1^1 + ■.c>^ ^useuni of ^ %. V f^" o ^ */ % \ 1869 THE LIBRARY Gift m Title ll-C Srant p I t^^ ^: MUTTON BIRDS AND OTHER BIRDS. By H.^UTHRIE-SMITH Author of " Crispus, Birds of the Water, Wood, and Waste. CHRISTCHURCH, WELLINGTON, DUNEDIN, N.Z. MELBOURNE AND LONDON WHITCOMBE AND TOMBS LIMITED To HARRY W. G.-S. PEEFACE. |N the following chapters a part of the bird life of a part of one of the great natural sanctuaries of New Zealand has been sketched, and without undue egotism the writer may be allowed t(> plead, at least the poor excuse, that half a loaf is better than no bread. At any rate the volume will have been, in his opinion, justified, if the charms of our wild lands, and especially of Stewart Island, can be passed on to other New Zealanders. 'Back to the land' is the soundest of all political cries, but more than that is required. 'Back to the wilds' is what will bring to each who makes the trial, the happiness that brings no later regrets, from which all troubles will be forgotten, and which, unlike any other j)ortion of our lives, will leave the memory onh^ of its pleasures behind. Assuredly in this twentieth century we are attempting an over-civilisation, and men have almost come to believe that to walk all day in streets or to sit at ledger and desk is the natural lot. He who so thinks has lived but half his life — he has failed to enjoy the savage latent in himself. It is hearing and sight, — those most ancient senses in the frame of man, that give in their exercise the fullest joy, and to listen and watch are more than to think. PKEFACE But what do we see and what do we hear, and what through our eyes and ears do we not owe to the masters of verse? It has become impossible in prose to witness a great sea rolling into a shallow ba}^, to think of woods lashed with rain, of wind among the dunes, of grey and dewy turf whose greener markings show w^here wild things have trod at dawn, of sudden airs that dim the shadows of a water expanse and shiver in silver along its blue, of noon in summer when green tendrils flag. The breezes stream and the seas flow; but they bear a new meaning and a new melody, something the savage has never known. Perhaps only in this are we moderns the happier breed of men; that the poets are as Eolian harps through which our primitive senses pass. To each phase of nature, sweet or severe, are added apt images, tender thoughts and sequences of immortal words. Away from our fellow men and alone, what can we see or hear or feel that is lovely and pure and of good report, without a flow of thoughts that are not our own? My companions and helpers in earlier sojourn- ings in Stew^art Island were bushmen and fisher folk; but during the spring and summer of 1911 I had for assistants J. C. McLean, with whom I had previously worked, and John Leask, owner of the little craft — ' ' Te Atua. ' ' Than John Leask we could have got no better man, for he knew from life-long experience what could and what could not be ventured reasonably. J. C. McLean was a friend of older standing, and to him again I owe much in the way of help. PKEFACE I found, too, that he was gifted with the most imperturbable of tempers, "a stoic of the woods, a man without a tear." No gales that kept us from work could ruffle him. The misfortunes that happened to our nestlings, nests, and eggs, he could accept with a jDatience impossible to emulate. He, too, was an enthusiast, and even waist deep in water chilled with melted hail, with the knowledge of a rotten l)ridge in front and a rising river to swim, was still able to note the discovery of a pair of Orange-Wattled Crows in the flooded scrub. I acknowledge he beat me there. If I had seen a Moa I should have let it pass, and was but too glad to reach the hut, minus a boot lost in the river, with one foot tied up in my sou-wester, sans camera and gear, soaked with three swims, and chattering with cold. Archdeacon Herbert Williams has kindly read my proof sheets, and I should like specially to record my gratitude to him for that noble word — retenuitestifectation. The prints from which the blocks have been prepared are the work of Mr. G. F. Green, who has taken more trouble and expended more care on them than I myself, to whom they belong, would have done. He has turned out work incalculably better than anything I could have shown, and has often proved that, in spite of the proverb, a silk purse can be made out of a sow's ear. I consider myself most fortunate in again having been able to get his help. Mr. Green has also on my behalf in regard to business, matters ^wrestled,' if my friends, PREFACE Messrs. Whitcombc and Tombs, will thus allow me to speak of them, 'with beasts at Ephesus.' The photogravures and tone blocks have again been beautifully done by Messrs. Hood and Co., Middlesbrough, England. Some of the prints necessary to illustrate the text gave but little hope of good results. It is in dealing with these technically defective prints that Messrs. Hood and Co. have done particularly excellent work. CONTENTS. Chapter I. Sanctuaries... Page 1 II. Herekopere... 10 III. First CaxMP on Island 18 IV. FovEAux Strait 31 V. Second Camp on Herekoperi 38 VI. The Black-backed Gull 44 VII. The South Island Eobin 50 VIII. The Yellow-eyed Penguin 58 IX. The Blue Penguin ... 63 X. The Woods of Autumn and { Spring ... GG XI. The Kara 72 XII. The Kiwi of Stewart Islani ) ... 84 XIII. Mason Bay ... 99 XIV. Fern-Birds of Rakiahua and 1 VIASON Bay 114 XV. The Rifleman 123 XVI. On Ulva's Isle 127 XVII. The Bell-bird 140 XVIII. The Weka ... 149 XIX. Outlawed ... 162 XX. A Community of Thieves 175 XXI. The Yellow-breasted Tit 187 List of Species 201 Index ... ... 204 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Shag on eggs — Kane-te-toe Plate I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIIl. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. . . Frontispiece Facing page Hea(l(iuarters, Half Moon Bay ... Hut on Ilerekopere Nest and egg of Mutton Bird Mutton Bird Chick Nest and eggs of Kuaka ... Kuaka Chick Kuaka— Male and Female in burrow Daisy Tree, Herekopere ... Hut on Islet in Foveaux Strait . . . Parara in burrow . . . Nest and egg of Parara Parara Chick Cut-leaf Bracken ... Titi Wainui in burrow Nest and egg of Titi Wainui Skua's egg on bed of Sedum — Kane-te-toe Skua Nestlings, Herekopere Nest and eggs of Black-backed Gull Chicks of Black-backed Gull Black-backed Gull on eggs Male Eobin Pair of Robins — Female sitting ... Female Eobin South Island Eobin on nest South Island Eobin on nest Yellow-eyed Penguin disturbed ... Tufted Penguin, probably about to moult Yellow-eyed Penguin on nest Nest of Yellow-eyed Penguin Egg and newly-laid egg of Blue Penguin Blue Penguin on nest Umbrella Ferns Eakiahua Valley — Euggedy Eange in dis tance ... Filmy Ferns Stage in front of Kaka's nest Kaka spying through key-hole entrance Kaka nestlings — section of tree trunk re^ moved 2 4 8 10 14 16 18 20 22 26 28 32 34 36 38 40 42 44 46 48 50 52 53 54 56 58 59 60 61 63 64 66 68 70 72 76 80 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS Plate XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLVII. XLVIII. XLIX. L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. LV. LV]. LVII. LVIII. LIX. LX. LXI. LXII. LXIII. LXIV. LXV. LXVI. LXVII. LXVIII. LXX. LXXI. LXXII. LXXIIL LXXIV. LXXV. LXXVI. LXX VI I. Facing page Kaka Oil nestinj4 tree ... ... ... 82 Kiwi Chick 84 Debris of vacated Kiwi's nest .. ... 86 Kiwi and Chick 88 Kiwi and Chick 90 Kiwi Lodge ... ... ... ... 92 Entrance to breeding burrow of Stewart Island Kiwi ... ... ... ... 96 New Zealand Dotterel on eggs ... ... 100 Dotterel — showing borings in foreground 104 Nest of Dotterel 106 Nest of Dotterel 108 Homestead, Mason Bay ... ... ... 112 Launch on River — Rakiahua ... ... 114 Camp at Rakiahua ... ... ... 117 Male Fern Bird seated on top of female — eggs in act of hatching ... ... 118 Fern Bird — Rakiahua 119 Fern Bird, showing tail shafts — Mason Bay 120 Fern Bird's eggs — Rakiahua ... ... 121 Fern Bird— Mason Bay 122 Rifleman ... ... ... ... ... 124 Hen Auriceps Parrakest . . . ... ... 128 Auriceps Parrakeet about to enter nest ... 132 Parrakeets eating almonds ... ... 136 Nest and eggs of Bell-bird ... ... 140 Hen Bell-bird on nest 144 Stewart Island Weka stealing handker- chief 150 Stewart Island Weka about to examine debris of Kiwi's nest ... ... 156 Mosses and Filmy Ferns ... ... 160 Pied Shags " 164 Pied Shag 168 Pied Shags and nests ... ... 172 Kane-te-toe ... ... ... ... 176 Shag on nest — Kane-te-toe ... ... 177 Pair of Shags -Kane-te-toe ... ... 178 Nest and eggs of Shag— Kane-te-toe ... 180 Shag Alleyways — Kane-te-toe ... ... 182 Nesting Plateau — Kane-te-toe .■=^. ... 184 Female Yellow-breasted Tit 188 Male Yellow-breasted Tit 190 Spider Orchids 194 Mutton Birds and other Birds. Chapter I. SANCTUARIES. I^^^ROM the date on which the first iNIoa "^ " ' '' bone was bi'oui>ht to England, the Avifauna of Xew Zeahmd has excited a jjecnliar interest. There was a ro- mance of science in that paper where, against the advice of friends, Owen staked his reputation on the interpretation of a single bone ; and more learned pa])ers have perha|)S been Avritten about our Kiwis than about any other family of birds in the world. The enormous period of time during which New Zealand has been isolated, has given her birds time for a high degree of specialisation; and by scientific o]-nithologists our Dominion, small as is its extent, has been considered the most striking and most essential of the six regions into which the bird life of the world has been apportioned. Our birds will fit into no well-ordered groups: our Thrushes are hardly Thrushes, our Crows are hardly Crows, our Starling is hardly a Starling. The trusteeship of these rare creatures is" in our hands, and it is worth 2 MUTTON BIRDS while to cousider to Avhat extent the dis- tinction has been deserved and the responsi- bility honoured. It is well also to consider what steps can be taken, even at this, the eleventh hour, to save our remaining species; and I should here like, firstly, to state my emphatic l^elief that this subject should be altogether removed from the field of sentiment, and secondly, to plead with Mrs. Gamp that if T do call my fellow-citizens names it is only done to 'rouse them. ' It may be at once admitted that humanity can survive without the rarer and more recluse Inrds. The race could exist without the more beautiful orders of flowering plants, without music, and without art, but if anything is true it is that 'man does not live by bread alone. ' We do not most highly prize the necessaries of life, but rather the delicacies of taste and sight and hearing, - — the pleasures of our leisure hours. This modest claim, I think, may be fairly urged in regard to birds, that by the extirpation of species, a potential source of happiness is denied to the coming generations, and furthermore, that without the possibility of full investigation structures may be forevei' lost that bind the ])resent to the past. I believe myself there is no more cruelty in the killing of Humming-Birds than in the slaughter of Turkeys. The awful difference lies in this, — that in the one case there is the possibility of the annihilation of a species and in the other no likelihood of such an event. The subject should be one of the living interests of our world, approachable without crocodile tears, and to be dealt with as men of the world deal with affairs of the world. Perhaps bird-nesting is to be condemned, but often I ca AND OTHER BIRDS 3 tliiiik it is, like the fear of the Lord, the begiuning of wisdom. Perhaps shooting is to be condemned, ])ut it is certain that species to which an intel- ligent commercial interest has become attached are most sure of sui'vival. Perhaps the taking of life in any way is to be condenmed, but if Humming Birds and Birds of Paradise were bred for the market, as capons and beeves are bred, the most lovely sj)ecies of birds would be as safe to the race as barndoor fowls. Indeed, I often think that birds have been but ill served by their friends and are unfor- tunate in their literature, ^tuch of it is childish, much of it is maudlin. There are the writers whose science is, I sometimes suspect, only a knowledge of Latin names, and who chill their theme with a foreign nomenclature. There are folk like nwself, who can see perhaps, but whose observation is little better, alas, than the observation of the keen-eyed savage, and who lack the special training and wide compara- tive knowledge which alone can truly infoi'm and without which the s])i'ings of action can hardly be quite fully understood. Lastly, there are the great Avorkers in the field of ornithology — men who devote a lifetime to a single branch of the subject— and to them each student's hat must rise in honour and respect. The intellect is often apt to l3urn the emotions out, or maybe they do not often co-exist with equal force in the same individual, but it was one who could both think and feel who mourned over the condition of our New Zealand avifauna as one that ''must grieve to the utmost everv ornithologist who cares for more than the stutfed skin of a bird on a shelf." Diminution in the numbers of many species is 4 MUTTON BIRDS inevitable in tlie settlement of a new eonntry. It is the price paid for the displacement of the thistle and thorn in favour of the vine and the fig tree, but although thus thinned in regard to numbers it does not follow that the species itself need become extinct, and if we save the species we save all. Sternly, therefore, repressing all sentiment and recognising that the chief end of man, or at any rate man in such close proximity to the millions of the yellow races, is to populate his native land, let us examine the chances of our surviving birds. If it can be proved that we can in no way lose by their 23 reservation,— if it can be shewn that not one acre fit for settle- ment need be withheld then, indeed, care- lessness becomes worse than carelessness. It becomes a disgraceful apathy, and a reproach to every intelligent man in New Zealand. It can be proved. It is an easy, if not amial)le task to point out mistakes; and, though we now deplore the lack of foresight displayed in the importation of vermin, yet at the time it was scarcely sur- prising in the face of the plague of rabbits and the threatened ruin of a great industry. It was useless, of course, but men hard-pressed will seize upon any weapon to defend themselves. Twenty-five years ago much might have been written as to the perpetual and enduring nature of the disaster consequent on this importation of pole-cat, ferret, stoat, and weasel ; it is scarcely possible, I think, to do that now-a-days. Now-a- days we can but regret that the acclimatisation and spread of these animals has accelerated a destruction of bird life that on the main-land nothing could idtimately prevent. Twenty-five AND OTHER BIRDS 5 years ago our gum lands and ryolite country, our large tracts of pumiceous land, were held to be worthless. In these localities a quarter of a century ago it might at least have been deemed possi))le for our l)irds to have remained in peace but for the vermin liberated. The increasing use of manures has changed this belief, and so wonderful have been the eifects of fertilizers that it now appears as if almost the whole of the North Island and almost the whole of the South Island would be taken up for agricultural and pastoral purposes; man will have drained all swamps and low lands, and all i^loughable sur- faces, however poor originally, will have been fed into productivity by manures. Even the sterile slopes, s]^urs, and ridges, the high rain- washed flanks of the great ranges, will have been coaxed into carrying the hardier grasses and fodder plants alread}^ coming into use. The insatiable appetite for land will swallow almost any kind of soil, and there will remain to the birds an area inconsiderable even in acreage and meagre to the last degree in food supply. Almost all scrub and bush will have been fallen, for, if, even in the palmy days of the squatter and when taxation was light, the great land-holder could hardly bear to leave untouched a score or an hundred fertile acres, what can be expected of the farmer? For five extra blades of cocksfoot he would scalp his parents. As bird refuges on the mainland, there remain to be considered only the State Forest Reserves scattered here and there throughout the Colony. Perhaps those in high, cold, wet regions may endure, but smaller areas in o]3en country run enormous risks from fire. A 6 MUTTON BIRDS match carelessly thrown down, a fire lighted by picnickers and not properly extinguished, — nay, even the focussing of the sun's rays on broken glass, may each cause in a dry season a blaze that in a few hours will sweep out the growth of centuries and leave a blackened, smoking ruin. These risks become the greater^ too, as the surrounding lands become drier from tillage and the arid north- westers allow not a breath of moisture to remain. Then again, that terrible alien, the blackberry, in many districts is another serious menace to the permanence of the smaller reserves. Its growth will in any case dominate fern, "flax," tutu, and other strong plants; and since the imported birds have become plentiful its seeds are everywhere spread abroad. The damage done is even greater when, by the order of an inspector of Noxious Weeds, the plants are cut and their stalks and stems at a later period desti'oyed by fire. Even if lighted in a calm the flames of these fires scorch a margin of green stuff round about and the circumference of the blackened circle increases every year. The blowing of the slightest breath of wind causes immensely gi'eater harm, and leaves a space of bare ground into which the great bramble shoots will next spring, root and establish new centres. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that a black - berry patch growing in light scrub on good soil will, after each fire, doul)le its size. Resei'ves are, in fact, acquiring a bad name, and instead of local interest in their preservation, there are justifiable complaints that they are mei'e har- bours for mischievous aliens, and that from them the homestead plantations and farm hedges become infested with blackberry seedlings. AND OTHER BIRDS 7 An absence of cover and food supply, the sub- division of land, fires and indiscriminate shooting- — what in fact may l)e termed the direct effects of civilisation — must, on the mainland, at no very remote period, almost effect tlie extermination of the lart>er and more conspi<3Uous birds. The smaller and more recluse species will mostly succumb to the more indirect effects of colonisation. Of these there are many, and nearly all inimical to avine life. But, although on the mainland, the results, direct and indirect, of civilisation in New Zealand tend towards the killing out of our indigenous birds, yet I think that in the three great natural sanctuaries which still remain, much can be done. The numl)ers of our birds must diminish with a diminished food supply and a loss of covert. — that is certain. The species themselves may yet ])e saved I believe, without the retention of one acre fit for settlement. These sanctuaries are: — Firstly, The West- land National Park; secondly, Stewart Island; thirdly, the islets that lie about our long coast line, and especially the far southern groups. Of these, the Westland National Park — all honour to the Minister who proclaimed it sanctuary — is for all material purposes, the fact requires but to be stated — worthless. It contains only the most noble and varied scenery perhaps in the world; it only affords the most magnificent walking and some of the finest climbing in the Dominion. Stewart Island, the second great natural sanctuary, will be dealt with in the course of the following chapters. It is sufficient noAV to say that, with 8 MUTTON BIRDS the exception of a small portion about Half Moon Bay, tliis beautiful island is also worthless for material purposes. Its rainfall is great, and its peats and sands impossible to till or grass. As to the islets and island groups: most of them still remain the property of the nation, but it is property terribly neg- lected and grossly mismanaged. Are the pitiful rents got for Campbell Island and Enderby Island so necessary to our Treasury that they can weigh against the spoliation by stock of the island vegetation? Is it common sense, is it business to destroy pro^Derty of poten- tial value for the immediate gain of a few pounds, a few shillings, nay, a few pence a year? Even taking into consideration the handling of the clip, so little is gained in income by the Colony, so little by the ship-owners who carry the few score bales of wool, so little by the merchants who handle the stuff, and fin all v so little by the tenants themselves, that the leasing of these islands can be compared only to Esau's sale of his birthright for a mess of potage, and the attempt to farm them pronounced a failure. The fact is, of course, that the question of monetary return has been no inducement to the State. The idea has been to assist the private enterprise of individuals in risky and even dangerous ventures; and as- a back-country settler myself, I, at any rate, can have no quarrel with that motive. These leases have, however, been granted without due considera- tion, and, as before stated, sometimes at least without even attaining their primary object — the benefit of the tenant. If then no benefit accrues to the settler, and a valuable national PLATE III. B^iill ^'^r Nest and Egg of Mutton Bird. AND OTHER BIRDS '^ Flora and Fauna is jeopardised or injured or destroyed, then there is loss to each of the parties concerned, and the management of the whole business must be termed a Ijungle. Stewart Island, the ishmds and islets of our long coast line, and esj^ecially the far southern groups, are ideal sanctuaries for the preservation of threatened or i-are species. For this purpose the}^ could not be bettered. As pastoral tracts they are a curse to theii' holders. AVe are attempting, in fact, to use these islands for pur- poses for which they are wholly unsuitable. Suggestions, however, concerning areas so large^ so far apart from one another, and each more- over with its own problems and perplexities, can only be of value if drawn from local knowledge and experience. Such knowledge and experience the writer cannot pretend to possess, but, in truth, the matter is not one to be dealt with by an individual. It is only the consensus of opinion of a Society, yet lacking in New Zealand — a Society for the Protection of Native Birds and Native Plants in such parts of the Dominion as are otherwise worthless — that can carry weight. 10 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter II. HEREKOPERE. )LL Mutton Birds, I was told, lay on November 25tli, and such as cannot reach the land at that date drop their eggs during flight, or whilst at rest on the water. Statements so remarkable, and repeated on all hands, certainly whetted my desire to know more of these members of the Petrel tribe ; and at once these too confident assertions proved to be erroneous. During January, February, and part of March I had many opportunities of visiting the breeding quarters of these and other Petrels both on Stewart Island itself, and on adjacent islets and rocks. Later in the same year, during part of September, the whole of October, and November, and part of December, I was again in these southern latitudes. Thrice also on two of the small wind-swept islets that lie south of Foveaux Strait and east of Stewart Island, camps were established foi* intervals of varying duration. These, mv credentials, I know, are scanty and sparse, and my remai'ks as impertinent to the Petrels, as to the inhabitants of a continent is AND OTHER BIRDS H the volume written ou their ways and views by a tripper on a summer touv. What is required — I shall manage it some day — is a two years' constant residence, and a watchfulness kept up during every day and eA^ery night of each of the fifty-two weeks. Oh, these delightful islets of the south, their clean seas and wooded shores. We were free, beyond recall for days, it was delightful to wake like a child eager for the day, to whom still the world is fresh and to whom each hour brings wonder and surprise, to cheAV the cud of yesterday's discoveries, th^^ morrow's to antici- pate. Then what good fellows were the fishing folk. All my life T have known gillies and gamekeepers to be the best of company, and now I found myself intimately connected with a class of man equally simple and with the same width of outside interests. Herekopere, or, as it is often called, Te Marama, is one of the many islets that dot the ocean east of Stewart Island. It lies about eight miles out from Half Moon Bay, and consists of perhaps two or three hundred peaty acres. Rising abrupth^ from deep seas, with here a rock and there a reef maned with bull kelp it is hard of approach except on the west. There beneath the rotting cliffs of red granitic schist, stretches a pebbled beach, the enormous pebbles piled deep on one another, the smallest larger than a moa's egg, and thousands larger than a giant's head; they are round and perfectly smooth, their great weight, I suppose, preventing the slide that gives "to shingle on shelving shores, its characteristic form. This beach lay almost directly beneath the 12 MUTTON BIRDS lint where we camped, and it was magnificent in a heavy sea, to listen to the growl and rnmble of these pebbles, tossed and boiling in the snrf . Herekopere is a favourite breeding resort of Petrels of many kinds, the surface possessing attributes not apparently to be found in such perfection on the neighbouring islands. Per- ha])s the blanket of peat may be more deep, perhaps the granite grit of a more porous, character. Petrels, at an}^ rate, breed on it in hundreds of thousands, and comparatively neglect equally suitable looking islands, distant but half a mile, and a mile. The character of its soil varies with the contour of each part. On the flat uplands it is almost pure l^eat ; on the steep sloi3es and where scrub grows there is an admixture of leaf mould, and on the crumbling face of the granite cliffs it is chiefly decomposing schist. Everywhere the land is- exceedingly fertile, greasy with oil and bird manure, and enriched with centuries of moulted down. Immense numbers of birds, too, perish from time to time, as for instance when to my knowledge in 1911 scores of thousands of Kuaka in the down died of starvation. Each season also multitudes of alighting birds are, like Absalom, caught by the head in the forks of trees, or snared by the wing or foot in the tangles of black vine. Although over a quarter of its surface light bush grows, there is not one large tree on the island. The average height of the Herekopere scrub is twenty or twenty-five feet, and the mixed species of which it is composed, prefer the centre and more sheltered parts. These low woods tail off usuallv into thickets of the- AND OTHER BIRDS 13 branched nettle, well named Ferox. Three or four kinds of fern, the New Zealand spinach, trailing' rankly where an overhead gap affords light and air, make up with a few other plants the little-vai'ied undergroAvth. Ferns, however, in these Glutton Bird islands never seem to me to be haj^py. They can tolerate, but cannot enjoy the salt of the blown spray and the hot stinndus of bird-droppings. The whole southern slope of the island, often precipitous, and everywhere cumbered with slabs of granite, is a tangle of black vine, stranded, knotted and coiled, whilst amongst and above it grow clumps of veronica with green wood only at the top. Near the whares, and possibly where a clearing may have been once attempted, grows a dense meadow of the strong, handsome island grass. Another j^atch of this grass, less dense and rank, has taken possession of the eastern headland of the island, where some years ago the peat was accidentally tired, and where it continued for some days to smoulder. Elsewhere the uplands of peat sustain a crop of low cut leaf bracken, its growth different indeed from the magnificent pea-green shoots that in spring uncurl alike on the edges of the hot water creeks of the volcanic area and on the high cold l)eech woods of the Motu and Mangatu. Amongst this bracken's miserable short fronds, apart from one another and with ample room for each to develop his handsome habit, and unaffected on top or side shoot even by the tremendous gales of these regions, grow groundsel trees scattered in park-like isohition. Mutton Bird scrub is its island name, and even 14 MUTTON BIRDS when growing in masses on tlie cliffs of the islets or on the most wind-swept blnffs of Stewart Island itself, the thick, leathery, white-backed leaves make it a striking plant. In the peat its seed germinates very freely; whereas of the daisy tree, covered in snmmer with myriads of pnrple-centred white-petalled blooms, I could discover no young plants in any part of this island. It grows only not much above high- water mark, and like the groundsel tree is totally unaffected by blast or salt spray. Beside the main tracks radiating from the hut to every quarter of the island, and re-opened by slashers at the beginning of each birding season, there are other trails ; — a perfect system of arteries and veins, quite dissimilar to any path of man or beast hitherto known to me. They are bird roads, trails up which the birds flap at dusk, and down which at dawn they pour themselves. On these bird ways there is no grading ; the centre of each is I'ougli and clawed, and tends to become in the wet climate of the south a miniature water channel. On either side for a foot or so the vegetation is beaten and peat stained where thousands (>f eager wings have flapped and bruised the tender fronds of fern, the tips of vine tendrils, the shoots of sprouting grass. My first visit to Herekopere was late in January, 1911, my companion, a half-caste lad who had been mutton-birding on the island for two seasons. The sea was calm, and the summer day cloudless. Landing, therefore, was easy^ and we scrambled eagerly up the steep bank from the rim of giant pebbles, the one of us keen to show, the other to see. AND OTHER BIRDS 15 The wh(>l(' island smelt of birds, and with the loosening- of the dry flax fastening of the whare door it was immediately a]i])arent how numerous tliey nmst be. The hut flo(»r was strewn with the bodies of Petrels that had dropped down the great open chimney and been imable to escape. Their carcases were not in any degree offensive, perhaps because of extreme inanition. None of them, moreover, were flyblown; indeed, I do not recollect, either on this occasion or later, a blow fly on Herekopere. On the island, birds of many species were both very numerous and A^ery tame. In the hut itself a pair of Ro])ins had built, and never before had I been able t<> identify so many species in so short a time. During our six hours on the island I noted twenty different kinds, — the AVax Eye^ Black-backed Gull, Kittiwake, the Sea Swallow, Tui, Yellow Breast Tit, Pied Shag, and another species of Shag, Pigeon, Fern Bird, and Sea Hawk. We got a Harrier's nest composed entirely of the skeletons of the detached wings of Kuaka fledglings. The Long-tailed Cuckoo was very plentiful and very noisy. Its screech at this time of the year, almost, as it w^ere, spat forth, so vehement was the utterance, and sometimes it was answered from a distance by a note not unlike a rapid, low tapping or harmnering. About the tall alien mallows and wild oats and sow thistles gi'owing in the vicinity of the hut many Yellow-fronted Parrakeets were feeding. One Weka w^as heard, but for some reason or another the breed do not on Herekopere display the interest shewn elsewhere in man and his belongings; they are very scarce certainty, but 16 MUTTON BIRDS I think it is remarkable we should not have had their company at our hut on this or on any other visit. We also got four kinds of Petrel in their burrows, — the Mutton Bird, Parara, Titi Wainui, and the Kuaka. The family affairs of the first-named we found in all stages of progress, — in one l)urrow a pair of old birds who ran off in a sulking fashion and shamming lameness, in another an egg much incubated, and in a third a very plump chick, clad in grey down, and about three weeks old. As a matter of fact Mutton Birds, instead of laying their eggs on the 25th November enjoy a rather unusually protracted breeding season, and I myself have got eggs of this breed as late as the end of February. One or two dead Titi Wainui were found hung up in the scrub ; and the twentieth species was made up by a Pavara chick which we 2:thotographed. The young of the Kuaka were everywdiere dying and dead. About the burrow mouths, amongst the scrub, and on the bird paths along the coasts they lay sometimes seven and eight together. Hunger had driven them forth in the down prematurely, and the death evaded in their holes, had gathered them in the open by tens of thousands, and perhaps by hundreds of thousands. This enormous mortality must, I think, have been due to a failure of food suppl}^ in the immediate vicinity; for with his limited powers of flight this little Petrel would be peculiarly .affected by even a local famine. My next visit to Herekopere was on PLATE \l. Ku.ika Cluck. AND OTHER BIRDS n Sei^tember 22iid, and was brief owing to adverse weather conditions. We found neither the Mutton bird, Titi AVainui, nor the Kuaka in any of the numerous holes probed and examined. The Parara w^as no doubt sitting, for the noise of the bird disturbed by our footsteps and pro- testing from the cavernous depths of its burrow was frequently heard; and a fortnight later eggs of this breed just about to hatch were got in several l)urrows. It was e^ ident from experience gained in this island that not all, at any rate, of the Mutton Birds laid their eggs on the one day. In order, howx'ver, to discover the earliest date u\nm which this Petrel lays Ave determined to camp on the islet and particularly to make a point of witnessing the occurrences on the mysterious 25tli November — that day on which every Petrel of this breed de])osits its egg, ''on land for preference, but otherwise on the surface of the ocean." 18 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter III. FIRST CAMP ON ISLAND. I HE RE is no more inspiring prospect than the anticipation of new open-air experiences. I confess I longed to sleep in that whare over the pebble beach and to wake in the morning with ocean all ai'onnd, perhaps happily for a few glimmering moments even to believe myself in very truth marooned, at the very least to feel the recollections thronging back of boys' books with their lore of the seas, their bold buccaneers, and pirates bearded and bronzed. They may have had their weaknesses, these brave men; they could not have been wholly bad; for they lived under the wide skies and knew all weather signs, the play of the tides, the portents of the flights of birds. Their habits were quite unconventional; their crimes have delighted generations of boys, and were committed wholly in the open.* *In spite of an allusion to certain ' playing fields ' that might make it seem otherwise, I believe Captain Hook to have been an O.K. There is no such name as Hook in the School lists of his time. It was for this reason that the Captain endured the rather heartless allusion to his iron hand. It was in keeping with his character. The whole tenour of his life showed him to have been a man almost painfully anxious to do the right thing. To have talcen another felloic's name would have been simply rotten form, and Hook knew it. Except when engaged in business the Captain was of a quiet and taciturn disposition, and authors, like other people, can make mistakes. Mr. Barrie may have taken him up wrong or heard him imperfectly perhaps in a general conversation. Ji. AND OTHER BIRDS 19 "We were early astir to forestall any wind ; for often in these parts the local breeze, sometimes fresh and somethnes faint, does not blow np till seven or eight o'clock, and we intended to break- fast on the island. There was little swell on the sea as we left our anchorage in Half Moon Bay, and even the drizzle of a raw morning was unable to damp the hopes of our setting forth. Before six on October 2nd the "Te Atua" was lying off the island's western shore and opposite the pebble beach. With a rumble of I'unning chain and a splash we had anchored. Our gear was dropped into the towed boat, — camera cases, bread, blankets, lastly McLean and myself and our super-excellent Leask who was to return with the boat. Steadying her just outside the break, we waited for a big wave, and running in on its back had hauled her out of the surf before another broke and tilled hei- stern. It had been arranged that our stay on the island should be for a couple of nights, but we had taken five days food supplies in addition. Even then Leask pressed fish hooks on us, and the last heard of him was a yelled reminder from the departing boat to l^e careful of them, for the last lot of mutton-birders had been storm stayed and nearly starved. The drizzle had by this time become rain, and through the water laden island grass and up the very steep and very greasy path we carried our stuff. The hut stood on the very edge of the island and overlooked the rocks and beach ; half of it was supported on high piles, the other half rested on the levelled soil of the slope. On the landward side extended the narrow lean-to, its 20 MUTTON BIRDS floor very earthy and damp with oozings from the bank above, and along and over which birds ran all night. Our dog. "Banjo," who had already accom- panied ns in other expeditions and whom I had again been able to borrow was, until a better place could be found, fastened to one of the piles; but even thus restricted, and away from my restraining eye, he innnediately dug out a couple of poor little Kuaka. Upon unfastening the door we found that even since our last visit many more Petrels had contrived to imprison themselves in the hut. This was the most comfortable of all our camps ; the room was large, the roof quite rain- proof; whilst beneath the lean-to was collected an ample supply of dry firewood, permission to use v>diicli had been granted by the proprietor. On either side of the open fireplace there was a bunk, and light was admitted by a window at the side and another at the end of the whare. A short form and several cases served for seats; and during the past mutton bird season children must have accompanied the elders of the party, for on sheets of foolscap there were long lists of words f 0]" use in dictation. There was a tattered old "Royal Reader" too, in which I was pleased once more to read the story of the ill-tempered tailor who pricked with his needle the trunk of the elephant, of the officer whose pet tiger licked his hand, and other old friends in prose and verse. Evidences of bird oil were everywhere, — the table, bunks, and floor stained with its dark markings; the whole island indeed was per- meated with the taste and smell of birds. The PLATE \III. Daisy Tree, Hcrekopcic. AND OTHER BIRDS 21 cask water, even when boiled, tasted of oil ; and the rain which fell every day had at least this ad\'antage that it rei)lenished our tins with clean water. The one little brook would have been, I am quite sure, unlit for use, draining as it did acres of Petrel burrows. None of the birds of the island other than the Petrel tribe had yet begun to nest, although the Black-backed Gulls were calling uneasily over the vicinitv of their future breeding grounds; and although we found Sea Hawk on the eastern point beginning to resent intrusion, swooping and screaming — if such a designation can b(^ applied to their puny cry, faint even when most furious. In a deep bay to the north were congregations of KittiAvakes and Sea Swallows also beginning to feel themselves injured by an approach to the chosen site of their future nests. With none of these superterranean species laying, all our work was of a horrid rheumatic troglod^^ic sort, and rather resembled digging out bogged ralibits than clean bird nesting. The fierce Parara, very easily distinguished on account of his broad bill with laminated edges, we found to be the most forward of the Petrels. The rather blunt egg was much incu- bated and peat stained and with its original white changed when dry to a ferruginous red. One sitting bird which we took for identification and which was skinned by ]\[cLean turned out on examination to be a male. The burrow of the Parara varies in length from three to four or five feet, and the egg lies on leaves of ^'inutton bird scrub" and fraginents of cut-leaf bracken, these resting on branchlets and 22 MUTTON BIRDS sticks coated and crusted with dirt. The quantity of material used in nidification was dependent we thought on the condition of the burrow, and from the manner in which the poor material was laid in the centre of the nest hollow it was evident that the egg alone was cared for. There was no attempt at lining the remainder of the burrow's base, and the sitting bird squatted on wet and often soaked peat. In the excej)tionally rainy season of 1911 many of the holes were woefully wet and the roofs and sides of the breeding chambers in the gritty sticky condition of undried plaster work. The birds' tail feathers were draggled and saturated, and incubation must have been a rheumatic business indeed. We could not discover that any of the small, gentle-natured Kuaka were yet sitting. At this date during the day time most of their little burrows were vacant ; only in a small proportion were to be found either a single egg or two birds together. When a pair were together I took the joint occupancy as the earliest stage of house- keeping— settling in, as it were. There is something very engaging about the little Kuaka, and McLean and I became very jDartial to him, just as folk feel partiality in an extreme degree to a friend who has something a little ludicrous as well as lovable about him. The little fellow was always so fussy and agitated when, on the high seas, we ran into one of his parties scuttling along the wave tops and plunging with such undignitied haste and as if just in time — only just in time — to save a sprawl and somersault. Pity, too, was a factor in our affection, for to a great extent it is to be feared AND OTHER BIRDS 23 the breed ''but subserves another's need." The Sea Hawk and no doubt the Black-backed Gull take him at will, and I have seen the Mollymawk, too, swoop and threaten. A third kind of Petrel, the Titi Wainui, we also found in occupation of its ]mrrow, but with no egg laid. The nesting habits and burrows of this species are much like those of the Parara, but the bird itself smaller, less fierce in defence, and with the beak much less broad. The Mutton Bird, in spite of Banjo's nose, and tlie constant use in scores of likely holes of our supple-jack wand, we failed to locate. There were, in fact, but a very few birds of this species either sitting or in occupation of holes. To 23hotograph these several kinds of birds it was, of course, necessary to open up their breeding chambers, and however gently and carefidly the work was done the birds became restless. Hiding their heads in the dark corners and scraping violently with their feet they refused to face the lens. Then, as their eyes grew accustomed to the light, the l:>irds never ceased to attempt escape, and running up and down the exposed length of chamber soon ruined their beautiful plumage in the clammy peat. Sprawling on the saturated soil, wet above and wet below, with arms and hands engrained with dirt that caked, and could hardly be scraped off, was melancholy work indeed, and a trial even to the enthusiast. As the afternoon of this our first full day on the island wore on, the birds in their burrows, the Kuaka, the Titi Wainui, and certainly also, though we could not actually locate him, the Mutton Bird, single or in pairs, sitting on eggs 24 MUTTON BIRDS or in occupation only, became more noisy and began to call at more frequent intervals. Our trampling, too, as we moved abont the perfor- ated peat seemed to excite or disturb these cave dwellers to a greater degree. As the light waned this restlessness inci'eased till with the earliest inflight of returning birds a murmur and wail arose from every occupied hole. We were fortunate in obtaining our first view of the petrel flight under circumstances favour- able to eye and ear. The weather had improved, the skies were clear, and, except for the expectant break and the recurrent silence of each wave's ebb, all was still. About seven the earliest of the Kuaka began to arrive; at first here a bird and there a bird ; then almost at once it began to hail Kuaka, then to sleet Kuaka, and lastly to snow Kuaka. They reached the island in dozens, scores, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, and I verily believe perhaps in millions. At first they hurtled themselves in like hailstones, then later fell with some degree of regard to their safety, and lastly lit softly as snow and with hardl}^ a rustle. Although standing on a conspicuous spot on a rise in open ground and guarding my head and face I was struck by Kuaka eight times in a few minutes. They were dropping thickly into the vines and nettles, the foliosa grass, the soft bare ground, and inland and a little behind me falling like ripe fruit through the branches of the scrub. They were thumping, too, on the whare roof. I^he Kuaka never circles or hesitates, but always files very fast and straight in from the sea, but the final drop is vertical or not a pane of AND OTHER BIRDS 25 glass in the whare windows could have remained intact. The difference in the sound of the fall of the early, late, and latest Kuaka may perhaps be ascribed to the altering light : on the other hand it may be caused by the impetuosity of affection, the first comers ])eing perhaps the mates of the single birds in lonely occu}»ation of their holes; the next lot those arriving without intent to select at once: and the last detachment feeling in a lesser degree the influence of love and spring. This amazing influx of Kuaka continued for about half an hour, although for long after that huge parties of stragglers continued intermit- tently to arrive. Each morning we might have gathered them as the Israelites gathered from the wilderness their quail ; each morning the bird-fall overnight had landed Petrels in the kerosene tin used for carriage of water — on one occasion there were three birds in it. Every empty box flat on its base contained birds. They fell do^Ti the chimney, they floated in our Avater cask. A little later than the main body of the Kuaka, the Parara and Titi AVainui ])egan to reach the island in thousands, and Mutton Birds perhaps in hundreds. The mode of landing of each of these three species was less precipitate, the birds passing and repassing many times over the island, circling and wheeling in enormous looj)s, now clear against the sky, now lost in the blackness of the land. In every direction, high and low, the sky was crossed by their curves, and the heavens 26 MUTTON BIRDS were like a maj) marked with the orbits of innumerable stars. The Mutton Bird, in especial, I could never willingly cease to watch, now^ high above the island, now barely sweeping clear of the grasses and fern, and at first Avith never a flicker of wing to break the still evenness of its magnificent flight. Although well acquainted with the Albatross, I think this Petrel's night flight is almost a finer display of volant power. There seemed to be a pent energy, a fire of restlessness in the bird, the more marvellous because of an entire absence of any perceptible motive power. Maybe it was the glamour of night or that the emotion of the swifth^-wheeling bird moved something in the man not stirred by the vaster, slower balancings in distances more immense of the Albatross. It was a never-ending interest to follow with the eye one of these living, moving lines of flight, to mark the earthward swoop, to trace it dark- ling across the island's bulk, to link up once again the half lost curve as it emerged black and distinct against the pale, pure, evening sky. In each of these giant Ioo^ds of flight, the bird most nearly touched earth over the mouth of his breeding burrow, but the speed at which the point of attraction was passed, at first gave hardly a hint of any desire to land. After many revolutions there came a time however, wdien a certain retarda- tion of pace could be marked, and when the faintest hesitant wing flicker, the merest tremor of the extreme tips of the primaries could be observed. Still later, ahvays just over AND OTHER BIRDS 27 the Inirrow, this tremor became a poise, — a poise interpolated for an instant in the ])ird's yet swift unwavering flight, and without apparent check to the speed of the sk}n;\^ard climb, a miracle of balanced flight. At last the bird would di'op with a plump through scrub, or rustle with a rmi into tangles of vine. Most of these flying Petrels arrived without a call of anv sort. " The Kuaka was quite silent ; the Mutton Bird was also quite silent on this night, although later in the year, but even then very rarelv, I have heard him call on the wing, — a call, I may say, entirely dissimilar to the "Te- te-te" and "burr" of the Petrel that during December can be heard at night flying inland over many parts of the east coast of the North Island. From either the Parara or Titi Wainui, ghost-like in their pale blue plumage now almost turned to white, came a rare "Zp-zp." About eight or nine o'clock there were hundreds of thousands or, as I have computed, millions, of birds on the island, the vast majority of them being Kuaka. The air was gorged with soimd as when bees swarm or lambs bleat in thousands together. Each species was calling its own call, and singing its own song. The pre- dominant sounds seemed to me to be "Ku-ku- kia," endlessly repeated, and a long-drawn "Koe-koe-oe-oe-o," with something of a wail in it. I feel sure, however, there was no sadness that night amongst the Petrels. The island was like a fair, the eager arrivals running hither and thither inspecting, rejecting, visiting, courting, and chanting their subterranean lyrics. This ceaseless eagerness and feverish activitv 28 MUTTON BIRDS reminded me of nothing so much as when whilst I have been angling, a sudden hatch of fly has occurred in which the males outnumber the females by a thousand to one. Many of the Kuaka burrows were really alive with revelry, and must have entertained as many visitors as that house on the walls of Jericho, where for a night the spies lay hidden on the roof. All night long the Kuaka were streaming in and out of their holes, stealing over the sur- face like rats, and like rats, too, when alarmed, scuttling off in the half light along the ragged paths but never even when pressed, rising to fly. There were a few birds doing a little scratching, but most of the holes entered and re-entered by Petrel were at this date untouched. Often a Kuaka would sit for long periods just outside a burrow mouth, gazing, and I believe at internals singing into its cavernous depths, and in this position the preoccupied little creatures could be touched and even gently stroked. There were shallow hollows, too, outside the burrows, evidently made by the birds' move- ments in resting themselves and much less deep than dusting holes. I noticed, too, that the Kuaka could flutter up very steep surfaces and that in doing so both wings and claws were used. The bole also of every tree growing at an incline was scratched and clawed and shewed plainly the marks of the claml)ering of active birds. Although a few of the Kuaka, and a few of the Parara, Titi AVainui, and Mutton Birds, either alone or in couples holding the burrows, had already ])aired, the vast bulk were still courting and selecting holes for the coming season. In AND OTHER BIRDS 29 fact, many of tlie tunnels so freely entered over- night were in the morning found to be empty. I turned in, and for long lay ruminating OA^er the marvels of that evening tlight, and listening to the night so cranuned with sound. At last, with the wail of innumerable Petrels in my ears, I fell asleep to wake agaiii at earliest dawn, as passengers instantly wake when during a long sea trip the engines cease to throb. Something had stopped, it was the sound of silence again returned that had roused me. The growing light had drawn the Petrels down their flapped and wing-beaten ])aths; to the very edge of the cliffs had flowed their fluttering streams, runnels like those, that never to reach the earth spill themselves from the mountain heights of our southern Sounds. The dawn had called like God; at its bidding each tenant had stepped from his dark tomb. It was the morning of the Resurrection. No wood birds sang, a silence had fallen on the earth blank as that of an extin- guished star. In the chill of morn and after the night of eager courtship a desolation brooded over the empty land, as when the Lord shall have called all living creatures to their last account, when wealth of leaf in spring and weight of autumn grain shall be no more known to the generations of man. Late next evening Leask reappeared with dismal tidings of weather prognostications and strongh^ advised us to leave the island. We steamed off therefore, about half an hour earlier than the beginning of the Petrel inflight. I was glad we had done so, for we saw another phase of their life at this season of the year. In our homeward journey Ave passed for miles 30 MUTTON BIRDS through fleets of Kuaka heading towards the island. As the light failed they could be dimly seen gathering in scores of thousands from west and north and south. From what distance and for how long, I wonder, had they come, and with what stock of patience had they endured the slowly fading southern twilight. By our watches we knew that at any moment their companies might take wing, but when the time arrived there was nothing dramatic in the rise of the birds ; rather it seemed that party got up after party, and just before black darkness blotted out the sea, its expanse was to the limit of vision covered with innumerable flights of the little birds trailing low to the water and about to revisit their island trysts. AND OTHER BIRDS 31 Chapter IV. FOVEAUX STRAIT. }KE nights of October 23rd aud 24tli wei-e spent on another Mutton Bird island, or rather islet, for Piko-ma- maku-iti cannot be more than a few acres in extent. It lies nearly midway between Stewart Island and the Bluff; and had been chosen partly on account of our desire to learn more of the nesting habits of the Mutton Bird, and partly because we hoped that on a speck of land so fully in the open sea some si3ecies of Petrel as yet unknown to us, might breed. Owing to the nature of the coast-line with its apron of reef and rock our gear had to be landed at some distance from the hut we meant to occupy. Several portages were required to get it under cover, and no sooner had it been stowed than rain set in very determinedly, and again most of our goods and chattels had to be moved on account of the drip inside the hut. Firewood was then gathered and the place swept out with an improvised broom, and during this operation in the straw of the single bunk much evidence of rat traffic was observ- able. Of one of these brutes — a rat of the black 32 MUTTON BIRDS species — we obtained a glimpse, and no sight could have been more unwelcome. Rats any- where in numbers, but more especialh^ on an island, spell destruction to the smaller and tamer birds and to the eggs of every species not carefully covered. Neither, however, the haunting thoughts of these vermin nor the unending rain could spoil a first day on an island unexplored. The tree growth of Piko-mamaku- iti we found to be less rank than that of the other islands and islets visited, the Ferox nettle less widespread and the ground vegetation almost entirely Stilbocarp. All the paths were blocked with its immense vegetable marrow-like leaves from amongst which ai'ose tall handsome flower spikes, the purple inflorescence of which was just beginning to show. As had been anticipated after discovery of rats, birds ])oth in numbers and species were scarce. Of^land birds, only Pigeon, Tui, Bell- bird, Parrakeet, Tit, and Fern Bird were to be found; the last-named very scarce, one pair noticed but once, as they flew through the open bush high above the ground. Robins were neither heard nor seen, and indeed were not on the island. The Petrel tribe had also suffered from the rats, for broken remnants of egg shell were plentiful about the burrow mouths ; l)ut we got Kuaka, Parara, Titi Wainui, and Glutton Bird. About our landing-place and not far from the hut were several pair of Sea Hawk. The nest of one of these pairs I found in sparse wiry turf amongst the rocks, shaped smooth, close pressed, and ready for eggs. The anger and anxiety- displayed by this Skua were surprising, for most AND OTHER BIRDS 33 species leave empty nests to chance. I was amazed, too, at the toleration displayed by the birds towai'ds other members of the breed, haunting tlieir neighbourhood. One of the iDleasures of an acqiuiintance with birds is certainly the complete originality in the lial)its and character of every species. The Sea Hawk devours immature Parara, Titi Wainui, and full-grown Kuaka, and maybe the supply is felt to be so great that there is no more occasion for strife over meat, than amongst dogs for strife over water. The ocean tracts, furthermore, may be considered too vast to parcel into lots. There is room for all — enough and to spare. I suspect, moreover, that Skuas sometimes combine in chase, and may have — nay, must have — enough of virtue to share in some degree the common bag, and for these reasons the bird may have learned toleration of his fellows. Harriers, congregated in twos and threes, I have often watched hunting Pukeko during the winter months ; and the advantages of the game were so obvious that I suppose only the know- ledge of each Harrier that all other Harriers are utterly rogues, selfish and untrustworthy, has kept the chance of an hour from developing, as in the case of the more moral Sea Hawk, into custom. This, our first day on Piko-mamaku-iti, was one of incessant rain, and made the examination of Petrel nests really a dex)lorable business. Most of the larger holes had evidently not been touched for months. Their mouths were blocked with heaped leaves and debris of dead 34 MUTTON BIRDS stuff, and a green slime was everywhere spread on the ground. Only a very small percentage of these bigger burrows had been scraped out, and even these were usually vacant. In one we got a brace of Mutton Birds, and in it there was no sign of a nest. Two burrows contained each a solitary Mutton Bird, and in each of these two birds' breeding chambers there was a well-constructed nest of twig and leaf. About seven in the evening the Mutton Birds began to arrive, and continued to come in for about half an hour. The numbers of their in- flight were as nothing in comparison with the fall of Kuaka at Herekopere; nor did the big Petrels appear to be wholly in earnest. That night it seemed to me that only a proportion of the birds hawking and skimming over the islands touched land at all. The manffiuvres of one particular Mutton Bird we could closely follow. His burrow was a few feet from the whare door, and in the dim light cast by our fire of wet wood, still further damped by the stream of rain that flowed down the iron chimney, he could be watched in comfort. There, at intervals he laboured, scraping violently and throwing the excavated dirt high enough to be lodged on the tops of the tall leaves of the dripping Stilbocarp. There next morning we found the gritty peat, the freshly- worked hole, but not the worker himself. A second day's exploration of the island con- firmed the impression that the Mutton Birds Avere not yet breeding in bulk; perhaps, owing PLATE Mil. AND OTHER BIRDS 35 to the utterly saturated condition of the peat, could not do so. The proportion of holes sliewing signs of use was far short of even half the numbers of birds seen on the wing. The inunense majority of the tmuiel entrances were slimy and leaf- blocked. On the other hand it was impossible to mistake the holes in use, the peat scraped out and lying everywhere on the Stilbocarp leaves. Our second evening was spent on a level of peat thickly bored with h(^les, nearly bare of trees, and high on the island. There or there- abouts accordingly we ensconsed ourselves, far apart enough at any rate for me to know that I could not be disturbed. There is no greater offence than even in the far distance to hear a comrade sneeze and to know that the whole forest is alert and suspicious. The very stillest of mates should, when space allows, never be less than half a mile distant, but in any case a corpse is as a companion preferable to a man. Even clad in sweater, coat, and waterproof the waiting seemed cold and long, for the Mutton Birds did not appear until forty minutes later than on the previous evening. We were fortunate, how^ever, in getting not only a dry night but one, in addition, bright and clear. Many, I believe most, of the incoming birds alighted on the cliff edges ; for, sitting dead still, I could hear the faintest sound, and often the first indication of a bird's approach was the faint distant crackle of some small stick or twig, a souod exactly similar to that which affected so curiously the nestling Tits on Ulva. Then, later, the bird would pass me, softly 36 MUTTON BIRDS stirring the loose dead leaves, sliuffling over tlie peat and proceeding to clean ont his hole or, if so disposed, to chant and howl. Others, few in number comparatively, arrived by a more direct method, dropping throngh the trees with just the sound of a heavy pear loosening itself on a warm night from a high branch, — dropping, too, with wings folded plump on to the groinid. This surprising fall, judging by sound, not broken in any degree by the use of the wings, and from a height of ten or fifteen feet perhaps, could not but suggest the thought that these Mutton Bird islands must have originally borne a very different vegetation, and that when the forebears of the present-da}^ Petrels alighted they must have pitched fiom but a foot or two into thick grasses and ferns. Probably in ages past all Petrels thus reached their burrows. Now, it is only the dropping birds who follow the ancestral custom, the others, o\ving to a change in the vegetation, having gradually acquired the habit of alighting on the nearest cleared space, — usuallj^ on the cliff edge, and thence running to the nest. On the wing no bird uttered a sound; but I believe, though it was too dark to be positivelj^ certain, that upon arrival at a burrow the Mutton Bird often took up a position sunilar to that of the Kuaka, noticed on Herekopere, gazing into the darkness of the burrow mouth, and howling and whining in unmelodious ecstasy. With the first approach of the evening influx the call ''Too-woo-woo," ]-epeated again and again, began to be poured forth from each hole ^v^- .'' //-^ Hi ■fe?^-.^y w {!» * i i "'H . / ■'1 ». I- ■ / 1 "« > ) AND OTHER BIRDS 37 occupied. Its repetition was endless, but not monotonous; and the long whine rose and fell as the bird's lungs permitted and as its excite- ment w^axed and waned. The birds sitting or in occupation were in turn answ^ered by those just arrived, "Too-w^oo- woo," the last syllable drawn out into a long howl; then '"Too-woo-eeh," rising in its terminal syllable to the screech of a caterwaul- ing cat. Then came the great effort of all, "Too-woo-oo-oo-o," expressive of I know not what agony of love and longing, and with the additional "oo-oo-o" drawn out as a dog nodding to the moon extends his long lioAvl. This '*Too-woo-oo-ing" w^as kept up for hours, each serenading Petrel repeating his perform- ance at short intervals. Never have I heard such extraordinary singing of birds; and ten times worse weather would not have been too high a price to pay for that evening's entertainment. 38 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter V. SECOND CAMP ON HEREKOPERE. |E readied Herekopere for our last and ')\\ longest visit on November 23rd. Be- ;^ sides our desire to discover more of the habits of the Mutton Bird, we hoped also to get nests of the Sea Hawk, Robin, and Bush Creeper. The last- named species we knew was no longer in flock, — in fact, a few days earlier on another island, I had noticed one of them carrying in its beak material for a nest. Upon this other island, by-the-by, we had intended to pitch camp, and orders had been given for the erection of tents and the collection of dry firewood. Owing^, however, to heavy weather, Leask had been unable even to effect a landing ; and the plan, very greatly to my regret, fell through. On the 23rd, then, we landed without mishap at Herekopere, and, directly our impedimenta had been carried out of the vessel, I started with high hopes again to explore. It was not altogether a fortunate day; for though I got a couple of Robin's nests one was in a position hopeless for photogra]3hy or ol)servation. A Bell-bird's nest with eggs was also inaccessible. Two pairs of Sea Hawk had PLATE \\'. Nesi and to'j ul 1 i-ii-\\ AND OTHER BIRDS 39 hatched their eggs. None of the many pairs of Black-backed Gulls seemed to be sitting hard on their brown eggs. Lastly, a nest which 1 believed to be that of a Bush Creeper was only begun, and could not be completed for eggs during the six days we had allowed ourselves on the island. On the other hand, I had never before seen the South Island Robin sitting, never before found the Bell-bird on its nest, and the young of the Sea Hawk were also new to me. These Sea Hawk chicks were easily found, for the parent birds, already described in October as uneasy at my approach to certain localities, were now, in November, furious, and their swooping and cries exactly indicated the where- abouts of their respective broods. One lot of two were five or six days old and clad in grey down; the other consisted of a single bird with growing quills, and in bigness about the size of a bantam. None of these chicks seemed to have any fear Avhilst l)eing handled, and submitted without movement to touch. The young of the Sea Hawk probably almost at once leave the depression on the ground which serves for a nest. In its grizzly neighbourhood, however, and in close proximity to the torn-off wings and half-eaten carcases of Kuaka, Titi Wainui, and Parara, they stop until able to fly. Even in the extremity of rage the cry of the Sea Hawk is thin and weak, ludicrously inade- quate apparently to its feelings, and ludicrously dispi'oportionate certainly to its size. If, in fact, perfectly furious birds stooping and swooping at an intruder, ever roared gently as sucking doves it was these Sea Hawk. 40 MUTTON BIRDS Sea Hen, Skua, and Sea Hawk are other island names for this great gull, the first quite well describing its appearance when seen in attitudes of repose on sand or rock. The last designa- tion is apt, too, for the nature of the bird is predatory and fierce, and, furthermore, at least one of his aerial positions most hawk-like. The excitement of a Sea Hawk once aroused is not immediately allayed by the retirement of the intruder. I have bored my way — a lengthy process always — through the centre belt of bush and nettle to reach the other coast of the island, and yet have seen upon emerging into open ground, the still vexed birds sweeping in long beats to and fro above their grey nestlings crouching in the gale. Thus separated by the island's width I have watched the Sea Hawk poised for long like a Windhover in the air, its fully-extended legs straightened beneath it, as are momentarily a Harrier's when voiding its excrement. Although the Sea Hawk will pounce and swoop in a really terrifying manner, neither sex will, as will the female of the New Zealand Falcon, stand on guard over the nestlings and seem to consent to share their fate; nor will either bird dare, in my experience, actually to strike. I had much wanted to study the Sea Hawk at close quarters, but on account of the parent gulls' disinclination to approach their chicks, nothing could be done in the time available. During this November visit to Herekopere — a favourite Mutton Bird resort be it re- membered— the inflight of that species lasted rarely more than about thirty minutes. Nor could there, I think, have been more than a few PLATE \\l. Skua's Egg on bed of Sedum-Kane-te-toe. AND OTHER BIRDS 41 thousand. ])ii'ds of this breed visiting the ishiiid, at any rate there never seemed to be in the sky at one period, more than a few score. The vast immbers we had been led to expect were disapiiointingly absent. The influx, too, of such birds as did appear varied in numbers from night to night. Each evening, too, the hours of arrival differed, on one occasion none arriving until half-past eight. Our expei'ience of the spring and early sum- mer of 1911 on the Mutton Bird islands made easily credible what I afterwards heard, — that the birding season of 1912 was the worst ever known in the trade. The majority of burrows in fact were too wet to be used. The Mutton Bird digs deeper than any of the other Petrels to be found in these parts, and often the termination of his tunnel was soft bog or even sometimes a shallow pool of foul, stagnant water. The paucity of occupied burrows may have, in part, accounted for our inability to discover a sitting bird, or the deplorable weather may have postponed the nesting operations of the entire breed. We failed, at any rate, to obtain an egg, although in one bird handled the unlaid egg could be felt ready within a day or two for obtrusion. At this date the caterwauling so noticeable on Piko-mamaku-iti a month j^revious had, except in a few instances, ceased. Probably, therefore, such birds as intended to nest had selected partners. The Kuaka came in from the ocean later than during October, and not as before in such vast numbers for so brief a period of time. In all 42 MUTTON BIRDS burrows occupied by this breed eggs much incubated were now to be had. Many, but not all, of the Titi AVainui were sitting on an egg. The young of the Parara were by this time seven or eight weeks old — large, heavy, and densely covered with down. The roof and walls of the chamber of one particular Parara chick photographed by us were quite grey with the scurf of the down and si3routing feathers. The nestling big enough to show fight possessed a bill sufficiently strong to administer a severe pinch. At night every bird on the island seemed to be wailing and calling, but the burrow sounds were almost impossible to locate and harder still to apportion, for the more densely-settled dis- tricts were tunnelled like the foundations of a great cit}^, and different breeding chambers had often, I am. convinced, a common entrance. By ten o 'clock a roar went up from the island — the blended chorus of an enormous multi- tude of bii'ds, a bleating, crying, hmnming wail of four species conjoined and so overfilling the air with sound that, as before, I woke with the peace of dawn. To recapitulate, — the Parara is the earliest breeding Petrel to be found about the northern portion of Stewart Island, and his nesting season is spread over many weeks; then comes, with a season also extending over many weeks, the Titi Wainui. The Kuaka lays its two eggs about mid-October, and I believe its breeding season is much more restricted in time. The Mutton Bii'd is the last of the Petrels mentioned in this book to lay in bulk. I have, however, no doubt ])ut that the few dozen individuals of this AND OTHER BIRDS 43 breed noticed on September 2nd to be flying over Herekopere were about to select nests, to hold them, or to lay; and eggs not much incubated have been obtained by me as late as the end of February. I should say, therefore, that far from the egg of each Mutton Bird being laid on November 25th, either on land or water, that eggs are obtainable during the months of November, December, January, and February, probably also earlier and probably later. 44 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter VI. THE BLACK-BACKED GULL. IN" the rocks at the base of the red cliffs of Herekopere many Gulls were breeding during the last week of November. Skuas possessed the northern heights, Gulls the western shore, and each was careful in the matter of trespass, the Skuas keeping away from the west and the Gulls avoiding the north end of the island. Throughout the southern part of New Zea- land, on open river beds, almost from source to sea, this Gull is plentiful. In tlie North Island, he frequents estuaries, lagoons, and coasts, is to be seen at all the shipping ports, and, indeed should be known even to the most unobservant. I have got his nest on tidal drift, on edges of cliffs and promontories, on bare rock ; and have seen the eggs placed on drift sand without even a vestige of nesting material. This last clutch of eggs, however, was pi'obably laid after an accident to an earlier lot. On the naked Porangahau beach, where my earliest attentions had been paid to this Gull, I had foinid him wary and deeply suspicious. On Herekopere he was as shy; but here it was AM) ()'iiir:i.' r.iK'DS 45 possil)l(' to select iicsts witliiii suita))le distMiice of i'(K'k and scnil), Avhcre by tlic addition of ])il('d sticks and fallen hrnsliwood a screen oi' blind conld be made to blend inio the adjacent scenery. The first nest attempted, some lil'ty yards from the but, was selected on account of its ])roximity t<> our beadqnarters, and because f had hoped that its owners would have become cai'eless of oui- presence. ('<»mi)osed of seaweed, li'rass roots, and sbredded drift it was based on the i^iant jx'bbles of the beach and safe Trctm all but the most nmisual seas, I'oi- birds, like men who ])nild on banks of ri\'ers liable to Hood, beneath cliffs, and in volcanic ai'cas, will deliber- ately take certain I'isks. Seas had formerly reached the site of this nest the birds well knew; they w^ere ])re])ai-e(l to chance it a^ain doini;' so in their time, in the nest ^vcre throe e^'^s, two lyin,i>" on their sides, and a third standinu;' on its end and the top only showing", so deei)ly was it endx'dded. This (\u,iL»", which 1 think nnist have belonged to an earliei- nest robbed fi'oni another j^air of Hulls and built over, was exhumed, and as the later tenants acce])te(l it without denmr, it w^as thought that a screen mi^ht be safely ventured. Within its sheltei- for many hours I waited; but the ])air wei'c not ea|»'er to sit; and although they I'eturned shortly after my com- ])anion had .i^one, it was to watch for what th(3 tide would brinj*' u]). Upon a convenient I'ock the birds stood, and at long' intervals "|)ounced npon stuff bronght in by the waves. Once the sui)ply a])))(*ar(Hl to be somethin.i;" in the natur(^ of a jelly fish, at another it looked like a dead hi I'd. l^^ach of the 46 MUTTON BIRDS Gulls thus in turn secured a scanty meal, and each in turn absolutely i-espected his mate's proprietary rights. A share was never asked for, no, nor even a hint of hunger overtly expressed, — a restraint and self-control the moi'e remarkable from the evident desire of one of the pair for further food. I saw this bird standing within a foot or two of its gorging, guzzling companion and simulating the actions of the latter to the life, rending, dabbing, and shaking. In at least one species of bird known to me excitement of the amatory feeling through the imagination will cause an exact reproduction of many of the actions proper to performance, but before I had witnessed the ecstasy of this Black- backed Gull I had believed that only the master passion could have afforded such a manifesta- tion. A Gull never places his feet on his capture; it is torn, and dabbed, and shaken to pieces, and always after feeding the bird scrupulously washes himself. Sti'anded whales, and black fish, surf -beaten birds, dead fish, and drifting krang, all afford a meal ; nor does the bird always confine himself to carrion. On one occasion I saw a Black- backed Gull attack a weakly Petrel which, after a short flight from the island, had alighted on the ocean. There it was immediately seized u])on by a Gull who at first attempted to fly off with his prize, but later dropped the unfortunate bird into the sea where it was worried to death. The sight of the Black-backed Gull is remark- ably keen; and whilst in the screen ni}^ least movement, however protracted, caused instant o u AND OTHER BIRDS 47 alarm ; on the other hand the rush of the shutter released passed unheeded. These Gulls perhaps trust so much to sight that other seuses may have grown less keen, or upon them less reliance may be placed. The owners of the first nest under observation, ne^'er very happy over their choice of site, finally deserted, after giving me a single chance with the camera. ]\Iy second hiding hole, a sort of rocky dungeon roofed with bull kelp, was an excellent and comfortable construction. AVith legs ex- tended and at ease I had a magnificent view along the base of the red cliifs, and could see in the distance after the alarm of my presence had subsided, Gull after Gull return to its nest. The 2)ure whites of a sitting bird make it very conspicuous, and from our launch far out at sea each incubating Gull appeared a dazzling speck. Upon my disappearance into the bowels of the earth those birds with nests most distant from the camera at once returned to theii' duty, and this confidence spread gradually down the shore-line until but one pair — that couple most near to me — remained in doubt. They for long stood together on a rock just awash in deep water. Then still together they moved forward, then one alone approached in several short flights until Avithin fifteen or twenty yards. At last, so silently that I was unconscious of it, the female took her place on the eggs. It is always during these last minutes that the watcher's anxiety culminates; and no lover looks more eagerly for his mistress's approach than the enthusiast for his bird. It is impossible to stir or call, and inquietude as to past conduct, 48 MUTTON BIRDS wliicli before takiiig to the photography of birds seemed unlikely to trouble or annoy until the Judgment Day, now harasses the mind. I find myself constantly considering my past. AVhat piece of idiotic folly have I just com- mitted *? Was that branch moved at the last moment really properly replaced? Might not the screen of fern fronds have been brushed aside as I crept in I Am I perfectly certain that the waterproof thrown down near the nest was ever picked up again? Even unlikely things throng the mind. A cruel fear that constantly besets me is lest McLean in retiring — the veriest trifle will keep a bird away — should have care- lessly broken his neck within view of the nest. These are the troubles that are aging me pre- maturely. The public has resolutely forborne to read my verse ; my stock has perished whole- sale; my banker has on occasion written me letters such as no gentlem.an should address to another. But these miseries are as nothing to those borne with the knowledge that repentance comes too late, that atonement is impossible, that punishment must follow instantly. This feeling, however, that my actions in the field, must, so to speak, be paid for cash down, is having the hap])iest effect on my general character. It is making a good man of me at last. But, if the pains are severe so are the pleasures of this pastime cori'espondingly sweet. The woodlands become full of a new mystery. The knowledge grows that utterly wild creatures are peering and inspecting with craned necks and cautious tread, thrusting the fronds apart that screen their tracks, pushing through cur- tains of greenery that, as the birds pass, brush AND OTHER BIRDS 49 over plumage of neck and back, and delicately close. The heart thrills as ap])roacli becomes more near, and twittering talk and reviving song tell of confidence restored. An eclipse of light darkens the conning hole ; the arriving bird has passed athwart the sun. Leaf shadows dance in the quiet of noon-day calm. It is where for an instant the bird has perched and the weighted twigs leap to readjust themselves. Grasses bend, sere rushes rustle ; and in the wet forest grey with stretching drops, a sudden patter in one ])\'dGe alone, betrays. In calm weather, fine, or with gently falling rain, the faintest stir is filled with high imaginings. At last the shy inhabitant of the wilds stands almost within grasp, unconscious of espial, as Dryad naked for the bath, perfect in pose as poet has imagined nymph. 50 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter VII. THE SOUTH ISLAND ROBIN. low comes it tliat these Robins are so extremely tame? How comes it that they prefer to build by the residences of man? If we can build a perfect structure from a single bone, infer- ences may be drawn too from the surviving traits of faith and trust ; they, too, are facts. We know the toothed birds of earliest fossil finds to have been half reptilian in form, and that, though differentiated on divergent lines, reptiles and birds are relatives still in no remote degree. If to this day in certain alien breeds reptilian traits survive, if some birds live yet who bury their eggs as turtles do in sand and trust theii' incubation to the sun or to the heat of decomposing vegetation, then traits of trust in man may have descended too. Sometimes I like to dream — 'tis but a vain imagining — that the exceeding trustfulness of the Robin may have been evolved during some long gone golden age when mankind really loved his birds. I like to dream that to some ancient race the Robin may have been a temple bird, secure in the precincts of the quiet courts, eyed with austere mm AND OTHER BIRDS 51 cunccni by liuiy iiieii, fed on liigli festivals by children's hands, sacred throughont the land. I like to fancy that tliongh himself, his speech, his faith, his land, except perhaps some peak — an Easter Island in deep seas — has gone, yet that not all has gone, but that whilst still the Robin lives, the kindly customs of that lost race survive. In the eighties I I'emember the Robin fairly plentiful in the wooded gorges of i)ai'ts of Canterbury, and at that date he was probably still comparatively plentiful in suitable localities throughout the South Island; but it was not until thirtv vears later that a more intimate acquaintance with the breed Ix'gan. The South Island Robin is about the size of a fledgling thrush, very dark brown all over except the lower l)reast and belly, which are more or less grey-white. Above the upper part of the bill there is also a minute line of white. This grey, or grey-white ventral tract varies much in different birds, and is in some quite irregular. The belly feathers, moreover, do not always lie close and tight, and this sometimes gives the bird a rather shabby and unkempt appearance as if its plumage was sparse and uneven. Usually, however, the bird wears that particularly neat appearance so associated with the English red-breast, and the plumage of the finest males is almost black and of splendid sheen. Even in Stewart Island the bird has gone from about the little settlement of Half Moon Bay. Wherever a man builds even the smallest hut and wherever the Weka is killed out rats follow, and the Robin is at once exterminated. Some of the great inland valleys, however, are 52 MUTTON BIRDS still full of Wekas, and there I found the Robins fairly plentiful before, after, and during the breeding season. In lesser numbers they are to be found high on the uplands, and indeed are probably moder- ately plentiful in all the wetter, wilder, and uninhabited portions of Stewart Island. It is on the islets that lie off Stewart Island that the species should longest survive and per- petuate its race ; and there, indeed, with a little care and a little inspection the Robin should continue to live. Even on them, however, he is not perfectly safe. On many of these islets rats already swarm, either having long ago swum from wrecks or more recently been by chance introduced from boats landing stores for the Mutton Bird season. In fact, each visit to an islet, of any craft bigger than a boat, carries possible death to the Robin. Rats venture every^vhere and intrude by every means; any bait, for instance, left on board a fishing boat is taken by these brutes who at night board by the mooring ropes. It is easy, therefore, to sup- pose that rats might be inadvertently landed, and that when once established on one island they might reach another and thus spread over whole groups. No body, even of rats, would attempt to negotiate six or eight miles of open sea, yet the few hundred yards that separate some of these islands would hardly deter them. On the other hand the Robin may be successfully acclimatised. I am told that birds liberated on Ulva in- creased, until, upon the death of the experi- menter, cats were again permitted on the island. These Robins built about the out-houses and PLATE \\1 Pair of Robins Female sitting. PLATE XXII Female Robin. AND OTHER BIRDS 5;i sheds, selecting just such sites as the English Red-breast might have chosen. There is always, I think, a special interest in noting any little differences in the life habits of the very closely allied species such as, for instance, the Robin of the South Island and the Robin of the North Island. In manner of flight, momentary rigidity, and g;^Tiinast's man- ner of holding lumself i3raced at right angles to a vei'tical stem, the general resemblance is gi'eat. It is in their singing that the birds chief!}' vary, the bird of the North by far eclipsing in this respect his southern relative. The North Island bird on an evening fine after rain, 1 have heard sing high on a tapering white ])ine, for half an hour at a stretch, and have been entranced at the variety of the long-continued out])Ouring of song with its notes of Canary, English Thrush, and English Robin. Often my wife and I would ride to the little valley where these fast-disappearing birds then still survived, just to listen to the evening singing; there is no song comparable to it in the whole of New Zealand bush, yet even in dull I)rint its beauties are hardly known; even in books justice has hardly been done, and it has been strangely passed over by early writers, to whom the bird must have been well known. The song of the South Island Robin, though it also possesses a note somewhat recalling that of the English Thrush, is not remarkable. In January, 1911, I got my first South Island Robin's nest. It rested on one of the wall-plates of a hut in Herekopere Island, and directly I broke the dry flax by which the door was secured 54 MUTTON BIRDS an agitated hen Robin greeted me with a loud series of alarm notes. There was a full- feathered nestling in the room who declined to leave b}^ the great open chimney used by the parent birds as their route of entrance and exit. In the nest lay one addled egg. On the third week in November I got another Robin's nest. It was built just beneath the roof of the narrow lean-to of this same hut, and contained five eggs. We saw much of our little house-mates; and I was especially interested in the hen's manner of incubation, for sometimes she would warm her five eggs and sometimes she would allow them to become stone cold. Her nest was above the door and, as we passed many times each day directly beneath her, and within a few feet of the eggs, very soon she paid us the com- pliment of disregard. Her habits were in no way affected by our presence in the island, yet sometimes she would appear to be sitting hard and other times the eggs would be, as I have said, quite cold. This alternate raising and lowering of the temperature of the eggs continued for four or five days after the full clutch had been laid. I)u]'ing these days once I know the eggs w^ere deserted for several hours, and on another occasion the hen w^as off as late as eight o'clock in the evening, and only returned, I judged, after several sharp calls from the cock, who never left the vicinity I believe. Later the hen began to sit very close, and no doubt aftei* our departure safely reared her brood. I suppose each species has its own method, but although eggs — the well-incubated eggs — of many species are left for considerable periods PLATE XXIII _LJ|ftS£. South Island Robin on nest. AND OTHER BIRDS 55 T had not i:n'ovioTisly experienced a case where the cooling i)rocess — if it were such — began so early and was carried to such an extreme degree. A second nest, also got during the third week of November, T found to contain three squab young. In deep shade contiguous to the nest a Morepork was sitting, and his banefid ])]'e- sence so near the chicks was occasioning in the cock bird loud series of alarm notes; by these cries of distress indeed it was that the nest was discovered to me. I routed the little Owl out of his dark shelter and had the satisfaction of hearing him well mobbed by excited Tuis and Bell-birds and less animated Wai'blers and Tits. His enemy gone, the Robin at once j^roceeded with his work and, satisfied by my conduct that I must be a friend, took me into his confidence by a direct tlight on to his nest. It was built about nine feet from the ground in an immense bee swarm like hanging cluster of close packed dead bush vine twigs, tendrils, and curls, and in colour as perfect a match as could be to the Robin's own brown-black plumage. During the erection of our stage neither of the parents evinced much alarm, and we managed to get the lens within a few feet of these tame little creatures. When advancing my scissors to remove a twig or two on the very edge of the nest, the hen at first attempted to lure me away, half falling and half fluttering off her nest as if disabled, and holding, as does the Tit, her wings aloft with the primary quills very widely spread apart. When returning, she saw I was not to be drawn off, this brave little hen flattered almost into my face, even brushing 56 MUTTON BIRDS my liaiid with her tiny wings. Reassured and accustomed to ni}^ close company, she proved a most assiduous sitter, moving but two or three inches aside even when the male was present and feeding the chicks. There, on the very edge of the nest, she waited as if grudging an instant's absence from the beloved chicks. On the rare occasions when she did leave her family I noticed her on the peaty ground and low shrubs gathering insects and grubs. The smaller ones she ate herself, as conscientious folk eat only the smaller berries as a sort of perquisite when gathering fruit. When she was so fortunate, however, as to get a considerable caterpillar or bulky moth, — that was too good for herself she evidently thought; to have eaten it herself would have been simple waste^ — the discovery of such a tit-bit always terminated her brief jaunt. The little ones were never out of her thoughts. Like a kind elder sister at a Christmas tree, she wanted to return with something got by herself for the babies at home. The sanitation of the nest was done chiefly or altogether by the male and the droppings deposited at command on the edge of the nest by the young birds, swallowed. During our whole stay at Herekopere there was but one morning of calm weather, and it was during this lull that we were fortunate enough to secure our photographs. I often visited this nest, and the day previous to our departure found the chicks with wing quills already well developed and within five or six days of flight. Their groAvth is therefore very rapid. The Morepork was once more within three or four yards of the nest, and not PLATE \\l\ ^^'^ .u.,^.^. South Island Robin on i\esi AND OTHER BIRDS 57 for tlio first time, tlio ])Ossil)ility of him, too, possessing a home in that dark mass of creeper, entered my mind. There was no timber, how- ever, for tlie construction of a ladder even of the rudest sort, and investigation was impossible without the wrecking of the Robin's nest. If, indeed, the Owl had also built in this dark mass of dead stuff, a few feet only could have separated the two establishments. It goes with- out saying that the Owl knew of the Robin's nest and chicks, — that admits of no doubt what- ever— but why he should have abstained from hunting the parent birds so that even if not captured they would have been forced to desert the neighbourhood and allow their brood to perish, and why he should not have taken the helpless chicks is less easy to decide. In another volume I have given reasons for believing that propinquit}^ establishes some sort of bond even between unfriends, and between the oppressor and the mem- bers of the tribe upon whom he preys, and have given examples in the conduct of the Falcon who, I believe, hunts at a distance from his eyrie, and in that of the collie who prefers to worry sheep from flocks strange to him. 58 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter VIIL THE YELLOAV-EYED PENGUIN. ]ERTAINLY two species —the Yellow- eyed and. the Blue Penguin, locally known as the Rock Hopper, breed on Stewart Island, and I believe near Pegasus there is also one colony of the Tufted Penguin. This last bird, again and again I was told, nested in man}^ parts on the north and east of the island; but the rookeries always j)]"oved upon examination to be those of the Yellow-eyed bird. My acquaintance, in fact, with the Tufted Penguin is of the briefest, and the individual bird found by me in Chew Tobacco Bay was no doubt a straggler from further soutli preparing to moult. He was standing in the shade of a high rock face and near a little waterfall just above high-water mark, and viewed our approach with non- chalance. Probably at a later period this bird would have been found retired many hundred yards into the woods with his shed feathers lying thick about him. "Shedding" is perhaps hardly the word, for the old plumage seems rather to come off in patches and pinches and peelings and flakes; and I have seen a bird felting off its old coat just as a sick sheep casts its wool. PLATE \X\ \'ellow Eyed Penguin disturbed. PLATE XXVI lutted l^cngLiiii, probably about to iiiouli. AND OTHER BIRDS 59 Many species can only afford to lose their feathers, and especially their larger feathers, gradually and systematically in pairs, and of the many differences between the Pengnin and other bii'ds none is more marked perhajts than the manner of his moult. Ilis vast accumulation of fat enables him to endure for long a com- fortable starvation embowered in grcM'iicry. Tlie Yellow-eyed Penguin and the small Plue Penguin are both very x^lentiful about the north end of Stewart Island, the former, the more pelagic bird, preferring the open sea and placing its rookeries on islands or on the edges of the main island's outer shores. Almost any dry slope or knoll in the forest makes a suitable nesting site; it is the landing jjlace which has to be chit^fly considered, and parts of the beach are selected, where the birds coming up from the sea can enter straight into the bush, and avoid the stretches of soft sand and shingle, particu- larly irksome to a bird whose method of progres- sion is by hopping. Inland and away from the clean beaches the Penguin paths are very slimy and slippery and smooth with the traffic of the heaw birds. The smaller undergrowth is com- pletely trodden out, and the air always per- meated with an oily odour. A^^^en a meeting between the two takes place usually the birds give place to the larger animal, man ; but on one occasion, whilst descending a very steep ])ath, worn by bird use and rain into a deep rut, we met a couple of Yellow-eyed birds half way up. One of them, after very long consideration, sloped off by easy stages to the sea. The other who had not yet completed his moult, and upon whom were still many patches of unshed felt, 60 MUTTON BIRDS refused to budge, and not placated with squeezing us on to the wet and dirty bank, made furious kmges with his beak, when accidentally brushed by our gear or waterproofs. To and from their rookeries the birds travel in broad daylight, and often one can be seen slouching home from the ocean, ludicrously like a man drenched to a sop, with his soaked arms dropped at full length dejectedly at his sides, and as helpless looking as the legs of a drone on the wing. The main entrance to one of the Te Kurt rookeries was up a little creek, shallow in ebb and filled in a flowing tide. Breaking its bed was a fall of three or four feet, and once, when my head was momentarily turned, a Penguin appeared on the upper level. He must have leaped straight from the water beneath, as Shackleton describes the landing of an Emperor in his "In the Heart of the Antarctic." Noticing me on the track this bird re- turned to the sea, and cruised about the little estuary swinmiing high out of the water somewhat in the manner of a Pekin Duck. Sometimes, too, this species of Penguin may be observed moving very low in the water and with his head alone showing. When com- panies are swimming fast at sea they can be easily mistaken for some sort of porpoise, pos- sessing the same wonderful resilient leap and dive, in and out motion. Like flying fish, they live indeed a two-fold life ; as birds enjoying the air, and warmth, and light, and as fish the penetrable waves, their coolness, and their dim deliglitful shade. The bi"eeding season begins about September. > AND OTHER BIRDS 61 On the 22nd of that month we visited an island rookery; for, although the birds do not sit in very close fiiiarters to one another, or cono'regatc in very huge numbers, still their nesting sites deserve that appellation. At this early date there wei'e only a few birds to be seen. One of them had evidently been collecting nest matei'ial, for its bill was soiled with peat and earth. Another was sitting on an empty but fully completed nest, and a third bird was cover- ing a single egg. Its egg must have been newly laid — it was still clean and fresh-looking, oval, and in size simihir to a turkey's egg. The carelessly constructed nest, composed of small twigs and sticks and lined with leaves and bits of fern frond, was sheltered by an ironwood's recumbent bole. The owner of this fresh egg when very nearly approached, sloped off — that is the proper word, and no slang — with the awkward shambling gait of the species. The departure was by short low hops, and ever and anon the bird glanced over its shoulder as if fearful to be taken unawares, and unfairly, by a sudden rush, like a child inviting pursuit, but bargaining as he still flies for a fair start. The pace of this disturbed Penguin, at first slow, had in it some semblance of decorum, but with ever}^ fresh slip and stumble over supple-jack and vine she became more and more flurried and fussed, until, utterly losing her head, the orderly retreat became a shameful rout. Broody birds when disturbed merely rise and stand upright; then, if let alone, subside again on to the eggs with a motion so slow as to be imperceptible. Sometimes also a slight hiss is emitted; and, if teased, the bird will raise the 62 MUTTON BIRDS scalp feathers and to an even lesser degree those of the body. 1 should imagine that with his bill the bird could inflict a severe wound ; and, on one occasion, when struck over the knuckles by the flapper of a big nestling, I found the pain quite considerable. On the whole, however, this Penguin is of a pacific nature, and if sufficiently pressed easily leaves its eggs. It does not, however, go far, the tripping, stumbling undignified run on the loose leaves and sticks is soon heard to end. The fallings and sprawlings cease; and after a little, if silence be maintained, the bird may be seen staring and peering and listening to discover if once again the coast is clear. In appearance the Yellow-eyed Penguin is a handsome fellow in his close-fitting coat of grey, his extensive waistcoat of white, and his elegantly-patterned bright pink feet. AND OTHER BIRDS 63 Chapter IX. THE BLUE PENGUIN. )HE Blue Penguin breeds very pleuti- fnllv aloim- the shores of the inlets of Stewart Island, and upon the small, wooded knolls, rocks, and islets that add so nnich tcj their beauty. On the outer islands the nests are less numerous, and generally sj^'aking this small Penguin is most common on the more sheltered waters. In Paterson Inlet we were constantly steaming through or past their little conununities, the birds usually swimming slowly and with hardly more than head above water. At the launch's near approach each bird would disappear by a nod of the head — for the diving movement was scarcely more — and a slightly deeper submersion of the body. The dive, in fact, was often so shallow that in calm weather the bird's direc- tion could be distinctly traced by the heave of the widening water arrow-head that spread in in the little swimmer's wake. The Blue Penguin begins to lay a week or fortnight later than his cousin of the Yellow-eye. At any rate, during the third week of Sej^tember, no eggs were discovered although fresh burrows were found, sometimes unoccupied, sometimes containing a single bird, and once a pair of birds. 64 MUTTON BIRDS The nests are not open to daylight, but con- cealed in rocky crevices, caves, or — if in the bnsli — in burrows scraped out beneath rotting logs or amongst the knotted roots of living trees. These burrows are never deep, and vary in length from a couple of feet to four feet, and often a number are in the same locality, though by no means always close to one another. The nest is a fairly substantial structure, consisting of a base of large sticks and twigs, whilst above them lie a sufficiency of the thick, leathery, water-proof leaves of the mutton bird scrub. Two eggs, hen size, make up the clutch; and sometimes an egg, when quite fresh, is stained at the thicker end with a minute patch, diffused but distinct, of brightish green. This little blotch seems to be an integral part of the egg, and not an accidental extraneous marking. The eggs, which do not seem to be laid immediately after one another, l^ecome after a few days' incubation much discoloiired with peat and dirt. The vestibules of the burrows discovered had of course to be removed before the bird could be seen; but if they were carefully re-covered with sufficient fern tree fronds, desertion of the nest was rare ; and several of these passages were thus twice unroofed without harm. The bird can then he seen in the dim light making a small occasional movement of the chin as if swallowing on a dry tliroat. The Blue Penguin is most irascible when excited and disturbed in its burrow; and acts not only on the offensive^ but makes sorties of thi'ee or four feet from its eggs, and grasps with a fei'ocious gi'ip the cap or hat guarding the digger's hands. The object thus seized is taken AND OTHER BIRDS 65 into a soi't of doii1)le chancery, the Penguin holding it in his beak whilst administering a furiously rapid beating with both flippers, — action realising in full degree my conception of what is termed in old-fashioned children's literature, "a sound flogging." Only have I seen equal rapidity of admonishment when, from a doorway in a crowded street, an over-worked mother of many seizes a small offender, pins him with one dexterous twist to her maternal gremium, in a fury spanks him standing, and rushes back to her over-boiling pot. The action of the little Penguin displays just the same furious haste. It is thinking of its eggs and annoyed at the distraction, and really the performance so resembled a hmnan smack- ing administered expeditiously that I seemed to hear the cry and see the wriggling escape of the victim and the rubbing of the afflicted part. The noise of these encounters and the furious snarling of the spit-fire Penguin was altogether too much for Banjo's equanimity. The field naturalist was lost in him. Dancing on his taut rope like an heraldic lion he roared his mingled feelings out, joy at the din of battle bray, and deep disgust at inability to help. 66 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter X. THE WOODS OF AUTUMN AND SPRING. (WICE during autumn I had been camped on the banks of the Rakiahua, once in search of high country grasses, and once again to watch a Kaka 's nest ; and now in spring again I was delighted to be in the well-remembered wilds to sleep in the bare hut, to wake to the view of the wooded slopes, to watch the spring awakening of dwarf plants on soaked red moss and spongy turf. There are no pleasures like those the desert can give ; and to their devotees the wildernesses of the earth can never weary or grow stale. I had left in autiunn and now returning in spring found a vast difference in the life of the woods. In ]\Iarch, a stranger to the movements of our New Zealand birds would have wondered at their numbers ; in October, he would have vowed that even here in these remotest wilds, native species had become almost extinct. The altera- tion, in truth, was very great. In March those inland woods had been full of sound and flight; in October they were noiseless and bare, — 'bare deserted choirs where once the sweet birds sang.' The tall trees then had really been alive with Kaka, the birds hopping with short, silent PL^TE XXXI Umbrella Fer^^ AND OTHER BIRDS 67 flights from bough to bough — the Kaka can be as silent as an Owl on the wing — raining down rotten wood and bark, clambering by beak alone, uttering everywhere their guttural "Clock," "clock," "clock," and listening with rapt in- quisitive air, to the scratching and tapping sounds made by us, as we paused beneath them on the foi'est })ath. The woods were filled with their calls and screechings; and I may say, with- out exaggeration, that Pan'ots were there ])y tlie thousand. Pigeons, too, were very jjlentiful, and Tuis, and Bell-birds in lesser though still very great numbers. Fantails, though never so munei-ous as in the forests of the Xorth — the insect harvest is, I suppose, more sparse in the chillier, southern bush — were yet relatively plentiful. Num])ers of \\^arblers were on the tree to2)s very high from the ground, and Tits were to be noticed ever^^diei'e. Robins were then to be found along the very skirt of the forest where the tall i)ole manuka forms a neutral zone between the tangle fern and rushes of the valley lands, and the kamahi, pine and iron wood of the forest. Again in the higher forest fringe where the taller trees begin to dwarf, Avhere new and mountain species begin to assert themselves, and where once more the tree manuka appears, the breed is to be found in autumn. The Parrakeets seen were in the forest, and nowhere else. On the higher spurs of the hills and in the manuka above the bush line, parties of the inquisitive, chattering Bush Creeper were frequent. To the best of my recollection the Rifleman was fairly common; and again, to the best of my recollection, that diminutive bird was 68 MUTTON BIRDS then living at a considerable height on the forest spurs. Wekas were evenly distributed through- out the country side, and the Fern Bird very plentiful on the valleys. The footprints and borings of Kiwi were visible on the flats to the south of the river, and upwards to the very limits of the scrub, where the open moors began. I believe, however, the birds were most numerous high on the hills. Now, in October, all was different; and one of those vertical movements so often noted by me on Tutira had here occurred on a great scale. The birds had deserted the ranges for the lower coast lands, the more migratory species moving to great distances, whilst the less restless breeds had merely dropped to lower levels and sought the valley lands. The Kakas, for instance, left in these upland woods, we might have counted on our fingers. As for the Pigeons, I may say that in the forest itself there were none, though one or two were at intervals to be noticed about the fringes of the bush. Except for here and there a lingerer, the Tui and the Bell-bird had gone. The smaller species were also much reduced in numbers. Fantails had become rare birds in these spring woods, whilst only here and there had a pair of Tits remained. The few Warblers noticed were no longer on the tops of the tall trees nor in large numbers, but at their ordinary nesting site level, and few and far between. Twdce I climbed Table Hill, but failed to find the Robins that in autumn had been on the uppermost edges of the forest. These birds were now Sjiread over the valley. The few Parrakeets visible were about the flat lands. > AND OTHER BIRDS tiu flyiug in and out of the manuka spinnies and often to be seen gently scraping and raking the ground. Although still, as in autumn, notice- able on high altitudes, very many Bush Creepers were now to be met with on the forest's lower border, and even on the flats. The Rifleman was no longer chiefly on the higher lands, and the nest, of the birds photographed, cannot have been more than 50 feet above sea-level. Even the ubiquitous Wekas seemed to have concentrated themselves along the edges of the bush, and about the flats; and although at the hut itself, where, in the autumn there had been four or five, there were none, the breeding season would account for their absence from that particular spot. They were still, I believe, mostly rearing their families and keeping their chicks in seclusion. There can be little doubt that the Kiwi had come down to breed in the lower lands; and lastly each of the several pairs of Orange Wattle Crows seen in springtime and early summer, were noticed within a few score feet of sea-level. The Fern Bird alone seemed to have felt no desire to move. He was, as formerly, plentiful in the clumps of red tussock, along the margins of the deep half-choked peat burns and in the stunted thickets of box-leaved koromiko and grass tree; and it was this spring I discovered him to be very common in the stunted wind- bloT\Ti manuka on the very edge of the open moors of the mountain tops. There had occurred between March and Sep- tember a sort of two-fold movement, local and general, the more stay-at-home species having merely moved downwards from the high bush country towards the valley, the flats, and the 70 MUTTON BIRDS foot hills. The breeds possessing a wider range had altogetlier shifted their quarters, migrating towards the coasts, the islands, and those more fertile districts, where the most abundant food supply was to be most easily secured. It was therefore doubly interesting for me, who had seen the birds during autumn in their uplands, again to have intimate acquaintance with them throughout the spring months, and about the coasts and islands whither they had journeyed for food. The climate of Stewart Island, though wet, is Yery mild ; on the low lands and near the sea frosts are unknown; and already in September many of the coprosmas were in bloom, and the fuchsia-blossom season at its height. On the islets off the east coast the lemon-leafed matipo was covered with flowers, and almost at sea-level I noted in Paterson Inlet more than one grass tree in blossom. In fact, the enormous coast line and consequent absence of cold, produce in Stew^art Island an exceptionally early growth. The fuchsias were now at their best, and the nectar loving birds were taking full advantage of the flower crop. The coastal woods were thronged Avith birds; Tuis, Kakas, and Bell- birds especially, were there in full enjoyment of the nectar harvest. Perhaps the Tui may have arrived fli'st ; .he had, at any rate, been resident long enough to have acquired, in his own opinion, certain proprietary rights in particular fuchsia bushes, and I judged him to be a freeholder by the way he battled for private property. In these tree top encounters, the Kaka, the larger bird, handicapped by the multijolicity of the small, close fuchsia branchlets, and at- tacked from beneath, was usually routed and PLATE XWlll. Filmv Ferns. AND OTHER BIRDS 71 di-ivoii off. From the blossoming ironwoods later in the season he was less easy to dislodge. It was entertaining to Avatch, how, on the cessa- tion of these combats, the ruffled Tni at once returned to his mate. Preening his feathers in her company, 1 always felt sure he was courting acclaim, bragging of his prowess, and boasting of the bellyers he had got in from beneath. Besides these larger birds, Fantails, Warblers, and Tits were in great jn'ofusion. Pigeons were also jdentiful ; but I think the bulk of their numbers, and, quite possibly, a large proportion of the Kaka too, may have made an even more extended flight, and have temporarily left Stewart Island for the mainland. In view of these great bird movements — I have noticed them on Tutira amongst ground birds too — it is difficult indeed to arrive at con- clusions as to the numbers of our natives still left. Here in Stewart Island I knew a vertical migi'ation had occurred bc^tween mid-autumn and early spring; but it was impossible even to guess from what area the birds had been drawn. Undoul)tedly the Kaka and Pigeon were, during March, in vast numbers over the few hundred acres on either side of the Rakiahua, along whose banks I was then working; but this con- centration might have occurred only in that single district, and every Pigeon and every Kaka might have been collected there from over the whole of Stewart Island. Kaka, Pigeon, Bell- bird, and Tui, may, therefore, be very plentiful in these southern woods or they may be sparse in numbers and scattered far apart. On the whole, however, I am glad to be able to say that I favour the former alternative. I believe that these species are still very plentiful. 72 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter XI. THE KAKA. SURING February of 1911 the Kaka were in tlioiisands on tlie lower slopes of the great wooded spurs that run from Table Hill into the Rakiahua Valley. The forest was alive with their movement and echoed with their clamorous cries. A constant shower of rotten wood and bark rained from above, and Banjo ran from tree to tree looking up at the unattainable birds and barking with excitement. About one trunk he circled, barking and sniffing, and then again returned to it still not absolutely satisfied; and I suppose it was this second visit and the tone of his bark that caused me instantly to mark the tree. It was a kamahi of considerable girth, but its shell only, alive and green; the interior was rotted away until almost level with the ground, and the space within — about two feet in diameter — floored with wood powder, dry and sweet. On this brown carpet rested two eggs, small for the size of the parrot, dull white in colour, and evidently much incubated. The interior of the bole had been gouged and chiselled by the sitting hen, until no scrap of it mthin neck stretch re- mained unmarked. These eggs, found during the first week of February, were not re-visited AND OTHER BIRDS 7^ until early in March. Without cutting a section from the truiik it would have been impossible to have photograi^hecl either the sitting bird or eggs, and 1 did not dare risk the possible deser- tion of the nest. Upon my return weeks later with my mates Hans and Gilfillan we reached the old camp late in the evening, and that night I could hardly sleep for thoughts of the disasters that might have occurred. At day-break we started, and, in my eager- ness to get the worst over, — just as men ride a little faster with the knowledge of an unbridged river in flood before them, — I far outstripped my companions; I C(aild hardly indeed credit my good fortune when 1 saw through one of the holes, the head — ''the good grey head" — of the venerable bird, and a moment later witnessed her retreat, as, scrambling out of the cavern, she flew softly into the forest. During the lapse of one month the eggs had developed into two large-bellied chicks. These awkward youngsters were clad in grey down, their sprouting tail feathers visibly red and the primaries just bursting their grey sheathings. Kaka chicks present a very curious spectacle, sitting — as is their habit — pressed together, belly to belly, as if for warmth. If dis- turbed, and whilst settling down again, they exhibit all sorts of curious wrestling attitudes, sometimes as if each was attempting to gain some advantageous stance or grip; and some- times again they seem a couple of jolly topers leaning against one another for support, and rocking and tottering together in maudlin rejoicings and hiccoughings. Then again, when quiet, and with heads projecting over each 74 MUTTON BIRDS other's shoulders, they recall the stage eml)race, when, in the last act, the aged, father, his chin resting on the other's shoukler, and showering tears and blessings, clasps to his bosom his long-lost son. With still a month's confine- ment before the young parrots, their floor in one part concealed a mnltitnde of white maggots, — in fact on account of the liquidity of their drop- pings the Kaka must have in its nesting hole a considerable depth of pulverised highly absorb- ent wood moulder. I had just left, after days of closest intimacy, the Parrakeets on their island, and could not but contrast the sanitar}^ requirements of these two species, and speculate as to what degree seeming trifles may limit the numl3ers of a breed. In our cock-sure, human fashion we may con- sider any hole good enough for a Kaka, yet for each site chosen the birds have no doubt discarded a hundred on the score alone of insuffi- cient drainage. How far, indeed, the number and survival of a species is de2:)endent on suitable nesting conditions has, perhaps, never been sufficiently taken into account. In another volume the case of a pair of King- fishers has been given; and probably to many kinds of ])irds certain minute conditions, easily overlooked, are indispensable. I believe that, given perfect nesting conditions, the bird, if within miles of the spot, will always arrive.* *The spring of 1911 will long be remembered in Hawke's Bay for the pontinnous and violent nor '-westers of September, October, November, and early December. On the pumiceous area of Tutira we had that year some four Inindred acres of .ground ]iloiighed for swedes. The crop, of course, was ruined, but it is an ill wind that blows no one good, and a ])air of Banded Dotterel rejoiced that season in the discovery on Tutira of a monstrous sand drift newly developed and eminently suitable for breeding purposes. This season (1912), though but a few roods of "blow" remain, T notice four or five couples nesting. AND OTHER BIRDS 75 Like yoiuig- Pigeons, Kaka nestlings are pro- bably extremely hardy and easy to rear, and the collection of their food a matter of no trouble to their parents. It is probably taken in large quantity, at long intervals; at any rate, they are able to endure fasting without complaint, for many hours. Only once, and then from a dis- tance, did I see them fed, the male bird seeming to jerk into the cavern, what appeared to be one of the gi'eat grey grubs so common in the rotten timber of our New Zealand forests. Another time I noticed a ])arent bird high on the tree tops carrying in its bill what again appeared to be a wood grub. The greater part of two days was spent by the three of us in the erection of a stage, and during intervals when we ceased work, in order not to alarm the birds too much, I used to watch the nest tree from a distance. On one or two occasions the chicks were visited, as I could learn by their cry of recognition and welcome, but they were neither then, nor at any other time in my presence, fed ; and neither then nor at any other time did I hear that appeal which, from whatever breed, is unmistakably the call of hunger. The chicks were able comfortably to endure long fasts, and were probably gorged at duslv and daT\Ti. The stage built on this occasion was of the most substantial proportions. The uprights were young pine trees lopped of their tops, the cross pieces straight kamahi limbs; whilst tree ferns, as usual, composed the floor. Many twenty-five and thirty feet rimu saplings were raised on to the finished stage by the gigantic Hans, their Imtts passed downwards between 76 MUTTON BIRDS the cross piece and buried firmly in the ground. Their beautiful tops — those- ''fountains of green" — then completely veiled both man and machine, and on my stage I sat or stood in a verdant grove of pendant pine. Some fifteen feet distant stood the kamahi trunk, penetrable by four different openings, the largest and main entrance facing north-west, the second, a knot-hole,through which the hen used to spy and listen ; the third might have been a bolt hole, opening just above the tangled roots; the fourth was the funnel or chimney of the hollow bole. Parallel with the kamahi bole and about two feet distant grew a perfectly upright branchless totara sapling. It was, perhaps, four inches in diameter, and was the Kaka's usual route of approach. The exit of the bird was by way of the rough exterior surface of the kamahi. The erection of the stage had mean- time been carefully watched by the hen parrot, of whom, on the high, bare boughs we now and then obtained a glimpse. We could see her eyeing our work from above, not shy or timid in an}^ degree, only extremely cautious and anxious for very thorough investigation. I found, in fact, that in the Kaka I had to cope with a singularly wily bird, and soon began to doubt if I should succeed in coming to close quarte]'s and getting within camera range. Neither of the parents evinced the least anxiety about feeding their young, and I knew from the absence of the nestlings' hunger call, that they were equally indifferent. They were fed, seem- ingly, like the folk in Swift's tale, their immense stomachs crammed in one act. Early on a March morning, cloudless and still,. PLATE XXXV. Kaka spying through key-hole entrance. AND OTHER BIRDS 77 I settled iuto my bower and heard Hans and Gilfrllan tramping off throngh the forest and talking so that the birds might know that more than one person had departed from their tree. Whether Parrots can count I know not, but f]'om the beginning of my vigil the birds, I am convinced, somehow knew of my presence be- neath the waterfall of greenery. The male was very wild and shy, or possibly merely uncon- cerned, and I saw but little of him. Two or three times a day he would arrive, circling the nesting tree, and uttering a ringing and most melodious "u-wiia," ''u-wiia." He then settled on some perch not very near the tree, and there the female joined him. He never stayed for any length of time, and would finally depart with the harsh screech so well knowTi, "u-che," **u-che," uttered several times. The hen managed to return so silently that often my first notification of her presence was the renewed fall of bark and stick from far above. Often she was so directly overhead that the waste, torn off b}^ her bill, filtering through the leafy screen, would fall directly on to the mirror of my camera. She never seemed to rest, hopping easih^ from bough to bough, or swinging leisurely by her bill, testing and tasting each branch, and without cessation stripping, shredding, and tear- ing bark and branchlets. That day until the darkness began to fall I waited, having for hours hardly dared even to cross or uncross my legs; but the nestlings never evinced the faintest sign of hunger, nor the parent birds the least anxiety about the nourishment of their brood. The whole of the next morning again I waited in vain, and it was not until cooeeing and shouting to 78 MUTTON BIRDS attract attention at noon, that a new idea sug- gested itself. I had noticed that these signals repeated, brought the bird lower down from the tree tops than I had formerly seen her, and determined now to try if whistling and singing would create anxiety enough to lure her within shot. Jt was trust in us — gratifying no doubt in a way, but vexatious — that kept her away. She had grown accustomed to our presence ; she was sure no harm was intended; there was really, therefore, no particular reason why she should inspect the twins. By this time, too, all idea of concealment on my part had been abandoned. The Wekas of the locality, at- tracted by the lopped timber, were patrolling the fallen stuff and regaling themselves on the coprosma berries. Again and again, after their discovery of the bolt hole, they had caused me the greatest anxiety. As I have already said, in the Wekas' estimation every hole exists, not to be visited once, or twice, but many times a day, always, I suppose, on the off chance of finding something new and strange. The report, then, of such a tieasure trove as two Kaka chicks sitting bolt upright in a dim light, stomach to stomach, was soon spread abroad. On my stage I was kept in a nervous agony lest these precious chicks should perish almost before my eyes. They were to the A¥ekas as irresistible as are to boys the caves of a wild coast or the I'iblxHl frame of a sand-anchored wreck. No sticks could keep them off, even my pocket Keats was sacrificed. They would — though it was hard to reach — explore that hole. Any risk was well run for the inexhaustible pleasure of obtaining a peep of the monsters AND OTHER BIRDS 79 withm, — of examining and re-examining them. The youthful Kaka thus visited made at first a great commotion causing the old bird t(^ drop from her heights — but even then as if there was no great haste, and as if she was in no great anxiety. Tiater I noticed that Avhen a Weka looked, or, as once happened, ventured wholly within, a shake of the Parrot 'swings would cause a flurried exit. As T have said, my cooeeing and hallooing for n\y billy of tea at noon, had to some extent drawn the bird nestwards, and I now determined to sing, on the chance that the novelty of the noise might attract the bird near enough to the nest to allow me to obtain a photo- graph, in fact, — though it gives myself and my singing ]iowers away, — to make her anxious on l)ehalf of her young. ]\Iine that day were no oi'dinar}" melodies — I had sent my assistants home to camp, as I still desired to retain their respect — and never again in Stewart Island will there be such singing heard. "The Brave Old Duke of York" fixed the bird's attention; she clambered down to such parts of "God Save the King" as I could remember; and an execrable chanting of the old Latin Primer jingle must have made her tremble for the ver}" reason of tlie twins. At any rate down she came and I took her in the very act of peering into the knot- hole entrance, wondering perha^^s if the nestlings could ha^T heard the sounds poured forth, and yet continue to live.* *The u-ords: "Common are to either sex Art if ex and opifex Conviva, vates, advena, Testis, civis, incola, etc.," should serve to show that the Classics can still, even in these modern days, be turned to practical account. 80 MUTTON BIRDS The plate developed that night in the leaning hut, with Banjo for companion, turned out — for me — fairly well. I was par- ticularly interested, however, in this strange and, as I then believed, unemotional bird; and decided to spend a few more days in her company and obtain more pictures of her in various attitudes. This I now expected easily to manage ; but next morning all shouting, singing, whistling, and chanting, failed to move her, and I was again at my wits' end for a lure. Heartily then, I longed for a Christmas tree with its fruit of tabour, pipe, tin whistle, and drum, anyone of which would have been a novelty to the bird. I had nothing, however, with me except a tin mug and some coins. These, rattled violently in the mug, did indeed attract the bird, but she <3ame to me, and not, as I hoped, to her nestlings. It was not until I had divided into narrow strips the flax blades left on the stage, made a green length of twine, fastened it to the mug's handle, and dropped the mug itself with its coins over the edge of the hole and immediately above the nestlings' heads that I succeeded. Holding the string in my hand, I climbed back to the stage and from there pulled this extempore bell till it jangled again. In this way several more exposures were obtained; and, what was better, on two occasions I got a glimpse of another side of the Kaka's nature. Twice when she sidled down the totara sapling, she crooned very softly to the chicks the most delightful little song, mellow and musical, with the liquid low notes of flute and violin. Before this I had begun to believe her only curious and cold; but now AND OTHER BIRDS 81 when I saw her moved, it was impossible to doubt her feelings towards her young. AYith claws gripping the rough totara bark, leaning forward to the utmost, and peering into the hollow where sat the grey twins, this effortless music was poured over them like a benediction. As I listened, bending to catch the low flow of sound, there seemed to be in it something that man can never fully comprehend — the joy of a crea- ture utterly happy in its hour, with no ache, like man of sorrow that clouds the past, with no sad foreknowledge, like man, of sorrow to come. There was nothing, I feel sure, of the future in that song, that future which is always to man a clogging Aveight, and the clinging curse of his high estate. The forest air was delightful; the sun shone warm; that was enough for the bird, Perhax3S this Kaka's song was of freedom in the wilds, of sun and rain and wind, not consciously known, but felt, and their deliciousness finding a vent, as love, too, does, in song, or joy of children in their play. Perhaps it was the song that, as they melt and blend, the sun shines, the water reflects, and the wind spreads everywhere; for light, like water, can wet the leaf till it shines as in a shower ; for water can murmur in the tops like wind, and roar through the forests like a leaping sea ; for wind can patter in great drops through the breathing greenery, or pour itself like a tide through the swaying boughs. The vocal powers of the Kaka are by no means sufficiently appreciated. No bird in the woods, I believe, has more tender, flute-like notes; nor can I imagine anything more joyous than the clear ringing "U-wiia, u-wiia," of the male bird's cry when circling round about his nest. 82 MUTTON BIRDS In the autumn the Kaka has also a ''chock^ chock, chock" not unlike the encouragement given hj a rider to a sluggish horse. Next morning, for the third time, I had diffi- culty in bringing down the female. Not only did she remain utterly unmoved by my singing, shouting, and yelling, but the mug jangling had also palled. They were sounds stale to herself ; she knew, moreover, that they were harmless to the family. Again, therefore, I had to extemp- porize a lure, and this time it had to be one of the nestlings. The same flax line was used, but stripped at one extremity of its green integu- ment, and only the strong white fibre left. This, by rubbing in my hands, was worked as soft and pliable as silk. It was then attached to the larger nestling's leg so that at each snatch the disturbed youngster sung out; thus again I got exposures, and, what was more interesting, began to get an inkling of the parent bird's intelligence. In fact, during this day and after- wards she began to lose all fear. Perched within two feet of my arms she would watch me in her inquisitive, parrot manner; then with an easy hop or silent flight would peer into the gloom of the nest, her head first on one side and then on the other and appear to be watching the agitations and tremors of the flax line. During the last day of our acquaintance I am sure she knew that in some wonderful way, I, although fifteen feet distant, was somehow or other disturbing her children. She had, in fact, worked out cause and effect ; just as the ranging dog, who notices beside him a small stone in motion, smells it, looks back at the master who has flung it, and presently returns to heel. PLATE XXXVll. Kaka on nesting tree. AND OTHER BIKDS 83 Often Ijofore I knew this Parrot well, I own I had thought her merely and solely philosophic, her solicitude over the maimer in which her chicks were disturbed deeper than over what she might reasonably have believed their danger and pain. It was not until I saw her moved that justice Avas accorded to her qualities of heart. Six months later I re-visited this tree with McLean, and from the worn state of its interior and the signs of traffic about its innnedi- ate vicinity have no doubt the twins grew up and reached maturity. In its cavity, trodden and fouled, we discovered a penny — one of the coins used in the tin mug ; and which must have been jerked out; and it was with this lucky penny in my pocket that we found that same day our first Kiwi burrow. 8^ MUTTON BIRDS Chapter XII. THE KIWI OF STEWART ISLAND. JHE greater part of October was spent on Table Hill looking for Kiwi bur- rows. Even under favourable condi- tions tbese burrows are by no means easy to find, but during the whole of our search, the light, owing to almost continuous rain and gloomy skies, was deplorable. In these wet woods no imprint holds its shape for long; drip from high trees falls on loose leaves, and all is soft, yielding, and in process of decay. After each shower even the faintest traces of traffic are obliterated, and the forest floor again evenly plastered with granite grit, sand, and wet moulder of wood. Rotted branchlets and ])oughs, still in their husks or jackets of loose, dark bark, lie thick on the spongy surface. Not infrequently in these forests, too, the boles of the huge prostrate trees are merely shells, crusted with rough lichens crinkled and curled, or clad in mosses, aping in hues of softest green and yellow, the forms of ferns or, of a darker colour, stiff and erect, like thickets of fairy pine. From the sides of these rotting boles hard fungus projects in ledges, like the lip ornaments of savage belles, or, peeping from beneath shelter, toadstools support themselves, each of a different PLATE XXXMll Kiwi Chick. AND OTHER BIRDS 85 age, and each with its xjarasul uiil'urled. Then the growth itself of the larger trees, differs from that of our more tropical northern bnsh. There the rich soils nonrish an npright ])rood of trees; here in Stewart Island the kamahi and iron- wood, like infants, creep before they walk, and from their Ijoles, prostrate in yonth, arise in later years an equality of rival stems, just as from pegged-down shoots in a rosery, burst upright growths. Through these forest lands, more open than those of the warmer north and l)arer of supple-jack and vine, distance is visible. On all sides arise the naked boles of clean trees, that slough their skins as loose skii'tings or innumer- able scales, and thus discard their oi'chid, fern, and epiphytic growths. From verdure below to verdure aloft they rise, piei'cing twixt earth and sky, a diaphanous mist, a twilight greenei-y, that veils a section of each stem, and in a shadowy way bisects each bole. This strange effect is owing to the habit of growth of several of the coprosma ti'ibe, slirubs of some fifteen or twenty feet in height, free of branches beneath, and bearing in layers their greenery on top. This is, of course, the general effect, never sharp cut or clearly defined, and differing in degree in every dell and glen. The trunks nevertheless, in parts of this open forest, are distinct from the ground upwards to fifteen or twenty feet, then become veiled in the coprosma tops, for a second time to re- appear, unclad and clean of the ferns and para- sitic growths so comparatively scant in these forests of the South. There is the strange result, therefore, of three tiers of growth; the lowest, 86 MUTTON BIRDS lichen, moss, liverwort, dark green com- panies of Prince of Wales' Feather fern, lighter green Hen-and-Chicken fern, shining polypod, and lomaria, the last named, day after day, during October, harbouring in their shuttlecock crowns, white nests of hailstone drift; twenty feet above are the massed growths of coprosma and other shrubs ; highest of all, spread the green tops of kamahi, ironwood, and rimu. In some degree, too, each of these green stages supports its own particular birds, thus the Kiwi and Weka haunt the mosses and ferns ; the Crow, the Fantail, the Warbler, the Tit, the Bush Creeper are usually to be found on or about the middle floor; whilst the Kaka, the Pigeon, and most markedly the Parrakeet, love the chief seats in the synagogue. Four Kiwi burrows were obtained during our perambulations of the forest, one con- taining a parent and chick, one, a sitting bird and egg, another burrow had just been vacated, and in the debris, howked out by the inquisitive Weka, were mingled many scraps of pale green egg-shell. Another was a mere hole worked into the hill-side. Finally, there were two "beginnings," as at school we used to term structures begun and left. Besides these breeding burrows we found also a C(niple of Kiwi lodges. The entrances of all of the bur- rows and of each of the lodges, faced the north or the west, and thus opened to the warmth. The burrows seemed to l^e mere temporary conven- iences, although, I believe, probably re-occupied when required. The lodges were of a very dif- ferent character and appeared l)y their length of tunnelling, and interior ramifications, and by AND OTHER BIRDS 87 the well-worn routes iu their vicinity, to be the permanent homes of Kiwi families. The breeding bui-rows, on the other hand, were quite shallow, and their entrance tunnels short. That of the Kiwi and chick was two feet six inches in length, that of the Kiwi and egg one foot nine inches; the length of the tunnel of the vacated nest was two feet six inches, and that of the scraped out burrow two feet six inches. Our tirst discoATred Kiwi boring, that of the parent and chick, was found late on a gloomv afternoon ; all day long we had been wandering a chain or so apart, and had now edged in toward one another for interchange of views and news. We were dejected and wet, and Banjo, for hours rim on a rope, was dispirited too. In his novel role of field naturalist, and debarred from slaughter, the dog had perpetually been taking the wrong side of saplings, sound snags, and bush vines, and had endured a score of times, with strug- glings and chokings, the pangs of partial strangulation. Like a child in his nurse's hand, hanging back at full arm's length, and all unsatiated gazing over his shoulder in wonder- ment of travelling menagerie or village show, Dan jo was dragged that live-long day. Mostly, I imagine, he marvelled w^hy AYekas should be spared, and luncheon time was to him the most miserable ten minutes of the day, for then it was the A\^ekas came up to investigate and prowl around. I knew his feelings; for have not I myself been but recently "saved," and I could s^Tupathise from the heart with his desire to slay. After a chiding or two he could bear to watch the birds; shivering with pent eagerness lie could endure the slow approach, the random 88 MUTTON BIRDS fossicking; standing stiff and stark lie could even allow the bird to cross his field of vision, but witli its startled dash to cover, the old Adam surged in his veins and only the tug of the rope recalled him to duty towards man and forbearance to his fellow beast.* Wearied in well-doing, the three of us were standing together, when trodden into the mould, almost buried, soaked, and mth its barbules run into points like a girl's wet hair, one small Kiwi feather was espied. Close by, there projected a flange of sound timber clasped by an intricate rootlet growth; it had in one part been slightly frayed and scraped, and was thereabouts barer of red mould and of grit, s^Dlashed up by the drops from the boughs above. These were the sole clues, for on either side of this hummock or flange, the trail became at once lost in loose leaves and unstable twigs that would hold no impress. Banjo, how- ever, gave no sign, not even when I manoeuvred him athwart the hole; it was not indeed until I showed him the entrance that he corroborated *It is the poacher who can most vividly realise the pleasures of the dog, and had my own past been sinless I should have abhorred poor Banjo 's lust for blood. As it was, his tremor of eagerness bound us in brotherhood, and recalled the memories of schoolboy days. It ^vas then, assisted by the gardener, now a very dear old friend, and his dog, ' ' Bruin, ' ' who scared the rabbits covertwards, and with a roll or two of strawberry netting, that I used to crouch during dark nights, at a particular sheep gap in the long dry-stone dyke, and project myself on the rabbits, driven from the crops and rushing homewards. The deep joy of each seizure, the pounce in the black darkness, the alternations of hope and fear, the rapid handling of the enmeshed rabbit — touches as tender and quick as those of love itself — are vivid still, and must be as near an approach, as mortal man can attain, to the ecstasy enjoyed by a sporting dog in mouthing his game. If, haply, reincar- nation be a truth, I hope to return a boy, die before I reach the age of what is called sense, and then, rising as "on stepping stones of my dead self to liigher things," re-visit earth as a curly-coated retriever with the run of a wild Argyleshire moor, and a master mad-keeu on field sports. AND OTHER BIRDS 89 our find. AVitli one long sigh of clog's delight, and with one knig ecstatic inhahition, his strong blunt nose burst the loose libra apart. In the miserable light of that dark afternoon there was little to be seen; but, listening at the burrow's mouth, we could hear from time to time a faint sniffing noise, and this, I believe, proceeded from the parent Kiwi; at any rate throughout a long acquaintance with the chick, I never again heard it. The hole was tunnelled out of slightly rising ground beneath the bole of a living kamahi; this tree had grown after the manner of its kind in Stewart Island, at first parallel to the ground and had only later sent forth tall, erect shafts. Heaped above its prone trunk, and acting as a farther shield from penetrating wet, masses of fallen timber were piled in rough pyramid form; the hole was overrun with. Billardier's pol}^od and the burrow^ 's mouth darkened and screened with tall lomarias. The length of the tunnel was about two and a half feet, the height of the breeding chamber about eighteen inches, and both roof and sides in this wet season, smeared smooth like undried plasterers^ work. Through a tangle of gnarled roots, there was an alternate entrance into the tunnel. The birds, whilst still undisturbed, sat or rather crouched with their backs to the light, the bills of neither parent nor chick being visible. The actual nest was quite a considerable structure, the base composed of twigs and sticks of an inch round, and lined with fern fronds and leaves. We now began to experience the trouble we were to endure again whilst Petrel nesting. The more the burrow was opened up, the more restless grew the old Kiwi, and observations 90 MUTTON BIRDS under normal conditions became impossible. It is worth recording, nevertheless, that, even when wild with desire to escape, although the old bird dug desperately with his bill, tearing out and taking beakfuls of earth and brown root fibre from the sides and ends of the chamber, not the slightest attempt was made to scrape out an exit. The bird, however, could and did kick backwards violently when touched; on one occasion somersaulting his innocent child. The posture in defence was somewhat similar to that of a young Hawk. In attack, the Kiwi seemed momentarily to stand on his "tail," projecting himself forward, and striking with the spurs of his thick fowl-like legs. Beyond showing the picture of the bird, and in the Kiwi's case a disgustingly bad one at that, photography of species in their burrows is worthless. None of the attitudes are normal and the featheis soon get tousled and the bill encrusted with dirt. At the least touch, moreover, the Kiwi sheds its pliunage — that phmiage so harsh at the tips, so lustrousl}^ soft and silky beneath. At last the bird broke away, and a iinal glimpse revealed him moving oif at a high- stepping trot, and making no attempt to dodge into cover and hide. He was travelling, I am sure, on a trail well known and often used. The chick now left an orphan on our hands, was just like a little hedgehog with a long bill. In "Dick," as he was afterwards christened by his kind hostess at Half JNIoon Bay, the bill was of a whitisb ivory hue slightly tinged with flesh at the base, and was seemingly still used to some degree as a means of su]^port. His claws were pale lead colour and noticeably turned in. The ismm AND OTHER BIRDS 91 age of this chick was hard to estimate, but the umbilical cord seemed not yet to have become perfectly lioaled, mid about it were clustered many large white maggots. His belly was im- mense and resembled the una})Sorbed stomach of new-hatched fi-y. When first seen at close quarters he was shivering violently, because of the cold we then believed. From later observations, however, I am convinced it was a similar tremor to that already noticed by me in young Pigeon and in young Cormorants, and which may l)e a process of gro^vth or digestion, or muscular develop- ment, like the violent wing vibration of a newly- hatched moth. As plates had run out, and as it was considered probable his parent or jiarents would i-cturn, the little fellow was placed in my sou'wester, and in it, with many wooflings and whim]^erings of disapproval, was carried io camp. Thei-e on a grey blanket he was photographed, and later carried back to the bush. When replaced by me in the lu'eeding chamber, he picked up and swallowed — I could see the mor- sels passing down his bill — Avhat ap])eared to be several tin}' bits of peat or leaf mould. A small worm offered him was refused, and never ex- pecting to see the child again T left the spot. Late the following afternoon I revisited the site of the burrow and to my surprise found him still well and warm. He had not, however, been visited by any old bird, as I could tell by the position of certain sticks and twigs, still not brushed aside. Tie was, therefore, again carried to camp, and there remained in a butter box during the rest of our stay. At night when the 92 MUTTON BIRDS lights were extinguished he could be heard feeling and tapping along its sides, murmuring and grunting. At Half Moon Bay, resident in a great packing case well littered with peat he became very tame, and when visited would look up with his little rat's eyes just like a friendly pig expectant of a trough refilled. Usually the worms, gathered for him, were put in a shallow dish and when callers came to see him — and they were many — his first action was to explore this dish in anticipation of extra rations. He would readily take worms out of his friends' hands or when dangled to him. I noticed that when looking for them on the ground his bill was carried an inch or so above the litter, and used to feel softly and explore the peat, just as a blind man uses his staff slantingly to poke and probe the gi'ound immediately in front of him. At times, too, the bill was carried much in the manner of a pup who has chanced to retrieve his master's stick by its end and holds it aloft with elevated head in order to avoid concussion and jar to his mouth. If, whilst investigating the peat a worm was located, "Dick" Avould bury his bill to the very hilt, in the brown mould, and then, in this attitude, wrench it from side to side as if to obtain a wider range at its nasal extremit}^ At any time, if his feathers were suddenly touched, he would leap aside with agility. Eventually I took him, then a fine well-grown lad, back to the forest, selected a spot with many worms, and left the poor little beastie boring delightedly into the cool, moist, clean, and mossy mould. The second Kiwi nest provided perhaps the PLATE XLll. Kiui Lodge. AND OTHER BIRDS 93 deepest tragedy oi' uur trip. It, ttt(», was found late in the afternoon, for we had been walking for hours unchcered hy even a feather or the slightest sign. The gloom of the darkening bush had permeated our souls when Banjo, suddenly ])huiging forward into high water-fVrn, snatched loose the rope. Over the little bank i threw myself after him; and, although too late to pre- vent the seizure, was still in time gently to loosen his hold of a Kiwi, drawn to the mouth of the hole by the skin of its back. Banjo had a beautiful "mouth"; I had already taken several birds from him uninjured, and I thought that as the Kiwi had been drawn but a few inches from his egg, that all might yet be well. The depth of the burrow was less than two feet, the entrance wide, and the dog had thus instantly been able to reach the bird. Looking in we saw the great pale green egg faintly visible, for the retreating male had retired beyond the nest. This hole was tunnelled into a very steep bank of hard, dry sand, looking due west; and the entrance, scraped out at an angle, faced north- west. From the manner in which the bird was drawn out, I am convinced, that, as in the case •of the other Kiwi described, his back debarred the light and blocked the tunnel's mouth. The egg T never saw again. The day following its discover3% was one prolonged blizzard — hail, sleet, and icy rain. The second day was almost equally abominable; but we determined under an}^ conditions to attempt to obtain a photo- graph of the egg, that egg which I had pictured to myself day and night throughout our whole trip. We duly reached the spot, 'my heart fore- shadowing all calamity,' and on the very rim 94 MUTTON BIRDS of the burrow's mouth my eyes fell on chips of shell and fragments of integument. There are facts too dreadful for immediate admittance, the endurance of even the strongest mind is limited, and nature has arranged that there should be an intuitive pause for recupera- tion, and that the crushing l)low should not instantly be felt. This instinct — not at once to face the worst — may perhaps have saved my reason, whilst during some terrible moments I endeavoured to affect to believe that the egg had merely hatched. I knew it had not, and that some AVeka, thrice accursed, born in the eclipse, had found the nest deserted, and smashed and eaten the egg,^my egg. Oh, how I had longed to handle it. My first impulse — I can afford now to acknowledge it that the prompting was resisted — was to kill McLean with our small bush tomahawk, and throw his body into the peat stream running by. Could it have brought back the egg intact no doubt I would have done it ; and McLean was too good a fellow, too much of an enthusiast himself, I knew, not to have appreciated my motive and taken the action in good part. The remainder of the day I passed in an agony of remorse. If only I had had the great egg in my hand — even for a moment — one touch only — it might have been larger even than usual — perhaps a double-yolked Kiwi egg — even a ver}^ large one at that — for it stands to reason that there must be double-yolked Kiwi eggs of lesser and larger size — and I had resisted taking it, for fear lest the bird should desert. How perfectly idiotic to have resisted the temptation — to have resisted £iiij temptation — at any time. AND OTHER BIRDS 95 I drank to the full of that most genuine remorse — the remoi'se felt for actions undone, for sins, alas! unconnnitted, and Banjo, oh my brother, even in those moments of agony, I did not blame you. I, too, have been swayed by impulse all the years of my life; and perhaps you, also, had a grandmother who came from County Cork. The third breeding burrow discovered had just been vacated and had contained a more carefully constructed nest than either of the two already described. This we could tell by the large amount of brown, withered, lomaria fronds howked out by the Wekas, and amongst which were still mixed, scraps and chips of pale green shell. Like each of the others this entrance faced the sun ; like each of the others the turn id- ling was quite shallow and short ; and, like each of the others, the track of approach and exit became at once indecipherable. Close to their nest, the birds' trail happened to pass over the creeping rhizomes of a net of polypod the scales of which, I noticed, were slightly worn and a little barer of their greenish fur, and the clue thus supplied made the actual discovery of the burrow an easy matter. A fourth breeding burrow found also faced north. It was slighth^ deeper than those de- scribed, unfinished at the date of discovery, probably already deserted, and at any rate never again touched. Of the Kiwi lodges — as, in contradistinction to the breeding burrows, they may be termed — we obtained two. One was in a steep sand bank on the forest's edge with three easily seen and well beaten divergent pads. The other lay beneath the bole and torn up roots of a long- 96 MUTTON BIRDS fallen rimu. These lodges we were unable to explore, but probing with a stick revealed a length of seven or eight feet, with side passages and ramifications. In each we could feel a bird with our long supple-jack, and hear him moving when disturbed, rumbling like a subterranean rabbit. During the weeks spent in this forest I had mentally backed myself against Banjo — my height and sight against his nose — and although he ran on a rope he could at will, either, as the Collect puts it, ''prevent or follow me." Of the four test matches thus played — the two breeding burrows with males sitting and the two lodges containing birds, — I won the first, in an innings wdth many wickets to spare. The second was an equally easy victory for Banjo, ten holes up and eight to pla}''. The third — the sand bank lodge— was just won by me. Honour bright. I believe I sighted the trail the sooner by an infinitesimal space. This time I retained the rope, but we slid down the bank together in all the eagerness of a hurried touch-down. The fourth match — the rimu lodge — I also won, thus in covert proving the huge advantage given by height and the ability to look downward and forward, and suggesting the reason why birds have come to rely so little on the sense of smell, so greatly on that of sight. I believe that during day-time the Stewart Island Kiwi not infrequently moves abroad, or at any rate lies out in covert; and, speaking generally, that the bird is less strictly nocturnal in its habits than, according to observei's, are other bi'eeds of A^itteryx. These southern forests, it must be re- PLATE XLIII Entrance to breeding burrow of Stev\art Island KnM. AND OTHER BIRDS 97 membered, iu spite of their less tropical jungle growth, are on the whole darker than those of the north. Some of the filmy ferns for instance, species that luxuriate in shadow, deliberately in these southern woods expose their leaves to light, one in especial, noticeably, for this purpose, twisting its fronds on the dark, delicate stipes. This lesser average degree of light is owing to the greyer sky, and to the comparative sunlessness of the climate; so that gloomy weather during the short winter days, cannot be fai- different from bright nights in summer, and this Kiwi of southernmost range, may have thus grown accustomed to travel and feed in either light. Again, on one occasion, high on Table Hill in February, about noon, and on a cloudless day, Banjo flushed a Kiwi from a considerable patch of dwarfed red tussock grass. This bird, a female, excessively fat and with an ovary containing many eggs — the largest of buck shot size — had either been feeding or lying out in a very strong light.* On another occasion — in October I believe — we again interrupted a Kiwi feeding during the day. This time Banjo made a dash into a clump of that most lovel}^ and most graceful danthonia grass, called after the botanist Cunningham. Although I only heard the rustle of the scared fowl, my sup^Dosition is based on the puzzlement which for a fraction of a second made the dog pause. Except on that solitary *Diiring dissection of the bird I noticed an odour from the intestines exactly similar to that proceeding from the guts of wild pig, hundreds of which during the eighties I have killed on Tutira. Probaldy some worm or grub is common, therefore, to the pumiceous areas of Hawke 's Bay and the granites and sands of Stewart Island. 98 MUTTON BIRDS instance in February, the clog had never hunted Kiwi, though he knew all other birds but too well. For the briefest possible space he wore the look I remember to have noticed in a young spaniel at Home, when he first scented roe in the coverts. I think from that hesitancy, as if at an imperfecth^ recalled scent, also from the height at which he seemed to catch it, and lastly from his plunge at the rope — a dash rather than a pounce — that the bird was a Kiwi and again feeding in the day time. I am convinced indeed that twice or thrice Banjo was on the scent of Kiwi feeding or lying out during the day time, at any rate not in lodge. There were perceptible differences on these occasions in the dog's method and emotions, but the differences were as slight as those evinced by a spaniel on the scent of rabbit, pheasant, hare, or wood-cock. Finally, I believe the bird drawn from his hole by Banjo had been, immediately before our arrival, off his egg. The little we know of that mystery called scent leads us to sup])ose that it rather falls than rises ; and Banjo, when he snatched his rope from my hands, had Innst into scent overwhelmingly strong among the water fern and six feet at least above the nesting hole. A sitting bird, moreover, gives off comparatively no scent, as we actually experienced in the discovery of our first Kiwi nest, when Banjo, who possessed an excellent nose, had to be shown the hole before he owned the bird. This fine breed of Kiwi is still plentiful in the woods of the southern part of 8tew\art Island, and protection alone is required to ensure its survival. AND OTHER BIRDS 99 Chai'tkk XIII. MASON BAY. ^ASON BAY, on the west side of Stewart Island, is a bay in wliieli wil- lingly no vessel ever did take refuge or ever will take refuge. Besides being open to the southerly swell a raging sea I'uns whenever a west wind blows, and on the shallow bottom far out the combers curl in long, white parallels, or, narrowing to tit the crescent of the bay, assume^ a phalanx form. Nine mag- nificent miles of smoothest beach stretch between Cape Ruggedy to the north and the Ernest Islands to the south. Westward lies an alien continent across vast water solitudes, eastwards dry dunes, the playground of the winds. Blown sands, clean seas, heaven's vault above, and space illimitable, these are the features of the bay. The humidity of this part of Stewart Island is w^ell illustrated by its physical formation, and the coast line is a compromise between, on the one hand, dry gales and drifting sand, and on the other, a great raiiifall and plant life that binds and creeps. ToAvards the south where the projecting foreland, rock, reef, and islet mass, called 100 MUTTON BIRDS Ernest Islands, has afforded some little shelter, and towards the north, where Cape Ruggedy has also to some extent broken the full blast of the gale, rise steep, almost precipitous sand cliifs. They form a sea-wall corresponding to the length and fitting the crescent shape of the Bay and at either extremity north, or south, of tliis natural rampart the travelling sand is blown from the brown sea floor, whirled up the cliffs and shaken abroad over the inland woods. About mid-way between the northern and southern horns of the bay and where the gales strike with concentrated force, this wall has given way, ])ut not as a whole even here, rather it has ])een pierced by numberless narrow gorges. Relics of its former entirety survive in the form of cones and peaks, bound with creeping plants, tussock grass and flax, and on whose peaks the Skua breeds. Immediately behind these peaks and over- blown walls, lie stony terraces and stony slopes and steppes — a net-work of dunes, which has assumed all the delightful shapes of travelling sand — its pinnacles, head-lands, hog backs, cliffs, coi'nices, deltas, running skees, and slopes with sides as smooth as snow. Even in this part of the beach however, where the ultimate triumph of sand and dry gales would seem to be most perfectly assured, a barrier to their joint dominion exists in the form of a small fresh-water stream. Every- where this brook obstructs the sand, absorbing the dry showers as they fall from the landward terraces, and often forming on the beach a miniature bar behind which a long shallow lagoon forms itself, and where the wagging I AND OTHER BIRDS lOi wisps and Avreaths of grey inland drift, are lost like snow on water uncongealed. About the month of this small stream, therefore, the drift sand is to a considerable degree checked, and a strip of bush running far inland enabled to survive. On the edge of this ribbon of woodland and half a mile from the shore stood the w^hare where we camped. Sand, nevertheless, in two great sliding drifts has already passed both on the north and south beyond this Castle Perilous, and it may be if the supply is large enough that these twc) streams at no very distant date will overlap and meet, and that at a still more remote period the strip of bush will also be submerged. On the north, one of these drifts has passed over the shoulder of a wooded hill and is pouring itself into the plain beyond. On the south, stands a granite hill, but its bulk and height are really a less efficient protection to the hut than are the living woods of the valley and the wide wet bed of the little stream. This hill much interested me, for on its surface two s}aichronous processes could be observed at work; to the leeward, enormous masses of sand piling up, and on the side facing the beach, the original cover of the hill each season being stripped aw^ay. Up every bare precii)itous ]'ocky surface the sand is alternately whirled by the wind, and washed down by the rain. On the upper portions of the peak, those surfaces facing the drift are highly polished with the dark sheen ice carries beneath a gloomy sky, — polished and burnished — not smoothed, for the sand blast has ridged them with inmunerable infinitesimally small striations, easily felt if the finger nail be run over them. 102 MUTTON BIRDS To leeward on the other hand the surfaces are I'oiigh and fretted, showing how the furious overblow of sand and the whirling drifts, have eaten out the softer constituents of the granitic rock, not ver}^ much unlike the manner in which water works on shelly sandstone. At the base of this hill extends a wide and almost level plain, and there again I was struck with the similar action of flowing water and of di'ifting sand. Rather indeed was it a river-bed than plain, a rive]'-bed moulded and scooped by sand laden hurricanes, and with all the evidences of a current marking its course. There were the curves and sinuosities of the stream, its deltas and drifts, its steep stony banks and I'aised flat terraces, — each miniature boulder held its tapering tail of sand, each rough stone was clear where the current struck. It was in fact the channel of a stream, not of water but of sand, and which moreover flowed uphill, impelled by the weight of the westerly gales. On these several hundred acres of sand drift, dune, and stone strewn plain, each year a few of the New Zealand Dotterel breed. They arrive about the middle of October, and it was on the flat described, that on November the 7th we noted a couple of brace. Behind us rose the granite hill, deep based in yellow sand. On the levels, except for the private store each standing stc^ne or plant could hoard, the gale allowed no sand to rest. Across the plaiii and over the burnished granite chips it trailed a ceaseless passage of dry clean grain, and the lee of each yellow tussock was filled by a brown smother and whirl of eddying sand. AND OTHER BIRDS 103 Each was fed to the full, yet each seemed, miserlike, to be attempting to grasp more than it was possible to retain. After a very thorough, albeit unprofitable investigation of this flat, I crossed the little sti'eam to search other equally lilvoly looking ground — ground where, on an earlier visit to Mason Bay, T had noted young Dotterel. Likely- looking as the spot was, the conduct of the birds forbade undue hope, one of them running on my seaward flank, skirmishing alongside of me and always about equidistant. In another locality a pair, whose nest I had begun to believe must be somewhere near, when for a moment I sat down wearied with the intolerable gale and the flying sand, perched on a little kopje, the one l)eside the other, at a few yards distance and inspected me. Few experiences have* been more depressing to me than this dispassionate curiosity of birds, whose nests for hours I had ])een looking for. It was proof positive that no eggs were in the vicinity. I began, in fact, to be alarmed lest everywhere the young had been hatched and we had come too late. That afternoon my suspicions seemed to be confirmed. There was near the beach a line of higher dunes — relics in fact of the old sand rampart — well bound with tussock grass and one or two of them crowned with green spurge. Thereabouts, the great anxiety of the Dotterel told me there was some particular object for their concern. About these peaks there were at least five Inrds, and the admonitory whistle of one, would instantly on my return alarm the lot, so that I 104 MUTTON BIRDS had to outwit, not a single bird or pair, but many Dotterel working together. Time after time without result I left the vicinity, and retreating, was kept in view, until at a safe distance. Besides the precautions taken by each bird, there seemed also to be a sentinel chosen, to represent the whole party. At last by a successful stalk and a breathless rush up the steepest peak I just managed to catch a glimpse of a tiny chick, rather blown along like a woman half propelled by weight of wind on her skirts, than moving voluntarily. This chick, but an hour or two old, and with senses not developed enough to know of danger, made no attempt to hide although passing quite suitable cover. In the roar of the gale and the rush of blinding sand, it could probably hardly hear or see. At any rate it ran, or was blown, in front of me until exhausted with the gale and the misery of the cold. Then at the first pause it was instantly overwhelmed by the flying grit. For perhaps a minute I watched the little creature lying like a dead thing, the sand piling up behind its body as a barrier, till the tiny frame could hold no more and only a grey hummock broke the course of the racing drift. It lay a derelict heap, to all appearance dead, except that at intervals a dark perfectly defined luminous circle appeared in the sand. It was the little fellow from time to time opening an eye and — if egotism of this sort is allowable, — I must say I was delighted with myself for the detection of so minute a fact. The parent Dotterel was now becoming very anxious, and when I touched the chick, I found what the mother bird, too, knew well, that it AND OTHER BIRDS 105 was numbed and weak. I had backed off ])ut a few feet when the hen alighted in the sand, and, settling herself six inches from the chick, finffed ont her feathers till she became an animated ball. The chilled runner did attempt to rise from his grave of sand, but was again bowled oyer hy the gale. The hen herself then moved — this time near enough gently to touch and caress him with her l)ill — the most gentle touch, the most tender caress. Once more to the utmost she flulfed herself out, she let him feel her shelter and warmth ; almost her feathers touched him — not quite — and I have often wondered if, even in extremity, it is thought wise that chicks shoidd help themselves. Her encouragement, however, and proximity braced him to move again, he managed to rise and shake off his shroud, and T could see him getting on to his legs and straining into her down till he was hidden from me in its dark warmth. No one of the genii, arising in an Arabian tale, on lonely shore, to frighted fisher folk, could have appeared m.ore awful than myself to that little Dotterel hen. In the furious gale that hardly let me stand, the handkerchief that bound my sou'wester to my head, hummed from each loose end. My oilskin waterproof filled like a balloon, blew out, and galloped as drying clothes gallop on a line, the torn edges flapping like flames and parodying a dozen alarming sounds of humanit}^ Immediately behind, a most enormous sea was pounding on the beach, breaking so far out that the clappings and thuds of the combers were merged into one continuous roar of sound. It 106 MUTTON BIRDS was miserably cold, a stinging thin rain, just not sufificient to lay the sand, was falling, and the grey sky almost rested on the beach and hid the hills to their knees. Yet that little bird to me had redeemed the day and warmed the whole wild beach. She had t)raved me in her love and forgotten me perhaps in its practice; indeed I felt shame in watching her with the chick. There should never have been an inquisitive third to pry upon the scene. It was a lover's modest intimacies with his lass or the mother's tender happiness when, alone, she loosens her gown to suckle her bal^e. When, after a considerable time, I stirred, the Dotterel hen moved off, running just in front of the chick, now fit and strong again and able to endure the buffeting of the storm. Next morning we re-visited the flat beneath the granite hill, and again noted the two pair of Dotterel. Each couple was, as on the previous day, somewhere about the same spot; as before, too, each pair simulated uneasiness, though not to a marked degree. I worked the supposed nesting site of one pair, McLean the other; but neither of us was successful. We then proceeded towards our goal by brute force and sheer weight of metal. Nice observation was impossible. The footmarks of the little birds were imperceptible on the hard surface, and were, on the dry sand, everywhere adrift and instantly drying between the showers, in a few seconds olil iterated. There were none of those little signs that lead gradually to discovery and make birdnesting so fascinating a pastime. Althougli large tracts were, in our opinion, impossible for nesting purposes, we strode over PLATE XLM. Nest ot Dotterel. AND OTHER BIRDS 107 every inch of the ijlaiii halt* a chain apart. AVe marched thus, north and south, and then, with a pause for fornuilation of theories v:hy the Dotterel nuist all indubitably have already hatched their eggs and why they could not pos- sibly all have hatched their eggs, east and west. I then got Afcljean to walk across the plain whilst I hid amongst flax on the edge of a dune ; this plan however utterly failed, as it was impossible on account of the sand to keep the eyes open. Running tirst after one bird and then after the other and attempting capture, I allowed the pair to imagine they were fooling me to th(^ top of my bent. Thus 1 allowed them to beguile me across the plain and high into the sand dun(\s. There the l)irds left me, but, turning instantly as they flew over my head and continuing my uninterrupted walk jjackwards, I noted their return to the spot marked on the first day by a little cairn. Hoping that ^IcLean might have overlooked the eggs, this spot was revisited. Again I marched over the likeliest ground with one of the birds skirmishing on my flank, keeping about parallel, and chilling me mth its unemotional companionship and dis- interested scrutiny. To this day I cannot solve the conduct of the pair. They possessed no chicks; for I cannot believe that, even with young hidden, the parents could have so calmly watched me when seated so near the little cairn. The dissimulation would have been too perfect. There was, moreover, no spot where, within a few minutes, any stationary object would not have been overwhelmed. Neither was the hen incubating her eggs, for after the discovery of a nest, and 108 MUTTON BIRDS later of a second nest, I am convinced we could not have missed the deep brown eggs lying on grey sand. Perhaps this pair of Dotterel intended to breed somewhere about that spot, and the crouching furtive run and other lures practised were not in use for any particular object, but merely an overflow of functional activity. Terns, I have noticed flying with little fish in their bills before the hens were actually nesting. Delight in the exercise of the awakening function, causes the male of both the Pied and Yellow-breasted Tit to feed the hen before she sits and, I believe, long before the nest is even begim. Kittiwakes are happy in screaming at an intruder, venturing near the future nesting site of the colony; they have a prescience of what is about to happen, just as a ewe about to lamb begins to bleat, and search for the lamb not yet actually arrived on the scene. I have also seen different birds, on different occasions, with a straw or a feather or a stick carried, not seriously or for a planned nest, but at the dictate of ^hat mysterious joy felt in awakening spring and instinctively obeyed. I think the preliminary or 'sham' nests that many species build may also be thus accounted for. These actions are as the flirtations that come before love. Thus far the spots most closely searched had been where Banded Dotterel or Stilt would have chosen to lay, that is, on slightly raised terraces of broken stone, irregularly yet firmly embedded, and raised above the surface but an inch or two, and where therefore no weight of sand could lodge. We had also care- m ^1 AND OTHER BIRDS 109 fully looked over such random collections and segregations of pebbles as chanced to occur, approximately ovoid in shape, and size. No large tussock could conceal a nest. Each was piled uj^ witli loose drift, and for this reason we had rather neglected flats of almost pure sand supporting scattered plants of this poa. Yet it was on tliis type of surface that the first nest was eventually found; and, alth(mgh, as we well knew, no Dotterel could select a well grown clump for shelter, yet this nest and another got at a later time received a sort of half shelter from small spindly t\issocks, or rather T may say that these clumps had been selected because to some extent they diverted the thin drift always, except during heavy rain, on the move. The eggs lay on bare sand in a deep elegant cup which had been scooped out to fit the form of the sitting bird. The picture of these eggs had to be taken in great haste, as immediately the bird quitted the nest, its lines became blurred and by the time the plate was exposed, only a third of the eggs was to be seen. The ground colour of this clutch of three was a not very pale brown, the shells thickly spotted and blotched with patches of a much deeper hue and most markedly so in a circle round the blunt end of the egg. The tops were compara- tively free of deep colouring. In order to secure a fit site, the New Zealand Dottei'el must study the vagaries of dunes, as a broker the share market. He must know their drifts and cross drifts, eddies, and swirls, and above all must select a spot where the sand no MUTTON BIRDS scour, whatever wind ma}" blow, can never accnmulate in gathered force. When we had exposed a couple of plates and McLean was gone, spying from a distant flax bush I saw the hen return to the nest and watched her scrape out the gathered sand, ejecting it with her feet in little jets and puffs. She had just settled down when the male, who had been escorting the camera bearer off his territory, spotted me lying in the flax. Instantly the hen was notified of danger, her mate's piping driving her from the nest, and at each repetition causing her to rim faster and faster, till I lost her at last in the flying sand and the dip of the grey i3lain. After some time, and when all was again considered to be safe, she returned on the wing to within sixty or eighty yards of the nest, and then ran in, Dotterel fashion, with many a pause and many a hiccoughing jerk of the head. The eggs in this nest were, unfortunately, addled — a fact which I knew the birds might at any time discover, and which made it quite improbable they would sit well to the camera. I considered myself, therefore, most fortunate in the discovery of another nest high on the shoulder of the granite hill. This nest was on a ridge immediately above a precipitous rock- fall, and where, therefore, no weight of sand drift could gather to inconvenience the sitting })ird. Even here, however, so fierce was the gale and so heavy the overblow of sand whirled up the cliffs that the egg-pit had, after each short abandonment, to be scraped out anew. The nest contained three eggs and lay some- what behind — I can hardly say, was sheltered AND OTHER BIRDS m by — a small tussock, flattened and pressed down by the fury of the blast. This clutch was in colour and marking similar to the eggs already descril)ed and was equally conspicuous on the light grey sands. I may mention here, as a curious chance, that a large fragment of shell picked up by me near the top of Table Hill, where the Dotterel also breeds, w^as very pale in ground colour and much more faintly blotched. The clutches, in fact, laid on the sands would have well matched the peats of the inooi's of Table Hill, and the egg-shell foimd on these uplands would have been hard to notice on the granite sands of ]\rason Bay. During my first vigil of five hours on the ridge, I could not but admire the way in which the Dotterel managed to compress her feathers. Even in the worst blasts they remained tight to her body and smooth, comparing favourably in this respect with the j)lumage, for instance, of the Gannet or Caspian Tern. This Dotterel was sitting hard and had, immediately on my first aproach, by a simulated death agony, given away the secret of her nest. As, however, she returned almost at once to the eggs, I had hopes, even from the beginning, that photographs of a sitting bird of this breed might with cnution and j^atienee be obtained. In order to accustom her to new conditions, unceasing perambulation of the ridge was necessary. At first this promenading was conducted at some twenty or twenty-five yards; l)ut, foot by foot, as the hours passed the distance was lessened. At each of these encroachments the bird would perhaps for a 112 MUTTON BIRDS minute leave tlie nest, always returning, liowever, and again settling on to the eggs. Thus during that day and other days we worked up to a distance sufficiently near for a passable picture. Eventually, by piling rocks on the camera legs, weighting it above with a huge granite flake, anchoring it again from the tripod, and by both of us standing on the wind- ward side, in a comparative lull of this six days' gale, we got the photographs shewn. The owner of the second nest discovered had apparently lost her mate ; at any rate, I was by the sitting bird on one occasion for over seven hours and neither saw nor heard a Dotterel in the vicinity, — in fact I never saw or heard, morning, noon, or late evening, a second bird on the hill. This Dotterel on the sand ridge was moreover lame in one foot and running on little more than a stump. The diseased or injured claw was almost gone, and seemed to have been withered and drawn up into a knot. The New Zealand Dotterel, like the Ground Lark, is liable to diseases of the foot; for another bird on the beach was also suffering from a shrivelled foot very much like that of my friend of the granite hill. On the seventh day, when the gale was over, and a deluge of rain had set in, from the east, I noticed, too, that she had, as if furious wuth hunger and using abnormal methods, dee]3ly probed the wet hard-set sand within an inch or two of her nest. Only starvation, I believe, could have induced any bird to behave thus. Near the nest even the faintest signs that invite attention are eschewed, the ])ird itself as far as possible avoiding the neighbourhood. AND OTHER BIRDS U3 Tlie loss of this sitting bird's mate could, of couTse, only recently have occurred; but I believe it had occurred, and that now she was attempting ahaie to hatch out the doubtless much-incubated eggs, and in her eifort even denying hei-self food. Immediately upon emerging from their shells the young, I think, are taken down to the beach, not at hrst to feed themselves, but for the shelter and cover of the intricate dimes. On the spent waves' very edge and where the bul)bles of their thin wash instantly disa])])ear the mature birds may be watched feeding on stuff exposed by the falling tide, not ]n'obing as the gi-anite hill bird had done, and as the bill formation of the species might suggest that the breed should always do, Imt very delicately gathering their meals from the surface. 114 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter XIV. FERN BIRDS OF RAKIAHUA AND MASON BAY. ^HE illustration facing page 117 shows the Rakiahua whares, one of them still sonnd and safe, the other propped by poles, canted to the east, and leaning like the tower of Pisa. It was the former in which we slept and ate. The latter was the dark room. These buildings had been put up years before, when an attempt had been made to grow wool and mutton on barren sands and saturated peat. On all the exterior woodwork of both lay the grey of lichen stain, whilst portions of the boarding nourished a bearded growth, such as is to be found in the forest itself. As I w^rite, every detail comes back; and although imagination cannot always fondly 'stoop to trace the parlour splendours of that festive place,' I can see the door with its very doubtful lower hinge, the great fireplace at the far end of the hut, the huge ingle nook, piled up with new-hewn manuka faggots, the open chimney, down which the sooty hail leaped as if to escape the fire. Ever}^where spreading stains of damp marked the rough weatherboarding of the walls, and from each rusty nail had run a _i AND OTHER BIRDS 115 little stream of hematite. Scraps of information as to routes and destination were pencilled prominently ; and everywhere were scribbled the signatures and initials of tourists, who would not willingly let their great names die. A frying pan, a kerosene tin, a couple of pots, were our culinary equipment, and our washing up was done in a large, chipped enamelled dish. The roof of our living whare was of iron, and at night it was delightful to hear the wild tunes played by the blasts of hail on the stretched metal, the premonitory hint, just a prick or two, the tap of the earliest stones, the pattering that thickened and quickened into a roar, the distinct tmibre of larger and moi'e si:>arsely shaken globules, and the dying fall as the blizzard passed away. 1 think people at Home miss much when they lose the noise of the storm on the roof, and the ebb and flow of its pour. Light was admitted by a small window most of whose panes were intact. There were double tiers of wooden bunks, the upper so close to the lower ones that care had to be taken to avoid abrasions; and a man in a nightmare, awaking and stretching his arms, might easily imagine himself struggling in his coffin. Our little table hirpling on its feet and limping at each move- ment on the uneven floor, was deeply stained with every imaginable mark of sober revelry. The 'chairs,' were a stool, barely long enough to seat two men, and offering, the perpetual inducement of a practical joke that would precipitate one of them on the floor by the sud- den rise of the other. The alternative seat was a long box, comfortable when a local know- ledge of splinters had been acquired. On the 116 MUTTON BIRDS niaiit('l[)i('C(' were odd bits of candle and dry matches left by the good nature and providence of former visitors. Bits of bag, sacking, and ancient underclotlies, blocked the spaces along the rafter plates, for there was ventilation from the floor boards, pock-marked with nails, from the ingle-nook, where a couple of boards had rotted away, from the window, from the chimney, and from the uneasy door. Cobwebs black with soot festooned the roof, and indeed there was a general atmosphere of smoke about our camp. On lines and cross lines, wet and dirty garments drying, gave the x^lace a homely look, — I say dirty, — but oh how dif- ferent from the tilth of streets. Our dirt was clean peat perpetually soaked in heaven's rain^ clean sand bolted a thousand times by gales, and clean leaf mould from virgin woods. On the shelf below the little window, stood, not 'broken tea-cups wisely kept for show,- but tins of pepper, sugar, tea, coffee, etc. ; and from projecting nails were hung our mugs and pannikins. From the rafters loaves and bacon were slung in separate flour bags, and, as relics of some by-gone feminine invasion, there yet remained in the whare a broken pocket mirror, and speared into the wall, a lady's hat pin, u])on which after meals, my companion, full fed, used to gaze with a species of rapture of idolatry. Of the tiny oval booking-glass, only a corner remained, and from this fragment most of the silvering had been worn away leaving as back- ground the ])rinted merits of a patent medicine exposed. T had never realised the full depravity of my countenance, imtil, with a week's growth AND OTHER BIRDS in of l^eard, I saw a section of m}^ face in this remaiiiiiiu," portion of mirror. I never dared to look again; I seemed to have broken ont into a loathsome rash of small type, that might have been, for all I coukl tell, infections. Assuredly I never should have been at large at all. I was a danger to the community, a I'eproach to the ]_jerspicuity of the police.* *It was during this expedition that the inner and more esoteric meaning of washing up was revealed to me, tlie pliiiosophy of tlie process. We used to do it turn and turn about and often have 1 paused to ponder liow dirty plates, mugs, knives and forks became clean when w-ashed together in a small tin dish. It seemed so impossible that by jnitting soaj) into hot water the leavings of a meal should disappear, that bacon fat, marmalade, cheese, crumbs, yolk of egg, butter, mustard, tea, sugar, and coffee dregs, mixed in the same brew, should give us the finished product of clean plates, clean knives, clean forks and clean mugs. Lying awake at night I used to worry over it, and began to find myself unable to think fif birds for more than twelve or fourteen consecu- tive hours. One evening, after we had finished an extra mixed meal, for each of the three of us had his specialty, T asked quite suddenly, "Hov/ is it that onr washings up make the things clean?" 1 shall never forget the answer. "Guthrie-Smitli, " was the reply, "from the time I was a wee toddling laddie in kilts T determined to work that out, and please God I have." And then T was told everything. It appears that all food stuffs contain superphosphates in varving quantities. There is superphosphate, for instance, in butter, 3.77, superphosphate in marmalade 1.32, in ordinary sugar 1.86 (a frac- tion less in colonial refined), superphosphate in bacon, cheese, yolk of egg, and so forth. All soaps, on the other hand, contain hyperphosphates. but most markedly the common bar soap used throughout the Dominion in washing up. Now it is the nature of phosphates at certain tem- peratures to fuse. Then he continued, "When after the plates and knives and mugs are in hot w^ater and the soap impaled on a fork is swished around the basin you may have noticed that quantities of bubbles arise? Well, these bubbles are the gases evolved by the union of the superphosphates and the hyperphosphates, and "^as they burst, the leavings of the meal, the "bacon fat, crumbs, dregs of coffee, etc.. passby a simple chemical process into the air we breathe and once again become hydrogen and oxygen." I had never known that before. In my school days science was hardly taught. It was an extra. 118 MUTTON BIRDS Round about this wliare and throughout the length of the whole valley, the Fern Birds were as 2:>lentiful as about the equally suitable peat flats of Mason Bay, and, with the inborn propensity of mankind to create new species, we fancied we could detect several small differ- ences in the Fern Birds of the two districts. Each of the two breeds, if indeed they prove to be such, is very plentiful, but the differences are slight, and the range, moreover, of the one species overlaps that of the other. Geographic- ally, something may be said for the jDossibility of two breeds. At no very distant period of time Stewart Island has been divided, and, it may have been this ancient water barrier that has so definitely fixed the range of the Kiwi, to a lesser extent that of the New Zealand Dotterel, and possibly that of the Fern Birds, always most feeble fliers. The larger of the two chiefly haimted the banks of the Rakiahua, and seemed to be a more active bird and a stronger flier, continuing in the air for sixty or eighty yards, and climbing to the tops of the low trees fringing the river's edge. To me it appeared identical, both in strength of flight and in size, with the birds noticed on the islet Piko-mamaku-iti, lying between Stewart Island and the Bluff. The white markings over the eye seemed to be more distinct, also the pencilling of the breast feathers, and the chirp perhaps louder, and with something of the vil)ratory tremor produced by a whistle con- taining a pea. The Mason Bay species, frequenting the tussock grass and tangle fern, we believed to be a smaller bird, more furtive in habit and with PLATE LI Male Fern Bird seated on top of female eggs in act of hatching Rakiahua PLATE Lll. Fern Bird — Rakiahua. AND OTHER BIRDS 119 the white streaking aucl pencilling less well marked. During the first week of November at ^lason Bay McLean got two nests of the latter bird, the one containing a single egg, the other three young birds. Next day the nestlings were found to have been destroyed, the marauder — probably from the situation of the nest, a rat — not even having had the excuse of real hunger, for I found one of the dead nestlings stiff on the hei'bage below. This nest had been lined mostly with Weka's feathers, but amongst them were a few evidently collected from the Harrier Hawk, the Pukeko, and the alien Goldfinch. There were also one or two tiny tufts of wool, — a substance I had never noticed before in a Fern Bird's nest. The other nest was in a stiff rush bush, embedded in the dead stems of previous seasons' growth. Deep it was, as are all Fern Birds' nests; and in it the little inmate sat, entirely hidden save for the beak pointing sky- wards, and for the shafts of the long abraded tail, stuck straight up at right angles to the bird's back. The eggs of the Fern Bird are really beyond imagination lovely, most elegant in shape, frail, of a diaphanous pink spotted mth dots of brown, innumerable as stars in clear darkness, freckles on a fair beauty's face, their shell too exquisite indeed for rude, human touch, treasure fit only to lie in a Fairy Princess's palm, to be brushed by her lips, to be lovingly pressed to a bosom smooth and warm as the soft feathers of the mother bird. Both cock and hen added from time to time a feather to the nest. The hen was especially provident in 120 MUTTON BIRDS this way and was quite distracted by the wealth of extra fine specimens I had drawn from the other derelict nest, dry-curled and smoothed, and which at intervals were allowed to float down near the camera. In its plumage this Fern Bird is most uiiol)- trusive, — browns of a darker tint marking- its back and sides, and shading off into paler browns beneath. The cap, or crown, of the male, is of faint chocolate colour, and in this breed the pencilling behind the eye, the merest thread of white. About a month later I got a nest of the larger Rakiahua breed, and in a situation unique in my experience of the Fern Bird. It was placed about four feet above ground, and was well hidden in a manuka bush — manuka of the Stewart Island type, thick and bushy to the root and in habit quite unlike the more slender phmt of the North Island. This thick, wind- clipped shrub, one of a small cluni]), grew some seven or ten chains from the Rakiahua River. The owners of the nest, even for Fern Birds, were unusually attentive to their duties, contending — almost quarrelling indeed — for the seat of honour on the eggs. AVe had arrived, in fact, at a time when visitors are least welcome. These eggs were in the A'ery act of being hatched, and if the X)Oor little cock was over-anxious and fussed, as a man and husband, knowing what his feelings must have ])eeu, my fullest sympathy went out to him. He was so very anxious to hel]), and knew so very little how to assist his wife. She, however, must have regarded this anxiety as honoural)le, for even, when with a caution overdone but still praiseworthy, he PLATE Llll. ^?^ V ;i^ ■•"V" Fern Bird, showiiio tail shafts — Mason ba PLATE Ll\. f • • ^ ■>' / // ( |3^!v //^ -^ • ■,- B ^■' _>*rened wide his gape, and when touched by my finger tip was perfectly anxious to swallow it. Certainly, therefore, he was hungry, and had the grub been offered he would have taken it. During this little domestic episode, and whilst I was watching the details of that Fern Bird's nest and comparing it with a human home under like circumstances, only an utter want of imagination could have failed to remark the essential similarity of situation in the two male animals, — the man and the male Fern Bird, both so entirely out of their true spheres of use- fulness, no longer the glories of the universe, but mere sheepish appendages of the female sex. Without attempting to undervalue the cock's affection for the nestling, I cannot but suspect the motive of his rather ostentatious and pressing gifts of food. The keen desire of the little fellow to nourish the chick was, I fear — in part at least — an effort to re-assert himself and mark the proper domination, for a few hours imperilled, of his sex. Knowing his value to the full as all male birds do, it must have been galling to feel how little he had to do with the late affair, or at any rate, that his share in it had happened so long ago as to have been probably forgotten by the silly old hen. AND OTHER BIRDS 12^ Chapter XV. THE RIFLEMAN. ]LTHOUGH but a very little bird the Rifleman adds much to the life of the woods \\i.th his faint ''zee," "zee," "zee," his end- lessly repeated wink and twinkle of wing, and his restless search for insect life. The diminutive size of the species is probably of considerable assistance in the struggle of life, for powers of survival and increase depend by no means only on suitable food supplies, recluse habit, number of eggs, or rapidity of growth in th(» nestling. Wlien, for example, there is a paucity of building sites, the numbers of the breed are limited perforce, and I believe it is largely owing to the number of holes and crannies suitable for nidification, that the Rifleman is so plentiful. Of these small rifts in dry wood, and orifices where the timber, though dead, is sound, there must be a score for each site useful to the Parrakeet and a hundred perhaps for every one suitable for the Kaka. There are in New Zealand two varieties of Rifleman, differing but slightly in plumage, the one representative of the north, the other of the south, and both seem to breed late in the season. Of the latter, three nests were got by our party 124 MUTTON BIRDS diiriug- early December in Stewart Island. Of the former I have found only one nest. It was got by me many years ago late in November, in forest country, and at an elevation of quite 3,000 feet. The nest lay within a splintered sapling, projecting like a bowsprit over a vast jumble of limestone boulders, one of the avalanche slips of that district. The soft core of this bit of timber, had, at the broken end, rotted into dust, or been blown out by gales, and a cavity thus formed, some ten inches in length, rather broader at the opening and narrower within. This hole was completely stuifed up with soft pigeon feathers, only where the four eggs lay was there a just sufficient addition of skeleton leaves, to bind them into form and frame. These eggs were large for the size of the bird, somewhat blunt at the thinner end, and of a very dull white owing perhaps to long incubation. Of the Stewart Island nests, built not more than a few score feet above sea-level, two w^ere in crannies inaccessible; the third was easier of approach. A totara of the smooth bark species, had been, eighty years ago perhaps, uprooted, and had fallen across one of those suffocated creeks so common in this type of forest land, creeks alternately wasting themselves in ooze and peat, or spreading abroad among dark planta- tions of ferns, and blocked at every tui'u by I'otted timber, wind-shaken from above. Part of this fallen tree had shot forth tall, upright growths, and was green and tlourishing. Ten feet, however, of the projecting butt had for long been dead, and had become sufficiently decaved above to nourish ferns, orchid growths. AND OTHER BIRDS 125 and even small epiph}i:ic shrubs. Beneath, however, it was still sound, and, where the moulder had fallen off in dust, yet contained a sufficiency of dry wood for the modest wants of the Rifleman. In this hard wood there was a narrow fissure in one part roughly circular, and where probably a small knot had fallen away. The little draughty clefts on either side of it had been blocked with building material, and the rough edges of the knot hole itself, enwrapped with cobwebs and moss. This fuimel-like entrance indeed was so bound up with silky mesh and so minute as not a little to resemble fhe round hole built by spiders, from which they issue stealing upon their prey. It was only by stooping and looking upwards in a cruel breakneck attitude that the webby keyhole could be noticed, and the breast and head of the fore- most chick seen within. Whilst feeding the young, the parent bird must have clung to the rough surface of the wood, as a fly clings to the ceiling. The nestlings were supplied with moth, caterpillars, and insects of many kinds. These were collected at no great elevation, for although at certain seasons the Rifleman mounts very high in search of food, the flight-paths of the pair now rearing their brood rarely exceeded a height of 20 or 30 feet. The hen was by far the bolder bird, and it was only whilst we were some little distance away that the cock would nerve himself to carry in supplies. AVhen approaching with food, the birds flew in short stages from shrub to shrub, 'zee, zee, zeeing,' as they came on. The halting place occupied immediately prior to the plunge beneath the bole, — where the birds always for a moment paused, though never for 126 MUTTON BIRDS an instant ceasing to flick their wings, — was a rootlet detached from the peat and swinging- loose in air, low and parallel to the log. With an effort that always set the loop aswinging, an upright dart was then made, and a moment later, from the sharper 'zee, zee, zee,' we knew that the act of feeding was in progress. Owing to the bad light and the rapid exposures required to beat the wing-flicker, all photographs of this little bird failed; and the single illustration is taken from the least bad plate of a most iniquitous lot. 1 AND OTHER BIRDS 127 Chapter XVI. ON ULVA'S ISLE. )T was during the last days of my first visit to Stewart Island that I got an Aiu'iceps Parrakeet's nest on Ulva and a Kaka's on the mainland. In the Parrakeet's nest were young birds; in that of the Parrot a brace of much incubated eggs. I was very keen to know more of both of these species, so, after leaving Stewart Island with my family, and with them spending a fortnight in Westland, I recrossed Foveaux Strait. Knowing from long experience the accidents that happen to nests, I hardly dared to expect that, after the lapse of so many days, both would have remained inviolate. In this doleful con- jecture I was not wrong, for signs of disaster thickened as the Parrakeet's nest tree was approached. In a great half-dead rata, a More- pork had established himself since my last visit, and thirty yards farther on, we had evidences of his wicked industry in the widened aperture of the nest. Moss, bark, and clinging poly]:>od had been torn away, and directly beneath the orifice lay a dead chick. There still remained in the nest, one live bird, so terrified at the feel of my finger tips, that I think it must have been 128 MUTTON BIRDS actually touched by the talons of the Owl. When reached by my finger exploring in the dark, this survivor called out in mortal fear. The breeding chamber of this pair of Parra- keets was about six feet from the ground and possessed two entrances. It was from the lower of these, that by sinking a leg into the hole and groping with his talons, the Morepork had been able to scoop out his victims. The other entrance was twenty feet higher up, and the hen bird, after feeding the youngsters and while btill shy of me, would usually run up the perpendicular bole and escape, as it were, by the chimney. This devastated nest, however, was never photographed, for, whilst I was blocking the lower hole to exclude the Morepork fiom any further outrage, Leask sang out that he had found another breeding hole. It was only a few yards away, and next day a third was discovered. These nests were within twenty or thirty yards of one another, the first in a kamahi, those discovered later in huge many branched iron- woods. I do not remember any attempt at im]:>rovement of the small natural hollows, which need not moreover, possess a greater depth of wood refuse, than will suffice to cushion the •eggs. The young Parrakeets' staple shaped droppings are perfectly dry and woody; and even with a large family in so limited a space the nest is sweet, and fresh, and odourless. I had obtained leave to cut all necessary trees; and with the assistance of Leask and Gilfillan, my companions of this trip, a most substantial stage was soon in progress. The uprights and €ross pieces were of ironwood, the stage and screen of fern tree stems, and there, 'Timotheus AND OTHER BIRDS 129 placed on liigii amid the tuneful choir,' I spent every hour of light for many days. Some birds are more delightful to watch than others, and T was never more pleased with myself than during this week on Ulva. The weather was perfect. Through the tree tops I could get glimpses of the sea and hear faintly the pulsa- tions of the engined fishing craft. The light and warmth, moreover, of the new-made space, proved an attraction to every species on the islet. Bell-birds were thick about me, choirs of them singing on, and within a few yards of the stage, and tolling delightfully in chorus. Tuis were there, Fantails, Tits, and Warblers. These species had come for light and warmth alone, but others there were besides myself, who took a genuine interest in the nest and family within the ironwood. On three occasions a splendid male of the red-headed species of Parrakeet called, and peered into the dark hole, raising from the nine children within, a great clamour; but whether of welcome or remon- strance I could not tell ; at any rate not more than remonstrance, for the Auriceps is the most gentle, harmless, kindly little fellow. This habit of calling seemed to be quite a marked feature in the manners of the Auriceps race also. Not infrequently, little parties of strangers of that breed would visit the tree, and chatter with each other and the Parrakeet hen. Whilst thus either by custom or perforce, enter- taining or perhaps rather enduring the ci"»dlities of her friends, sometimes the hen mother's crest would be slightly raised, and her tail feathers slightly spread, as if not altogether pleased to have so manv folk near her babes. 130 MUTTON BIRDS The female bird, I think, took entire charge of the feeding department, and I believe the supplies consisted of the tender tips of certain shrubs — coprosmas, I think — and their embryo bJossoms. Once, at any rate, I found an infinitesimal pai-ticle of stuff of this sort dropped on the bark, and close below the nest, and which could only have fallen from the bird's bill. Two minutes was about the average time taken by the hen in feeding her nestlings, and I think it quite possible that each of the nine got its share at every recurring visit of the parent bird. Little Parrakeets never cease whilst absorbing their supplies, to make delighted little guzzling sounds, and I alwaj^s imagined I could tell by the different pitch of the notes, that on different occasions larger or smaller chicks were being fed. I am sure no struggling for precedence ever took place in that crammed nursery. Each, nearly naked or almost fully fledged, climbed up as bidden, a little out of the nest bottom. Indeed when the hen Parrakeet had become very tame, I was permitted to climb above the hole and peer into the nest whilst the meal was in progress. There I could always distinguish four or five little grey bills and four or five little open mouths, and admire the household's order and the obedience of its inmates. After each chick in its turn was fed, the hen for a few minutes would A\dthdraw her head ov sometimes half her bod}^ from the hole, and proceed with a sort of munching process. She would then again lean over the brink of the hole and nod into it with violent gesticulations — exactly as if with imperious haste another chick was being sum- AND OTHER BIRDS 131 moned to feed. Really, I suppose, she was iu some Avay jerking up the masticated greens into her bill, for down would go her head again, and up would rise a joyful noise unto the Lord, the low chirruping squeal of the happy chick. The mother does not actually give the food; rather, I think, the nestlings are encouraged to help themselves from her 13111, she supplying it in proper form and quality. At any rate weeks later, though quite willing to feed themselves from the human mouth, they would gaze at food offered them otherwise, with quite an owlish air of wonder. Only once I noticed the hen enter the nest. She then remained in the hole for about five minutes, and when out again in the open, gave vent to the long, quick, strangulated cry, "Riki-tik-tik-tik-tik," and was immediately answered by another bird, hidden from me in the forest greenery. Often, too, after feeding of the brood was over, she would rest in the nest's vicinity, and before flying off would call out several times, "Twaak, twaak." About mid-day both parent birds, fluffed out and sleepy, enjoyed their noon-tide siesta, in close proximity to the family. Had the nestlings been younger, no doubt this hen would have been more in the nest, but even then, it is probable that a Parrakeet mother s^Dends comparatively little time on her young. The eggs are laid inter- mittently, so that after the earliest born chicks can give forth the heat necessary to hatch those eggs that remain, the hen's whole time may be devoted to feeding the brood. When about to leave the island I opened the nest, in order to carry off a couple of pair, and in so doing had an opportunity of noticing the 132 MUTTON BIRDS great difference in the ages of the nine nestlings. One of them flew with perfect ease, and indeed thus escaped, whilst the quills of another had )3arely begun to sprout. One broad branch of a somewhat flatfish shape, several feet to one side of the nesting hole, slightly higher, and quite out of the hen's line of flight, I used to look upon as the courting ground of the pair. About two feet of its surface were perfectly smooth and worn with traffic. No scale of bark or scrap of moss remained. Often whilst I watched and listened, mysterious sounds would emanate from the hole, sometimes the beginnings of uncertain song, the numbers broken and hesitant, sometimes a noise of scuffling and fluttering, bark-scratching and shaking, as if the whole brood were playing at ''Musical Chairs" or "General Post."* During our early intercourse and whilst the hen still hesitated to feed her nestlings before my gaze, I believe that like the carnivorous King-fisher or Falcon, she, too, absorbed the imdelivered food and went off to gather a fresh cropful. At any rate after being baulked for more than a few minutes, she would altogether leave the vicinity, and remain absent for about the average time taken normally to provide new supplies. My photographs turned out to be deplorably bad. From the situation of the nest I could *I used to think, too. of that bed, where in a London slum tenement, and packed like sardines, a whole poor family slept, father, mother, boys, and girls. "But how," enquiry was made, "do you manage if you want to move at night?" "When Pa says 'turn' we all turn," was the reply; and perhaps likewise when the eldest Parrakeet said "turn" all its younger brothers and sisters also turned. PLATE LMII. Aunceps Parrakeer about ro enter nest. AND OTHER BIRDS 133 never get light on the bird, alwaj^s the side nearest the lens was in shadow. The Parrakeet, too, is a most lively, restless bii'd; and perhaps the coloration of the feathers and their gloss may also be urged in excuse or extenuation. During a large part of the year the Parrakeet tril)e are i)re-eminently birds of the tree tops. In spring, however, tb^y obtain some portion of their food from the earth, and can then be approached closely, and seem to be gently scraping the ground, standing on one foot and raking with the other — an attitude singularly inappropriate both to the spirit and figure of the bird. Whilst thus occupied it seems to be deepl^y absorbed, and is probably collecting some sort of animal food, maybe the larvae or eggs of some cicada or beetle. Then, and during the nesting season he forsakes his heights ; otherwise his merry span of life is passed between the green spread of tree tops and heaven's blue — the greens and blues he borrows for his plumes. From their gnarled ironwood, in March, three little Parrakeets were drawn half fledged, and pending my departure, were entertained by the kind hostess who afterwards befriended **Dick," the infant Kiwi. They were reared on oatmeal slightly moistened in the mouth, warm therefore, and in its most wholesome form. They fed well and proved moreover excellent travellers, crossing Foveaux Strait, and enduring a long railway journey. UntU their ultimate destination, Tutira, was reached, they were broken to freedom by flight about the rooms of South Canterbury relatives with whom I stayed. The birds learned to return to their cage for lettuce leaves, for the 134 MUTTON BIRDS ripened heads of sow thistle, for the pips of apples and pears. Moistened meal was their staple food, and was still taken from the mouth, the nestlings, as always, ponring forth ceaseless thanksgivings, their long rollicking graces rising to a perfect ecstasy of gratitude at an extra tasty mouthful. Some skill is required in the nourishment of the small restless birds. First of all the oatmeal should be poured in a narrow stream on to the palm where it will form a small loose cone or mound. The hat should always be removed, and if the performer is of a nervous temperament, it is recommended that the coat also should be taken off. The head should be lowered and stretched forth until nearly at right angles to the trunk, and the little hill of meal raised to within four inches of the face. It should be then, with a single smart gesture thrown upwards against the roof of the widely distended mouth. To practised feeders, or those born with natural aptitude, one gulp is sufficient, but beginners often fail to retain the whole amount and have shamefacedly to lick up the residue with their tongues, as I have seen ant-eaters, in picture books, absorb their living prey. Care should be taken never to inhale the breath lest coughing should supervene, and a dry Sahara of meal be blown abroad. The artist can in this way, that is when in form and on his day, pro- duce at once the exact amount and in the proper condition of dampness.* The stuff should be *" Feeding the Parrakeet." New Christmas Game— elegant, refined— for either Grown-ups or young people. Paper bird un- coloured, rules, and list of old-fashioned forfeits for choking, sneezing, or coughing, 1/9, posted to any part of the Dominion. Cloth bird, coloured, red head, dye guaranteed, 2/II14. Whitcombe and Tombs, Wellington, and branches throughout the Dominion. AND OTHER BIRDS 135 fed to the nestlings beginning as a masticated poultice, and ending as a granulated dribble. The artist at his work will always endeavour to give the whole process an air of 3'eality — the woodland touch — allowing the little fellows to climb from his boots upwards over his stockings and tweeds. I always hoped that rough Harris cloth might be a substitute for ironwood bark. Each Parrakeet in turn was manipulated on to the wrist and fed on the moistened paste, absorbing it Avith ceaseless little noises of delight and gratitude, and these always rising to a per- fect storm of happy gurgling notes when the dribble was reached. At Tutira, owing to bad weather, the birds were for a day or two confined to my writing room, and as was their custom in strange quarters, the curtain pole and curtains were at once inspected. These articles of furniture always attracted immediate attention, and up and down the drapery the little creatures would climb, peering into the folds and clinging to the cloth. Polished woodwork, on the other hand, was abhorrent to them, and especially tables, upon which they moved very gingerly like beginners on skates, and with wide-spread legs. Indeed after a while the birds rarely alighted on the table, or, if an exception was made, did so cautiously, and with wings half open so as to preclude the possibility of sliding on their shiny toes. I may mention that from the day the trio came into my possession, they had been, for ulterior purposes, most thoroughly broken to the cage and made to look upon it as the place where pips, bits of apples, and all sorts of small delicacies were to be expected. Sometimes the door would 136 MUTTON BIRDS be purpose!}' shut, and then the trio would be seen as eager to gain admittance as most birds are to seek escape. Long before arrival at Tutira, therefore, they were accustomed to come to call, to look upon a proffered wrist as an invitation to feed, and to regard their cage as a home to be loved. If not given immediate attention, they would, when hungry, fly on to my back, nibble my collar, and gently tweak the skin of my neck. They were never on any occasion handled, and never therefore associated us with the most terrible of fears to a free creature, the loss of liberty. For one day before opening its door, the cage was hung on a tree on the lawn and the Parra- keets thus in some degree accustomed to their Dew surroundings. Next morning was warm and bright, and before the usual early meal, ''Hans," the eldest and largest, was encouraged to hop on to my wrist and liberated in the tree. The caged couple were then partially fed, the outsider remaining hungry and therefore dis- inclined to go far. He was, after a little, replaced in the cage, and another given freedom. Tims in turn each of the three obtained full liberty, yet freedom, hardly more sweet than food and home and comradeship. "Hans" was the first on whom dawned the possibilities of unlimited space. To the big willow, a score of yards distant, he flew, and there remained for some time chattering to himself and his mates, exploring the bark and viewing the tree tops, the blue lake and the bluer skies. Verv soon even these precautions were dis- pensed with, the trio merely taken out, in their cng(\ the door opened, and until dinnertime the birds not again expected to appear. Meal hours PL VTE LI\. Parrakeets eatiiu' ilimui,!-. AND OTPIEK BIRDS 137 were seven, twelve, and four. In the evening they were carried back, seated free on shoulder or wrist, and busy in the enjo^^nent of almond, walnut or sunflower seed. After a few days, caging at any time was discontinued, each night before going to bed I would oi:>en the to]:) of my writing room window so that at dawn the birds could fly forth. In the early mornings, when I crossed the lawn to visit the various meteorological instru- ments, the little fellows would flash down from gum or willow, follow me up, and as I walked, fasten themselves to my tweeds and cling like bats or burrs. Even our tamed Native Pigeons were not so fascinating. In their gi-ass greens, their blues, their crimson braided yellow caps, the Parra- keets w^ere equally beautiful. Their gentle habits and diminutive size were a constant appeal for protection and care. It was delightful to be kind to them, for we were allowed such frank participation in their ha]:>i)i- ness. To wake in the morning and think of their welcome was to be in love. There was no discord in the cage or in the rooms about which they used to fly. Once only in my presence w^as there any manifestation of anger exhibited, and now that the bird affronted is gone and I can in no way again show that my breach of etiquette was involuntary, its memory is the more painful. At the time, of course, apology was offered and reparation made in every possible way, but, in justice to myself, how, I ask, was it possible to foresee, that the presentation of a large black fuchsia berry from a garden variety, would suddenlv make the bird furious and cause him 138 MUTTON BIRDS to bound threateningly at my hand. Mine, I suppose, was some such invohmtary fault as in a moment, on a new found land, breaks the bond of savage and mariner. The white man trans- gresses some unknown code, and in an instant the feast becomes a fray. Our Parrakeets, alas, however, were not to remain long with us. Within a fortnight of their arrival ''Hans" and "Leask" on one occasion stopped out all night. "Leask" was back at seven and "Hans" returned later. There had been heavy cold rain and both birds were very hungry. A week later "Hans" again remained away. He did not return the following day or the next. "Baby" and ^'Leask" on the latter were also out. Next morning, however, all three came to be fed, and this was our last glimpse of the two males. "Leask" returned early the following morning, and it was curious during that whole day and the succeeding days, to watch her dis- trait air, and note how constantly she was listening for her friends. For a month longer she remained, and as she was only allowed to fly in fine weather, and brought home, free of course, earlier in the afternoon, she and I became great allies. On the sad days, when forced to remain indoors, most of her time was spent gazing out of the window, perhaps hoping like a child that the rain would only cease, and that she could get out to play. Her habit was, each evening, after being walked home on shoulder or wrist, to visit at once the curtain pole where her two lost comrades had slept with her, then sidling along its length once or twice, she would preen her feathers, and at last creep down the curtains AND OTHER BIRDS 139 to a particular loop made by the contraction of their rings. On dark afternoons she would turn in as early as three o'clock, and her preparations for the night usually took some considerable time. I could see the drapery shake, and hear her stir ^nd fidget in the effort to discover the most com- fortable position, but, once settled, my recollec- tions are that she was perfectly quiet. Always during these proceedings, our habit was at intervals to exchange greetings, and it was <;urious to notice the little voice getting more and more sleepy, until at last it was only by an effort she replied. Often by me this prolongation of our talk was done to tease, but her replies were suave and similar in tone, to the last, only more and more short. When visited late at night, she would very gravely oi)en her mouth, and without moving, gaze at me. She then preferred not to talk — she may not have thought it proper — but would, if persistently addressed, briefly and sleepily reply, perhaps as the easiest way of ridding herself of me. At first I had thought this habit of early roosting must be unusual, but after several times thoroughly awakening the bird and causing her to fly, I found she at once returned to her curtain loop. She too disappeared with a change from fine to wild weather. Perhaps some instinct bade these Parrakeets change quarters before the approaching storm. In no way at any rate were the birds becoming wilder or more shy of us. They either lost themselves, or were killed when roosting, by the little Owls. I have always •supported the latter theory — they couldn't have "wanted to leave Tutira. 140 MUTTON BIRDS Chapter XVII. THE BELL-BIRD. iT is inevitable that the native birds of New Zealand must suffer in the im- mediate future a still further decrease in their numbers. Already, as has been pointed out, the vast propor- tion of the warmer and more fertile lands have been settled, and the indigenous species expelled therefrom. For many years, however, our native birds have enjoyed a respite owing to the dilatory policy adopted in regard to the Native Lands of the North Island. This cannot continue, and within a short period these blocks too will be thrown open to settle- ment. Within twenty-five years, perhaps, only the most inaccessible and barren open lands, the forests valueless for timber, and growing on soils worthless for farming purposes, and the low-l3dng swamp lands, will remain. With an area of wilderness thus restricted, the food supply will, both in quality and quantity, be curtailed in a still greater degree. Even imder these adverse conditions, however, something can be done, and the planting of trees and shrubs capable of yielding nectar and beri'ies would well repay the labour involved. CQ U AND OTHER BIRDS 141 Oiims that ])loss()in in mid-winter, fnclisias, and many otlier aliens could easily be grown in the mild climate of Stewart Island. As on the west coast of Scotland kowhai, cabbage tree, flax, matipo, and mamika lionrish with luxuriance, so along the ocean edge of our Westland National Park and whore the warmth of the sea allows no frost, many early flowering foreign plants could be established.* For suitable food birds will travel consider- able distances, and in search of it, will pass over open stretches of treeless pasture lands. In Napier itself the Tuis that in spring feed on the nectar of the surviving kowhai trees, must fly one or two miles at least. About Gisborne, where in winter and early spring the Tui and Kaka visit the blossoming eucaly])ts, these birds must traverse eight or ten miles of open country, and I never was in Ulva, that delightful islet in Paterson Inlet, without finding ^[r. Trail's garden fuchsias alive with Bell-birds. The Bell-bird indeed is a species in disposition most friendly to man, and with a little encouragement would become a charming addition to every country garden. On the nest it is most extraordinarily fearless of man, and the sites chosen are often within a few yards of his dwellings. During the spring of 1911, of two nests under obser^^ation in Stewart Island, one was in a garden hedge between two houses, and within a few yards of each. The other was actually in a deserted out-house — a site it might have been *Great care would, of course, have to be taken in no way to modify or neutralise what is one of the features of the scenery of the Sounds, the purely New Zealand character of its vegetation. 142 . MUTTON BIRDS thoTiglit tliat only a New Zealand, or a Home, Robin would have selected. To attain her nest this Bell-bird had to fly in by the crazy broken door. There, beneath the sagging roof of totara bark, she sat looking into a daisy tree that grew without. The nest from which the photographs are taken, was built on the square clipped top of one of those giant macrocarp hedges so common in New Zealand. Never have I known a more devoted sitter than this particular hen Bell-bird. The Fantail and Fern Bird are amenable, but, for at least an hour or two and often for much longer, even these species vacate their nests at very near approach. Never before had I known a wild bird on first acquaintance to permit, without flinching, the removal of the twigs, etc., that so often obstruct the lens. In the case of this nest sevei'al slioots had thus to be snipped off and moved aside, and one of them, of quite consider- able girth, projected itself within an inch of the bird's bill. Very gently and tenderly was this twig grasped, very cautiously the jaws of the strong steel scissors bit into the yielding bark, very gradually the twig bent over, till it lay dissevered and leaning on one of its lateral shoots; lastly with hardly the least rustle and hardly the least jerk back of greenery inter- twined, and slowly as a worm drags into its hole a leaf, the cutting was removed by me and the lens' vision cleared. During the performance of this delicate operation, in the little mother's eyes only, was there movement, and only life in the beating heart that shook her sides. I could see the feathers rise and fall stirred by its pulsation. AND OTHER BIRDS 143 Except for these almost invisible tokens of great fear and great strain, tlirougli those long- minutes of suspense she had sat unmoved. The Bell-bird's eggs are pinkish-white marked with blotches of richest brown; the nest, too, is a beautiful structure firmly set in position and lined with many feathers large, lovely and soft, the Pigeon's purples and bronze, the Kaka's reds and browns. Of the male, by far the larger and hand- somer bird of the pair, but little was seen. His advent was unobtrusive, and the duration of each peep of his consort limited to a few seconds. Twice only he came whilst I was on the hedge top, but in palliation of this seeming coolness, it must be remembered, that during the nesting season, a bird's frequent return to one spot, must arouse the malignant interest of every marauder in the neighbour- hood, and provide a clue as to the whereabouts of the brooding bird. Even with all his caution and in spite, too, of the tar, smeared fresh on the base of the hedge trees, rats discovered the nest, and where a fortnight later little Bell-birds should have been only broken shell remained. Both male and female Bell-bird were, I noticed, wonderfully deft and agile in threading the intricacies of the hedge, working their way through its stiff interior with something of the Fern Bird's sinuous ease. The Bell-bird has several points of resemblance to its near relative, the Tui. It delights, as does the Tui, to sing from some tree on a clearing's edge and thence pour forth its music to the light and the wide sky. Again,. 144 MUTTON BIRDS like the Tui, in spring time and when mating, pairs can be noticed flying swiftly together one above the other, separated only by a few inches. In these remarkable flights the upper bird manages to duplicate and follow exactly each slightest undulation, inclination, drop, or rise of the lower. To accomplish this at full speed and dashing through the branched heights and tangle of the underwood, without the deviation by a hair's breadth of the space between the pair, has alwaA^s seemed to me to be one of the most extraordinary efforts of flight. Lastly, the Bell-bird, too, is an excellent mimic, — a better imitator of other birds than even the Tui. Perched on a tree above a swamp near Mason Bay I watched one giving a fine rendering of the mellow chirp of a Fern Bird; and on TJlva I have been again and again deceived by its imitation of a Parrakeet's quick chattering note — a note in its commence- ment a little like that of the common house Sparrow. The dawn chorus of this classic bird, choired by innumerable throats, and so extolled by early travellers, I have never had the good fortune to hear. Indeed, although the numbers of the Bell-bird may appear to those who have not known the past, to be still considerable, yet the volume of sound listened to by Cook and his mariners, can never perhaps again be heard in New Zealand. The tolling-note. however, cannot be designated by any other appellation, and is unmistakable. I have heard it most clearly when in autumn watching Parrakeets, and when half a dozen Bel1-birds have come up to the stage attracted 1by the opening in the bush and the warmth and PLATE L\l. Hen Bell Bird on nest. AND OTHER BIRDS ^^^ light admitted. The song of these iinisical visitors always ended in a tolling chorus con- tinned for some little while. There is also a silvery "tinkle" note, which again, alone, would fitly entitle the species to its name. Many of the Bell-bird's notes and fragments must be extremely like those of the Tui, for on Tutira where the Bell-bird is extremely rare — I have seen but a single specimen in thirty years, — I have noticed a friend who intimatelj^ knew both birds by sight, listening to the Tui and quite confidently affirming the notes heard to be those of the Bell-bird. Each species, doubtless, has distinctive notes, but it may be that others are so slightly differentiated, that only listeners gifted with the very finest of musical ears, and thoroughly acquainted with the two species, in forests wliere both are abundant, can speak with authority. Each species, it must be remembered, is an excellent mimic, and who can say whether often the Bell-bird may not have temporarily picked up the Tui 's note, or the latter those of the Bell- bird. Birds have so many notes, and some of them so rarely in use, that all sorts of errors are apt to occur in this department of observation. I can, moreover, imagine a mistake that would vitiate the listener's whole conclusions and which might happen in a very simple way; he would distinguish the two birds on the same tree and even continue to hold both in view; but a slight movement and the intervention of a few leaves might temporarily obscure the Bell-bird's head, whilst the Tui on a bare branch and fully exposed w^ould be pouring forth one of its melodies inaudible, its shining throat throbbing 146 MUTTON BIRDS in wild wood ecstasy. The notes would inevitably, yet mistakably be credited to the Tui. The Bell-bird survives in thousands still in the Stewart Island woods, and may be found according to the season and food supply, from sea line to the moor-land, and to this bird have I often, during my wanderings in the woods, owed much of pleasure and of interest. Once, for instance, I had just landed on the wooded shores of an ocean islet when a Bell-bird flew down and began within three feet of me to pour forth its song. It fluffed out its feathers, shook itself for a moment, carefully inspected me, and then hopped off. Another time I thought I got a glimpse of the manner in which birds can, without call or song, convey their meaning to one another. It was in late November; all day the rain had been falling straight like strings, on to the cold grey seas and islands veiled and dim. Then gradually the sun shone out, absoi'bing the thinning vapours, and doubly welcome after the dark hours. Every- where rain drops shone on the branches and ferns. There were clean-washed skies above and a shining, dripping earth below. A splendour of freshness was in the air, and the woods, silent all day, broke into song. Across a wide opening in the forest, a pair of Bell-birds passed swiftly and low to the ground. In full flight they dropped, or rather fell, so sudden was their stop, into a clump of fern, shaking the stretched drops as they did so from the tall, uncurling fronds. On the ground they ex