By Annie Hill
The original article in Russell Lights | Ngā Mārama o Kororāreka, December 2025 edition
Of all the invasive species in Aotearoa New Zealand, the common myna, Acridotheres tristis, must be one of the most cordially disliked. A native of the Indian subcontinent, mynas have been introduced to every continent except South America and Antarctica. It’s one of only three birds listed among the IUCN Top 100 Invasive Species List, which pose a threat to biodiversity, agriculture and human interests. Astonishingly, about 50 birds were released in Canberra as recently as 1968 and by 2005 were the third most abundant bird in the territory.
Why were mynas brought here in the first place? Well, in the 1860s, farmers noticed that the destruction of vast swathes of native forest had led to a vastly reduced population of insectivorous birds. With hubris typical of the time, they decided to bring some in from elsewhere to help control insects. Considering that 80% of the 6,500+ species of passerines eat insects, you’d have to wonder why they chose the noisy, bullying, aggressive and highly-territorial common myna, whose ‘attitude’ would effectively discourage any other bird from assisting them in the task of removing pests. Even starlings – members of the same family and also pugnacious – steer clear of mynas. Maybe they were seduced by the Indians’ description of mynas as the ‘farmers’ friend’, but whatever the reason, our forefathers in their wisdom, introduced some small numbers of these birds and the rest, as they say, is history.
We might have got away with it: most mynas were released in the South Island, and it appears that the cold winters were eventually too much for them – the last of them died in Richmond in the 1960s. The final recorded myna introduction, unfortunately, was of an unknown number, sent in 1882 or 1883 from the Hawke’s Bay Acclimatisation Society to the Poverty Bay Acclimatisation Society, in Gisborne. These appear to have bred successfully, and they gradually spread north, reaching North Cape in the mid-1960s. Mynas are rare south of Whanganui in the west and Hastings in the east, apart from a thriving population in Wellington. However, evidence suggests that a warming climate is allowing them to recolonise more southerly parts of Aotearoa New Zealand. Nearly all the mynas brought here probably came from Melbourne: they’d been introduced to Australia in the 1860s. (As an aside, it astonishes me that introduced pest species appear to be impervious to the genetic disorders which plague birds such as kakapo, due to inbreeding!)
Mynas are constantly vocalising: the loud, territorial chickork-chickork-chickork call is the one most people instantly recognise. However, they make a series of quiet calls, including pee pee pee, bell-like notes and a deep guttural booming. Quiet trills are used when inviting a mate to fly. Perched mynas sometimes whistle a more tuneful song and often fluff their feathers and bob their head in singing. They’re also astonishing mimics, copying the sound of sirens, mobile phones and other birds’ songs (as, of course, do starlings and tūī). Pet birds can even be taught to ‘speak’.
Although mynas are in the same family as starlings, their only obvious similarity is their swaggering walk, which is quite different from the hop of most passerines. In appearance, they’re largely cinnamon brown, with a shiny black head and a startling patch of yellow skin behind the eye, giving them a menacing appearance. The beak and legs are also yellow; males and females are indistinguishable. They are about 24 cm long and weigh around 125 g.
Even mynas have their endearing traits: they mate for life and are ‘devoted’ to one another, being almost always seen together, and in parts of India, they are referred to as ‘love birds’. Both of them vigorously defend their nest site and feeding territory against all other mynas. However, if one of the pair is killed, the other soon finds another mate. Whilst they undoubtedly take over other birds’ nesting cavities, ousting eggs and chicks, the evidence that they prey on the eggs and nestlings of other species is conflicting, although they certainly seem to persecute starlings. Although so territorial by day, mynas sleep in communal roosts, which sometimes have over 1,000 birds (except when the female is brooding her eggs). In the pre-breeding season, they often perform communal aerial displays (pre- and post-roosting), a behaviour probably related to pair formation. The ‘communal noise’ they make when roosting is a method of communication to synchronise various social activities, avoid predators and to exchange information about food sources.
Mynas build their untidy nests in holes or cavities, from grass, twigs, leaves and small pieces of rubbish such as paper and cellophane. I recently saw one flying with a strip of white plastic to its nest. They annoy farmers by taking over nesting boxes put up to encourage starlings. From November to the end of February, they lay two clutches of around four eggs, usually bring up both clutches, with about 20% mortality. Chicks fledge after about 25 days and are independent by six weeks. Both parents incubate the eggs and feed the young very effectively. A study of birds in India, in the breeding season, showed their activities consisted of nesting (42%), scanning the environment (28%), locomotion (12%), vocalisation (7%), preening, interactions and other activities (7%), with only 4% of the time spent feeding. With nestlings, they would need to work a lot harder for food, but then they wouldn’t be nesting, and they probably don’t endure the frantic efforts made by most birds to bring up a brood. They breed at two years old and can live up to twenty years in captivity.
Mynas will eat just about anything, including insects, grubs, earthworms, arachnids, crustaceans, reptiles, small mammals, seeds, grain, fruits, flower nectar and petals. They’re a well-known sight at the roadside, scavenging on road kill and the associated insects, and will also feed from human rubbish.
As with most introduced species, they have evolved with mammalian predators, and although occasionally killed by mustelids and cats, overall, they have the skills to survive. They’re also wondrously adept at outmanoeuvring cars.
Mynas evolved in open woodland, so the clearing of the bush and the creation of towns have provided them with a perfect habitat. They’re very rarely found in native forests, so the best way of discouraging their expansion is to allow native bush and forests to regenerate.
Common Myna | Maina | Acridotheres tristis. Image from e.bird.org © Albin Jacob
