Vol. VI. 



1907 



J From Magazines, &c. 147 



These, it is true, are probably not trained scientific observers. 

 Nevertheless, they all live in contact with facts ; and we are sure 

 to get nearer to the truth by taking the experiences of men who 

 have spent most of their lives in Kea country, than that of men 

 who judge the birds mostly from caged or preserved specimens. 



To make the evidence as reliable as possible, the following 

 precautions have been taken : — 



I. Nothing but accounts from eye-witnesses themselves has 



been taken. 



II. Evidence without the writer's name and address has 



been cast out. 



III. All details, as year, station, &c., have been received in 

 each case. 



IV. The witnesses, if necessary, have been cross-examined 

 by post. 



V. All the accounts of Keas attacking sheep have been 



forwarded with a written statement that, if necessary, 

 the writer will be willing to swear to his evidence 

 before a Justice of the Peace. 



Among numerous correspondents over 30 state that they 

 have seen the Keas actually attacking sheep. These witnesses 

 do not consist only of musterers and shepherds, but in many 

 instances they are either managers of the sheep stations or the 

 station-owners themselves. Summing up the different accounts, 

 the bird's mode of procedure seems as follows : — They may 

 attack in ones or twos or in numbers, but usually one or two birds 

 do the killing and the others share the spoil. The Keas do not, as 

 some people think, attack the sheep that are in poor condition, 

 but always seem to choose the pick of the flock. The bird 

 settles on the ground near its quarry, and, after hopping round 

 for some time, it leaps on to its prey, usually on the rump. If 

 it cannot get a firm grip with its feet, the movement of the sheep 

 causes it to fall off, but it persists until it has firmly perched 

 itself on the sheep's back. Then the Kea begins its operations 

 by tearing out the wool with its powerful beak, and at last gets 

 its beak into the flesh. 



The sheep, which for some time has been moving uneasily 

 about, gives a jump as the beak pierces the flesh, and then 

 begins to run wildly about in vain efforts to rid itself of its 

 tormentor. When, however, the sheep finds it cannot dislodge 

 its enemy, it seems to become terrified by pain and fright, and 

 rushes blindly about, usually at a high speed. 



Sometimes the sheep tears round the flock until it is played 

 out and cowed, when it sinks to the ground and lies with its 

 neck stretched out, a picture of misery. 



If snow is on the ground the poor beast flounders about until 

 it gets into a snowdrift, and then it becomes an easy prey to the 

 relentless birds. 



