Walk through a Wellington suburb at dawn and you’ll hear it. A sound like a rusty gate hinge being tortured, followed by a series of liquid whistles that seem way too melodic for a bird that looks like a grimy football. That’s the kākā.
Honestly, if you haven’t met one, they’re basically the kea’s slightly more sophisticated—but still very chaotic—cousin. While the kea is busy eating the rubber off your car in the Southern Alps, the kakas of New Zealand are busy stripping the bark off exotic trees in city parks and figuring out how to break into "pest-proof" bird feeders. They are large, olive-brown forest parrots, and they are currently staging one of the most visible conservation comebacks in the Southern Hemisphere.
The Wellington Explosion
A few decades ago, seeing a kākā in a New Zealand city was about as likely as seeing a moa. They were restricted to deep, old-growth forests and offshore islands like Little Barrier or Kapiti. Then Zealandia happened.
The creation of the world’s first fully fenced urban ecosanctuary in Wellington changed the game. They released a handful of birds, and those birds did what parrots do: they got comfortable. By 2026, the "halo effect" of this project has turned Wellington into a place where you genuinely have to watch your lunch if you're sitting on a park bench.
The numbers are pretty wild. In the last decade alone, the kākā population in the capital has increased by over 250%. You’ve got birds breeding in suburban backyards now. It's a massive success, sure, but it’s also created some weird tension. Because, let’s be real: kākā are destructive.
They Will Literally Eat Your House
Okay, maybe not the whole house. But they have this specific feeding habit called "sap-feeding." They use those massive, bolt-cutter beaks to gouge deep horizontal trenches into tree trunks.
🔗 Read more: Why Presidio La Bahia Goliad Is The Most Intense History Trip In Texas
They’re looking for high-energy sap, and in the wild, this is a natural part of the forest cycle. But in a botanical garden or a manicured backyard? It’s a nightmare. They’ve actually killed exotic trees like macrocarpas and eucalyptus by "girdling" them—stripping the bark all the way around until the tree can’t transport water.
Research from experts like Dr. Rachael Shaw has shown just how smart these birds are. They aren't just blindly pecking; they are calculating. They’ve been observed defending specific "sap trees" from other birds, almost like they’re farming them.
North vs. South: A Tale of Two Parrots
Most people think a kākā is just a kākā, but there are actually two recognized subspecies: the North Island (Nestor meridionalis septentrionalis) and the South Island (Nestor meridionalis meridionalis).
- The North Island crowd: They’re a bit smaller and more olive-brown.
- The South Island crowd: These guys are chunkier (about 100g heavier on average) and have much more white/grey on the top of their heads.
There’s a bit of a scientific debate happening right now, though. Some recent genetic studies looking at over 100,000 "paragraphs" of the kākā genome haven't found a massive distinction between the two. It’s possible that what we see as "subspecies" today are just the survivors of a much more diverse group that used to live all over the country before we cleared the land.
The 2026 Breeding Boom
The timing of this is actually quite critical. As of January 2026, we are looking at a predicted "mast year" in the South Island beech forests.
💡 You might also like: London to Canterbury Train: What Most People Get Wrong About the Trip
A mast year is basically an ecological explosion. The trees produce way more seeds than usual. For the kākā, this is like an all-you-can-eat buffet that triggers a breeding frenzy. In a normal year, a female might not even bother nesting. In a mast year? They can lay up to five eggs.
The Department of Conservation is currently prepping for this. Why? Because more seeds mean more rats and stoats. If we don’t hit those predators with intensive control (like the Project Kaka operations in the Tararua Forest Park), the "boom" for the birds becomes a "bust" as predators swarm the nests. Female kākā are particularly at risk because they do all the incubation. They sit on those nests for weeks, making them sitting ducks for a hungry stoat.
Things People Get Wrong
One of the biggest misconceptions is that kākā are just "forest keas."
While they share a common ancestor, their lifestyles are totally different. Kea are alpine specialists. Kākā need the canopy. They have these specialized brush-tipped tongues—sorta like a paintbrush—specifically designed for lapping up nectar and honeydew.
Another myth? That they’re "friendly."
📖 Related: Things to do in Hanover PA: Why This Snack Capital is More Than Just Pretzels
They are curious, yes. But a kākā in your garden isn't there to be your pal; it’s there to see if you have anything edible. This has led to a major problem: Metabolic Bone Disease. People feed them crackers, bread, or sunflower seeds. These are basically junk food for parrots. It’s been a heartbreaking issue in Wellington, where fledglings end up with deformed bones because their parents fed them too many human snacks instead of high-protein grubs and nectar.
How to Actually Support Them
If you're lucky enough to live near a population of kakas of New Zealand, the best thing you can do is actually quite passive.
- Plant for them: Kōwhai, rātā, and flax are the gold standard. They provide the nectar the birds need without the risk of disease.
- Water, not food: If you want them to visit, put out a bird bath. They love a good soak, and it’s much safer than a bowl of seeds.
- Predator trapping: If you're in an urban area, a single backyard trap can be the difference between a successful nest in your neighborhood and a tragedy.
- Give them space: They have a nasty bite. Seriously. Those beaks are designed to crush wood; your finger doesn't stand a chance.
The resurgence of the kākā is proof that New Zealand's "Predator Free 2050" goal isn't just a pipe dream. It’s happening in real-time. We’re learning to live with a bird that is loud, messy, and incredibly intelligent. It’s a bit of a transition, moving from a silent forest to one filled with the "ka-aa" of a parrot that’s been missing for a century, but honestly? It's a trade-off most of us are more than happy to make.
To help the population stay healthy, check the local Department of Conservation (DOC) guidelines on native plantings for your specific region, as the diet of a North Island kākā differs slightly from their southern counterparts depending on available forest types.