NATURE—AND MAN

Southland Times, Issue 21853, 2 November 1932, Page 4

NATURE—AND MAN

CALL FOR VISION. “NATIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS.” (Edited by Leo Fanning.) When people are beset by difficulties such as lack of work, shortage of money, uncertain markets and the weird ways of the wide world, they are not usually inclined to take a long view of their country’s future. Many persons are downhearted, at present, about New Zealand’s prospects, but this country will be all right if the people are mindful of what Nature has done for them here—and if they avoid repeating the past mistakes against Nature—the wild play of axe and fire on steep watersheds. Nature is always willing to be a benefactor of man, when he behaves well, but she is a pitiless punisher of folly. During recent years nobody has done more than Lord Bledisloe to impress New Zealand on New Zealanders. He has shown a wide and far-reaching vision for this country in a. national line which should be an inspiration for the whole of the public. Historic events of the early days of colonization, the native forests, the rivers, lakes and mountains have all come within his survey, and nobly he has spoken for them. The gift of Lady Bledisloe and himself—the great estate by the Bay of Islands where the first missionary landed and where British sovereignty was proclaimed—has been warmly praised. One editorial writer has rightly referred to the importance of that gift in helping to form a “national consciousness” here—that broad and deep sense of country which inspires writers, artists and musicians. His Excellency’s example should do enduring good, immeasurable good. Sense of Country. The British Isles are still “Home” for a great many residents of New Zea-land-even for the grandchildren of pioneers. Time was when Northern Germany was “Home” for the Angles, Saxons and Jutes who drove the oldtime Britons into Wales and Cornwall. Normandy was “Home” to the Normans for many years after the Battle of Hastings, and long before. William the Conqueror set out on his great, adventure Scandinavia was “Home” to his ancestors, the fierce Norsemen. One does not wish to disturb the sentiment of “Home” in the relation of New Zealand to the Mother Country, but it is true that a growth of the sense of country here and in other dominions will make for strength, not weakness, in the British Commonwealth of Nations. “Sense of Country”! What does it mean? It includes the sense of history, the memory of ancestry, but it has its physical side as well —Nature and the works of man in alliance with Nature —his fields and his homes. New Zealand’s forests and birds must have their place in the making of that strong “national consciousness” which promotes national welfare from all viewpoints. Perhaps .there is a scientist here who would fight fiercely for the retention of a treasured moa-bone. Another might risk his life to save the tuatara from extinction, but this kind of selfsacrifice would not be plentiful. When it comes to beautiful live singing birds, it is a different story. I know men—and women, too —who would take up amis to defend the tui and the bellbird against merciless destroyers. The tui and the bell-bird have come more into their sense of country than the tally of tallow and frozen meat. Hope in the Young.

“Boys are barbarians,” a cynical person has remarked. “Animal spirits” are as natural in boys as green is in young grass, but various movements have proved that it is possible to divert those spirits from mischief to healthful exercise and other good. By the right message, the right touch, boys can be converted from bird-destroyers to bird-protectors. In that kind of change-over remarkable progress has been made in the United States of America. “Wild-life study,” says one reviewer, “is now being taught in most of the public schools of the United States. Children are familiarized with the common plants, trees, insects, animals, and birds. They are taught to recognize the commoner species and learn something of their habits. To further this work many States have set aside a ‘bird day,’ similar to and often in conjunction with an ‘arbourday,’ on which the public school children plant berry-trees or shrubs, build bird-houses, and make excursions into the woods and fields under the guidance of teachers to study close at hand what they have been taught indoors. In other words, there is a general trend of popular sentiment toward teaching the younger generations to taken an interest in birds and other forms of wild life.” Similar good work is being done in New Zealand, but the range of it. Is not yet nearly as wide as the Native Bird Protection Society would like. Another progressive American example is in the use of golf-links as bird sanctuaries. Care is taken to plant the kind of trees that will give board as well as lodging to birds. That example was well commended recently by Mr L. H. Tripp, president of the New Zealand Acclimatization Society. Of course Mr Tripp had in mind the species of trees (native and exotic), which would provide honeyed flowers or berries for native birds. How pleasant it would be if golf clubs competed for a championship in that very desirable planting? Who will offer a shield or a cup for it? Bigger Competitions. Mention of that golf links notion gives a reminder of a bigger kind of competition for which native birds would be very grateful. Who would not like to see Whangarei challenging Dargaville for the premiership in the planting of shrubs and trees (particularly “natives”) beneficial for native birds? Similarly New Plymouth might be in rivalry with Wanganui, Hamilton with Hastings, Napier with Gisborne, Wellington with Auckland, Nelson with Greymouth, Christchurch with Dunedin, Timaru with Oamaru, Invercargill with Gore, and so on. Perhaps something like that can be put in train before the next Arbour Day comes around. On the wharves or piers of any New Zealand port one may stand close to the black-backed gull. It is a handsome bird, but very stem-looking. No light of love lurks in its pale eyes, ever intent on food. Yet the gull has its moods of playfulness as I observed one windy day during a stroll on the wharves of Wellington. A long line of gulls on the roof-ridge of a big store held my gaze. One of the birds flew high up into the breeze, and it was evidently imitating the soaring of the gannet. It tried to avoid flapping its widespread wings while it went in a big circle back to its perch by its mates. Indeed, it slipped into only two or three flutters. I could imagine one of the other birds saying: “Not so bad, Bill; you nearly did it. Now I’ll have a go.” A moment after the first one returned another went off in the same planing flight. It was apparently a competition. The flights were always single, and were always in the same soaring style. It seemed that I was the solitary human spectator of a championship meeting. ,