THE GODWITS OF SPIRIT BAY.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9602, 17 December 1896, Page 2

THE GODWITS OF SPIRIT BAY.

English Illustrated Magazine. As New Zealand approaches its northern extremity the narrow neck of high flat land sinks away to a wilderness of sand-hills, and then, as if reboundiug like a ball, suddenly springs upwards, to culminate in a bold headland which comes down sheer into deep water. This headland is Te Reinga, the earthly portal, according to the belief of the old New Zealanders, by which disembodied spirits entered the realms of the dead. Eastward of this promontory is a bay—Spirits Bay—girded with sand. The place poetically takes its names from the old Maori superstition. At night, when the natives heard the rustle of the wings of some belated bird passing overhead, they whispered to one another that a spirit was passing to its rest. It is a wild spot, swept by eternal winds. No habitation of man is to be seen, no pathway to ba found ; to the imagination it is just the sort of place where, at the end of the world, the last New Zealander would be likely to be found, cowering over a few smouldering embers, waiting for death.

Bat it is not from an ancient superstition of a race that is passing away that this dreary and inhospitable place derives itprincipal interest. It possesses an attraction far stronger than this to fix our attention. For fifty weeks in the year it is neglected and empty, the intense solituc'e which broods over all things seeming a presence in the air. Then, of a sudden, when March is drawing towards a close, it springs, as if by magic, into a fever of life, and becomes the scene of one of tho most remarkable sights in nature. Of all the spots to see the kuaka fly from the shores of New Zealand, Spirits Bay is the best. In autumn at the Antipodes flocks of kuaka, in numbers of fifty to one thousand, flying always in the form of a crescent, may be seen trending up the coast towards Te Reinga. The stream is so continuous that it is remarked even by those who concern themselves little about such matters. Before April is three days old they have collected upon the sands of Spirits Bay in countless numbers, preparatory to their long flight to A3ia.

Some years ago I witnessed the departure of the kuaka. It was a scene upon which my memory lingers. I made the latter part of the journey in tempestuous weather, a heavy rain being drifted iuto my face by a strong northerly wind. As I stumbled across the belt of sand-hills which fringed the shore, a strange sound, that half oppressed and half soothed the ear, became fitfully audible — a sound which, when a little later a gust of wind caught it and brought it to mc in greater volume, drowned for a moment the moaning of the sea. I knew it to be a chorus of querulous cries proceeding from innumerable little throats, and, racing up the last ridge of sand which lay between mc and the bay, I stood looking at the sight I had come so far to see. The beach was literally covered with kuaka ; they seemed to be all indiscriminately huddled together where there was no room for half the number ; while thousands were hovering overhead in a vain attempt to find a footing, or were trampling upon the basks of their fellows in the hope of ousting them from their places. From time to time the breaking surges sent the salt spray leaping far towards the land, whereat a grey cloud went whirling into the air with deafening clamour, to discharge itself again after a few moments of rapid variation in density, npon the sands. What with the lowering clouds, the wild and stormy ocean, the low, mounful sound which the wind drew from the thin, wiry grass of the sandhill, with the swarm of birds which looked like grej* billows in convulsion, it was altogether a peculiar and an interesting sight, and, natural though it was, it seemed unnatural. During the afternoon flocks of kuaka kept pouring into the bay, each new lot adding to the mad unrest which made all the atmosphere. As the day wore on the wind veered round to the west, the clouds fell asunder, tlie rain ceased, and a watery sun pressed softly out and tinged the sky and sea and land with a faint silvery lustre. Sunset by the shore is always a solemn time, and as the brief day drew towards its close, I forgot the birds in the poetry and beauty of the hour. I was recalled "to practical ma tters by a sudden and violent ferment among the kuaka. Frequently they rose with a mighty rustle of beating pinions. After circling about in the air in an agitated and undecided manner, they settled again. At length, just as the sun was dipping into the sea, an old cock uttered a strident call, clarion clear, and shot straight into the air, followed by an incalculable feathered multitude. Higher and higher rose the host until it was but a stain the sky. At this stupendous altitude —in a moment of time as it seemed —the leader shaped his course due north,. and the stain melted into the night. It was very impressive. There was something of the solemnity of a parting about it.

In this manner and for ten days flocks of kuaka continually arrive at and depart from Spirits Bay. At the expiration of that time the fleeting scene is closed, nothing remaining but a few scattered feathers to show that it once existed. We are not able to follow it in its flight, but conscientious observers have noted its progress up the coast of Asia, and they tell us that in the first days of June the kuaka has reached a latitude in frigid Siberia as high as 74deg. N. With the coming of August—having meanwhile reared its brood—it begins the voyage to ifsouthern home. As the young birds are at this time incapable of an extended flight, it. returns much more leisurely than it went. On the way back it tonches at many of the numerous clusters of islands in the three zones of the Pacific Ocean. The spring sunshine at the end of October welcomes the wanderers home to Te Reinga. The following April, at the same time as that of the previous year, even upon the same day—and this is a circumstance full of interest, for the advent and departure of migrants is in every other case regulated by the forwardness or lateness of the season, as the case may be—the kuaka again collects upon the sands of Spirits Bay to fly away to Asia.