NATURE—AND MAN

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXX, 20 June 1936, Page 11

NATURE—AND MAN

THE FRIENDLY PUKEKO WELL WORTHY OF PROTECTION (Edited by Leo Fanning) Perhaps no part of H. GuthrieSmith’s charming book, “Birds of the Water, Wood and Waste,” is more pleasant than his chat about the pukeko, the beautiful bird popularly known as the swamp-hen. In one passage lie tells of a young male, not half-grown, which “mothered” some chicks. The juvenile “foster-father” was as eager to feed and safeguard the chicks as a mother could be for her bairns. “On one occasion,” the author continues, “I had been watching a cock pukeko keeping watch and ward, as males do, through my glasses, trying to discover the whereabouts of his sitting mate. Just then a harrier, flying low to the ground, dropped, or rather tumbled, so sudden was his action, on to the hen. “As suddenly, however, he was driven off, for, while the hen defended herself, the plucky cock rushed to her rescue and I could see a confusion of blue and brown. Then, again, the harrier passed along, pretending he didn’t care, and doubtless calling out as he flapped off, ‘I didn’t want your old nest,’ trying to save his face, for ever so many little eyes were watching the scene, and birds hate disgrace and failure just as much as does mankind. Visiting the spot afterwards I found none of the eggs broken, though the many feathers scattered around attested the hard fought field.” Here is the bright writer’s chronicle of a pukeko family affair: — “The nest was a partnership affair, though we saw little of the hens, who were giddy young things, and left the cock to do all the heavy work. ‘You do de haulin’ Brer Fox, and I’ll do de grountin’,’ seems to be quite the hen pukeko’s idea of a fair division of labour.

“As the camera and tent crept up nearer and nearer, it was he who brought them up again and again, and attempted to induce them to sit, and when they would not, it was he, himself, who sat and panted in the sun, who braved the lens’s awful eye, and who re-wove from raupo and grasses a shelter for the nest.

“Not only would the hens not sit < themselves, but they made his life a ] burden by constant false alarms. Sometimes when he had really settled on the nest, and when the agitated i (lick of his tail was subsiding, there would be a violent dive into the thick crinkly raupo beside him. or a sudden squawk immediately behind. Then, when they had done what they could to discompose his mind thoroughly, they would glide off, and for hours leave the poor fellow to possible danger and certain discomfort.” It is inhuman —and stupid—to wage war against these birds which are beautiful and useful, too, because they destroy plenty of man’s real enemies —insects and other pests. THE WANGANUI—RIVER OF ROMANCE People of Taranaki are alert at last for a preservation of the water-con-serving forest of Egmont. Thus they will save beauty and also assure the welfare of their farmlands. That is the noble reward of sane scenic-pre-servation policies. They are profitable in the material sense; “they pay.” Folk of Wanganui, too, are keeping watch on their river. It is a pity that there was not a similar active interest many years ago—but there is a systematic effort to make amends for some blunders of the past. Like the people of Taranaki and other districts which have scenic marvels, the citizens of Wanganui have a national duty in guarding the beauty of their river, which needs its wooded watershed. Here is an inspiring tribute of James Cowan; that river of romance:— “The Wanganui is unique among the rivers of New Zealand —a deep waterway carved out of the heart of the mountain land, its sinuous course broken with rushing rapids, yet navigable by steamer and motor-launch for nearly a hundred and fifty miles from the sea. It is a romantic stream, where the primitive canoe still competes with the Pakeha’s steamboat; where the carved houses and oldfashioned villages of the Maori people nestle amidst scenery the most beautiful—a region of towering cliffs and straight walls that shut out the day of hanging woods and tangled fernery. For many miles above Pipiriki the river runs swiftly between lofty perpendicular walls of papa rock, delightfully furred with soft moss and clinging ferns, kept ever fresh by the down trickling rivulets, and streams, and topped far above by the dense evergreen forests. The songs of the birds, heard as one passes through these deep ravines, come from above very faintly, the bird twitterings of a dream. It is a land of streams and waterfalls, of tinkling brooks stealing in from dim forest aisles to swell the deep river a region of singular enchantment; it is so unlike anything one sees in the outside world.” “SENSE OF DIRECTION” “Has wild life a sense of direction” is a question asked by Calvin Rutstrum in “American Forests.” He brings facts to bear against some popular notions. “It has been shown, he says, “that dogs and other animals return over familiar paths no matter how crooked, and not by a direct route. Birds wandering off their arterial highways of the .air frequently become totally lost. As a rule, birds do not migrate in a straight line, but rather from bush to bush, and from stopping place to stopping place. Is it not safe then to assume that they know their geography? At least it has been quite definitely established that they have a strong faculty for remembering places. What conclusion, then, can be drawn of the sensory powers of wildlife? Is it to be assumed because experiments have not yet been concluded that some ‘supra-sensory-divination’ takes place in the flight of a bird from the tropics to its northern range? Or is it more logical to assume that it,is guided by the cues taken through its highly developed senses as named; and that as experiments move forward the nomenclature of the mystics Will ul-' timately be dropped from the annals of the naturalist?” DOWN WITH THE GERMAN OWL A correspondent of the “Otago

Daily Times” declares that the German owl does not feed on thrushes or blackbirds and does not cause much worry among sparrows or mice. “The German owl,” he states, “appears to have done nothing to check the armies of r r.'.co which are at present swarming in every building and field in the country. From my observation I believe that the owl lives almost entirely on native birds and the hedge sparrow, which is a most useful bird. The owl is of little or no use to the farmer or fruitgrower, and should be exterminated. All honour to Mr A. H. Fisher, and those who have assisted him to reduce its numbers!”