Jack Tame: Making amends with Mother Nature

It was Ruud Kleinpaste who inspired me.  

Even since my fiasco with the trees in my backyard, in which I inadvertently oversaw a much, much, much more aggressive winter prune than intended, (and which for the sake of marital harmony we need not re-litigate!), I’ve been looking for opportunities to make amends to Mother Nature. 

Along with my regularly Nutella’d rat trap, Ruud suggested that what the native birds had lost in terms of a leafy canopy, I might make up to them with a bit of sugar water. Native birds, it would seem, are like school children (or indeed, me). The quickest way to their hearts is through their stomachs and the more sugary the incentive, the better.  

I bought one from Predator Free NZ: a Pekapeka bird feeder with a dripper bottle up the top for the nectar feeders and a little attachment for hanging energy balls or fruit underneath it. 

Winter is the time when the native birds benefit most from a bit of supplementary feed. Putting a bit of food in the feeder was obvious. That would please the sparrows. But it wasn’t at all clear to me how the native nectar feeders might work out that the bottle was dripping out the avian version of Fanta.  

I spent a day or two Googling various theories and methods for attracting them before the bottle arrived, but as it turned out I needn’t have worried. The moment I strung it up and turned my back on the feeder, it was swarmed by an incredible flock of tauhou, silvereyes. The pudgy little cuties swarmed the feeder’s platform and pecked at the feeder nozzle. Six or eight at a time they squabble, with more queueing up in the nearby plum tree, waiting to gorge. 

In the few weeks I’ve had it up, I’ve become less concerned about attracting birds, and more worried that somehow I’ve created a dependency. As well as the silvereyes, every tūī in Auckland must have had the word. They swoop down, iridescent, gorgeous, greedy. The tauhou scramble.  

I’ve no idea what the record is —maybe you can outdo me— but at one point yesterday I counted no fewer than six tūī in my backyard, all of them lined up to guzzle down the sugar water. It’s a good thing they don’t have teeth to brush, but can tūī get diabetes? 

Maybe it’s middle age. I dunno. Maybe it’s a weird form of nesting. I just cannot believe what joy it’s giving me to sit down and watch the native birds squabbling over sugar water. The tauhou, like furry little ping pong balls. The tūī, bullies, but such beautiful bullies.   

My feeder is not bringing back a dense tree canopy to my backyard. But it’s certainly brought back a bit of life.   

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:07):
You're listening to the Saturday Morning with Jack Team podcast
from News Talks at Me.

Speaker 2 (00:13):
It was Rude Cliin Past, good old friend of the show,
our man in the garden, Rude Kliin Past, who inspired
me ever since my fiasco with the trees in my backyard,
in which I inadvertently oversaw a much much much more
aggressive winter prune than intended, and which, for the sake

(00:35):
of marital harmony, we need not re litigate this morning,
I've been looking for opportunities to make amends to mother
Nature at my place, along with my regularly nuttallied rat trap.
Rude suggested that what the native birds had lost in
terms of a leafy canopy at my place, I might

(00:57):
make up to them with a bit of sugar water.
Native birds, it would seem, are kind of like school children,
or honestly kind of like me, and that the quickest
way to their hearts is through their stomachs, and the
more sugary the incentive, the better. So I bought one
from Predator Free New Zealand, a peckapecker bird feeder with

(01:19):
a dripper bottle up the top for the neck defeeders
and a little attachment for hanging energy balls or bits
of fruit underneath it. Winter is the time when the
native birds benefit the most from a bit of supplementary feed,
and so, you know, putting a bit of food in
the feeder was obvious. I reckon that would probably please
the sparrows. But it wasn't at all clear to me

(01:40):
how the native neck defeeders were going to work out
that the bottle was dripping out the Avian version of fanta.

Speaker 3 (01:49):
It was that sweet. I had no idea. You know,
there's like a little metal attachment, a little metal nozzle.
How would they know that was the place to go?
So I spent a day or two googling various theories
and methods for attracting them before the bottle arrived. Although
as it turned out, I needn't worried. The moment I
strung it up and turned my back on the feeder,

(02:10):
it was swarmed by an incredible flock of toho, you know,
silver eyes. The pudgy little cuties swarmed the feeders platform
and pecked at the feeder nozzle, six or eight at
a time. They squabble, with more queuing up in the
nearby plum tree, waiting to gorge in the few weeks
that I've had it, I've become less concerned about attracting

(02:34):
birds and more worried that somehow I've created a dependency.
As well as the silver eyes, every Twi in Auckland
must have had the word. They swoop down, irridescent, gorgeous, greedy,
the toho scramble. I've no idea what the record is,

(02:55):
and I don't know. Maybe you can outdo me. But
at one point yesterday I counted no fewer than six
Twoi in my backyard, six all of them lined up
to guzz down the sugar water. It's a good thing
that Toui don't have teeth to brush, But can too
he get diabetes. Maybe it's middle age. I don't know,

(03:16):
Maybe it's maybe it's a weird form of nesting. I
just cannot believe what joy it's giving me to sit
down and watch the native birds squabbling over sugar water,
the toho, the silver eyes like furry little ping pong balls.
The Toui bullies, but such beautiful bullies. My feeder is

(03:40):
not bringing back a dense tree canopy to my backyard,
but it has certainly brought back a bit of life.

Speaker 1 (03:49):
For more from Saturday Morning with Jack Tame. Listen live
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