AND OTHER BIRDS ^ 



deepest tragedy of our trip. It, too, was found 

 late in the afternoon, for we had been walking 

 for hours uncheered by even a feather or the 

 slightest sign. The gloom of the darkening bush 

 had permeated our souls when Banjo, suddenly 

 plunging forward into high water-fern, snatched 

 loose the rope. Over the little bank I threw 

 myself after him ; and, although too late to pre- 

 vent the seizure, was still in time gently to loosen 

 his hold of a Kiwi, drawn to the mouth of the 

 hole by the skin of its back. Banjo had a 

 beautiful "mouth"; I had already taken several 

 birds from him uninjured, and I thought that 

 as the Kiwi had been drawn but a few inches 

 from his egg, that all might yet be well. The 

 depth of the burrow was less than two feet, the 

 entrance wide, and the dog had thus instantly 

 been able to reach the bird. Looking in we saw 

 the great pale green egg faintly visible, for the 

 retreating male had retired beyond the nest. 



This hole was tunnelled into a very steep bank 

 of hard, dry sand, looking due west; and the 

 entrance, scraped out at an angle, faced north- 

 west. From the manner in which the bird was 

 drawn out, I am convinced, that, as in the case 

 of the other Kiwi described, his back debarred 

 the light and blocked the tunnel's mouth. The 

 egg I never saw again. The day following its 

 discovery, was one prolonged blizzard hail, 

 sleet, and icy rain. The second day was almost 

 equally abominable; but we determined under 

 any conditions to attempt to obtain a photo- 

 graph of the egg, that egg which I had pictured to 

 myself day and night throughout our whole trip. 

 We duly reached the spot, 'my heart fore- 

 shadowing all calamity,' and on the very rim 



