C.—l

168

It is not a stupid bird, for it only banged itself once against the window, while a robin will almost kill itself; the thrush will not try it now, so that it must be intelligent, and it looks like it in all its ways. It is evidently lost, or in search of a mate, and that is why it comes so readily when I answer its call. I showed it the looking-glass, and it was greatly interested in it. Its voice is not hard to mimic, so that it fully believes I have another thrush about. When I stood the glass against the wall on the floor the thrush was delighted with the company at first, but soon seemed to realise that the one in the glass was only mocking it. It called distinctly for the shadow, and listened for the answer ; then went outside and began to sing, to see if that would have any effect. Its song is not unlike the first few notes of the English thrush, but only in scraps, with many notes of its own and a fine loud voice. It soon tires of the singing and starts a long-drawn-out sorrowful whistle which I can hear at intervals during the day away in the bush, but it generally comes to the house in the morning. It sometimes whistles indoors, which makes a great noise, and surprises itself. It is not unlike our old thrush, but more russet in colour, especially the tail, and the spots on its breast are very distinct. When I meet them out in the bush they are nearly always tame, and will come in the tent and eat the scraps like a robin; but, unlike the robin, there will be several thrushes apparently good friends. They are not at all plentiful, and I never found a nest. They have peculiar ears. A purse of tender skin goes down into the ear with apparently no hole in the skin. I never heard of such an efficient ear-protector in other birds. ORIGIN AND EXTINCTION OF THE TAKAHE (NOTORNIS). Readers may remember that birds like our swamp-hens were mentioned in " Cook's Voyages " at several places in the Pacific, and everybody knows that our birds are common in Australia, so that they are likely to be migratory and great wanderers. By referring to a natural-history book we will find that they are as common in Ireland and the islands of Greece and Italy as they are in the islands of the Southern Ocean. They belong to a great family of rails that appear to be able to adapt themselves to all sorts of conditions. Thus they are of many different colours and forms, in accordance with the different places they live in and the different ways they get their living. The coot in Australia is a most perfect swimmer and diver, with feet like a crested grebe, but you would think it a poor flier. Yet you may not see one of them for seven years, and then come out of a morning and see the lagoons black with them ; and they may remain for months before they disappear again. Our woodhens are also of the same family, but, unlike the wandering, diving coots, they stay at home all their lives on a few acres of dry land, thus showing how pliable they must be to adapt themselves to such opposite circumstances. Mr. Nixon, of Dunedin, told me that in 1875 Captain Agnew, of " The Gleaner," brought a swamp-hen into Greymouth that came to his vessel when four hundred miles from the New Zealand coast; and there may be plenty of this sort of evidence if it was only collected. The takahe is only a little way removed from the swamp-hen, to adapt it for living in the bush. And without doubt its forefathers came here on the wing, but, becoming tired or stormbound, dropped down in the West Coast bush, where, before the advent of rats, they found no enemies on the ground, and abundance Of good seeds and other food. Then, if there were a few bush-hawks about these well-fed hens would not care to fly until they were too fat to do so. On the wing swamp-hens are very easy game for the hawk, for I have seen him knock down several. And if some of those fat ones tried to get away and escaped a knock or two from the hawk they would be content to remain in the bush. Then with mates of like experience they could found that notable branch of the family that we call Notornis. We generally think of the hawk as a destroyer, but in reality it is he whom we have to thank for our most curious birds — the takahe, the roa, the kiwi, and the weka. The takahes may have been developing in New Zealand for a long time before the advent of even Maori rats ; and then there may have been some valuable food in roots or seeds that we have never heard of. We are often puzzled to know what the moas flourished on. It may have been grass, as in the case of the ostrich, but if they had any special good food the rats were capable of destroying it. It may have been the brown rats that came with Captain Cook that destroyed the takahes' food, because we may be almost certain that takahes were fairly plentiful when Cook came to Dusky Sound, otherwise the Maoris would-not have known so much about them. Without our trained dogs, only one white man would have seen a takahe in our hundred years' acquaintance with their country ; and the Maoris were practically without dogs. Thus they would not have had a name for the birds if they had been as scarce just previously to our coming as they have been since. The rats will not allow a grain of oats to ripen on Pigeon Island, but will eat it in the soft stage ; and three years ago they ate all the cabbage, turnips, peas, clover, and potatoes—in fact, everything in the garden but some ryegrass and rhubarb. The strength of the takahe's beak suggests that it was a seed-eater ; and nearly all vegetable and grass eaters depend largely on the fruit and seeds for rearing their young; but, according to the above experience, the takahes have had poor chances of rearing young ones since the brown rats came to Dusky Bay. Thus it might happen that the takahes would breed like rabbits on the seeds that we could give them if we could only catch a few live ones.