Yet these strange strategies are the reasons kākāpō survived for millions of years.

And also the reasons they almost disappeared from the face of our current Earth completely…

To understand that, we have to step away from the nest camera for a moment and look at the extraordinary life of the bird itself…

 

Postscript: If by some madness you have found my blog but haven’t been tuning in to Kākāpō Cam: Rakiura the kākāpō – 2026 Nest live on YouTube… please do so now!

That will give me time to write the next post!

Photo of Rakiura's nest tree is from the Department of Conservation's website here. Photo of Rakiura sleeping in cavity is a screen shot of the live cam footage.

Friday, August 15, 2025

Weeding with compassion

 I was going through the archives of this blog today.

Over the last wee while, I have been distant from my creative side - work, life, the world - there are many excuses but are they worth not living my life? Not giving my brain the chance to  explore, express and enjoy itself.

The further I go back in my blog the  more I laugh and enjoy the enigma I was in those times - times when I had so few worries and cares, compared to now.

But these are my choices. Reconnecting is my choice too!

We now have AI in our lives and I am dedicated to utilizing this to free up my brain for more me time. So I took AI back with me in my blog draft archive to see if we could revive and publish some old, half-finsihed (and sometimes not even half-finished) posts.

It's working! And it's been fun!

We found many posts that we've polished and published. 

We also found this one from 25 January 2009 (!); just a title.

Weeding with Compassion. 

When we stumbled upon this one, the AI already had a pretty good sense of my writing style, patterns, directions and choice - so I thought, let's see what it thinks I would have written in a post with this title even though we have ZERO notes to go with it.

This is what happened... 

Presented with the mysterious title Weeding with Compassion, AI offered up three possible interpretations. And honestly, each of them felt like something I could have meant back in 2009. Possibly even all at once. Because that’s the kind of thematic multitasker I apparently was (according to AI!) —and maybe still am.

Here are the contenders:

 

1. Gardening. Literally.

Weeding your actual garden with compassion. Not for the weeds, mind you—although we’ll get to that—but for yourself. The gentle art of kneeling in the dirt, pulling up roots while simultaneously untangling your own. It’s hard to be a perfectionist with dirt under your nails. And maybe that’s the point.

Could I have been talking about sustainable gardening practices? About resisting the urge to nuke your dandelions into oblivion with chemicals? Maybe. Or perhaps it was simply about turning weeding into a mindful, meditative act. Something I chose to do with presence instead of treating it like punishment from the gods of domestic order.

2. The Social Metaphor.

Here’s where it gets spikier. What if “weeding” was about people? Habits? Social groups? Emotional entanglements? You know—the “friends” you’ve kept around because you’ve always kept them around, even though every encounter leaves you feeling like a trampled daisy.

In that case, with compassion becomes the key. Not ghosting. Not rage-quitting. Just... gently recognising that something isn’t nourishing you anymore, and that it’s okay to let go without blame. That’s a harder kind of pruning, and one I wasn’t always brave enough to do. But maybe I was writing my way toward it.

3. Internal Thought Management.

Weeding the inner landscape. The beliefs, the self-talk, the assumptions. The overgrowth of “not good enough,” “too much,” or “never going to.” Removing those invasive species from the garden of your brain—with compassion—rather than yanking them out while berating yourself for ever letting them grow in the first place.

Honestly, this one hits a bit close to home. Especially when paired with the other unfinished draft from the same day, “Negative Thoughts Directed at Ourselves.” It seems 2009 Me had some themes going. And bless her for that. She was really trying.


So, which one did I originally mean?

I truly have no idea. But in the spirit of compassionate weeding, I’m choosing not to worry about it. Instead, I’m embracing all three—because they each speak to something true.

Maybe Weeding with Compassion is just what it says on the tin: the reminder that growth sometimes requires letting go—but that even in the letting go, we can be kind.

To the weeds.
To each other.
To ourselves.

 

Now I’m curious—
What are you weeding right now?

Is it your inbox? Your garden? Your inner critic?
Are you doing it with compassion, or are you still in that rip-it-out-and-salt-the-earth phase (no judgment, we’ve all been there)?

Maybe today’s the day to pause and ask:
What’s worth keeping, what’s safe to release, and how can I be gentler about the whole messy, miraculous process?

Feel free to leave a comment. Or just let the question sit with you while you drink your tea and stare thoughtfully at your metaphorical (or actual) compost heap.

We’re all tending to something.
Let’s try to do it kindly.

 

Friday, June 20, 2025

Ngā Mata o te Ariki Tāwhirimātea

 

Today is the public holiday associated with Matariki (Te Mātahi o te Tau/Māori New Year).

I feel very connected to our special NZ holiday and all its components. 

Matariki is an abbreviation of Ngā Mata o te Ariki Tāwhirimātea — ‘The eyes of the god Tāwhirimātea’ — my favourite Māori God as he is the God of the Wind and Weather.

All people in NZ are descended from those in their own past who used the stars for navigation, time telling, and food gathering — it is a holiday for us all to celebrate, appropriate for our place and our seasons.

I am deeply proud of Matariki as a uniquely Aotearoa celebration. It is rare (I think, unprecedented) for an indigenous tradition to be formally recognised with public holiday status — a testament to the progress and manaakitanga at the heart of our government and society at the time of its creation.

This recognition honours the cultural heritage and knowledge of Māori and invites all New Zealanders to come together to reflect, celebrate, and plan for the future in a way that respects our land, ancestors, and the stars above.

Matariki is also a star in the cluster — the mother star — and how bright she is - foretells the happenings and conditions in the coming year. The other main stars celebrated in Matariki are the seven sisters, each with their own stories and meanings. Some iwi count seven stars, others nine. Some iwi can’t see Matariki from their location in NZ due to mountains, and instead use Puanga (Rigel in Orion’s Belt - the pot cluster) as the marker.

When these stars rise together is when we celebrate Matariki — a time for:

  • Reflection — remembering those before us and the lessons of the year. The first sightings of Matariki are met with expressions of grief for those who have passed since its last appearance. A ceremony called whāngai i te hautapu may be held, involving ‘feeding the stars’ with specially prepared foods.
  • Celebration — feasting, coming together, and honouring who we are as the grieving time ends. Traditionally this marks the end of the harvest — a time for eating, singing, and dancing.
  • Planning — looking forward to the year ahead, supporting each other and the environment. A bright, clear Matariki signals a favourable, productive season; hazy, closely grouped stars mean a cold winter and delayed planting.

Here are the words I gathered from various places to put together as a karakia (prayer) for my whānau to be spoken aloud during our gathering at Matariki. It includes my translation of the meanings (that part is intended for silent reading at the end of the spoken Reo statement)

 Matariki te tipua (Matariki is sacred)

Matariki te tawhito (Matariki is ancient)

Tau mai te wairua, mai ngā ira atua, ki te ira tangata (Welcome the spirit, welcome the life force of the universe into the people)

 

Mānawa maiea te putanga o Matariki! (Celebrate/Hail the rise of Matariki - the appearance of Matariki cluster)

Mānawa maiea te ariki o te rangi! (Celebrate/Hail the God/Lord/Chief of the Sky)

Mānawa maiea te Mātahi o te tau! (Celebrate/Hail the New Year)

 

Tuku anga mate o te tau ki a Pōhutakawa whao whetūrangi hea koutou (We release the dead of the year to Pōhutukawa - star associated with people who have passed on - Our loved ones have now become the stars)

 

E tū Tūpu-ā-nuku (Behold Tupu ā - nuku - star associated with everything that grows in the soil to be harvested or gathered for food)

E tū Tupu-ā-rangi (Behold Tupu ā rangi - star connected with everything that grows up in the trees - fruits, berries, birds)

E tū Waitī (Behold Waitī - associated with all fresh water and the food sources that are sustained in those waters)

E tū Waitā (Behold Waitā - associated with the ocean and food sources within)

E tū Waipuna - ā - rāngi (star for the rain - "water that pools in the sky")

E tū Ururangi (star for the winds - Māori has many names for different winds, where they come from and how strong they are)

E tū Hiwa-i-te-rangi (star associated with granting our wishes and realising our aspirations for the coming year - "to grow lush in the sky")

 

Matariki atua ka eke ki runga (Great Matariki rising above us)

Nau mai ngā hua (Bring forth the bounty)

Nau mai ngā taonga (Bring forth the treasures)

Nau mai te Mātahi o te tau (Bring forth the New year)

 

Hau mi e, hui e, Taiki e (Together in union, we are one)

Tihei Mauriora! (Let there be life)

 This year, the ritual of Tuku anga mate o te tau ki a Pōhutukawa whao whetūrangi hea koutou — the ceremonial release of the spirits of those who have passed to the pōhutukawa star — carries deep significance for our whānau. The pōhutukawa, often referred to as the “tree of the dead,” represents the sacred journey of our loved ones’ spirits returning to the stars. In te ao Māori, it is believed that the spirits travel to Te Rerenga Wairua (Cape Reinga - the place of leaping), descend the roots of the ancient pōhutukawa tree, and begin their journey to the ancestral homeland of Hawaiki.

Matariki marks this passage with reverence. The ritual of whāngai i te hautapu — “feeding the stars” — involves preparing food as an offering to the stars, especially Pōhutukawa and those connected to loved ones we've lost. It is a symbolic act of remembrance, honour, and connection — one that reinforces the enduring bond between the living and those who have passed.

This year, I feel the weight and comfort of this tradition more than ever. Since last Matariki we lost a beloved member of our whānau — my brother-in-law, Perry — after his drawn-out and heart wrenching transition from this world to the next.

As we gather to mark Matariki this year, we carry his spirit with us, releasing him to the stars with aroha and grief in equal measure.

This ancient practice reminds us that death is not an end but a transition — a return to the cosmos and the ancestral world.

The ritual helps us to let go with aroha and respect, while also opening our hearts to healing and renewal.

In this way, Matariki connects us deeply — not only to the cycles of the natural world and the stars above but to each other, and to those who came before us.

We are reminded that our ancestors live in the sky, watching over us through the shimmer of Matariki.
Their stories, like stars, help us navigate what’s to come.
Even in darkness, there is guidance.
Even in farewell, there is light.

I am quite besotted with how Matariki holds space for all these phases — grief, gratitude, and growth.

It doesn’t rush us past the hard parts or demand that we have everything figured out.
Instead, Matariki gently reminds us to lift our gaze, breathe in the cold morning air, and keep going.


The stars have risen — and with them, so do we… 

References and further reading:

 

For Perry. 


 

Friday, May 5, 2023

NZSL Week: Your Invitation to Start Signing

 New Zealand Sign Language (NZSL) is the main language for around 4 000 New Zealanders and uses signs to express concepts supported by movements of the face, head and upper body to convey grammatical and expressive meaning.

A fingerspelled alphabet is used mainly for proper nouns and terms that have no equivalent sign. It is common for people who use sign language as their primary language to be given a sign as a name based (rather than finger spelling) This sign will be based on a physical characteristic they have or personal trait their close contacts know them by.
The language is closely related to Auslan (Australian Sign Language) and BSL (British). Some British/Scottish immigrants arrived in NZ with BSL as their communication tool. In the mid to late 1800s deaf NZ children were sent to schools for the deaf in Australia and Britain for their education - BSL was used there at that time.
In 1877 MP William Roulston from Canterbury pushed for deaf children to be able to be educated in NZ rather than having to be sent over seas which resulted in the first school for the deaf in NZ being built in Christchurch with children from all over the country travelling there. At this point though it was thought best to avoid sign language and teach deaf children to lip read and speak English (Gerrit van Asch was a proponent of the ‘oralist’ teaching method and believed that children who could not speak or lip read would be too feeble minded to be educated. Children ended up secretly using sign language amongst themselves anyway).
A second school was built in Auckland during WWII as there was concern about children having to cross the cook strait with the possibility of Japanese submarines!
Deaf schools have turned out to be the most important contributing factor in the development (and spread) of NZSL.
Right up until the mid 1980s sign language was used relatively privately in the deaf community as it was stigmatized in public life. Over the years the signs took on a local New Zealand flavour and became different enough to be officially called NZSL.
NZSL was recognised as a language in the 1990s and made an official language of NZ along side English and Te Reo by the New Zealand Sign Language Act 2006. As signs express concepts through visual elements rather than coming from spoken words, NZSL signs can be translated into English and te reo Māori.
Only around 5% of NZers acquire NZSL as a first language from birth (this is around the percentage of children born to deaf parents). 
In 2018, about 23,000 people in New Zealand had some knowledge of NZSL.
NZSL is dynamic - as is any language - signs for new concepts (such as new technology) and new concepts and experiences to reflect changing in society are constantly being added. 
NZSL Week is a perfect time to jump into the sign language experience in your own way Smile


I have added some links for you below to support your participation (many are supported by YouTube videos so don't forget to look there for resources too).

 

NZSL Week website – specifically geared up for NZSL week with resources and info

 

NZSL website – website includes some excellent videos (no sound required) showing how to sign a variety of common phrases (searchable dictionary and integrated with  Te Reo which I found super interesting!) If searching a phrase try just the first word e.g. How (and you will get How are you?, How many?, How old? etc

 

Order your hot drink in NZSL! – Ake Ake promotion but you have to get in quick!

 

https://www.deaf.org.nz/ website