Last September, above a small, rocky beach in southern New Zealand, I saw what may be the rarest, most endangered penguin in the world: the Yellow-eyed Penguin, or hoiho in Māori. Rarity tends to be noteworthy, or at least it makes us take note. But as remarkable as this sighting was, I felt conflicted. Was I excited? Impressed? Sad? Thankful?
Before visiting New Zealand with my husband, I’d never seen any penguin in the wild, so seeing three species on our trip was fortunate, amazing, and thrilling. We saw adorable Little Penguins/kororā and a lone Fiordland Penguin/tawaki, but months later the one I still think about is this singular Yellow-eyed Penguin.
First Stop: The Penguin Place
“Did you come to share a personal moment? These penguins are not interested in having a personal moment with you.”
Adrian the arborist (as I think of him) said this at the start of our tour of the Penguin Place, site of a hoiho conservation reserve and the start of our hoiho search. Renamed OPERA (Otago Peninsula Eco Restoration Alliance) shortly after our visit, it’s a private eco reserve focused on conservation, reforestation, rehabilitation, and education. Founded in 1985, it’s the oldest private ecotourism operation in New Zealand.
I had come to the Penguin Place, with my husband, hoping to see a penguin. However, we were cautioned we would be extremely lucky to see even one Yellow-eyed Penguin, and even then it would likely be far away.
Yellow-eyed Penguins are shy, antisocial, and independent. They don’t hang out in groups. They have unpredictable arrival and departure times on beaches. They nest in dense vegetation, out of sight of one another and people. They also have a small breeding range, mostly on New Zealand’s subantarctic islands. There are only a few hundred breeding pairs on the South Island and nearby islands.
Adrian called them “fiercely independent,” which this introvert can appreciate.
While we went on a penguin tour in search of penguins (or even a single penguin), the experience delivered much more. During our nature walk on OPERA’s 150-acre reserve, we learned about the organization’s efforts to preserve the remaining native bush, and its 50-year plan to restore native coastal forest on land previously cleared for farming.
In addition to planting thousands of native trees, bushes, and shrubs, Adrian explained the realities of trapping and eradicating non-native threats like stoats and ferrets, which can wipe out a population of hoiho chicks. In addition to native flora, eventually OPERA plans to expand populations of native fauna through rewilding breeding and release programs. (I’m the weirdo who asks for details about how exactly you kill non-native predators. Sorry if you’re ever on a tour with me.)
Next, we headed into the trenches, literally, which led to blinds where we could watch the beach below undetected.
It was a beautiful late-winter day. We saw fur seals lounging and swimming, gulls and oystercatchers on the beach, a harrier flying overhead, and even a few Little Penguin nesting boxes with residents sheltered inside.
Plus, there were the South Pacific vistas.
We did not see any hoiho.
Yet, I was not disappointed. It was stunning.
Penguin Rehab
There actually was one Yellow-eyed Penguin we could see at the Penguin Place: the current resident in its Rehabilitation Center.
OPERA’s Rehabilitation Center cares for more than 250 penguins a year, mainly Yellow-eyed and Little Penguins that are sick, injured, and/or suffering from malnutrition. Starvation due to lack of fish is one reason penguin numbers are declining. Climate change, with its warming oceans, is exacerbating the problem. Other threats include non-native predators, disease, loss of coastal forest and shrubland, and disturbances from dogs and people.
In addition to penguins found on OPERA’s own reserve, penguins in need are brought in by the Wildlife Hospital Dunedin, Yellow-Eyed Penguin Trust, and Department of Conservation. We had a brief, quiet look at this Yellow-eyed Penguin, who would hopefully head back out to sea and the wild at a healthy weight.
Roaring Bay
Driving south the next day, I recalled reading about a nearby-ish hide for viewing Yellow-eyed Penguins, and figured it was worth a stop, if only to say we looked for hoiho one more time. As we walked down the trail toward the Roaring Bay blind, my husband scanned the water with binoculars. By some miracle I still give thanks for, he spotted a solo Yellow-eyed Penguin swimming ashore in the surf.
I took a quick look through the binoculars, saw the penguin swimming (!), and then I walked, rapidly, towards the viewing blind. With every step, I hoped the penguin wouldn’t disappear. Thankfully when I arrived at the hide a quarter-mile away, there it was, now closer to shore. I saw the penguin land on the beach below, and for half an hour we watched through binoculars and my camera as it slowly made its way across the rocks, into the grass, and eventually into the vegetation, hidden from view.
Breeding season was underway, and the penguin likely had a nest nearby where, in a matter of days or weeks, it would be incubating eggs with its partner.
Watching this lone Yellow-eyed Penguin make its way up the rocky beach was amazing.
How lucky were we to see this one rare penguin—possibly the rarest of penguins?! I could hardly believe it and was thrilled, but as I walked back up the trail I began to feel conflicted. How could I be thrilled about something so rare?
Pondering Penguins
Yellow-eyed Penguins are listed by New Zealand’s Department of Conservation as “Threatened: Nationally Endangered.” That’s only two spots below Extinct and means that these birds, found only in New Zealand, are facing a high risk of extinction in the short term. Hoiho have lost two-thirds to three-quarters of their population in the past two decades. There are now only an estimated 1,500 in the world, with fewer than 500 living on the New Zealand mainland. They are declining, rapidly.
Forget about life lists. Watching an animal that is so threatened isn’t truly a happy experience. It’s tenuous and bittersweet. And while thrilling to see such a rare bird, it also feels kind of…well, shitty to be excited to see something that’s declining and dying off. It was not lost on me that I had flown halfway around the world, and then been sad that a penguin I saw was endangered, in large part due to climate change.
You don’t need to look halfway around the world for similar stories. Examples of biodiversity and habitat loss are everywhere. Back home in Maine, Atlantic Puffins face similar issues with lack of food as our Gulf of Maine warms faster than almost any other ocean surface. When sea levels rise, they destroy habitat for endangered birds like Piping Plovers and Saltmarsh Sparrows. Right in our backyards, songbirds and insects are losing native habitat and numbers.
Of all the birds and sights I saw in New Zealand, this single Yellow-eyed Penguin is the one I’ve thought about the most since. I’ve wondered: Was it sitting on eggs? Did its chicks hatch and survive? Was it finding enough food at sea? Will it return to the same rocky beach this year? What were the odds of it showing up in the middle of the day at the same time we did? In the moment it felt like sheer luck and serendipity.
Excited, troubled, astonished—I think I’m supposed to feel conflicted. Despite having no interest in sharing a personal moment with me (understandably), this hoiho left a lasting impression. But so did Adrian and our tour at OPERA, the thousands of native trees being planted, a penguin in rehab waiting to be returned to the wild, and a vision and plan for restoration of a coastal forest and species.
Yellow-eyed Penguin/Hoiho Info:
- The Yellow-eyed Penguin Trust
- OPERA (Otago Peninsula Eco Restoration Alliance)
- Department of Conservation/Te Papa Atawhai
- New Zealand Birds Online
All photos copyright Alicia MacLeay.
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