NATURE NOTES

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXX, Issue 21414, 11 February 1933, Page 1 (Supplement)

NATURE NOTES

BY J. DRUMMOND, F.L.S., F.Z.S.

VALIANT PUKEKOS |

While driving a special motor launch, named the Ouida, after the Mid-Victorian novelist, on Hamilton Lake, recently, in order Co cut the weeds, Mr. H. S. Barrett, of Frankton Junction, was interested in the birds that dwell on the lake. He was using the weed-cutter one day when the strange behaviour of a male pukeko attracted all his attention. It came at the launch across the water with its bill open wide. All the time, it made a very unusual plaintive sound. Looking around, Mr. Barrett saw, a few yards further on, the pukeko's mate sitting on the nest. He has no doubt that the male warned him off, and he avoided that part of the lake until the pukeko family had been hatched, a considerate act tbat stands to Mr. Barrett's credit. Pukekos have sufficient enemies among rats, stoats, weasels and harrier-hawks without human beings joining the ranks. Many broods of pukekos are hatched on Hamilton Lake, but their natural enemies see that not many survive. A commotion among pukekos on the lake was caused by a harrier-hawk, which swooped down on them. The swamp birds did not take the raid lying down. They presented a determined front to the harrier, armed horribly with cruel hooked bill and sharp claws. One pukeko distinguished itself conspicuously, leaping up at the enemy and fighting valiantly with bill and claws, until the harrier, like the coward it is, caved in, ceased the attack, and flew off to harass a pukeko that stood solitarily a short distance away. On this pukeko sending out the S.O.S. signal all pukekos in sight rushed to help it, and the harrier was finally driven away. Incidents of this character are fairly frequent in swamps and other water places where pukekos display their black, blue and crimson costumes. Mr. H. Guthrie-Smith, a sheep-run holder, Tutira, Hawke's Bay, watched a male pukeko on guard, and he swept the swamp with his glasses to discover the female and the nest. He was not the only watcher. A harrier, with keener eyesight than his, flying low, dropped, or tumbled, on to the female. There was a confusion of blue and brown as the female defended herself and the male flew to the rescue. The harrier passed on, pretending that it did not care and did not want the old nest, trying to save its face, Mr. GuthrieSmith believes, as ever so many little eyes were watching the scene; and it may be presumed that ,ever so many little hearts throbbed wildly while the harrier's heavy wingu beat the air, and ever so many sighs of relief went up when the vile bandit was utterly discomfited. After inspecting the nest, Mr. Guthrie-Smith found that not a single egg was broken in the turmoil, although many feathers were scattered over the hard-fought field. Incidents chronicled by Mr. GuthrieSmith support his belief that pukekos, although they may be proud of their crim-son-splashed crowns, know that these disclose their presence to enemies. Mr. Guthrie-Smith kneeled on the broken limb of a willow, bent over deep water in Tutira Lake, and peered into green boughs. It was late on a gloomy afternoon, and he was looking for brown ducks to be photographed. He was attracted by a flash of crimson, and then saw a male pukeko sitting on a, nest, the indigo blue of its plumage matching the water. Aware that a stranger was near, *the pukeko dropped its head lower and lower toward the water and away from the stranger, until it sat at an extraordinary angle in its nest. Mr. Guthrie-Smith is convinced that this conduct was not chance, and that the pukeko realised the danger of its torchy head. Not once, but several times, Mr. Guthrie-Smith watched this performance. Biding along the edge of the lake one afternoon,* his companion and he saw a male pukeko. They were upon it almost before it knew of their presence. It did not wish to fly, and crouched down. Its head then was lower than its back, but it took the further precaution of submerging its bill, and, in this way, more completely blending into the background of the water. From the angle at which its head was held—not 6tretched out, but dug down into the water—it seemed conscious of red as a danger signal. Testimony to pukekos* courage in danger is given by Mr. E. F. Stead in " Life-histories of New Zealand Birds." Ducks able to fly, he states, will not allow a harrier to go closer than about a hundred yards. At its approach Ihey rise and move off. A pukeko, caught in the open, faces the harrier. If, there are several pukekos they cluster together, raise their necks, hop off the ground, and peck at the harrier as it hovers above them. In this way a pukeko can defend its young successfully. A duck cannot do so, and harriers destroy many young ducks. Mr. Stead holds the harrier in scorn. He has known hares attacked by harriers repulse them by sitting up and beating at them with their fore-feet. The harrier, being " a peculiarly cowardly brute," usually goes away to seek prey that will not make even a show of resistance. All this is sufficient to condemn the harrier and to glorify the pukeko, but further evidence on the same lines is given by Sir Walter Buller. He found the harrier a permanent terror to pukekos, ducks and teal when they resorted to lowlying flats and lagoons inundated by winter rains. He often saw a harrier, its wings fluttering noiselessly and its iong legs stretched down to their full length, try to grasp a fully-grown pukeko. Anticipating the attack, the pukeko, in every case, sprang up, its mouth open, its neck outstretched, and it usually warded off the harrier and rushed for cover in the sedge. Sir Walter Buller disabled a large pukeko with a shot from his gun. It sought refuge in rushes on the edge of the lagoon, but before he could repch it, a harrier had killed it and plucked it and partly eaten it. A harrier attacked a party of seven pukekos. They crowded together for mutual protection on a clump of dry vegetation in the midst of the swamp, and made such a valiant show that the harrier left them unmolested. There are many records of Australian magpies not only resisting harriers' attacks, but chasing them until the harriers fled ignominiously. As many as twenty black swans have been seen by Mr. Barrett on Hamilton Lake at one time. As some visit other lakes and return, their numbers on this lake vary. Their notes may be heard at night as they fly overhead. Three seasons ago, on one patch of rushes, a pair of black swans built their large floating nest, laid, and reared four young. Native ducks and teal, mallard ducks, Muscovy ducks, and four geese find the lake a suitable place of abode. A goose hatched this season on an island made with cut weeds and spoil from the lake has become very tame and cheeky. Mr. Barrett thought he saw a harrier in the rushes. Driving his launch to the place, he was surprised to see a bittern. He has seen it for three seasons, sitting among the rushes, its long bill pointing to the skies, and its presence not easily detected from a distance. Mr. Barrett asks if the sexes in swans are distinguished by the names Cob, male, and Pen, female. These names were used in England in olden times when the Kiug gave city companies permission to keep swans on the Thames. They are not use in New Zealand, and, probably, have gone out of use in the Old Country. ,