December 13, 2013
New Zealand is full of wonderful birds, but some of them have a sinister side. We had been warned about the dreaded spur-winged plovers who can swoop and strike with a small pointed spur on their wings. At the bird sanctuary we learned that tuis can hook a claw through your finger like a fish hook, moreporks can inflict serious slashes with their claws, and a kiwi can rip you open. In the south island, keas will annihilate your car antenna and steal your stuff when you’re not looking, and kakapos will mate with your head.
One bird we never worried about was the shy and docile oystercatcher. They’re the size of small chickens and are quite striking with their black feathers and long orange beaks. We first saw them in Mexico and now encounter them frequently on New Zealand’s shores.
As we walked down the beach, we saw several oystercatcher pairs. One pair was doing a mating dance, another was nesting, and another pair had chicks and didn’t seem to mind us getting fairly close to snap a few pictures. Half an hour later, we were walking back along the water’s edge, talking and not paying much attention to the oystercatchers up on the beach.
The attack came out of nowhere. One minute were walking along, and the next we saw the blur of black feathers and a large orange beak, the normally comical feature now a needle-like weapon as it came at us fast. We did the only thing we could do to survive: we screamed and ran like little girls. The bird did not pursue us, and we stopped and looked back, wondering what caused it to get so irate. It seemed the parent of the chicks wanted to bring them down to the water’s edge, and we were in the way. Why it couldn’t just wait a few seconds for us to pass, or just go behind us, I don’t know.
We watched one of the parents, probably the proud father, bring his children to water after chasing away the evil giants. The evil giants watched from afar, mentally adding oystercatchers to their list of New Zealand’s deadliest birds. Defeated and broken, our dignity gone, we walked back to our dinghy, went to the boat, and comforted ourselves with a nice bottle of local sauvignon blanc. –Cyndi
