When you're a New Zealander, or “Kiwi”, as they like to call themselves, you seem to take that rite-of-passage world trip for a year or two - sleeping in hostels and living out of a backpack - more serious than any other culture.

Well, maybe just second to the Brits.

After having met my fair share of kiwis during my own travels and eating the synonymously named fruit (fresh, with peel, without peel, in salads and baked goods) until it became as exotic as another apple, it was finally time to see the real deal.

No, not the currency. The actual bird native to New Zealand.

Quick reading on the Internet or in a basic natural history book will show you that the kiwi is a ratite, a group of ancient flightless birds that includes the African strich, South American rhea, and Australian emu. Kiwis are endemic to New Zealand (no surprise), and amazingly affordable airfare on nonstop flights from Los Angeles to Auckland made the trip pretty easy.

Before the trip, I studied everything I could find about kiwis, from premier places to spot one in the wild to the average incubation temperature. I learned that kiwis lay one of the largest eggs compared to body size of any bird, have a great sense of smell, feed mostly on earthworms, and are rare and endangered due to habitat loss and introduced predators.

Apparently, they are also solitary and hide in burrows underground during the day. My kind of critter.

After 13 back-bending hours, I landed with high hopes at Auckland Airport. I spent my first afternoon at the slightly stuffy Natural History Museum, housed in a temple-like structure in the center of Auckland’s largest park, the Domain.

Here, I saw my first kiwi - albeit a stuffed one - and further learned that taxonomists recognize five species of kiwis, each varying in size and color, from spotted to plain brown. All occur in different parts of the North and South Island.

Since I was not going to settle for one of those nocturnal displays where captive kiwis with antipolar circadian rhythms shuffle through dimly lit cages, it was going to be a long trip.

I threw books, camping gear, and an assortment of canned food into the cheapest rental I could find, and set out on a cross-country journey to see them all.

For a month, I worked my way from Auckland down to Wellington, took the ferry from the North to the South Island, stopped along the way for such attractions as the Milford Sound, and ended the trip after another ferry on Stewart Island. Along the way I camped among ancient Kauri trees, explored the subtropical karst cliffs of the Paparoa Mountains, hiked through a couple of rainstorms in the Southern Alps, and backpacked through swamps and endless Melaleuca woods.

Since kiwis are nocturnal, I spent countless hours at night wandering through New Zealand’s most pristine places. I watched glow worms come to light in tree hollows, and also had several run ins with the brush-tailed possum, a tenacious marsupial native to Australia overtaking New Zealand (there are currently 70 million of these raccoon sized animals in the country).

And, of course, gazed at unforgettable stars.

Through trial and error, I figured out that the best way to see a kiwi in the wild is to wait until complete darkness, listen for their loud, eerie calls or noisy scramble through thick vegetation, and be quiet and patient (very patient).

Most of the time, it will see you long before you know its there.

And even though they will not fly, they can run, and fast.

The best places to see kiwis in their natural element are Trounson Kauri Park in the Northland of North Island, and on the wild and remote Stewart Island, where the distinct three-toed footprints wander from the beaches up to the highest mountains.

But you want to know, don't you? You want to know: "Did I manage to spot a kiwi in the wild?"

I am proud to say I saw three different kinds. Mostly glimpses of brown feathers scuttling under brush, but one I was able to observe for over 30 minutes in Trounson Kauri Park as it methodically probed the mud with its unlikely bill.

Standing among towering Kauri trees with glowworms along the path, not a single possum in sight, I witnessed a scene unchanged for thousands of years.

All hail the kiwi.