At the bottom of one thick tree trunk, wedged in the dirt, is a large rotting log. Inside the large rotting log, in a dark hole, lies a ball of feathers. Not a ball of just any old feathers, but a ball of soft, fine feathers belonging to a special bird. The strands in the feathers are so fine, close up they look like the leaves of the miro tree.
This snug ball of feathers is named Miro, she is a North Island brown kiwi/kiwi-nui.
