NATURE—AND MAN

Southland Times, Issue 21822, 27 September 1932, Page 6

NATURE—AND MAN

CALL OF THE FOREST. SOME PLAYFUL PARROTS. (Edited by Leo Fanning) Her never the fever-mist shrouding. Nor drought or the desert may blight. Nor pall of dun smoke overclouding Vast cities of clamorous night, But the voice of abundance of waters. Cold rivers that stay not or sleep. Greets children, the sons and the daughters Of light and the deep. —From "New Zealand" by William Pember Reeves.

The late Mr Reeves, a brilliant New Zealander, warmly loved the evergreen forest of his native land. “Though no great traveller,” he wrote, “I have seen beautiful landscapes in fourteen or fifteen countries, and yet hold to it that certain views of our forest, spreading round lakes and over hills and. valleys, peaceful and unspoiled, are sights as lovely as are to be found. Whence comes their complete beauty? Of course, there are the fine contours of mountain and vale, cliff and shore, and the abundance of water, swirling in torrents, leaping in waterfalls, or winding in lakes or sea-gulfs, aids greatly. But to me the magic of the forest—l speak of it where you find it still unspoiled—comes first from its prodigal life and continual variety.”

Of course, the average New Zealander has some pride in his country’s forest but does he know the worth of it, as national wealth? Occasionally it requires a visitor from another country to remind us of the tourist value of marvellous wooded hills and valleys which are warmly admired by travellers from the British Isles, Europe, America and Australia. Here is a remark of Lord Burnham (head of the British Press Delegation which visited New Zealand a few years ago) after a drive through a valley, flanked by a ferny forest:—“What particularly struck me was the exquisite beauty of the verdure of the forest and the limpid blue of the streams and rivers.” A distinguished scientist, Dr Johannes Schmidt, was deeply impressed by the splendour of the woodlands. “In the native forests alone,” he said, “New Zealand has a heritage to be treasured. Preserve what you can for the admiration of visitors like myself, and for the perpetual enjoyment of your own sons and daughters; and in preserving the forests you will also assist in preserving your wonderful bird life. Your fem beauty in unrivalled.” Nearly every town of New Zealand is within easy reach of a stand of native forest. The people of every town should appoint themselves honorary custodians of a suitable scenic woodland. The Comical Kea. New Zealand’s kea is one of the most amusipg birds in the world, as its scientific name, Nestor notabilis, indicates. Some years ago Mr Edgar Stead, a zealous student of bird life, had some of these parrots in a large aviary. He invited me to observe their antics—and I was truely astonished by the quaintness of their capers. He had placed two or three large pieces of drain pipe and other obstacles on the grassy ground for the keas’ fun-making, and they did not disappoint us. They chased one another through the pipes and under and over other things just as frolicsome school boys would do, and they varied their play remarkably. Suddenly they would become very sedate, and sit solemnly on the branches of a tree, as if meditating fresh drollery. During one of these lulls, Mr Stead reminded me to look out for a domestic drama. He pointed to a young Mr Kea, a very handsome chap, making love to a very pretty Miss Kea, who seemed pleased with the frisky advances. In the background was Mrs Kea, a rather old hen, with whom young Mr Kea had been previously mated. She was angrily watching the flirtatious pair. She sat, hunched in sullen wrath for a few minutes. At last she made a quick swoop, buffeted Miss Kea from the perch, and took her place beside her fickle spouse. He sat chestfallen, in evident awe of his stem mate. He was eager to be off, but was afraid to budge. However, the comedy would repeat itself, later on, so Mr stead said. The Friendly Kakapo. Probably no other "country has a more likeable bird than New Zealand’s “ground parrot," known as the kakapo, which helps the Dominion to maintain its reputation as a country of distinctive birds. Here is a parrot of brilliant plumage—moss-green enriched with flecks and spangles of gold, with warm brown markings on the back and wings —a splash of colouring which should be flashing in the sunlight, but the kakapo is a night rover, to which the georgeous raiment serves no purpose, useful or ornamental, in the darkness of forests. The bird has large wings, well proportioned to the size of its sturdy body, larger than the Australian cockatoo’s, but the wing muscles are weak, and the kakapo has not enough power of flight

to escape from the hunter’s dog. “Though it is a parrot, I have never known the kakapo to learn to talk,” remarks one nature-lover. “Its brilliant intellect works in other directions entirely, for it never tires of learning new and difficult tricks. In fact, it demands special attention from one whom it makes a friend. A kakapo in a bush camp is the life and soul of the lonely habitation, and the wonderful and original tricks performed by this entertainer are beyond description. On one occasion, when exploring the heights of that wonderful rugged cape, located at the mouth of the Waitaha River, in Westland, known as Bold Head, my party came upon a large male kakapo basking in the warm sand. It was captured after a short chase, and although it set up a defence, it was perfectly subdued within an hour, and began to play with its captors—something in the nature of cat’s play. During the three days it was kept in camp, it was persistently looking for excitement and play. The bird is usually referred to by the back-country settlers as the 'ground parrot,’ but, being a splendid climber, it frequently finds its way into the tops of the medium-sized shrubs and trees. When climbing, much use is made of the powerful beak; a half right and left method is adopted.” The food of this quaint bird consists of grasses, berries, seeds and leaves. After a good meal in the night and early hours of the morning, it retires to its secluded resting-place, where the daylight hours are usually spent.