KEEN OBSERVER

Southland Times, Issue 21896, 23 December 1932, Page 12

KEEN OBSERVER

THE OUTDOOR PIONEER FIFTY YEARS OF NATURE STUDY NOTES FROM A DIARY (Written for the Southland Times.) By H. Beattie. Most of our Otago pioneers, perforce, were open-air men. Even those who had indoor occupations lived much nearer to Nature than their fellows of today. Usually the Great Outdoors came up to their very doors and flaunted its charms before their everyday gaze. As for those who worked outside, they came in vital contact with the hitherto untamed wilderness and with its denizens. Not all of these fortunate men knew how lucky they were, and few seemed to have taken a keen and discriminating survey of the sights their generation alone was privileged to see—the unique spectacle of a land undisturbed by civilized man. One of those who paid heed to what h- saw was Mr Charles A. Port. He arrived in Otago in 1860 as a boy of twelve and next year shifted down into Southland, and thereafter for fity years lived in close communion with the great outdoors’ world, which lay as an open book before his rapt gaze. For a lengthy period his work took him through the bush and he was a vigilant observer. The “forest with its myriad tongues,” appealed deeply to him and he noted what he saw, keeping a diary for many years. His observations are intensely interesting and shed a fresh light on many an ancient topic. The White Heron. Take the white heron, for instance. It was called the white crane by the early settlers and the common impression is that it was always very rare, even in the early days. The writer could say much on this subject, but he will confine himself to the remarks made by Mr Port. Like many other early settlers, Mr Port has a stuffed specimen in his home and its presence was the means of bringing up the following information:— In 1862 or ’63, he saw a sight that made his boyish eyes sparkle and to this entrancing sight he called his father’s attention. He saw and counted sixteen stately white cranes wading round a lagoon. This lagoon was near the Waimatuku River, perhaps threequarters of a mile from the residence of Benjamin Whymark, which adjoined Hitchcock’s farm. A person by the name of Quin had land and a whare south of, and adjoining Mr Hitchcock’s land, and the narrator’s father had a job clearing scrub in this district. Later still he came across a heronry situated at the Bush Lagoon, which was perhaps a mile and a half from Robert Hitchcock’s home on the way to John Mitchell’s Accommodation House at the New River Ferry. At this lagoon there was a dumb of windswept totara and black pine and here the nests were built—rough constructions of sticks with moss to keep the eggs from falling through. Some of these nests were as low as from twelve to twenty feet from the ground and had a slight canopy of shelter from higher branches, while other nests faced the sky. These nests, several in number, were there for some years. They were of a good size, were flat and not deep, and looked clumsy. To Mr Port’s surprise he saw two or three eggs floating on the water, perhaps blown out by a strong gale or perhaps knocked down by the birds leaving their homes in a hurry. Rabbits had been liberated and though it was illegal to shoot them, a certain amount of potting was going on and Mr Ports theory is that the sound of the s i°^ S t the sitting cranes, which jumped off the nests, taking the eggs with them. The floating eggs he describes as being of a brownish colour, marked like a swamphen’s egg, but larger. A Rash Adventurer. Once when the boyish observer was admiring the scene he saw an unusual sight. A harrier hawk, foolhardy to the point of rashness, suddenly swooped down on one of the nests facing the sky. The sitting bird drew back its long neck and, at the right moment, darted forth its strong beak with disastrous effects to the hawk, which retired not only discomfited but evidently badly hurt. Whilst out on a shooting expedition with Mr D. Murchie in 1873, Mr Port shot the crane which, as a stuffed specimen, adorns his home. They were traversing the watery waste lying between the Riverton Cemetery and The Narrows of the Aparima River when the bird met its fate, Mr Morton, the Invercargill taxidermist, setting it up. The gun which was used on that occasion had once belonged to Sir John Franklin, of Polar fame, while he was Governor of Tasmania, his erstwhile secretary, the Rev. Lachlan MacGillivray, bringing it to Riverton where it was later sold to Mr Caleb Small and sent to Mr Murchie. At a later date Mr Port shot another white crane, this time on the Pouropourokino River. He intended to send it to the Home Country, but unfortunately it was kept so long that the natural fat under the skin penetrated through it and discoloured the bird’s snowy feathers, completely spoiling its appearance and the carcass had to be destroyed. Mr Port never heard tell of, nor saw, a white-fronted heron, but he once shot a blue crane at The Narrows on the Estuary. It was intended that this bird should be stuffed by Mr Malcolm McDonald, but through some failure of plans this was not earned out and this rare specimen perished. The blue crane w’as very much scarcer than the white species, though Mr Port saw one sometimes and occasionally two together. The last he saw were on the banks of the Pourakino, and it was on this stream that he also saw the homed or crested grebe for the last time. The smaller grebe or dabchick was likewise then an inhabitant of the Wallace lakes and lagoons. The bittern was also present, but was seen on comparatively few occasions. The Notomls. The Notomis is probably the rarest bird in New Zealand, only four specimens having come into the hands of collectors. Two of these skins are in the South Kensington Museum, London, one in the Dresden Museum, Germany, and the fourth specimen is mounted in the Otago Museum, Dunedin, the sum of £250 having been spent in acquiring it. Mr Port is in the fortunate position of having seen at one time more members of this scarce species than the total number recorded so far. In the year 1877 he was round in the West Coast Sounds and was up in Charles Sound (known as Charlie’s Sound to the old hands) with 'a mate named James Richardson. They went prospecting up the north branch of the sound, and. .as his mate did not care for hillclimbing, Mr Port left him working round the sound while he climbed the mountains to see if he could spy Lake Te Anau in the distance. While up in the heights, fog began to come on and the intrepid climber gave up his quest and tore down the hills as fast as he could scramble. As Mr Port followed the river down he came to a piece of semi-clear ground, |

Dodging a patch of scrub he saw five Notomis on a rock or log lying alongside the river. They were about half a chain distant and he had quite a plain view of them. They seemed to him like a group of overgrown swamp turkeys. They made no effort to get away and the silent onlooker did not disturb them. They seemed to him to be full-grown or mature birds, but as the fog was advancing he had no time to investigate further and hurried on. The Maoris later told him that this bird made a grating noise, but the five he saw made no sound during his brief stay in the vicinity. A Dunedin professor had asked Mr Morton and Horomona Patu to try and get some of the rare Notomis, so Mr Port knew what birds these were. On his return he told Dr. Young and later Mr R. McNab about the five he had seen and he described the locality. When he was in Dunedin he went to see the one stuffed in the museum, but it did not seem to him so big as the ones lib had seen living. If the Notomis can fight the weasel some might be left yet in the wild west. Water Animal. A vexed question round southern New Zealand is the existence or nonexistence of a small animal alleged to live in the rivers. In the course of conversation with me, Mr Port chanced to mention a youthful experience of his. In about 1863 and 1864 it was his habit to spend his spare time eeling in the lagoon the Maoris called Here (pronounced "Ray-ray”) and the white people called H Lagoon from its shape. A creek flowed into this lagoon from Otaitai Bush and out at another corner, but there was no current, and as is usual in quiet water this promoted a lavish growth of straight vegetation round the edges—vegetation such as wiwi and sedge with flax, backed by tussock. At a suitable spot on this tranquil, freshwater pool the narrator had a “taumanu” or fishing site, and here he was standing one day when he saw an animal of a grey colour cleaving the smooth surface of the water. It was like a rat, but it was too big for a rat and it swam differently. Needless to say, the lad gazed intently at this unexpected sight and speculated what this creature could be. He had seen ordinary rats swimming, both when pursued by dogs and at their leisure, but this was not only more leisurely, but was somehow different. An ordinary rat swims low, but this beast’s head was well up on the water and its shoulders could be seen. Its head did not seem to be much different from a rat’s except in size and no description can be given of its tail, which was level with the water. It was swimming away from him. The lad went home and described the creature to his father who considered it was probably a vole or water-rat like those found in the Trent River in his native country at Home. They told several of the Rivertonians about it, but these sceptics most unkindly considered “that young Port was telling a lie.” They had never heard of such an animal and what was outside their knowledge could not be true. Father and son approached Captain Howell, but he had never heard of anything like it. He appealed to Tom Brown who was passing and that highly-respected and honorable halfcaste said that Maori tradition did recognize such an animal, but as extremely rare. On several future occasions Mr Port saw this “water rat” swimming about, but whether it was always the same one he cannot say, nor does he know what it fed on. It was entirely at home in the water and not only swam the lagoon crosswise but lengthwise so that he had a good look at it on several occasions. He considers it was as much bigger than an ordinary rat as the latter is larger than the native rat. The latter is about half-way between the size of a mouse and an ordinary or Norwegian rat, so that some basis of comparison is afforded. Many years later Mr Port read that one of these water inhabitants had been seen at Mr Robert Aitken’s run at Clifden so he is naturally curious to know more about it. Disappointment. It has been mentioned that Mr Port took a trip round to the West Coast Sounds in 1877. His primary object in going was to see if he could secure the mummified man that had been found in a limestone cave at Preservation Inlet; but when he got there he suffered a great disappointment for he found that the petrified corpse had been wantonly smashed to pieces. He managed to find two small pieces of the fragments—one being portion of one foot and the other what appeared to be part of the jaw. The former relic he gave to Dr Monckton and the latter to Mrs Thomas Rodriquez, both of Riverton. On his return to Riverton Mr Port found the work of trying to raise the wrecked vessel Express in full swing. In the early period of these salvaging operations a shaft or hole for a capstan was sunk on shore and during the sinking of this pit a moa’s egg was found. The mamwho found this treasure trove was a married sailor named Thomas Stanley, who was employed usually as a boatman by old Mr Rodriquez. The other men suggested that he should break open the egg “to see if there was anything in it” and he very foolishly consented with the result that what should have been a valuable ornithological curio was broken beyond repair. Thus Mr Port left for the West Coast to find a ruined petrifaction when he got there, and he returned to find a ruined moa’s egg. These are only some of the grievous disappointments that fall to the lot of the enthusiastic nature lover, but one memento of what was a trip mainly marked by frustration survives in a piece of beautiful pink coral which hangs on Mr Port’s wall. The New Zealand quail was once almost incredibly numerous and its cry, “Purty-pick, Purty-pick,” repeated over and over again at a great rate of speed, was a common sound in the land. Out shooting with Mr H. H. Powell at Waimatuku on May 23, 1869, the dog raised a brace, catching one itself while Mr Powell bowled over the other. This was the last quad the narrator ever saw and some time later Mr Smyth, the taxidermist at Caversham, informed him that a specimen was then worth £l2. These dainty quail disappeared so suddenly, simultaneously and completely that Mr Port is inclined to think that perhaps some disease swept them off. Rapid Decrease. He further suggests that perhaps some epidemic reduced the vast numbers of weka or woodhens that formerly swarmed over the open spaces in Southland—so quickly did they decrease from plenty to rarity. The last One Mr Port saw was one whose call he heard at Otatara, now practically a suburb of Invercargill. (He has the date in one of his many diaries but the entry escaped detection). Formerly he had seen usually at least a dozen cooked at a time, and sometimes a campoven full would be roasted together, the fat poured off to be used medicinally for rheumatics, or domestically for household purposes. Mr Port also remembers fifty kaka parrots being salted at one time and placed in any convenient receptacles for future use. In the early days the sweet-voiced native thrush frequented the bush at Mount Pleasant and Mr Port noticed that they invariably kept to the edge of the bush. He never saw the native crow, or wattle bird, anywhere near Riverton but it was once fairly plentiful in the Longwoods, being distinguished by its feeble, lumbering flight and its beautiful flute-like notes. The tui was the aristocrat of the forest and the bushmen used to say, “He sets himself up with his collar and tie.” The song of the tui and bellbird is very similar, but the tui sings separately, one here ,

and there, while at certain times its smaller relation sings in unison with a musical choir-like effect. These lovely bird concerts are now largely a thing of the past. The smaller native birds thronged the bush in surprising numbers and Mr Port was always specially interested in the tomtits whose feet enable them to clutch a tree vertically and not horizontally as most birds do. The robins were wonderfully tame and their song at mating time was very sweet. Contrary to expectations the robin is a most pugnacious bird and “each will fight for his own country on the least provocation.” 'Mr Port always knew when a fight was brewing by the bird’s habit of “wrinkling up its nose” and so exposing the white feathers at the base of its beak. The tiny rifleman also particularly interested the observer when he found that its skeleton revealed the strange fact that its head is almost square.