WONDERS OF THE WILD

Otago Witness, Issue 2967, 25 January 1911, Page 13

WONDERS OF THE WILD

A HUNTER THAT CANNOT SEE.

BROWN KIWI, THE LISTENER

By Will Lawson

The sound made by a boy whistling with too many lingers m hid mouth wouia be a good imitation of the cry oi Brown Kiwi as he stalked gravely through the forest, where the gioom of night lay heavy. His heavy feet trod softly on the leaf-strewn earth; from time to time his head was held a little on one side to listen for a sound that came through the silence—a sound like the ticking of a watch, but louder. With long, swiit strides, Brown Kiwi reached the place where the sound came from. His long, thin, slightly-curved bill plunged into the earth and brought up a large earthworm, which was swiftly swallowed. Then the bird's whistling cry rang again through the forest. a response came from the shadows, and Brown Kiwi's mate paced slowly and softly towards him. Together they moved off, two black forms in a world of blackness, yet like all night-walkers they moved with great confidence, and always they listened for the moving of the worms beneath the surface oi the soil. In their hunting they were guided by scent as well as sound, for these strange birds have their nostrils at the extremities of their beaks, and they smell the worms as well as hear them.

Out of the shelter of the trees the night was stormy. High up in the leaves the wind soughed and thrashed. But Brown Kiwi and his mate took no heed of the weather. In the forest it was quiet and dry enough, and the worms were moving freely and giving audible jiotice of their moving. Never before had Brown Kiwi known the worms to make such a noise. From all sides he heard it. Slow-witted, Brown Kiwi was, though keen of scent and hearing, and moroeover a.ll unprepared for enemies, since none had ever attacked him until the Maori came. So the sound growing louder gave him no alarm, and he still went hunting worms until a dog, a terrier, broke through the undergrowth with uproar, followed by other dogs and men with torches. Then Brown Kiwi and his mate just stood side by side, peering in the glare, with their small, weak-sighted eyes, at the attackers. A queer, pathetic picture they made. Their bodies, bright brown in colour, streaked lengthwise with black, were very broad and heavy, tapering like a wedge up to the neck, which was like a continuation of the narrowing trunk. The head was small, and where the bills, that were live inches long, began, there were long, hairy feathers, like a cat's whiskers, and all their plumage was harsh, the leather-shafts projecting beyond the barbs. The men carrying the torches were Maoris. When they saw the birds standing at bay they beat their pack of curs to heel. With clubs in hands, two of the hunters came, bearing their torches high," to kill Brown Kiwi's mate, for they knew that Brown Kiwi would never leave the place ii she were taken first. But with some blind instinct both bird's turned suddenly and rushed clumsily away among the trees. The dogs immediately dashed after them, and bailed them up again, despite Brown Kiwi's aimless, savage pecks. This time the hunters wasted no time. A blow of a club dispatched Brown Kiwi's mate; another club waa raised to kill him, when a strange sound in the forest made the superstitious Maori pause and listen—a rending, Toaring noise that gathered to a thunder of sound. Shouts of warning, rang out, the hunters ram this way and that, and they were just in time to escape death from the limbs of a forest giant, old and decayed, whose top branches had met the full force of the gale. To the accompaniment of a perfect cataclysm of noise the huge tree crashed to earth, and the echoes of its fall went through the forest like the voices oi countless mourners lor the dead. The hunters, awed by the thing that was to them an omen, whistled their dogs, and took from their necks cords on which were small pieces of wood. These, rattling together, sounded at a distance like the moving of worms beneath the soil. While he listened to this familiar sound, Brown Kiwi had failed to hear the dogs and men approach. Hunters and dogs went swiftly and silently home, leaving Brown Kiwi unharmed. For a long time he haunted the place where his mate was taken, and sent his mournful call, pitiful and questioning, through all the forest glades around. But none of the answering calls were hers. So, a very lonely bird, he paced the forest night after night, m search of her. By degrees he came to understand that she would never come back. He altered hie cry to that of a bird who seeks a mate, and for a time he got no answer at all. Then one night, when the worms were silent and hunting hard, a new mate, young and unattached, answered his call, and they mated and went hunting together. They made a nest, just a hollow in the dry earth, beneath the shelter of lowgrowing scrub and fern. Here Brown Kiwi's mate laid one egg —an enormous one for so small a bird; it was nearly five inches long, and was white in colour. Having accomplished this herculean task, she left the whole matter to her mate, and Brown Kiwi spread his queer-shaped body over the nest, and took his responsibilities very seriously. His mate roamed the bush near by in search of food for herself and for him, her long bill probing down to fern-roots and such-like places. When the prey was captured, she frequently brought it to Brown Kiwi, who never moved from the nest for more than a few minutes, when, of course, he could not possibly have caught enough food to keep his strength up. As it was, he was quite worn out, when at length a great ungainly chick emerged. Here Brown

Kiwi's responsibility ended; he tur.')dthe chick over to his mate's care, and though they often all went foraging together, it was Brown Kiwi's mate that always had the care of the chick. Night after night for many a night the family party sallied through the gloomy forest glades. Quite unprepared ior any attack, clumsy, ungainly, and scarcely able to see, Brown Kiwi and his family were representative of a type that dwelt here at a time when there was no fear from attack by man or beast, because there were no men or beasts in New Zealand, and so his ancestors had never developed fighting qualities. It happened that a Maori hunter, keen and cunning, saw Brown Kiwi and his family, in the dusk, moving out of their shelter where the? had lain all day. He followed stealthily, and when quite close, he rushed, and with a club knocked over Brown Kiwi's mate and chick. And Brown Kiwi, faithful to the last, stood quite still beside their bodies till the club dispatched him too. The hunter gave the skins to his wahine to make mats of, together with the skins of many other Brown Kiwis. That is why the queer whistling cry of Brown Kiwi is seldom heard in the forests now. Yet sometimes they may be seen, birds in paradox, with legs and feet _of an ostrich and cat's whiskers, listening, for the sound of the insects beneath the earth, and scarcely using their small, weak eyes.