NATURE—AND MAN

Grey River Argus, 1 August 1934, Page 3

NATURE—AND MAN

“Waste Not, Want Not” NEED OF NATIONAL PLAN. (Edited by Leo Fanning) New Zealanders who happen to bt in employment have to pay out of sal aries, wages and other income about 41 millions a year for the maintenance of less fortunate folk who lack Jobs. How much of that huge sum is being used for the conservation of natural resources? It is well known that many hundreds of thousands of pounds have been wasted —thrown away on useless works. indeed much capital has been worse than wasted, because the spending of it on clay roads and paths and playgrounds will demand further expenditure in maintenance. Thus many localities have been loaded up with deadweight which will be burdensome to ratepayers and taxpayers for the future. In many cases it would have been better for the public if the wielders of picks and shovels had built castles of sand on the seashore. The tides would have washed them away—and the first loss would have been the last, because there would be no charge in the years to come for upkeep of the flimsy structures. Of course, some ‘good is being done with much of the huge sum, but there is still plenty of scope for a better use of money that is being frittered away. Native forests are in urgent need of saving from their ravaging enemies, hordes of alien deer. In other countries, with different forests, these animals can be kept in check by natural enemies—or even controlled by men without great difficulty, but the conditions in New Zealand are importantly different. The protection of the forests demands a war of extermination against deer. For this purpose New Zealand has the manpower and materials (food, clothing, etc.), to carry on an effective campaign against the pests. VANDALS IN CAMPS. <( They pot at anything that moves —even at fantails,’’ runs one of the complaints received by the New Zealand Native Bird (and Forest) Protection Society, in reference to relief workers’ camps in Nelson and West Coast districts. The vandals are not content with criminal killing of native pigeons for their pots, but have a lust of ”killing for killing’s sake.” Is this barbarism to be tolerated indefinitely by the authorities? Are the workers of New Zealand to pay out a shilling in every pound of their earnings to enable law-breakers to enjov an easy opportunity to butcher native birds?

Why is not a system of effective ranging organised? Among the tens of thousands of unemployed there are many men—ardent nature-lovers —who could be engaged for the saving of the birds. Tn such activities they would be doing immeasurably more good for their country than in messing about with picks and shovels, turning beautiful landscapes into eyesores. To-day New Zealand has the Gilbertian spectacle of men paid to commit nuisances. This nonsense has gone on too long.

“PASSING OF THE FOREST.” In the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” Mr. .lames Cowan has a very’ bright article on the late William Pernher Reeves, statesman and poet. Mr. Cowan makes special mention of Mr. Reeve’s love of nature. 11 ‘The Passing of the Forest ’ is a poem that has done more than any other work of pen or tongue to turn the people’s attention to the need for saving the remnants of the New Zealand bush from destruction. It is a tangi for the vanished glory of the most lovely forest in the world, a glory that can still in part be saved by' the joint efforts of state and people. With the forests there perish, too, the birds: “ ’Gone are the forest birds, arboreal things, Eaters of honey, honey-sweet of song. The tui, and the bellbird—he who sings That brief, rich music we would fain prolong. ’Gone the wood-pigeon’s sudden whirr of wings; The daring robin, all unused to wrong. Wild harmless hamadryad creatures, Lived with their trees, and died, and passed away. £ ’Gone are the forest tracks, where oft wp rode Under the silver fern fronds climbing slow, In cool green tunnels, though fierce noontide glowed And glittered on the treetops far • below. There, ’mid the stillness of the mountain road, We just could hear the valley river flow. Whose voice through many’ a w’indless summer day Haunted the silent woods, now passed away”. The sad and stupid destruction, lamented by Dr. Cockayne, Pember Reeves and other great New Zealanders, is still going on. HUNGER ‘MAKES FIGHTS? A food-box, on a post in my garden, gives little chapters of the world’s history. The principal visitors, whiteeyes, offer a few subjects for meditation. Ordinarily, these little green-and-rnsset birds are notably sociable. If you see a white-eye that seems to be alone you can assume safely that others are not far away. They are always calling out for company of their own kind. At night they roost together as closely as they can perch, with their feathers apparently interwound. Tn daylight, during very cold weather, they may he seen in similar close cosy fluffiness. ‘‘Perfect birds,” you think. “Wonderful examples of friendship for mankind to copy!” Yet how different they are when hungry! Fluttering and hopping about a dish of food—enough to give a big meal to fifty birds—one little chap will fiercely try to drive his mates away. There is constant bickering and chasing until the firsf pangs of hunger are appeased—and there is never complete peace by the plate. There is always at least one bird that resents the presence of others at the feast. Is that not the sort of spectacle that the world presents to-day? Plenty to share for humanity, but a tremendous pother about the methods of sharing.