OUR HEW ZEALAND BIRDS. PART I .

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume I, Issue 7, 1 April 1900, Page 527

OUR HEW ZEALAND BIRDS.

PART I .

By J. Cowan

Photographs by A. L. Cleave, taken by kind permission of Mr. T. F. Oh ee.se mini, Curator, from spec hums in the Auckland Museum.

WT is at the edge of one of the great forests § | in the interior of N"evv Zealand, or on f some of the remoter wooded islands on <=s| the coast, that one must sojourn to hear the sweetest songsters of the bush. There are few things more delightful in the world of Nature's music than the early morning chorus of the native singing birds in the deep green forests of this country. It more than compensates for all the discomforts of bush travelling. Memories of the morning symphouies of the wild birds are amongst the pleasautcst recollections of all who have journeyed much in the New Zealand forests. The writer's first experience of the Korimako, or bell-bird, was one that will not soon be forgotten. We were camped on the banks of a river by the northern fringe of the great bush which covers the whole of the north portion of the Taranaki province. In the cold gray dawning, when the wandering pakehas woke up to shiver and draw the blankets more closely around them, the Voices of the Forest began to speak. First of all the rasping cry of a solitary Kaka parrot disturbed the repose of the forest shades. After a pause came a little piping twitter from some sleepy bird ; then a single metallic bell-like note chimed out with startling clearness from the unseen depths of the black forest. Next came a liquid gurgling morning note from a wakened Tui ; and soon before the first light of day broke into the tall groves of ritnu, totara and taioa, the whole forest edge was alive with the wildest bird-barraony. The sweet,

clear notes of the Korimako rang out above all the rest ; the Tui, with its hardly less melodious song, joined in the morning paean of rejoicing, emitting now tho silvery sound of a bell, and again a whistlo of exquisite sweetness from his little white-tufted throat. Then, like a soft, low undortono, came the gentle cooing noto of tho drowsy wood pigeon from his perch high up in the branches of some leafy "son of Tane," (the Tree God). The Korimnlco and Tui seem to sing their morning hymn out of pure exuberance of spirit; tlio joyous ohimings and ringings of the bird-Angelus are poured forth with a prodigality which the poor caged songsters in haunts of man could never find it in thoir little hearts to attempt. But the concert is all too short. When the garish light penetrates tho forest aisles, and the first sunboams are flung over the hills and tho bush, the bell-bird and tho Tui retire within themselves, as if their day's programme were done. Tho voico of the Tvi — the parson-bird of the Europeans—- is, it is true, a frequent sound in the forest throughout the day ; but tho bell-bivd, in tho few places in the North where it still exists, is, as a rule, only to bo heard at its best in the dim misty morning at break of day. The Little Barrier Island (ifauturu), on the East Coast of the Auckland Province, is one of the principal localities where the vanishing Korimako is still to be heard. This little visited spot will soon be the last home of the boll-bird and sundry other of the rarer tartan of our bird

life; and should it bo your fortune, as it has been mine, to land on the rocky beach of this l'etnote islet just befoi'e sunrise, you will be saluted with the choicest of wild matins from the Korimako and Tui perched in the ancient trees on the steep hill-sides above you. As I watched my time, one early morning, between the long, lazy i^ollers and jumped from the dingy on to the boulder bank of forest-clad Hauturu, and then stood

still in sheer astonishment at the wealth of bh'd-music above and around me, I fancy I shared in the feelings of Captain Cook when he first heard the bell-bird in Queen Charlotte's Sound. This is what the great sea explorer wrote in his diary, while lyinoin that Sound in the summer of 1769-70: " The ship lay at a distance of somewhat less than a quarter of a mile from the shore, and in the morning we were awakened by the singing of the birds. The number was incredible, and they seemed to strain their throats in emulation of each other. This wild melody was infinitely superior to any that we had ever heard of the same kind — it seemed to be like small bells, most exquisitely tuned, and perhaps the distance and the water might be no small advantage to the sound." But the bell-bird is a creature of the past in most parts of the Northern mainland ; the wild cat, the Norwegian rat, and the honey bee of the fcikeha have wrought the destruction of this nightingale of New Zealand, and also, though in a lesser degree, of the Tui, The

latter bird is shot by the thousand every year by Maoris and Europeans, for, unluckily for his feathered reverence, he is very good eating. In the South Island the Korimako is still, happily, very numerous. With commendable forethought, the Government of New Zealand have set apart the Little Barrier Island, at the entrance to the Hauraki Gulf, and Resolution Island, in one of the remote Sounds of the West Coast, as reserves for the protection and preservation of: our native birds. Kapiti Island, in Cook Straits, has also recently been acquired for the same purpose. Here the shy wood birds, to which the very breath of the encroaching white man seems fatal, will have a chance to prolong their peaceful days and multiply. No ruthless collector will invade their leafy domains; no murderous fowling-piece may awaken the frightened echoes of the forest. On the Little Barrier are to be found some species of birds which are extinct, or almost quite so, on the mainland. Amongst the teeming bird-life on that Island, a pi'ecipitous mountain of some 7000 acres in extent, are to be found the Tui, Korimako, Popokatea

B«5»,

(white-head), various kinds of fly-catchers, two kinds of parrakeets, the pigeon, the silver-eye or Taulwu. The pretty and infrequent Hihi, or stitch-bird, had been almost exterminated there but is increasing again, The dense bush on the Island

— kauri, rata, poliutulcawa, miro, puriri, taraire, tawa and manuka — affords thick shelter and abundant food for the birds. The honey-suckers, such as the bell-bird and Tui, flock to the poltutukawa and rata when those beautiful trees are covered with their gorgeous red blossoms ; and the pigeon, Kaka and parrakeets grow fat on the berries of the tawa, miro and taraire. The feathered population of Resolution Island, in the far South, where the screw of the steamer is the rarest of intruders from the outer world, is of quite a different kind. There are Kiwi there, but the principal birds are the Kakapo and the Roa, two short- winged creatures which abound in the mountains of the wild West Coast. The Kakapo is a peculiar bird of the parrot family, about the size of the domestic fowl, and is known as the night parrot. It became extinct in the North Island many years ago. Amongst our arboreal birds the Korimako (Anthornis Kelanurd) isasmallbird of modest brown plumage, which blends well with the forest foliage. Its tail is forked, and it takes its swift flight on a pair of strong wings. Of the two premier songsters of New Zealand, the Tui (Prosthemadera Novae Zeal .-) is by far the handsomer. It is a beautiful black bird, with a bunch of remarkable soft white feathers on its neck, like a pair of clergyman's bands, and it is quite an accomplished little creature, the liveliest bird imaginable. A Tui, when caught young, can be taught to whistle like a parrot, though far moi'e sweetly, and to talk. A pet Tui, or " Mokai," was often to be found in Maori villages in former days. One of the favourite foods of these honey-suckers is the flower of the flax plant. The large red flowers on the flax stalks in season are the resort of large numbers of native birds, chiefly the Tui, and the little creatures chatter away gaily as they hover round each other, and settle down on the flax stalks to suck the sweet juice of the korari. In former times the Tui was snared and speared in great numbers by the Maoris. In forest-covered districts such as the Urewera country, Taranaki, the bush around

Rotorua, and the wild country to tho wosfc of Lake Taupo, the native peoplo could hardly hitve existed without birds, and in fact tho pigeon, Kaka and Tui still form a largo portion of the food of bush-dwolling Maoris. Such mountains as Titiraupenga, in tho Hurakia district, back of Taupo, aro famous places amongst the Maoris for their " manu huahua," or birds preserved in their own fat for future use. Tho snaring of tho Kaka, pigeon and other birds is still carried on to a small extent in the Urowora country, where some old customs linger yet. Tho

usual " mutu kaka," or snare for taking the Kaka parrot, is a carved wooden perch, generally formed out of a forked branch. It was lashed to the top of a pole, and set on a tree top frequented by Kaka. A noose or loop on the " mutu kaka " was operated, when a bird alighted on the perch, by the bird catcher, hidden in the leaves below, pulling a long flax string, the end of v ! oh he held in his hand after setting ti.

The Kalca was securely caught by the loop, and in due course went into the household oven. I have seen numbers of these snares at Ruatahuna. One of the favourite methods of catching pigeons (besides spearing them with ji long wooden spear barbed with bone or ir.in) was to set snares for them over walca or wooden troughs of water in the

bush, where the thirsty birds flew down to drink. The wood pigeon — Kulcu or Kereru, as the Maoris call it, and Kuhu Careophaga Novae Zeal;, family Columbidae, as the scientists label it — is one of the commonest of our New Zealand birds, and in some ways one of the most interesting. The Maori sense of the appropriate is seen in his beautiful name for the pigeon; the word kuku is taken from the note of this bird, literally a coo, the softest, most loving of forest calls. Travelling through the bush in the autumn,

when the golden fruit of the karaha hangs in clusters overhead, and the small but sweet koroi berries on the kahikatea trees invite the wayfarer, and Tvheii the kotukutmku (New Zealand fuschia), the miro, the taraire, or the big blue tawa berries are ripe, you will see the KuJcu — a large lazy bird, with a beautiful white breast and a glossy green and gold neck — feeding on these forest delicacies. If disturbed it will perhaps fly heavily to another branch and start feasting again, and should you have a fowling-piece along with you, there will not be much difficulty in potting the easygoing Kuku, which makes a very welcome accompaniment to the frugal fare of the bushman or the surveyor. The ancient mythological name of the Maori pigeon is Rupe, and it is said that a demi-god of that name was wont to turn himself into a pigeon and back again just as he chose. Quaint old legends, reminiscent of the Arabian Nights, are extant concerning Rupe and Maui and Hine-te-iwaiwa and their deeds in the remote Hawaiiki fatherland. Should you visit the new carved house belonging to Mr. C. E. Nelson, at Whakarewarewa, Rotorua — the finest specimen of modern Maori art in New Zealand — you will see a boldly-executed carving on one of the large totara wall slabs, representing Maui, the famous demi-god of the Maoris, and the fearsome goddess of Death, Hine-nui-te-Po, the " Great Lady of Wight." At the foot of the figures are carved two little birds — whereby hangs a tale. The birds, cunningly designed by the brown-skinned carver, represent the Biroriro (the little bush warbler), and the Tnoakawaka, or fantail, two of the commonest and liveliest of bush birds. The Maori story is that Maui, the Maori Hercules, endeavoured to cap his other performances and " break the record " by passing through the body of sleeping Hine-nui-te-Po (the personification of Death), and so make all men immortal. The little birds of the forest, the Biroriro and fantail amongst them, assembled to see Maui's great exploit. The sight was such a funny one (the carving, done by men who call a spade fi spade,

sufficiently explains it) that in spite of Mam's cautions the tiny birds could not control their mirth. They screwed up their little cheeks, but at last the TiwakawaJca could hold it in no longer. He exploded in a giggle and a chirp of laughter, which woke

up the ancient woman, who instantly snapped the poor hero in two. That was how Death came to the world. Who would imagine that the action of the harmless-looking fautail could be responsible for such a dread result ? Certainly the Tiwakawaka deserves our ■ severest reprobation for its criminal levity at such a critical moment, but you can hardly find it in your heart to fling a stone at the lively little thing as it hops round you in the bush and displays its pretty fan-tail like v lady showing off a new dress — no matter ho'vy much it may deserve it. The Rirofiro, or diminutive bush warbler (wren I see it called sometimes) is another sociable little creature which enlivens the tedium of the bush journey or the camp with its merry restless chirp. There is an old Maori song beginning — " Tangi c te Riroriro, He tohu o te raumati." " Singing 1 now is the Riroriro, A sign of summer days." Two very interesting birds of passage, of the family Ciiculidce, visit our shores evei'y spring and summer. They are the shining cuckoo (Pipiwharawoa) and the long-tailed cuckoo (Koheperoa). These hand-

some birds arrive hero in the springtime from the South Sea Islands, it is supposed, and when their pleasing voices are heard in the groves on the East Coast, it is time to plant the humiirn. The brown- hacked Kohcjj&i'oa's clear note is frequently heard on the Little Barrier and other Knst Const localities as summer draws on, and the Pipiwlutmurods shrill whistle strikes on the ear in the long warm days of Christmas-tide. The Koheperoa (Em/j/iiaiins Taifeiisis) has a long tail something like tin: sparrow-hawk's, and has a short, strong body. Tin.,' other migrant (Chri/sococcyx Lucid u a) has a white breast with rows of gieenish gold fVathcrs, the back is green and bronze. This .summer visitor of ours is quite a pretty little bird. In an old Maori /tinr/inv songof lamentation I (hid these lines : " He aha to huhuatanga whakai'ongo aim ? Ko te ttmgi o to I'i/)iirhiir<ntr<><t — ' Kui, kui ! Whiti, whiti ora ! ' " " What is that pleasant sound ? 'Tis tho cry of tho cuckoo — ' Kui, kui ! Shine, shino and livo ! ' " This was interpreted by the Maoris to be the cry of the Pipiwharauroa when tlio warm summer days came and gladdened its heart

and warmed its blood. Those birds arc said to take wing for the warm latitudes of the South Seas — the Hawaiiki of the Maoris — in March. Of wading birds there are a uutnbor of varieties iv New Zealand. Besides the rare

and beautiful white crane (Ardea Syrmatojphora) and the blue crane, there is^a bittern (Botaurus moeciloptilus), the Pukelco (Porfhyrio Melanotus) and several smaller birds. Of these the red-legged Pu/ceJco is by far the

most numerous. It is to be found in large numbers in every swamp and moi'ass, and is often to be seen in the viciniiy of cultivations and on newly-ploughed land. The Pukeko, which the Maoris say was one of the birds brought as pets in the canoes from Hawaiilci, is unlike most other New Zealand birds in that it not only does not decrease, but even increases in settled districts of the colony. The melancholy bittern, a type of all that is desolate and mournful, is a frequent sight in the swampy couutoy of this land. Where the long mupo waves in the wind, and the sharp-edged flax leaves rustle against each other, and the toi toi dips its pendant flags in the still pools on the margin of some deep swamp — there is the haunt of the bittern, the Matuku of the Maoi'is. Or say we are pulling down a creek bordered by low swampy banks. As we round a bend, the splash of our oars startles a family party of lively little Weioeiia or dabchicks, which scurry away into the sedge with a cui'ious flapping motion along the surface of the water as fast as they cau get out of sight. A couple of

black shags, or Kawau, which have been perched on an old free - sturap, intently contemplating the glassy water on the lookout for their breakfast, rise sulkily at our approach into their domain, and seek another roosting place. Suddenly we come upon the king of the morass, the Matxikit, A large dingy-coloured bird with brown spots and a long ruffled neck, he stands by the foot of a tuft of raupo, in a little placid back-water of the creek, with his long bill pointing heavenwards. Silently he gazes at the intruders, but for a moment ; then he rises heavily and wings his steady flight to a more secluded spot where the inquisitive Sons of Tiki will molest him not. The cry of the bittern is a deep, hollow melancholy note, repeated three times. There is a Maori tradition on the West Coast that when Turi, the chief of the Aotea canoe, left his village at Patea to go to fish or to work on his cultivations, that his enemy might not

be aware of his departure, and also that he might take all his people with him, and not be obliged to leave any behind to guai'd the pa, he placed a Matuku or bittern in it, so that

did anyone come they might hear the cry of the bird — "Hu, hu, liv," — and fancy the chief was at home. In Maori songs now and then allusion is made to the Matuhu. In a lament for a lost loved one, a widow bewails her sad and desolate fate — " He noLo whnk&Matuku " — " Sitting like unto a lonely bittern." Probably the rarest of all our New Zealand winged birds is the Kotukie, the white heron or crane. The Kotuku seems to have quite disappeared from the norfchei'n part of the colony, but it is still said to exist on Stewart Island and in various remote parts of the South Island. The Kotuku is a large bird of pure white plumage, with a very long curved neck and yellow bill. " Kotahi ano te rerenga ote Kotukn." — " Once only is the flying of the Kotuku" that is to say, a man only sees the white heron once in a lifetime, is a Maori saying which well illustrates the rarity of this graceful bird. Next to Sir Walter Bailer's splendid work on New Zealand Birds, the most interesting descriptions written concerning the life and habits of our birds, are contained in a series of excellent papei's published upwards of

thirty years ago by the late Mr. T. H. Potts, F.L.S., of Wellington and Canterbury. In an article on "The White Heron," Mr. Potts gave a beautiful word- picture of thu Kotulcu ;

" Early in 1857 a lake of oonsidomblo size in the Ashburton country was, by the writer, named Lako Heron, from the nimibci'H of

these waders which then frequented its shores ; now its occurrence in tlmfc part of the country is rare indeed, ft is a sight for the naturalist to remember wlion hit, eyes fall upon a Kotuku, silently standing with meditative mien in some shallow pool awaiting its prey, ready for tho fatal dart; how quaint the attitude preserved ! Its spotless plumage, thrown into bold relief porchance against the backing of a mass of foliage, \h mirrored distortedly by the rippling water. Long is the patient watch maintained in stilly silence; to the whole figure tho retracted neck gives somewhat of a gloomy air. At length the glistening prey glides unwarily within reach of the spear-like bill ; one quick stroke, almost too quick for the eye to follow, a slight movement of the neck tolls that the prey is captured and engulfed, and the silent watch is once more resumed. . , . Ono gazes with delight ou the flight of the Ko/uku, on

the purity of its plumage, relieved by the bill and black feet, whilst the movement of the arched wings lends an impression of aerial softness, like the waving of delicate feathery fans, such as some gentle spirit might employ to win to the forgetfulness of slumber the listless soul of some warrior chief." Not long since I was struck by a certain poetical reference iv a Maori " waiata " to the shy white heron, which, according to au ancient Maori legend, is an inhabitant of the under-world of Death. TamarahiTomairangi, an Arawa man from Ohinemutu, and the writer were camped one night by the white sandy beach of Tapuaeharu.ru, on Lake Rotoiti. Above us towered the wall- like mountain of Matawhaura, the sacred burial place of the Ngatipikiao tribe, its tree-clad heights sharp cut against the clear starry sky. As we reclined on our sleeping-mats close by the rippling lake, my Maori companion gazing up at Matawhaura, crooned a

well-remembered and celebrated tangi sing, a death chant of the Lake tribes, which was originally composed by the chieftainess Rangi-mamao,of Ngatiwhakaue, on the death of her husband Maihi. The "waiata" ended with these lines : " Behold, O spirit, over thee In misty heaven, Thy guardian, the lofty peak of Matawhaura. Below we rest on the sounding shore, But thou art still in death. The Kolulcu thy sole companion is. 0, husband mine, alas ! " Nothing could exceed the sorrow and pathos expressed by the mourner in the last two lines : "Ko te Kotuku tou tapui — c ! E tauia, c—ce — c ! " But we are getting away from our birds, which will have to be further considered in a future number.