Little blue penguins are starving to death. The Kuaotunu Bird Rescue centre has had about 60 brought in, but only three have survived.

Promiscuous penguins terrified of water, harried harrier hawks, clumsy kererū and greedy kea owe their lives to the growing cavalry of everyday Kiwis who are helping rehabilitate our injured wildlife, writes VICKI ANDERSON.

Tubby, 21, is lying sprawled on his bed with his new girlfriend.

For three days straight, his mate next door, Nick Bond, with his distinctive swaggering walk, has been curled up beside one of his four current love interests, only emerging to eat.

"Penguins have lots of sexually transmitted diseases, they're very promiscuous," says Dianne Hynes, head penguin keeper at the International Antarctic Centre in Christchurch.

The centre is home to little blue and white-flippered penguins, the latter a unique "Canterbury only penguin" with a distinctive extra stripe around its flipper.

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"It's breeding season at the moment," Hynes says. "So they're bonking away like crazy. We don't breed them because we are a second chance welfare centre, but they are still going for it."

Penguins have sex up to 50 times a day and "poo constantly".

"Nick Bond is our most handsome penguin. A surfer found him at Leithfield Beach," Hynes says. "A shark got one of his feet and he has toes missing on his other foot so when he walks he has got a bit of a swagger.

"It's like Shortland Street around here."

Kiwis are fond of our wildlife, as evidenced by the recent public interest over the winner of the Bird of the Year competition.

Whether it's a motherless baby duck, a blind chicken or a one-legged swan - people from Waiheke Island to Invercargill are volunteering as "bird rehabbers".

Joseph Johnson/Stuff A penguin swims in the big pool at the International Antarctic Centre. It is home to 16 disabled penguins that would otherwise ''probably be dead'' says head keeper, Dianne Hynes.

Why do our birds need us? Clumsy kererū become drunk on fermented berries and crash into things trying to find their nests. Magpies are hit by Holdens. Birds of prey and harrier hawks from Hawkes Bay to Otago are too. They get 'killer vision' - so focused on their prey, they don't see the speeding car until it's too late and their wing is bent like a homemade car aerial.

Many kea wind up with lead poisoning after nibbling just one roof too many. Penguins are bitten by peckish sharks, barracuda or entangled in set nets. Smaller native birds fall into the open mouths of cats.

While some people specialise in rehabilitating one type of bird, others open their homes to anything with feathers.

There's even a dedicated society, WReNNZ – Wildlife Rehabilitators Network of New Zealand. It has been operating for 25 years and is open to anyone interested in New Zealand wildlife rescue, rehabilitation and release.

For her part, Hynes clearly adores her extended penguin whànau.

"I spend most of my time washing up their poop. I wouldn't do that if I didn't love them," she says merrily.

How does a penguin like Tubby end up at the International Antarctic Centre?

Established in 2010, Christchurch Penguin Rehab, run by Thomas Stacke and Kristina Schutt, is based in Upper Riccarton.

"You need a permit to keep New Zealand wildlife in your garden. We took over the penguins from Jackie Stevenson, who is doing all other native birds," Stacke says. "We learned our skills cleaning oiled penguins in South Africa at SANCCOB, north of Cape Town."

Initial care of an injured bird involves "lots of fish smoothies".

If successfully rehabilitated, the penguin is released where it was found.

However, if its injuries are too severe and it will be unable to fend for itself, it will be sent to live with Hynes and her crew.

Joseph Johnson/Stuff Dianne Hynes is the head penguin keeper at the International Antarctic Centre, which is currently home to 16 disabled penguins. She says that from Tubby to Pohatu, a female penguin that is scared of water, they each have ''unique, quirky personalities''.

The International Antarctic Centre has a permit for 30 penguins and currently has 16.

"All of them have major injuries and are unable to fend for themselves which is how they end up here, we take the really bad ones on," Hynes says. "If they didn't come here, they'd be dead."

There are no visual cues to determine the sex of a penguin.

"When they arrive we send a tail feather away for DNA testing, that will tell us if the bird is male or female and its age."

People are, she says, surprised to learn penguins have quirky personalities.

"Some are grumpy, some are cheeky, each one is different and has their own distinctive traits," she says.

"It is a privilege to care for them and to offer them a life they wouldn't otherwise have had because of their injuries. Our vet, Dr Pauline Howard, who we work closely with, does a wonderful job of saving them."

Fred is a "gentle giant" with loads of mates.

Morgan, however, sits alone.

"Morgan attacked his last two girlfriends quite badly. The vet has put a tiny implant into his chest, it's like a slow release penguin Prozac to mellow him out."

Sweet little Pohatu is tucked up in her nest alone for different reasons – she is a penguin that is "terrified of water".

Hynes thinks she needs to dip her toe in the dating pool.

"She is so scared of water, she just stays in bed, she won't go in the pool where the boys are. I have to pop her in the sink to give her a shallow bath."

At 21, Tubby is the oldest penguin, confides Hynes beside a Penguin of the Month poster.

"In the wild they live to be around 7 so it's a fantastic age for him to get to. Tubby recently ditched his 20-year-old girlfriend, who he'd been with for seven years, for their 6-year-old neighbour, Bright Eyes. She was heartbroken. Now he's slimmed down ... all he needs now is a convertible."

Whenever a penguin dies, staff at the centre place a photo on a memorial wall.

"There's Elvis," says Hynes. "He used to stand on the same stone every day at 2 o'clock and sing songs to the girls... Fats died of a heart attack."

After an autopsy to determine cause of death the penguin is cremated.

A staff member will row out to sea in a kayak at New Brighton beach or Akaroa and scatter the penguin's ashes.

"The birds do always get to go home in the end."

JOSEPH JOHNSON/STUFF A disabled penguin swims in the big pool at the International Antarctic Centre. Around New Zealand more people are helping to rehabilitate our wildlife.

THE BIRD 'MACGYVER'

Pauline Howard is considered a living treasure in the world of wildlife rehab.

She spends her day off volunteering as the lead wildlife vet at the South Island Wildlife Centre.

A charitable trust, it runs on donations and goodwill or a wing and a prayer.

It's not easy but the "birds are worth it".

Howard fusses over a prickly pukeko as it stalks haughtily in its enclosure before peering into an actual box of fluffy ducks.

Nearby, volunteer Donna Clarkson prepares a mini heat lamp Howard constructed earlier.

"We call Pauline MacGyver because she can make anything work for these birds," Clarkson says.

Pushing a switch, a tiny X-ray screen reveals the results of a bird's wing injury.

In the next room is a teeny-tiny bird-sized operating table.

A kea, brought in from Arthur's Pass, has lead poisoning.

"This happens a lot to greedy kea," Howard says, wrapping a towel around the bewildered bird to prevent it from hurting itself further as she weighs it.

She often gets called to "bird emergencies" late at night.

"Usually it's someone saying 'I've just hit a bird with my car'," Howard says. "I try to help."

Rosalie Goldsworthy has similar conversations with strangers.

She has an enviable address – Moeraki Lighthouse, Palmerston, Otago.

Goldsworthy made the move to Moeraki from Wellington to look after penguins in 2002 and hasn't looked back.

"As the years have gone by, the commitment to penguin conservation has increased," she says.

"The fewer there are, the more precious each one becomes."

Caring for them is a seasonal affair.

The focus during winter has been on "mosquito-proofing" all enclosures and draining all standing water.

"We do it to reduce the risk of avian malaria which killed 14 of our penguins last year. In the spring we nurture the chicks through diphtheria and in the summer we can have up to 30 penguins in care as this is a time of great stress for them."

The main source of penguin stress is barracouta bites.

"The autumn is busy with penguins struggling to fatten up enough to survive the four weeks required to moult all of their feathers, get waterproof again and get back out there to catch fish."

She agrees that penguins each have their own unique personalities and says they "can learn".

Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle – magpies can learn too, they can even "sing and talk".

Magpies, however, are not as lovable as penguins.

MYTCHALL BRANSGROVE/STUFF Magpies may not be as lovable as penguins.

A spokesperson for North Canterbury-based magpie rescue, who didn't want to be identified for "safety reasons", says "townies don't understand them".

"If these people saw them in a rural setting which is where they are meant to be seen, they would have a greater understanding of them. They don't attack unless protecting their nests, which in the country you can give a wide berth. They are clever, brilliant birds, real characters but people don't like them because they're not natives."

Often magpies which have been hit by cars are "left for dead".

"People just drive off because they think 'oh, it's just a magpie'. Magpies are just as clever as parrots."

Working with magpies for "35 years" has taught her they can repeat words or phrases and sing songs.

"They can hear a piece of music and play it back to you but as they have heard it, so it is not the same as the song but their interpretation of it.

"When a stranger comes on to my farm the magpies let me know by making an alarm sound... I call them my guard birds."

However, motorists are likely to stop and help a hawk if they hit one with a car, say Scott and Tracey Bowman of Oxford Bird Rescue, who specialise in caring for raptors - harrier hawks and little owls.

One little owl, Oscar, which is blind, is a popular visitor at Christchurch rest homes and primary schools.

OXFORD BIRD RESCUE Injured hawks have a splash as part of their rehab at Oxford Bird Rescue, run by Scott and Tracey Bowman around their ''regular jobs''.

COMPASSION FATIGUE

Bowman got involved in bird rehab after hitting a hawk with his car.

"I found a bird rescue place, took an interest in its recovery and realised I could start doing it too."

The couple's interest escalated until he and Tracey were caring for so many birds a year ago in their home shelter that it began to take a toll on their health.

A Massey University survey last year looked at compassion fatigue – exhaustion from prolonged exposure to the stresses of caring for sick and vulnerable wildlife – among New Zealand wildlife rehabilitators.

It found that most were able to keep a healthy balance, despite the pressures of the role, but this wasn't the case for the Bowmans.

"Because we are doing this around our 9-5 jobs and it is in our home, we took on too much but now we have scaled it back to primarily concentrating on raptors to make it more manageable so we can keep going," says Bowman.

"Bird rescue is a lot of work and a big commitment but it is all worth it when you watch that effort result in a wild bird flying free, back where it belongs."

There are animal and bird hospitals, penguin rehabilitation groups and bird rescuers – both individuals and charitable groups spread nationwide.

OXFORD BIRD RESCUE Scot and Tracey Bowman, of Oxford Bird Rescue, with Oscar, a blind owl who is popular at Christchurch rest homes and primary schools.

The kererū may have taken out Bird of the Year honours for 2018, but the distinctive-coloured New Zealand pigeon is easily our nation's most accident-prone bird.

Dunedin-based Nik Hurring, of Project Kererū, spends a lot of spare time "drying out" kererū, which "sometimes defy the laws of physics" with their clumsy antics.

"Occasionally they need a little drying out after eating too much fruit – it can ferment inside them before it gets a chance to be digested ... and lessons in how to build nests that do not resemble pick-up sticks would not go astray," she says.

"But all joking aside, it is an absolute privilege to care for 'green fiends' on a daily basis."

Hurring's wildlife journey started by accident 26 years ago.

"All I wanted to do when I left school was to become a veterinary nurse, and I was lucky enough to do that at 16.

"My employer at the time was the honorary vet for Department of Conservation in Otago. it opened my eyes a lot, I saw birds that I had no idea even existed before then and it taught me to appreciate the beauty of what truly was right on my doorstep here in Otago. I quickly realised too that our wildlife needed help when it was sick and injured and began bringing my 'work' home with me."

Project Kererū is now 21.

"I work mostly with kererū because there were just so many of them needing help and, like many others who work with wildlife, I do it completely voluntarily. Project Kererū gets no direct funding."

Nik Hurring Nik Hurring of Dunedin-based bird rescue Project Kererū, has worked with these distinctive-coloured birds for decades. It is our Bird of the Year for 2018 but it is also ''clumsy'', gets a bit sozzled on fermented foods and has an unfortunate habit of crashing into things while trying to find its way home.

Hurring says the opening of the "desperately needed" Wildlife Hospital in Dunedin in January has been a "real boost".

"Before that opened, the kererū were all bought straight to me usually, and there was a limit on what could be done ... I care for kererū from the lower South Island. The kererū go back to where they come from when they are ready for freedom again."

It is not always possible but it's great to save a tiny life.

"Every successful release is special and something that I never ever tire of. In a sense, I think you feel some of their freedom too."

Hurring says anyone can help.

"This is about doing my bit in the continued hope that the iconic sound of our native pigeon flying through the trees does not become just another distant memory... or just a picture in a storybook."

Others, like Karen Saunders, have more personal reasons for getting involved​

"I had a daughter... I had to turn off her life support, sadly. It was pretty awful," says Saunders.

"What happened was it was the middle of the night, I took her out into the hospital gardens to pass away in my arms after I turned the life support off. The birds went crazy in the middle of the night... the birdsong was so loud it woke up a whole wing of the hospital."

The moving moment sparked an interest in how birds relate to us culturally.

"In every culture birds are mentioned with the spirit world."

It also prompted her to take a one-day course in "Bird Rescue 101", where she learned more about the hygiene and medical side of bird rehab.

She founded Waiheke Native Bird Rescue and takes in native birds, with the exception of any game birds such as pukekos or ducks.

"In my travels around the world I've volunteered at wildlife centres, I've always had an interest. It's awesome but you never get a day off. Day in, day out, it's a lot of cleaning," she says. "A lot of bird rehabbers get burnt out, you have to limit yourself."

Some birds are sweet-natured and "love a cuddle", others are grumpy, aggressive beasts with wings.

Each one is precious and Saunders loves caring for them.

"From that last moment with my daughter... I think I'll always have a connection to birds."