226 M'Lean, Bush-Birds of New Zealand. [isf April 



successive steps until, satisfied with the height attained, it lets 

 itself drop, with open wings, almost vertically down to the base 

 of a neighbouring tree, whence it starts again. Rarely does it 

 mount to a greater height than 30 feet, and sometimes, on reaching 

 the first large limb, skips along its length, ignoring adjacent 

 twigs and branches. Now, this horizontal limb above appears to 

 be used as a means to further progress, for, by dropping from the 

 end towards the butt of a neighbouring tree, up which it means 

 to climb, the Rifleman saves itself a certain amount of flight. 

 However, it has been seen to hover in mid-air against the moss 

 of some forest giant or describe an upward spiral flight around 

 its trunk, as if in quest of a suitable spot for more minute in- 

 vestigation. Twigs and creepers and their leaves are little to its 

 liking, and in the smaller vegetation it behaves in much the same 

 way as it does in the heavier timber, running up, perhaps, the 

 roughened stem of a tree-fern, disregarding the leafy crown for 

 the base of a sapling in the vicinity, whence to trip aloft again. 



The vocal attainments of the Rifleman are in keeping with its 

 diminutive size, and its notes are weak, like those of a nestling. 

 Its song was never heard, and it is doubtful if it possesses one 

 The call, however, a faint single note, very rarely duplicated, 

 like " Sit," is called at frequent intervals, during winter, by both 

 sexes as they move about the bush, but it was thought to be 

 less frequently uttered in spring. When the bird is alarmed, this 

 note becomes a scolding rattle, " Str-r-r," but slightly intensified 

 in sound, which was heard only on rare occasions, and then from 

 the male alone. The call, " Sit," has been likened to that of our 

 handsome native cricket {Xiphidmm maoricum), a large-winged, 

 sap-green insect, with long antennae, whose soft, monotonous 

 chirp — not to be confused with that of its introduced black 

 relative — is audible on autumn evenings about our gardens and 

 shrubberies. This comparison of notes is hardly to the advantage 

 of the higher organism, but it is not very far from being the truth. 



Were it not for the habit of continually flicking its tiny wings, 

 the Rifleman would hardly attract attention, for it is by no means 

 vociferous, and its plumage, of green and brown and white, is 

 in keeping with its surroundings ; but it is such a lively 

 little mite, and, with its trustfulness, soon commends itself to 

 one. None of our bush-birds, however, takes so little notice of 

 one's presence, and it is far too businesslike to interest itself in 

 the affairs of others. Even the Whitehead's excited summons, 

 which is quickly responded to by other birds, fails to impress this 

 ever-busy bird. But if undue attention be paid to it the bird 

 becomes shy in one's presence, and it is at all times difficult to 

 arouse any inquisitiveness. I repeatedly failed to attract its 

 attention by the usual methods employed with other species, but 

 on one occasion caused some excitement ; but it was in September, 

 and the nesting season, when the birds appear somewhat more 

 cautious, was drawing near. The toast was overdone, and the 

 scraping made by the knife which was being used brought up a 



