‘Aue!’ it cried. ‘Aue!’, it cried again.

The rearea tossed to its side the husk of  yet another fleshless berry. Its belly remained unfilled on this wind-swept morning.

The rearea tilted its head and peered up at the swaying branches of the kahikatea and mīro trees above it. The mīro berries were green and hard. Inedible for the young bird. But the kahikatea…

Suddenly, there was a gust of wind, and the scream of leaves as the treetops danced in the yellow light of dawn. And then – down fell a single mīro berry – right onto the beak of the startled rearea.

It must have been the first of its berries, somehow going unnoticed by the birds of the forest. The rearea gobbled up the fruit quickly. It was hard, and slightly green, but still ripe.

The bird peered up once again into the depths of the top of the great kahikatea tree.

It is a god, thought the rearea. An almighty being that looks only skyward – unconcerned with the hustle and bustle of the creatures at its roots.

And it was then that the rearea knew that atop the tree, inlaid within its crown, were jewels. Somewhere up there, beyond sight, was its fruit.

The rearea threw itself into the air, and flapped madly as it battled the wind, aiming higher and higher. But the rearea was small, and the kahikatea large. It grew tired and, in a start, only just made its way to a protruding stem of the tree.

The rearea slowly calmed, and nestled closer to the trunk of the giant. It had only made its way up about a third of the tree – and yet it was exhausted, and the winds relentless. It decided to wait.

--

A little while after the chorus of dawn, the rearea was once again ready to embrace the winds of the ngahere. It sang a quick waiata ‘look at me!’, it called, and leapt into the air.

The sun was now streaming and the entire forest was now watching the small bird. A crew of pīwakawaka played around the foot of the kahikatea, throwing themselves at each other in laughter at the tiny bird attempting to climb such a great tree.

And still, the rearea flew. It was reaching the top – and it could almost taste the rich flesh of the kahikatea’s berries, and see the clear blue sky above the tallest leaves of the canopy above.

But then, another gust of wind, stronger than the one before, suddenly tackled the tiny rearea and it tumbled downward. Its wings were folded in,  and the bird seemed as flightless as the mīro berry that fell upon its head earlier that morning.

The pīwakawaka below grew loud – excited by the sight above. The rearea is falling – something unconscionable for a bird.

The rearea’s eyes were closed. It was sore, battered, and in a desperate plea it extended out a foot – hoping to find something, anything, to hold to.

There was nothing. Only air. Only space – but then, the kahikatea seemed to move on its own accord, reaching toward the little bird with a soft set of leaves. The rearea’s toes curled inward.

-        -

The sun was then at its highest point in the sky. The pīwakawaka, grown bored from waiting to spot the rearea, had moved on, squabbling over the slowest insects on the forest floor.

And the rearea climbed. The winds had since died down, seemingly grown bored from the bush and instead raced toward salty waves and sea birds.

The rearea had finally reached the tallest point of the kahikatea tree, and sang in joy as it spotted a fresh crop of fat berries – sweetened and warmed by the midday sun.

The rearea, hungry now after its less-than-appetising breakfeast of a single greenish mīro berry, fed happily on the fruit, and the ngahere itself seemed to warm in a smile at the small bird.

--

Many weeks later, having grown larger, and stronger from the berries, the rearea sat proudly atop a clutch of eggs. Its nest sits within the arms of a kānuka – hidden well from unfriendly eyes.

Ōhanga Rearea – the nest of the rearea. It was built well by the with twigs, grasses, and the softest of its feathers.

Its eggs are warm, strong, and protected by the body of the rearea and its mate.

And one day they will hatch and its children will fly. And they, too, will look upon the great kahikatea, and believe too, that despite being the smallest of birds, with the weakest of wings, that they will ascend and feast well upon the rich taste of its berries.

As the chicks close their eyes with the descent of the sun, the rearea will speak in their dreams.

Itiiti rearea, teitei kahikatea ka taea. Although the rearea bird is small, it can ascend the lofty heights of the kahikatea tree.

--