MUTTON BIRDS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2520, 2 July 1902, Page 72

MUTTON BIRDS.

By Nga-tt-ngaro.

The bark-protected kelp bags containing this unctuous delicacy are a familiar sight in stores and auction marts just now, and are fast becoming a recognised article of commerce, the same as buns or oysters are. Until a few years ago Europeans looked doubtfully at them as though it were a sort of infra dig. to admit that Maoris could be connoisseurs of what is fine in the way of eating ; nowadays mutton birds are frequently on the bill of fare in European household*. Some people say they taste like a cross between a woodhen and a led herring, others simply a'k for more ; certain it is that the taste for this article of diet must ba acquired, but the steadilyincreasinor demand among Europeans speaks well for it. The natives have always considered "tiir' as one of the finest delicacies which Tane bad provided for them.

The institution of muUon-birding i<- a.« old as the hilß and fiom time immemorial it lias been the right of the Munhiku natives to gather •tlm ample harve>t ; this right was confirmed to them by the Treaty of Waitangi, and they have jealously guaided it ever since ; it is one of the few natural advantages vet entirely in their hands, and they strongly re«ent the intiusion of pakehas. into it.

About February and 'March, seemingly endlesss warms of black birds may be seen skimming over the water in Foveaux Strait and about Stewart Island. They are there at the fiist dawn of morn, and seem to continue their restless energy throughout the day ; even in the dark one hears occasionally their benighted wings flutter past the cutter's rigging. They seem to follow the flow of the tide and gather food from its bosom for themselves and their young. In spite of the countless thousands of young birds that are gathered every autumn, their number still is myriads, and has ibeen so ever since the memory of man. In the south. Nature has always supplied .ier granary witr bountiful luxuriance. Even Te Wera, a chief who came to reside on Stewart Island, became so impressed -by its enervating plenty that he grew very fat in his old age and on his deathbed cautioned the young men about him to leave the place for some more meagre spot, saying : "It is better to have the green grass of an umu growing over your bones than to die in a stinking bed." Meaning thereby that a wariior's life and death were better far than a life of idleness, even though, their ctuecr be flushed in an -ivniifo

These black birds are known by the various names of mutton birds, Bonaparte's shearwater, Puffinus trisitis, P. tenuirostris, or the simple --j.aori "titi." The*- arrive at the uninhabited islets about Stewart Island in November, whence no man knows. They then clean out their old holes or make new ones. In December is the pairing season. Their burrows are in the ground, about an arm's length. At the end of it they make their nest and lay one egg, which is somewhat larger than a hen's egg. The female birds do the hatching, wLich takes about five or six weeks. During that time the male bird gathers food for it. About February the young bird is brought out ; then both old ones are kept continually at it hunting food, for it is a voracious youngster, and will taite all they can bring. They leave the nest at daybreak, and return at night with laden crops to feed their young with its contents, which they spew uv> and put into its beak. When approaching the island they make a peculiar noise sounding like a low "nga-nga," but from the number of them this becomes almost deafening. Each bird seems to know its own nest — with a screech it darts through the scrub and is lost in the burrow. At the beginning of April the young birds have grown to a larger size than the parent birds, but they consist chiefly of oil, and cannot fly. When plucked, they look like balls of fat. This is the time the catch commences. In May they are full grown. The parent birds then apparently leave them to live on their fat. They inhabit the nests a while longer, but in a windy, rainy night they make their way out of the burrow and climb little knolls or logs and sit there, flapping their wing-s to shake the down off, and to learn the rudiments of flying. At this time they are helplets creatures, and easily caught ; they have scarcely strength enough in their legs to support the fat body and use their strong beak, like a crutch, to help themselves along. It is quite funny to watch one trying to escape at the approach of an. enemy. In its fright and hurry to get away it seems to give an extra shove off with the feet, and turns a half-somersault on its beak, landing on the side or bark, from where it makes awkward efforts to raise itself again. They soon lose their fat, and by the time they have learnt to fly are quite capable of taking care of themselves. One cannot tell them then from old birds except that the beak is a little lighter at the root, and the wing featherß have still some blood in the quill. They leave the islands in June for the unknown regions of the south, and do not return again until the next breeding season. Mutton-birding is a great business with the natives. It is talked of for months before, and what happened " when we were on the island, ' or " at the last birding," is a topic until the next "season" is in sight. Theie is an old and well-known proverb in Maori, "He titi rere ao ka kitea, he titi rere po ekore c kitea.' which means — you can gee a mutton bird fly in the daytime, but you cannot see it at night ; inferring in reference to a. person that he may be seen walking about in the daytime and appear very busy, but no one knows where his home is.

The breeding-grounds extend from Ruapuke and the uninhabited side of the Bluff Hill in the north-east to the Snares and Aucklands in the south. Nests are found on the Colanders and away up the West Coast. The numerous romantic islets dotted within this area are mostly covered to the water's edge with low, growing shrubs of akeake, kokomuka (" titi tree," as the Maoris call it), a little manuka, some stunted rata, ferns, and much very rank grass ; here grow also the muoh-sought-after teteawaka and tupare, with their comely foliage and beautiful white, scented flowers. Verily these islefs are beautiful gardens of Nature. A visit to them amply repays her thoughtful student. On the headlands the mutton birds burrow to make their nests. The soil favours them ;it is soft and peaty, and interlaced with numerous root. Nests are seldom found further in than about 200 ft from the shore. Numbers of other birds inhabit these islands, but few of them are caught for food. About the South Capo " korore " are taken and a few preserved like mutton birds. They are very tender, but not so large in size. Like every hill, river, plain, and bay on the mainland bears its name, so the Maoris have here given a name to each island, which points to some forgotten bit of history or romance. Indeed, where is the spot in New Zealand whose naiAe bears not a poetic allusion to some event in native history? Could these stories be sworn up from the dark watei-s of Lethe, their volumes would rival those of tScott and Fennimore Cooper.

These islands arc native reserves. Each clj.n or family has its island or part, where the huts or whare are built, and to which they, like their game, re.turn yearly. In modern times, -where all are related to each other in some way through intermarriages, the distinction of place is not so rigidly observed, though as a rule each family works and houses together. Some have modern wooden or sheet iron huts ; others live in tents and do their cooking and cleaning outside, but a few have still the old .style of one house for each different kind of work. Such an old-fashioned camp looks like a village of anthills. The conical whares stand about Bft high. They are built of crooked timbers and thickly thatched over with ferns and rushes. They are quite watertight, fairly warm and comfortable. Rushes and ferns are spread on the floor for a carpet, and are replaced by fresh ones every day. Of greatest importance in such a camp is naturally the house in which the simple cooking is done, and where meals are taken. This is the "whareumu,"' or "whare-ktii." The sleeping sheds, "whare-puni,"' are covered with earth and are usually close and stuffy. One house is used for plucking in, so that the fine down flying about does not cover everything that ib Jn daily use. Another house is for salting and packing in. Then there is the "whare whata,"' or storehouse, in which the finished kits of mutton birds ("poha") are stored ready for bhipment home. Thib

Shortly after the New Year holidays are over preparations for mutton-birding begin. About the middle of January the women go out to gather flax for baskets. Some of these women are very expert in the art of basket-making, and use great care in choosing the quality of flax. The blades are cut off one by one and carefully examined, then tied in bundles and taken home. In former times pipi shells were used for cutting and scraping the flax. When dressing it they used to hold a shell between their toes, and draw the flax through between it and the toes, in this manner scraping off all theereen vegetable matter and gum, leaving the pure fibre, which is called " whitau." From it_ some very beautiful flaxwork is made. Now a knife, "mikara," is used for the same purpose, and saves a lot of tedious labour. When making the baskets, the women sit on the floor, having the flax, properly sorted out, lying around them, and work the basket ("kete") on their knees. It takes about 30 to 40 blades on each side to make an average- sized, basket, and experts take about quarter of an hour to finish it. These women are kept almost continually employed at the work for some months, and exchange their product for mutton birds with those who cannot do it themselves. The next work is to procure the necessary vessels m which to pack and preserve the birds. Here all-bountiful Nature has again provided a perfect article at their hands. All along the rocky coast grows a kind of seaweed ("rimu") to a great size. It has a stout, supple stem, huge leaves, and clings with, its numerous roots to the boulders of the ocean's bed, growing under the water just like a tree in the Forest. Men and women choose their days, and go out, sometimes up to their waist in water, and gather the leaves of this plant. These leaves are long and flat, usually wider at the end than near the stem. Like most sea plants, they are a brownish green, and have a spongy inside, which, when cut, looks remarkably like a honeycomb. The natives work their hand backward and forward between the tough outside skins, and easily break the brittle cells which form the inside of the leaf; in this manner a sort of sack is formed. Any flaw in the outside skin is filled up with a limpet fhell, nnd fastened tightly with a piece of flax thread. These sacks are then blown up and hung in a cool place to dry. They require blowing up again every day, as they are not quite airtight when new ; but once they are dry they are as tight as a glass preserving jar. These are the vessels the Maoris have used from time immemorial for preserving their food in. Thus woodhens and eels were packed, or when an oversupply of seal meat was on hand, or when, after a great battle, the surplus stock of enemy threatened to go high, it was preserved in its own fat in these bags, and sent to friends as presents or kept as a stand-by for times of dearth. They yet require totara bark to protect the kelp bags with. This is easily gathered in the bush or bought from those living near it. A good supply of flax blades for tying up must also b9 taken. With March all preparations must be finished ; then the mutton-birders get their stores of flour, etc., from the storekeeper, usually mortgaging their catch for it. Parties of them arrange for fishing cutters or small steamers to take them on the island. The owners of these are also paid in mutton birds, varying from 60 to 100 birds for the return passabe of an adult person. According to the distance of the island, it takes from a few hours to a few days to land the party. Once landed and everything safely under cover, the first work is to make the houses clean and comfortable. Waterholes or reservoirs have to be cleaned out, niihes and ferns for the floors collected, and the thatching seen to. It takes usually two or three days to get everything in order. Then the business of "birding" commences. Each person on th» island Mas his work cut out for him, fiom youngster upwards. A strip is pointed out along which he has to gather the birds. The tools are a short stick and adze, and sometimes a pair of canvas or leather gloves. When a burrow is found, the stick is put into it to probe for the bird. If there be one in the nest some fine down will most likely adhere to the point of the stick. The "birder" then hauls it out with his hands ; or, if the hole is too long, he digs it gut with the adze. The bird has a sharp beak, and can give a nasty nip on the unprotected hand. Some have dogs trained to run into the holes and fetch the birds out. They usually catch it by the wing and deliver it at the feet of their master, who kills it by biting the soft skull in, or by crushing it on his knee The birds are hung up on trees or put on the ground alongside the track, to be gathered up on the return journey to camp. At camp, the work of cleaning has to be gone through before the birds have time to cool. The feathers are plucked out. and the birds, held by head and wing?, are dipped, one by one, into a pot of boiling water, then the down is easily rubbed off. In dipping, great care must be taken that no oil gets into the water, which would prevent the> down from coming off; the beak is therefore held tightly shut, and injured birds are left to the last. When stripped of the down, the birds are hung up until there are sufficient for cutting out and salting— usually two days' catch. They look now just like bladders of lard. When gutted and cleaned, they are ready for salting, and are put into barrels or stacked until enough is gathered to fill 10 or 12 kit*. The kelpbags are then brought out and filled, put into the baskets, bark lashed round, branded and numbered, and put away as finished "poha." When the young birds are about full grown and almost read^ to fly, they come out, as said above, to shake the down off j then "torching" commences. The birdera go out after dark with torches, and the birds, stupefied by the light, are very easily caught. They are then in the primest cendition, and very large catches are made. The whole woik of mutton-birding is vei*y aiduous, and attached to it are many discomforts and privations, but the natives look forward to it as a holiday, in which they can get away from the trammelling fetters of irksome civilisation, and, for a tigw #i Jea£k SSturn, to,. fcke_ $UM&m d

their "tupuna." This is the modern way of doing it. In pre-pakeha days salt, matches, and iron pots were unknown. The birds, after being plucked, not stripped of all the down, were partly tried out and packed into kelpbags ; these were then filled up with fat so as to exclude all air. Part of the down. was left on the birds to hold the fat better, much to the detriment of their appearance.. They raised fire ("hika") by rubbing a stick, about the size of a finger in thickness, called "kaurimarima," on a flat piece oi soft, dry wood ("kauwati"), until the duso at the bottom of the groove thus made commenced smoking. The dust was then gathered and put in among some dry grass, and gently swung round until the flame bur^ out ; thus they got over the want of matches. It was done so for all purposes, and on journeys special pieces of wood were carried for the purpose. It was rather a more tedious way of getting a light than by merely striking a match on the side of the pants, but the Maoris were very expert; at it. About three oi four minutes would suffice to get a fire; besides, they had always plenty of time. Thus in place of matches. Instead of our modern iron boiler they used a wooden one, and made it somewhat in this manner. When with their stone axes ("toki uri") a tree had been felled, and by means of fire, axe, and a tremendous lot of elbow grease a piece from 3ft to 4ft long had been severed, they commenced to hollow it out by making holes here and there along the top of it ; then lit fires in them, and let them burn for a little while ; the charred wood was easily chiselled out, and by repetition of this process the pot was finally made. In similar/ manner they made war canoes. But such a wooden pot is not only very clumsy, but it dare not be hung over the fire ; so they had a good idea fi.r heating and cooking in it which might still be used to advantage in back blocks where ranges and other kitchen utensils are at a premium. They built up a good fire; when well going, put a lot of hard stones in it; when --ase were hot they were rolled out and, with sticks, put into the wooden tub of water. It is surprising how soon water may be made boiling in this way, and how well ib can be kept hot. In the same way the fat was tried out of mutton birds, by putting hot stones among them.

It was usual in those days to give of every harvest some away .as presents to friends or relations. A chief would claim) some, or someone deserved to be specially favoured. In such cases special "poha" were made up, varying in size according to the merits of the individuals that were to get them. At times huge bags were filled, standing from 6ft to 7ft high, and holding ovsr 1000 buds. They were built on legs of "moko" sticks, which were singed in variegated patterns, and were finished off with bunches of kaka and pigeon feathers and presented with much ceremony.

These ancient customs are fast losing ground before the inevitable progress of civilisation and commerce. They, like, the atuas of old and the romantic folklore of the New Zealand Natives, will soon bid us their last irrevocable haere ra !