Gutheik-Smith. — 0)1 Bird-life on a Run. 371 



this deliglitful bird shall be in no way molested, for there are 

 few sounds more characteristic of wild New Zealand than the 

 startled, half -indignant whistle of the mountain-duck. Dip- 

 ping from the summer's sultry heat into some deep fern- 

 feathered gorge, I have often paused to watch him. The 

 little waterfalls dash into diamonds o\\ his slate-blue plumes. 

 He is thoroughly at home in the bubbling champagne pools. 

 Where the swift stream shows every polished pebble clear he 

 can paddle and steer -with ease. 



Throughout the year there are numbers of the scaup, or 

 black teal. I have been surprised at what the historian of 

 our New Zealand birds says of its powers of flight. He re- 

 marks, "Its powers of flight are very feeble; it takes wing 

 with reluctance, and never rises high in the air." At a shoot- 

 ing party, when guns have been stationed round the lake, 

 and boats w^orked for a couple of hours, I have seen nearly 

 every black teal leave the lake. Gathering into flocks, they 

 would rise as high as three hundred yards, and, circling higher 

 and higher, disappear. The birds did not usually reappear 

 for several days. Of the white-winged duck a single speci- 

 men was procured last year. 



The skies of New Zealand would be very different without 

 the harrier. Over every acre of the run he hunts indus- 

 triously, flapping lazily over the fields of fern, or sailing high 

 in air, a patch of brown against the blue. We have also the 

 fierce and bold little sparrow-hawk. I have seen one of them 

 strike a chicken at the very kitchen-door. In the course of 

 their strong low-level flight they seem to know no fear, and 

 disdain to move aside even for man, passing with hardly a 

 swerve close above his head. Often when mustering sheep 

 the scared collies have returned to me hunted back by this 

 resolute little hawk. He builds in ledges of cliffs, and the 

 great harrier, when near his nesting-place, is furiously assailed. 

 The little hawks utter a kind of neighing scream, for usually 

 both male and female attack the intruder. Circling above 

 their foe they swoop lapon him, while the harrier, hard- 

 pressed, turns completely over on to his back, stretching out 

 in defence his terrible talons. 



Of the two native owls I have never heard the laughing 

 cry of the almost extinct whekau. The solemn little more- 

 pork is pretty common. As a rule he rests from hunting and 

 rapine during the day; still, even in the light he w^ill throw 

 no chance away. Mr. Sidney Brandon, who is an accurate 

 observer, and to whom I am indebted for help in this paper, 

 noticed on one occasion a flight of blight-birds settle within 

 reach of a morepork, who instantly reached out a claw and 

 seized one of them. 



During late autumn and winter the kingfishers begin to 



