146 MUTTON BIRDS 



in wild wood ecstasy. The notes would inevitably, 

 yet mistakably be credited to the Tui. 



The Bell-bird survives in thousands still in 

 the Stewart Island woods, and may be found 

 according to the season and food supply, from 

 sea line to the moor-land, and to this bird have 

 I often, during my wanderings in the woods, 

 owed much of pleasure and of interest. Once, 

 for instance, I had just landed on the wooded 

 shores of an ocean islet when a Bell-bird flew 

 down and began within three feet of me to pour 

 forth its song. It fluffed out its feathers, 

 shook itself for a moment, carefully inspected 

 me, and then hopped off. 



Another time I thought I got a glimpse of the 

 manner in which birds can, without call or song, 

 convey their meaning to one another. It was 

 in late November; all day the rain had 

 been falling straight like strings, on to 

 the cold grey seas and islands veiled and 

 dim. Then gradually the sun shone out, 

 absorbing the thinning vapours, and 

 doubly welcome after the dark hours. Every- 

 where rain drops shone on the branches 

 and ferns. There were clean-washed skies 

 above and a shining, dripping earth below. A 

 splendour of freshness was in the air, and the 

 woods, silent all day, broke into song. Across a 

 wide opening in the forest, a pair of Bell-birds 

 passed swiftly and low to the ground. In full 

 flight they dropped, or rather fell, so sudden was 

 their stop, into a clump of fern, shaking the 

 stretched drops as they did so from the tall, 

 uncurling fronds. On the ground they 

 exchanged a rapid glance or two, and, as in a duel 

 many quick bill thrusts and parryings were 





