After a long struggle with her health, Mum died in Auckland in 2012. At the end of her funeral service a blackbird (Turdus merula) flew inside the church. It fluttered and hopped about her coffin, which was laid on the floor in front of the altar on a beautiful Tongan tapa cloth. The blackbird lingered next to Mum for some time, then flew back out the open doors.
I stayed at my sister Lisa’s home for a week after the funeral. The morning after the ceremony, a blackbird appeared in the back yard. I noticed it as I sat outside. It stayed around for a few days, sometimes perched in the sunshine on a brown wooden fence, often poking around for insects in the new spring grass. Those days were warm, still and quiet – far from how I felt. I found solace in the blackbird.
Some Māori believe that, when they die, their spirit travels up New Zealand to the tip of the North Island – to Cape Reinga/Te Rerenga Wairua, “the leaping-off place of spirits”. From here, where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean, spirits begin their journey to the afterlife in their ancestral home of Hawaiki. Those travelling souls are compared to the kuaka/bar-tailed godwit (Limosa lapponica), which fly non-stop from Alaska to New Zealand and Australia.
The common blackbird is a species of true thrush. It breeds in Europe, Asiatic Russia, and North Africa, and has been introduced to Australia and New Zealand. Photograph: Dee Carpenter Photography/Getty Images
For Māori, the arrival of the godwits in spring and their departure at the end of summer were a source of mystery. Then unaware that the birds bred in the Alaska tundra, the intrigue prompted the sayings: Kua kite te kohanga kuaka? Who has seen the nest of the kuaka? Ko wai ka kite I te hua o te kuaka? Who has ever held the egg of the kuaka?
After a few days the blackbird disappeared. Each morning I’d look for it, hopeful. But nothing. I told my sister about the bird, sharing what I’d seen, how I’d felt. It’s good to talk. Lisa had noticed our fleeting visitor too, and she had also linked its presence back to the church.
Together we sometimes reminisce about that blackbird. To us it was Mum, staying on a little longer. We laugh too, relieved that Lisa’s black cat, an adept hunter who brought its trophies indoors, didn’t catch it. I miss that blackbird.
