Ruru, Morepork and the Stories Behind My Owl Art

Like most New Zealanders, I had heard plenty of morepork before I ever managed to see one. In fact, I was well into my 40s before I saw a ruru in real life, and I often wondered if I would ever see one.

It was night, and we were driving home past Ōtari-Wilton’s Bush when I finally caught a fleeting glimpse of one perched on a sign, briefly illuminated by the car’s headlights. I was so excited to have finally seen Aotearoa’s only surviving native owl species.

From that moment on, I started seeing ruru more frequently, most often at Zealandia Te Māra a Tāne Ecosanctuary.

Ruru nesting in kākā boxes at Zealandia

Ruru often nest in tree cavities, though they are surprisingly flexible and will use all sorts of dark, sheltered places, including hollows, epiphytes, banks, and nestboxes. At Zealandia, some took a particular liking to the large wooden nestboxes intended for kākā because the entrance hole was just the right size for them.

In those days, the boxes were held shut with security screws, so we needed a special screwdriver to open them and secure them again during nest checks.

One day, while checking a box, I noticed that the eggs were the wrong size and shape. They were smaller and rounder than kākā eggs.

The next thing I knew, a tiny, furious owl was swooping at the back of my head.

I nearly pooped myself!

Unfortunately, I couldn’t simply abandon the open box and run away. I had to stand there fumbling with the security screw while this tiny bundle of fury repeatedly dive-bombed my head.

Heart racing, I finally managed to secure the box and retreat to a safe distance. Only then could I properly admire the wee ruru in all her glory.

Over the years, ruru occupied several of the nestboxes. Coming across their floofy chicks was always a special treat. Sadly (for us owl lovers), when we converted to PVC-pipe boxes, the ruru were no longer interested in nesting in them.

How to see a ruru during the day

Being nocturnal doesn’t mean ruru are impossible to see during the day. The trick is knowing where they roost.

Ruru spend the daylight hours tucked into tree cavities or dense foliage, often surprisingly close to tracks and busy areas. Daytime ruru sightings at Zealandia are now reasonably common, giving photographers and visitors a wonderful opportunity to see this nocturnal owl.

This predilection for hiding in plain sight is why ruru sometimes lurk in my artworks featuring other birds. I won't link to them - I'll leave them as a surprise to find!

Often, you know there is a ruru nearby before you see it because the other forest birds set off a cacophony of alarm calls.

That is how I found the ruru pictured in I Spy (ruru). The owl wasn’t bothered by me; it was already on high alert because a bossy tūī was trying, and failing, to drive it away from its daytime roost.

Small birds regularly mob owls and other predators, gathering around them and making as much noise as possible. It may seem overly brave, but the commotion alerts every other bird in the neighbourhood and, en masse, can force the predator to move elsewhere.

The encounter that inspired my first ruru artwork

My first opportunity to photograph a ruru with a “good” camera came at Bushy Park Tarapuruhi, where we found one sitting beside the track, minding its own business.

We took what felt like a million photographs, using long lenses to keep a respectful distance. Eventually, the owl shuffled quietly into the undergrowth to get on with her day.

It was a huge highlight of the trip and an encounter that inspired my first ruru artwork, Sweet Dreams (ruru).

I chose the name because I love falling asleep to the comforting two-note call echoing through the night. Both “morepork” and “ruru” are onomatopoeic names: different human interpretations of the sound the owl makes.

Ruru have many other calls too, including soft trills, screeches, and croaks. But it is that familiar more-pork, more-pork that most of us know best.

What do ruru symbolise?

In te ao Māori, ruru carry rich and sometimes complex meanings. Their haunting call and watchful nature have been associated with tapu, guardianship, awareness, forewarning, and grief. In some traditions, ruru are kaitiaki, watching over people and places.

That symbolism continues to resonate with many people today. I see it in the stories collectors tell me about why they are drawn to ruru art, particularly after a strange or meaningful encounter with an owl.

Owls have acquired powerful symbolism in cultures around the world, although they do not mean the same thing everywhere.

That connection between owls, death, and remembrance is not unique to Aotearoa. In English and Scottish tradition, the cry of an owl was often treated as a warning or message from the darkness. The old Scots hoolet and the Gaelic cailleach-oidhche - the “old woman of the night” - belonged to the shadowy boundary between the everyday world and the unseen.

In classical Greece, the owl was sacred to Athena, goddess of wisdom, and became an enduring symbol of knowledge and clear sight. In other traditions, owls have been seen as protectors, prophets, omens, or messengers connected with ancestors and the dead. They can represent good fortune in one place and approaching danger in another.

Perhaps that isn’t surprising. Owls see and hunt in darkness. Their large, forward-facing eyes appear watchful and knowing, while the fringed edges of their flight feathers allow them to move through the night almost silently.

Owls live at the boundary between light and darkness, the visible and the unseen. They were always going to be part of our mythology and culture.

Ruru owl art as guardians and memorials

It is no surprise that owls have been loved by artists for thousands of years.

My own owl art is often chosen in remembrance of someone who has died. The owl becomes a connection with memory, knowledge, and the things we cannot quite explain.

Collectors have chosen I Spy (ruru) and The Guardian (ruru) to watch over a foyer or entranceway. With their enormous golden eyes and direct gaze, ruru make highly effective guardians - even if the greatest threat to the household is someone arriving with muddy shoes.

Sweet Dreams (ruru) is a popular choice for bedrooms, where the ruru becomes a gentle night-time guardian, keeping watch over the sleeper.

Not all of my ruru art centres on guardianship, memory, and mystery. Aroha nui - All my love (ruru) is a popular choice for couples, weddings, and anniversaries. Its meaning comes less from ancient owl symbolism than from the tenderness of partnership: caring for and protecting each other, and staying close through the dark times.

What do owls mean to you?

Over the years, people have told me many stories about strange, moving, and evocative encounters with ruru. Sometimes the owl appeared during a period of grief or change. Sometimes it seemed to be keeping watch. Sometimes it was simply a magical encounter with a beautiful wild bird.

Whatever meaning we place upon them, hearing a ruru call from the darkness still feels special - a reminder that another world is awake around us while we sleep.

Have you had a memorable encounter with a ruru or another owl? I would love to hear your story in the comments below.

All art and photography © Judi Lapsley Miller. Key reference sources: NZ Birds Online, DOC, Te Ara Encyclopedia of NZ, Owl symbolism by Bontzorlos et al.