This blog by Cameron Boyle, originally published a a Snapshot in Environment and History 29.2, May 2023) addresses connections between the local extinction of kākā, a native parrot, and the colonial erasure of related indigenous Māori place names and meanings, in Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city.
The loss of kākā in the early twentieth century was part of a broader process of ecological imperialism in New Zealand and the colonial remaking of the country into a neo-Europe, which in Wellington comprised, among other things, the development of a botanic garden, the deforestation of original forest and the importation of exotic trees. This occurred alongside the erasure of Māori place names and meanings like Paekākā, or the perch of kākā, that refers to an area in the now central city where the botanic garden is situated, once used by the original inhabitants for food gathering, including of kākā. However, the reintroduction of kākā to Wellington at the start of the twenty-first century has resulted in a now booming population of the birds in the city once again. While to some the species is an icon of conservation efforts in Wellington, others are concerned by the damage they cause to exotic trees with heritage value in the botanic garden, creating a contestation of notions of nature. Furthermore, local authorities have formally recognised the return of kākā by recently adopting the name Paekākā for the area it originally referred to. While most people are happy with this use of the original place name, others believe it is an attempt to erase the colonial history and significance of the area.
New Zealand; botanic gardens; conservation: ecological Imperialism
In the thirteenth century, when the Polynesians who would later become known as Māori first arrived in Aotearoa, now officially the nation-state called New Zealand, the hilly lower part of Te Ika-a-Māui (Maui’s fish), the North Island, was covered in a near continuous tract of dense forest.[1] This bush consisted of podocarp trees up to forty metres in height, smaller hardwoods, and a variety of ferns and other understorey plants.[2] The southwest point of the island, originally called Te-Upoko-o-te-Ika-a Maui (the head of Maui’s fish), and then later Te Whanganui-a-Tara (the great harbour of Tara), now officially Wellington Harbour, was inhabited for several centuries by various Māori tribes.[3] However, the Ngāti Mutunga tribe become the dominant indigenous inhabitants when they settled in 1820 and built a village called Te Aro Pā (the bathing site of Mapihi), the site of which is now near the centre of Wellington, Aotearoa New Zealand’s capital city.[4] As a result of intricate Māori nomenclature, numerous names were given to places in the area, including Paekākā, meaning relm or perch of kākā (Nestor meridionalis).[5] Kākā is a now-threatened species of parrot endemic to Aotearoa New Zealand, and the name Paekākā signifies their once abundant presence in the area it refers to, where ‘their screams once made lively the dense bush’.[6] The forested hills and streams of Paekākā contained food sources like berries and eels, while ridgelines were cultivated with crops, and birds including kākā and other species were regularly caught to be eaten or traded.[7]
The settler-colonial project of mass migration, undertaken by the New Zealand Company, brought the first British migrants to Aotearoa New Zealand in the 1840s, including to Wellington, which was planned to expand inland from the harbour, encompassing Paekākā.[8] Thomas Shepherd, an English landscape architect and surveyor who become the New Zealand Company’s Agricultural Superintendent, was ‘struck with astonishment at the beautiful appearance’ of the forest that stretched almost all the way to the shoreline of Wellington Harbour, which he described as being ‘covered with the most beautiful sorts of trees and shrubs’.[9] However, as environmental historian Geoff Park explains, the same landscape was also an obstacle to progress, leading English surveyor Charles Heaphy to unrealistically depict the damp and swampy forest in the New Zealand Company’s promotional material as ‘sprawling, well-drained, well-wooded open plains country’.[10] This vision of Wellington (and most of Aotearoa New Zealand) as a ‘neo-Europe’, to use environmental historian Alfred Crosby’s term, would largely come true through a process of ecological imperialism that entailed the draining of wetlands, the deforestation of bush and the importation of exotic flora and fauna to create landscapes more familiar, palatable and agriculturally productive for the newly arrived settlers.[11] As historian Rollo Arnold notes, ‘the heavily-forested and hilly site of the Wellington settlement had held no attractions for anyone aspiring to the style of life of the English rural gentry’, and ‘by the 1870s considerable districts of yeoman farms had been carved from the forests adjacent to Wellington Harbour’.[12]
The transformation of Wellington into city and farmland also involved the formal inclusion of parks and gardens. The New Zealand Company’s 1839 pre-settlement plan designated a botanic garden in the city, but development did not occur until the 1870s.[13] By this time, Māori had been displaced from Paekākā, where the botanic garden was being established through the planting of exotic trees, including conifers like radiata pine.[14] However, some small sections of Paekākā’s original forest were preserved in the botanic garden and, over the succeeding decades, they become some of the last remaining patches of indigenous bush in Wellington, as deforestation became more widespread to support the expansion of the city and the surrounding pastureland.[15] By the 1880s, even the town belt, which was designated in the plan for Wellington as a treed boundary around the city to separate it from neighbouring farmland, had lost most of its indigenous trees, which were now being replaced by planting introduced conifers and eucalypts, while exotic weeds were also entering the landscape.[16] Additionally, exotic animals such as predators like cats, rats, and mustelids were being introduced.[17] By this time, ecological imperialism had rendered the landscape of Paekākā, like much of Aotearoa New Zealand, unrecognisable from its pre-colonial condition, with the botanic garden taking on a park status to express British environmental values of amenity and order, and therefore erasing the Māori significance of the place as an important site for food gathering.[18]
By the late nineteenth century, people started noticing that indigenous birds like kākā were disappearing in Wellington and around the colony due to hunting, loss of habitat to deforestation and predation by introduced animals.[19] Laws were passed to protect birds and, in 1887, kākā were classified as native game to prevent hunting.[20] However, this only applied to some districts, leading the Wellington Acclimatization Society to write to the government that kākā were being ‘rapidly exterminated by constant shooting for sale’ across the country.[21] In 1907, the Animal Protection Act safeguarded kākā nationally.[22] At the time, politician Thomas Mackenzie remarked that ‘if you go away to the large areas of the forests primeval you will hardly ever see kakas at all’.[23] In the 1930s, decades after protections were put in place, kākā were still rare because ‘a huge toll has been taken’ by hunting, despite once being ‘common in all forest patches’.[24] By this time, kākā had also become locally extinct in the wild in Wellington, and Paekākā, now a part of the city commonly known by its colonial designation, Thorndon, expressed a largely forgotten geographical significance which bore almost no relation to reality – referring to an absent bird in a forest that was now roads, houses, buildings, and a botanic garden. As one record from the 1930s claims, Paekākā did not just refer to an area where kākā could be found, but to a specific tree in the forest where they perched, the location of which had now become Murphy Street.[25]Moreover, for the remainder of the century, the only kākā in the city were those held in captivity at Wellington Zoo.[26]
Having undergone one of the biggest anthropogenic environmental transformations anywhere on earth, the valuing and conservation of indigenous biodiversity and ecosystems grew in Aotearoa New Zealand over the twentieth century.[27]Today, the country has moved far from the ecocide of the colonial period, which resulted in mass species loss and deforestation, and is now widely recognised as an environmentally conscious nation and leader in conservation.[28] An example of this in Wellington is Zealandia Ecosanctuary, a 225ha area of forest free of introduced predators bordered by an exclusion fence to keep them out, in which threatened indigenous birds and other species are protected.[29] The area the sanctuary occupies was previously part of the city’s town belt, and restoration has transformed the environment inside from its colonial condition, in which it was dominated by exotic flora and fauna, into a regenerating second-generation indigenous forest.[30] The impacts of ecological imperialism are still visible, as the radiata pine planted after the town belt was denuded in the nineteenth century remain on the hilly slopes of the sanctuary to act as a canopy while they are slowly replaced by newly planted podocarps, the area’s original giant forest trees.[31] Most remarkably, many of the birds reintroduced to Zealandia are increasingly spilling over the fence into the surrounding city, with community-based efforts to restore the forest along the town belt through planting and predator-trapping creating a halo around the sanctuary which the species can once again safely visit or even inhabit.[32]
Between 2002 and 2007, fourteen kākā captively bred at Wellington Zoo were translocated to Zealandia, from which a population now in the hundreds has developed and dispersed around the city.[33] This is remarkable because, even in much larger forested areas closer in condition to their original habitat, kākā populations are low due to predation by introduced species, making them nationally at risk.[34] An unexpected consequence of the reintroduction of kākā to Zealandia is their adaptation to the exotic pines in the sanctuary and along Wellington’s town belt, which, despite not having co-evolved with the trees, they now use as a food source, prying off bark to get the sap inside.[35] Kākā are also feeding on the heritage conifers and redwoods in the Wellington Botanic Garden.[36] The garden’s management are accepting of kākā and are committed to not planting any more of the trees, but they fear existing ones may not survive the birds feeding on them.[37] This highlights the differing environmental practices and ethoses at play – the colonial appreciation of the exotic nature of empire and its upkeep in gardens, and the post-colonial conservation of threatened indigenous biodiversity valued for its originary quality. Nevertheless, the majority of Wellingtonians value kākā and are willing to accept them inflicting minor damage to the trees at the botanic garden and to plants and buildings on their own properties, as they look for food in backyards and nesting sites in roofs.[38] Urbanisation is at times dangerous for kākā too, as they suffer lead poisoning when removing building material and increased spread of disease while gathering in large groups to be fed by people.[39] Although there is only minimal opposition to the presence of kākā, some fear this may escalate into a human–wildlife conflict as the population grows and the birds cause more damage.[40]
In 2019, the Māori tribal group, Taranaki Whānui, gifted the Wellington City Council the name Paekākā to honour the return of kākā to Wellington.[41] In 2020, the council formally adopted the designation for the area it originally referred to and also instated the new name Wellington Botanic Garden ki Paekākā.[42] It would be easy at this point to suggest the story of the disappearance and re-emergence of kākā and the name Paekākā is one of history completing a full circle. However, while the public and most councillors were in favour of reinstating the name Paekākā, councillor Simon Wolff opposed the move and stated that many people ‘do not wish to see the use of Te Reo [Māori language] in places where it may not have significance’, and that the history of the site ‘may be altered by creating or adding a Te Reo name’.[43]Another councillor, Nicola Young, criticised the renaming as ‘woke’.[44] Therefore, while many people are aware of the history of the colonial erasure of Māori culture and knowledge, particularly in terms of understandings of place and environment, and the need for their revitalisation, others wish for names like Paekākā and their meanings to remain forgotten. Nevertheless, if the story of kākā in Wellington tells us anything, it is that the overlapping of a recovering indigenous ecology and exotic flora and fauna in parks and gardens will continue to shape the city into the future, as a new post-colonial landscape characterised by multiple natures and environmental sensibilities emerges.
[1] N. Singers, P. Crisp and O. Spearpoint, Forest Ecosystems of the Wellington Region (Wellington: Greater Wellington Regional Council, 2018), p. 5.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Wellington City Council, Māori History (Wellington: Wellington City Council, 2023): https://wellington.govt.nz/wellington-city/about-wellington-city/history/history-of-wellington-waterfront/maori#:~:text=The%20earliest%20known%20name%20for,the%20head%20of%20Maui’s%20fish. (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[4] M. Love, Te Āti Awa of Wellington (Wellington: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand, 2017), p. 2.
[5] Tohunga, ‘The wisdom of the Maori’, The New Zealand Railways Magazine 9(7) (1934): 37.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] G. Park, Theatre Country: Essays on Landscape and Whenua (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2006), p. 41.
[9] Ibid., pp. 40-41.
[10] Ibid., p. 41
[11] A. Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900–1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), p. 149.
[12] R. Arnold, The Farthest Promised Land: English Villagers, New Zealand Immigrants of the 1870s, (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 1981), p. 262.
[13] D. Sole, ‘Wellington Botanic Garden: Full circle to the future 1869–2019’, The Botanic Gardener 53(1) (2019): 60.
[14] Ibid., p. 61.
[15] Wellington City Council, Wellington Town Belt Management Plan (Wellington: Wellington City Council, 2018), p. 37.
[16] Ibid., p. 38.
[17] Sole, ‘Wellington Botanic Garden’, 62.
[18] Ibid.
[19] D. Young, Our Islands, Our Selves: A History of Conservation in New Zealand (Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2004), p. 124.
[20] C. Miskelly, ‘Legal protection of New Zealand’s indigenous terrestrial fauna: An historical review’, Tuhinga 25(1) (2014): 36.
[21] Ibid., 36.
[22] Ibid., 45.
[23] Ibid., 46.
[24] ‘Native bird’, Cromwell Argus (New Zealand), 17 Oct. 1938, Allied Press Limited.
[25] Tohunga, ‘The wisdom of the Maori’, 37.
[26] ‘Local and General’, Evening Post (New Zealand), 23 July 1915, Stuff Limited.
[27] Young, Our Islands, Our Selves, p. 110.
[28] D. Simberloff, ‘New Zealand as a leader in conservation practice and invasion management’, Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand 49(3) (2019): 260.
[29] Zealandia Ecosanctuary, About Us: https://www.visitzealandia.com/about (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[30] Zealandia Ecosanctuary, Living with Nature: Our Strategy for 2016–2035: https://www.visitzealandia.com/Portals/0/Resources/Annual%20Reports/Living%20with%20Nature%20-%20Strategy%202016-2035.pdf?ver=2019-11-22-093338-940 (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[31] Ibid.
[32] B. Clarkson and C. Kirby, ‘Ecological restoration in urban environments in New Zealand’, Ecological Management and Restoration 17(3) (2016): 187.
[33] C. Miskelly, R. Empson and K. Wright, ‘Forest birds recolonising Wellington’, Notornis 52(1) (2005): 21.
[34] Department of Conservation, Kākā: https://www.doc.govt.nz/nature/native-animals/birds/birds-a-z/kaka/. (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[35] K. Charles and W. Linklater, ‘Selection of trees for sap-foraging by a native New Zealand parrot, the Kaka (Nestor meridionalis), in an urban landscape’, Australia Ornithology 114(4) (2014): 318.
[36] Ibid.
[37] V. Molyneux and N. James, No More Redwoods: The Unintended Consequence of Wellington’s Booming Kākā Population, New Zealand Herald(2022): https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/no-more-redwoods-the-unintended-consequence-of-wellingtons-booming-kaka-population/CSMHBS62MFBG5CNBWEDCT7STAM/. (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[38] W. Linklater, H. Chapman, A. Gregor, R. Calder-Flynn, J. Gouws, O. Quigan, A. Rustandi, J. Brian-Molitaviti and Y. Ying, ‘Initiating a conflict with wildlife: The reintroduction and feeding of Kākā, Wellington City, New Zealand’, Pacific Conservation Biology 24(1) (2018): 365.
[39] A. Sriram, Lead Exposure in an Urban Population of Free-Ranging Kaka (Nestor meridionalis septentrionalis). (M.Sc. Thesis, Massey University, 2017).
[40] Linklater et al., ‘Initiating a conflict with wildlife’, 368.
[41] Wellington City Council, Council Adopts Paekākā as the Name for Wellington Botanic Garden Precinct, Scoop (2020):https://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/AK2008/S00293/council-adopts-paekaka-as-the-name-for-wellington-botanic-garden-precinct.htm (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[42] Ibid.
[43] D. Fonseka, Gift of Paekākā to Wellington Botanic Garden Triggers Councillor Stoush Over Unreasonable Te Reo Use, Stuff (2019): https://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/news/wellington/115731728/gift-of-paekk-to-wellington-botanic-garden-triggers-councillor-stoush-over-unreasonable-te-reo-use?rm=a (accessed 22 Feb. 2023).
[44] Ibid.
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