Words by Edgar Castillo
In the early parts of the 18th century, both British and European explorers crisscrossed the oceans in search of unfamiliar places of discovery. Most were sent to establish trade routes, military outposts, colonies, and expand the home realm.
These adventurous seekers faced extreme hardships navigating uncharted waters and rough seas, inaccurate maps, harsh weather, and the challenges of finding and securing supplies and resources for the dangerous voyage.
Many of these ships sailed to the southern waters in search of a continent referred to as “Great South Land.” We know it as New Zealand. It was said to be rich in minerals. Their mission…to find the new lands wealth and precious natural resources.
When travelers did arrive, new risks and additional unknowns faced the landing parties. The dangers of the high seas were replaced with new land hazards such as, dealing with unfamiliar terrain, violent encounters with wild and dangerous animals, hostile interactions, and language barriers with the Indigenous populations.
Sometimes, the initial encounters went well, however, other issues emerged. If the locals weren’t keen on trading, sharing, or partaking in business deals, then negotiations dissolved, and force became the deciding factor. During those occasions where everyone got what they wanted, the Aboriginals still got shafted in the end. Decimation to the local fauna was inevitable when enterprising men of fortune and sport entered into the picture.
This was evident in October of 1769, when an English expedition arrived in Dutch named “Nieuw Zeeland”,
aboard the British Royal Navy research vessel, HMS Endeavor. Commanded by renowned British explorer,
navigator, and cartographer, James Cook, the ship made landfall and sailed into a large bay. The ship’s landing party’s initial encounter with island natives didn’t go well. There was some trading and interactions, but there was also misunderstanding that resulted in conflicts, including the death of a Māori leader. Through a Tahitian priest translator, further encounters were more peaceful, and trade prospered.
As Cook and the crew surveyed the land, discoveries were being made. Sir Joseph Banks, a prominent English
naturalist and botanist, was the first to describe the local quail, called koneke by the Māori.
The little plump gamebirds thrived in the lowland tussock grasslands. They were hunted by the Māori, along with pigeon, various species of ducks, and godwits, by snaring and spearing the birds. Cook wrote, “crew shot many birds.” Upon departure, Cook made concerted efforts at acclimatization to the new land and soon the needs and seeds of colonization were being formed in his head. In his captain’s log he revealed, “there is so little culinary relief from the shipboard rations” that he vowed to resolve on his return. A later entry said, “I aim to stock the larder with sporting wild game of both hoof and wing.” Unbeknownst to the 40-year-old commissioned lieutenant, he would be the harbinger of death to the country’s native quail population.
With news about a new country, European settlers began to arrive in droves. The extinction started shortly after. Colonists quickly found the Arcadian “Britain of the South” they’d been promised – bucolic, fertile, cultivated – was in fact ill-deposed. Worst of all, there was very little to eat. Many of the vegetation and creatures were unfamiliar. All, but the delicious quail.
Numbers start to dwindle. One settler, Charles Hursthouse, saw a lucrative opportunity for “a vast hunting estate awaiting stocking.” He wrote, “should swarm with game…there is the finest cover and perpetual profusion of the finest foods for everything from jacksnipe to elephants.” He quickly found favor in easing the food shortage, along with those eager to squander the hunting resources that had been underpinned by the founding ideal of an English class system, where sporting and hunting activities were for royal aristocrats and the wealthy.
Around 1840, private importations began, in the absence of any legislation. All were haphazard, many were ill-
researched, and some were bizarre. One such settler sent letters requesting, “pheasants must be on the first four
ships.”
In 1862 two pairs of California quail were liberated. Years later, a journal entry states, “these are now in the
thousands and have spread for many miles.” By this time, even the New Zealand colonial premier gets into the action and coordinates an importation of an untold number of California quail in 1865. European mallard ducks were introduced in the late 1860s.
By 1875, the last confirmed sighting of koreke occurred and with that, the once flourishing native quail were exterminated. At the beginning of the 20th century, the New Zealand government took the lead and brought in a bestiary of North Americana waterfowl exotica: Canada and snow geese, canvasbacks, wood ducks, pintails, and widgeons to remedy the sporting appetite. But the real zeal was reserved for gamebirds. Partridge, snipe, woodcock, a variety of grouse, plovers, prairie hens, ptarmigan, curlews, and a dozen species of pigeons and doves were transported and released. None ever established.
1926 brought the black grouse, even though it was expressly forbidden to be released in a national park. The importer simply crossed the road and let the birds go along the boundary. All 15 grouse perished, but the heather seeds that had been sprinkled about to provide them with habitat flourished: heather now infests a large area.
New Zealand Archives, “Hunter with California Quail on Wall” – 1906, public domain
What did survive? Well, to this day wingshooters can hunt coveys of California quail that fossick under hydrangeas, hear the croak of cock pheasants in thick grassy cover, flush Chukars in the rocky highlands, and shoot strings of Greenhead mallards. They are all now part of the rural biota…all brought about by intrepid men and explorers in search of discovery.
Note: New Zealand has the most introduced animals in the world and the second-highest number of introduced birds.
Edgar Castillo is a retired law enforcement officer for a large KC metro agency, where he served 27 years. He also did a decade in the Marines. Born in Guatemala, he came to the U.S. where he discovered wingshooting. Edgar’s passion lies in the uplands as he travels across public lands, hunting open fields , walking treelines, & bustin’ though plum thickets in search of wild birds in wild places. He is a contributing writer for several outlets including Field Ethos, Bushman Journal, Strung Magazine, On The Fly Magazine and many more. Follow Edgar on Instagram @hunt_birdz
