THE WAR AND THE SONG.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20656, 30 August 1930, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE WAR AND THE SONG.

By V. A. GRANT

Before tlio Maoris thought of leaving Huwaiki, war was declared in New Zealand.

Between the seabirds and the landbirds there was war; war which lasted only one day, but whose effects are even felt after the lapse of these hundreds of years. Up to that time of long ago there had been peace between the birds of the sea and the birds of the bush so that there was nothing unusual about it when the river-shag invited his seaside cousin to tea one summer's afternoon. Eels and mountain trout —tuna and kokopu—formed the basis of that memorable feast, and the sea-shag was very greedy. Never before had he eaten fish without scales, and on learning that all fresh-water fish were smooth and scaleless he thought of the many times his throat had been hurt by harsh scales and sharp fins. On his return to the Eeaside, Karuhiruhi, the sea-shag, kept thinking of how ho would like to steal the fishing, grounds of Kawau, tho river-shag, and next day ho harangued all the birds of the sea and wickedly persuaded them to help drive his cousins away, promising them a share in the fish which were such good eating. On hearing of this the, bush birds thought it only fair to band themselves together to defend the rights of Kawau. A council of war was held, and a plan of campaign decided upon. Tirairaka, the fantail, was a great hand at dodging here and there, flitting behind trees, teasing and derisively flirting his tail when anyone took notice of him, and was very capable in making mischief himself and seeing others get into trouble over it.

It was decided, therefore, that Tirairaka should act as scout, his duties being first to warn his friends of the J.f)proach of the seabirds and second to lure the enemy into an ambush if possible. When he did see the seabirds he pretended he could easily be caught, fluttering here and there in little short flights and his twitterings aggravated them further, so they flew after him right to the place where the bush birds were in a good position and then, like most mischiefmakers, Tirairaka got out of the way and left them to fight it out. It was a stupendous battle, but before nightfall the bush birds proved victorious. Though peace was declared so long ago there are still hard feelings about this war of the birds. Cheeky little Tirairaka is still liable to giggle, in liis own way, at Kotaie, the kingfisher. " Ti-ti-ti-ti," says Tirairaka to Kotare. " You with your webbed-feet and that long nose of yours! ou look like a seabird yourself!" and then he flirts his tail to taunt Kotare further. Kotare is not forgiving, so that kingfishers will chase, and even kill, fantails if they get a chance. There is, however, one bird who can deal effectively with Kotare, and that is Tui. Tui is naturally of a sunny disposition, but stoutly protests against any signs of oppression, so that he will protect Tirairaka against the larger Kotare even although ho has been impertinent. Thus it is that Kotare fears Tui and, for all his gentleness, Tui will always hunt kingfishers, sometimes because he knows they attack fantails, but more often because lie also sees a likeness in Kotare to some of the seabirds and cannot forget the old-time bitterness of war. That battle, and the victory of the bush birds, are still spoken of. and only the other day some of the birds were talking of the war and discussing the rout of the sea-birds. " Where are they to-day?'! asked Kahu, the hawk. " Kei hia?"

"Ki airo!" said Kaha, the parrot, " Ki airo!—they won't dare come again." "Huh!" said Kukupa, the pigeon, " What cowards they were!— Huh!" Tui sat in the sun and listened to what the other birds had to say, and then Tui burst into song. Liquid drops of music, the chime of silver bells and the sonorous phrases of a forgotten language mingled in the song of Tui, a psalin of rejoicing and a thanksgiving for victory over the aggressors. The fervid thanks in the psalm of Tui were tinged with war's aftermath and the wonder-song ended with a jarring note, the tiny snort of disdain that you often hear at the end of a Tui's song.

Tui, as a singer, maintains the sweetness of his song by living on the honey of flowers, but not all the nectar of the kowhai, the flax flowers or the rata, nor all the gory of the sunshine can prevent him from being affected by the bitterness of war, nor keep from his song—the noblest music of the bush—that jarring note of disdain for an unworthy opponent.