One day, Tanemahuta, guardian¹ of the forest noticed that his children the trees were starting to sicken, because they were being eaten by insects. He discussed this with his brother, Tanehokahoka, the guardian of the birds of the air, and Tanehokahoka called his children together so that Tanemahuta could speak to them.
　
Tanemahuta told the birds that he needed one of them to come down from their treetops and live on the forest floor, to eat the insects and protect his tree-children.

But not one bird volunteered.
　
So Tanehokahoka asked each bird in turn. He asked the Tui, but Tui was afraid of the dark. Pukeko didn't want to get his feet damp, and Pipiwharauroa was too busy building his nest.

Tanehokahoka was saddened, because if no bird would agree to protect the children of Tanemahuta, then the birds themselves, the children of Tanehokahoka, would be homeless when the insects had eaten the trees.
　
At last Tanehokahoka turned to the Kiwi.
　
"E Kiwi," he asked, "Will you come down from the treetops and live on the forest floor to protect the children of Tanemahuta?"
　
The kiwi looked at the sun filtering through the leaves, and at the dark, damp forest floor. He thought a while.
　
"I will," he said.
　
Tanehokahoka and Tanemahuta were overjoyed, for the selfless kiwi was giving them hope for the forests and the birds, but Tanemahuta was a fair creature, and he felt he should warn Kiwi of the consequences of his choice.

"E kiwi," he said, "I must tell you that if you do this, you will need to grow thick, strong legs to rip the logs on the forest floor apart. Your fine coloured feathers and your wings will be lost to you, so that you will never be able to return to the treetops again. If you do this, you will always dwell in darkness away from the light of day. E kiwi, knowing all this, will you still come down and protect my children?"
　
Kiwi took a final look at the sun filtering through the leaves, at the other birds, their wings and their coloured feathers and to all these things he said a sad, silent goodbye. Then he turned to Tanehokahoka and Tanemahuta, and again said, "I will."

This agreed, Tanehokahoka dealt with the other birds. He told Tui that because he was afraid to come down into the dark he would wear the two white feathers of a coward at his throat forever. Pukeko, for his hatred² of the damp, was doomed³ to walk in the swamps from that day forward, and Pipiwharauroa, who had been too concerned with his nest, Tanehokahoka decreed would ever after be a vagrant⁴, laying his eggs in the nests of other birds.

But the noble Kiwi, he said, who sacrificed his way of living and his wings for the good of the forest, would be loved and revered⁵ for the rest of time.