14 MUTTON BIRDS 



when growing in masses on tlie cliffs of the islets 

 or on the most wind-swept blnffs of Stewart 

 Island itself, the thick, leathery, white-backed 

 leaves make it a striking plant. In the peat its 

 seed germinates very freely; whereas of the 

 daisy tree, covered in snmmer with myriads of 

 pnrple-centred white-petalled blooms, I could 

 discover no young plants in any part of this 

 island. It grows only not much above high- 

 water mark, and like the groundsel tree is totally 

 unaffected by blast or salt spray. 



Beside the main tracks radiating from the hut 

 to every quarter of the island, and re-opened by 

 slashers at the beginning of each birding 

 season, there are other trails ; — a perfect system 

 of arteries and veins, quite dissimilar to any 

 path of man or beast hitherto known to me. 

 They are bird roads, trails up which the birds 

 flap at dusk, and down which at dawn they pour 

 themselves. On these bird ways there is no 

 grading ; the centre of each is I'ougli and clawed, 

 and tends to become in the wet climate of the 

 south a miniature water channel. On either side 

 for a foot or so the vegetation is beaten and peat 

 stained where thousands (>f eager wings have 

 flapped and bruised the tender fronds of fern, 

 the tips of vine tendrils, the shoots of sprouting 

 grass. 



My first visit to Herekopere was late in 

 January, 1911, my companion, a half-caste lad 

 who had been mutton-birding on the island for 

 two seasons. The sea was calm, and the summer 

 day cloudless. Landing, therefore, was easy^ 

 and we scrambled eagerly up the steep bank 

 from the rim of giant pebbles, the one of us keen 

 to show, the other to see. 



