STORIES OF BIRD LIFE

Taranaki Daily News, 18 January 1930, Page 11

STORIES OF BIRD LIFE

“LITTLE ARTISTS IN SONG” RESEARCHES BY MR. ANDERSEN. LECTURE AT THE SUMMER SCHOOL. “New Zealand Birds, Their Habits and Songs/’ was the subject of an address given by Mr. 0. Johannes Andersen to the teachers’ summer school in New Plymouth last night. The birds made music for the same reason that human beings made muisic, said Mr. Andersen, because they loved it and because they were little artists. As he dwelt on each bird in turn Mr. Andersen gave its notes and calls. The tui, he said, was the mimic among birds, and Mr. Andersen had learned all the tui’e art. The lecture was illustrated by elides of bird life on Kapiti Island. There was. a large attendance of the public. He was going to tell them particularly of the birds he was acquainted with on Kapiti, one of. the New Zealand bird sanctuaries, said Mr. Andersen. On Kapiti there were sea birds as well as land birds. The New Zealand birds had a particular song. Of the thrush you could not say you had heard its particular song before and that you would hear it again. When the bird put the phrases of its song together it did not do so in a particular way. The New Zealand birds, some of them, did sing according to human notation. They had almost human songn. He wanted to speak of the birdfl they knew. Some of the birds he would spe-ik of they would know only by name, such as the kakapo and the kiwi. Even those birds .they had on Kapiti, but they did not know they had them for some years. The kakapo had been taken' to Kapiti about 12 years ago, but it was only last year that they had found one of them still living. BIRD WITH A KINDLY NATURE. The first bird he wished to speak about, the grey warbler, or the riro riro, as the Maoris called it, was remarkable for two things. It had a kindly disposition and had a different song in every part of the country one visited, as if the bird was not used to moving about much. From its song you might know there were- two species of warblers. There was the song of the bird which always kept to the bush and the song of the bird which went into the New Zealand imported shrubberies.

He had heard the grey warbler start its song three timer; in New Plymouth, but only start it. ’ In the bush it had a long, indefinite rambling song, with never any particular finish. The bush bird had a call of a different quality. 'The same bird in the shrubbcj’iee Icist its indeterminate song. In Christchurch it kept three short series. Sometimes I it added a little bit like a finish, a. J I that was the end of the song for the i time being. In Wellington, said Mr. Andersen, l e had never heard that song at all. He had heard it with variations in semi-tones and quarter tones. The Wellington bird had a cheerful'tone of the bush, but it was still different. “I have written about the birds and their music,” said Mr. Andersen, “contending that the birds sing music for the same reasons that human being do, I because they love music and are little | artists.” He sang a song of the warbi ler and it was the first few bars of i “Home Sweet-Home.” j HEARING THE CUCKOO’S YOUNG. i Another of the habits of the warb- ! ler was the habit of rearing the young ! of the shining cuckoo, a bird migrating I between New Zealand and some other i country which they did not know. About i the end of September or the beginning i of October could be heard the silvery i note of the cuckoo, seemingly from a distance and then coming nearer as if the bird were a ventriloquist. The warbler reared his brood early in September and shortly after the cuckoo arrived. At Kapiti, strange to say, there were no warblers, or very few. Only one was seen at once. The cuckoo was heard only once or twice at Kapiti and then no more. There was a mystery about the cuckoo. The mystery was how did it get its egg into'the warbler’s nest? The j warbler’s nest was suspended from a ; branch. It was about nine inches long, i three and a half inches wide, and it | had an opening in the side. He had 1 always wondered, said Mr. Andersen, : how it had built its nest, until one ! day he watched it. First it hung over i the branch a few blades of grass and i then plaited and tw’isted them. Then I gradually the bird would work round i and underneath, leaving the hole at the side. But how did the cuckoo get its eggs into the nest? It was six times as big as the warbler. Either it laid its egg on the ground and took it up with its beak or it tore the warbler’s nest open, laid the egg inside and then repaired the nest. Indications of this second method had been observed in Australia, but’ never in New Zealand. He had once seen the long-tailed cuckoo taking its egg un from the ground to put it in a tuis nest, but the turn attacked the cuckoo fiercely and drove it away. The shining cuckoo, however, always victimised the warbler. The young cuckoo grew inside so that it almost burst the warbler’s nest. When it became hungry the warbler fed it. If its own particular warbler was not there to feed it other warblers would look after it’. And, as usual, the young cuckoo would turn the other young birds out of the nest. Once he had seen two cuckoos both trying to turn each other out of the nest. Both succeeded. CHORUS OF TWENTY-FIVE BIRDS. In the South Island there was a bird very similar to the warbler called the brown creeper. Of the warblers, only one bird sang at a time. With the brown creeper you might have 25 of them singing at once. The brown creeper was one of the most Cheerful birds in the bush. One started dff and set the tune; then the others straggled in like a badly trained chorus. It was very fond of vibrato, not only in the voice, but also in the tail, so that’ both voice and tail quivered together. Sometimes the leader put the accent on the first beat and sometimes on the third. But whichever he did the other birds all came in on the beat. “Are they not little artists?” asked Mr. Andersen. lie had heard the tui and the bellbird sing duets. The tui and the bellbird belonged to the same family but were different species. The tui had aggravating besidee delicious notes. It had a tremendous range over four oc- j taves, but in its sweetest 'songi' it had

the habit of interjecting unusual, harshsounding notes. Some days you might listen to a tui all day and hear nothing but these harsh notes. He had, a different song for everything—for when he was settled down, for when he was going to fly, for the morning, for the evening,- for all occasions. The only reason lie originally ; tried to record the songs was because he thought the birds were dying out. Now, with the sanctuaries and reserves, they were growing numerous again and he believed that New Zealand would always have. them. THE MIMICKING TUI. The tui was an inimitable mimic. When he sang with the bell-bird he had a very simple tune. There were four sweet notes and then two harsh ones. But while the tui was singing its harsh notes the bell-bird sang two sweet notes. The bell-bird was not really a mocking bird. The name came from the original Maori name for the bird —koromiko. Koromiko was shortened to mokomoko, mokomok, and so to mocking bird. It was the tui that was the real mocker. Then there was the great morning chorus of birds, sung mostly by the tuis and bell-birds. At Kapiti, said Mr. Andersen, to hear the chorus you had to get up at three o’clock in the morning? “It is a summer morning, unsualand very quiet., You can hear the sea and the stones on the beach. ‘ln some valley you hear the first calls, usually by a tui. The answer comes from another valley and .then another. After the call has been going for some minutes one bird will start the chorus, usually a bell-bird. Then a second one joins in with two notes and a third one with three. There may be as many as five different parts in the chorus, all in harmony, at the one time. Sometimes some of the birds may be a little out of time or a little out of tune, but they always get back again. The birds will sing for a quarter of an hour, sometimes less, sometimes more.” The comedians of the bush were the wekas. At Kapiti the weka was known as a picker-up of unconsidcred trifles. It seemed to recognise old friends and came up for food. He had been feeding one on the island by breaking off pieces of bread. The weka had taken the small pieces from his right hand and then suddenly come up close and plucked the large piece from his left hand. THE WEKA AS A JESTER. If they ever felt melancholy at Kapiti they took out a mirror, said Mr. Andersen. On one part of the island a tin of milk was always put out for the wekas. The mirror was placed by the tin and presently the weka came along for his milk. He lifted his head and saw this other weka. “The weka .stands on guard,” continued 'Mr. Andersen. “This other weka stands on guard too. ■ Every time the weka m .ves the :other weka moves ' too. Once a weka went up to the mirror and peered round the back.”

At Kapiti there were two wekas, one very fierce the other very timid. The very timid one, knowing the other was not about, came to the tin. The mirror was there. Suddenly he saw the “other weka,” and he was afraid. But he noticed that the other weka was afraid too so he became suddenly fierce and bold. But then the other fellow suddenly looked fierce and bold too. The timid weka did not wait.

He had heard, said Mr. Andersen, that the w»ka would carry its egg by digging its beak through it. Once, however, he had seen a weka carrying its egg and it took it in its beak, in the gape. This, then, he said, would be how the cuckoo would take its egg to the nest of the warbler. Then there were the smaller birds, the tomtits and the robins. They had their definite characteristics. The robin would take crumbs, but the tomtit would not. The robin would take the crumbs even if not hungry and store them in a little Urder of his own in a tree. But other birds would come along, the tau-hou or white eye, and rob the robin’s larder. If you offered the tomtit a grub he would come up to you to get it. The female tomtit was the bolder except in, the breeding season; then the male came to get food. He held the grub in hie mouth and flew with it from branchSjto -Branch whistling a song. As W ’canie nearer her he eang another then she flew to him° circuitously, and took the food from him and returnedjto the ncet. But if a human being paid a visit to. the nest it was the male that was timid and the female tha,t. was bold. In the nest the female sang a little crooning song to its young before it flew away. On Kapiti they had .managed to rear a young parrakcet, found by the caretaker, on wine biscuits dipped i.n warm milk. The bird had been kept in a cage and when it grew big enough the door had been left open. But only with difficulty was it persuaded to go outside, and when it did for a long time it always returned when it became hungry, until at last in the springtime it feit the call of the wild and' remained in the bnsli. i>!■•'’ w ’