KAPAI TE MUTTONBIRD!

Greymouth Evening Star, 13 June 1927, Page 12

KAPAI TE MUTTONBIRD!

Countless Thousands of Birds Killed Each Year By Maoris to Supply N.Z. Tables With An Oily Delicacy

HE mutton bird is a delicacy that might have appealed to the epicures k of ancient Rome. The very thought of it is sufficient to make the —J Maori’s mouth water, and naturally it finds a ready welcome to the tables of tliose who appreciate good eating in New Zealand. Yet the difficulties and dangers of its capture are practically unknown except to those most intimately concerned. Each year the birds arrive from parts unknown about the middle of October. They come in countless thousands and feed upon the shoals of sardines thai work through Foveaux Strait, and round the coasts of Stewart Island. This is their mating season, and the ideal conditions fox' breeding are found on the rocky islets off the .southern end of Stewart Island, These ■islands are covered with a small, tieshy-leaved tree, the decaying loaves of which have in the course ot ages deposited a deep soft mould. In this the birds burrow like rabbits, often two or three holes to the square yard. One hen, one chicken is the invariable rule and makes for plenty of increase in spite of the depredations; of human and other preying creatures. Male and female take turns in keeping the nest warm and in feeding the young. About Christmas most of the young birds are hatched and the old birds keep them fed to repletion with regurgitated oil from the digested fish they have eaten. In consequence the chickens soon grow very fat and bulky, larger than their nxrents. They are covered with a soft grey down which should have a good market value for stuffing pillows and quilts. It has all the qualities of eiderdown and it is strange that it should be neglected by manufacturers Toward the end of April after gradually coaxing the youngsters to the mouth of the hole, the parents consider they have done their duty. There is no more feeding and the chickens must live on the store of fat they have already accumulated. Night after night they come from their holes to try their wings and to shake off the down that is rapidly being replaced by feathers. Their instinct impels them to seek the highest points and to flutter down again and again. They soon become strong, and on the first wild night toward the end of May the majority takes its departure, not to return till next breeding season. Many of the weaker birds become a prey to the waiting nellys and seahens. These prayling birds seem to be aware of the tak-ing-off time, and congregate in large numbers for the feast. It is, of course, only the young bird, the fledgling, that jgraces our table.

Before the advent of the white man there was probably a strict tapu attaching to the old birds, of which the tradition still remains. This, of course, had a sounder economic basis, for the Southern Maoris depended largely upon the mutton birds for food and they could not afford to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs. The season opens officially on the first of April, before which date it is illegal to take birds. Several days are required in which to get settled and make the necessary preparations, therefore the mutton-birders contrive to be on the ilsands by March 20. Once commenced, the work prodeeds with feverish energy, for the' numbers of birds taken is determined by the time they remain on the island. Even with the greatest industry only a pro-

portion of the birds hatched are ever captured. During the first part of the season the birds have to be taken out of their holes. The men and boys of the party protect their hands with gloves, for the chickens have sharp beaks, which they use to express a strong objection to sudden death. Sometimes the bird is found near the mouth of the hole and is easily reached with the hand. More often the direction of the hole and the position of the bird are found by probing with a stick. The burrow, never very deep, is then broken into from above, and the unwilling victim brought forth. The hunters work until they have as many as they can conveniently carry and then return to camp, where the birds are plucked by the womenfolk. Further operations are: scalding to remove the down, splitting, cleaning, and dry-salt-ing, with requisite intervals between. Then the birds are finally packed for transport and if the kelp remains unbroken, they will keep good for. an indefinite period. An interesting circumstance is the return of the old birds to the island in the evening. They come in thousands, yet each bird seems to know the exact position of its nest hole. It arrives over the spot, closes its wings, and drops like a stone, striking the ground with considerable force, but apparently without injury. As stated above, the old birds depart from the islands and from New Zealand about April 25. The young ones are left to their own resources, and the change in their habits necessitates a change in the method of capture. From now on they are caught by torchlight, in the dark hours of night, while sitting about outside. If the moon shines brightly the birds retreat to their holes and work has to be suspended until it is again dark. The later birds are preferred by, most people, as much of the

excessive fat has been transformed into muscular tissue.

The islands are visited at half-time by the transporting vessel for the purpose of taking to market the kits already packed. At this time there are thousands of birds on the gallows, and the Maoris avoid the expense and time occupied in curing, by selling them as fresh birds. These are eagerly sought by buyers, for the fresh bird, stuffed and roasted, is similar to young duck, and has no trace of fishy flavour. By May 25 there is hardly a live bird to be found on the islands. Work for the season is over, and the Maoris return to the restrictions and amenities of ordinary life. The privilege of taking mutton birds is confined to people wholelj’ or partly of Maori blood. It is one of the miserable remnants of their native heritage. The methods and procedure handed down from generation to generation, and the whole family, old and young, from greyheaded grand parents to babies in arms, participate in the work. Beside the opportunity of making a little money, there is doubtless the attraction of reverting for a time to the primitive and adventurous life of their ancestors. As October comes round the Maoris begin their preparations for the coming season. They have to accumulate large stores of packing material and other requisites. Broad sheets of kelp are blown up into the form of bags. These form the airtight inner container for the birds. They may hold anything from ten to seventy birds, according to the size of the kelp. The bags are protected by strips of totara bark and the whole stepped in a flax-woven Maori kit and securely lashed. Large supplies of salt are needed, also timber and corrugated iron, to repair or erect buildings. Landing passengers and this bhlk of material on the islands is a work of great difficulty.