THE ZooLocist— June, 1872. 3083 
of the Australian rosebill parrakeet (Platycercus ewimius), but louder and 
more shrill. At dusk, also, before leaving its retreat, it utters a low croak- 
ing note, quickly repeated, which is responded to by the other owls within 
hearing. This note resembles the syllables ‘kou-kou,’ uttered from the 
chest, and among the northern tribes the bird is usually called by a name 
resembling that cry. It is, however, more generally known as the ‘ruru,’ 
and in some districts as the ‘peho.’ It nidificates in hollow trees; but I 
have never been fortunate’ enough to obtain the eggs. They are described 
as being two in number, nearly spherical in shape, and of pure whiteness. 
The young leave the nest about the beginning of January, and may be heard 
during every night of that month uttering a peculiar, sibilant, snoring 
sound. But the breeding is sometimes delayed to a much later period of 
the year, for, on one occasion, at the North Shore (Auckland), I both heard 
and saw a young bird so late as the 11th of April. So far as I have been 
able to ascertain, the young are always two in number. Mr. Gilbert Mair 
found a nest of this species in the hollow of a dry hinau tree (Eleocarpus 
dentatus), containing two very young birds, which were covered with soft, 
white down, plumbeous beneath.” Mr. Potts records a similar discovery in 
Canterbury. Ina clump of wood on the banks of the Waisoa River, I found 
a nest, also containing two fully-fledged young ones. I sent my native lad, 
Hemi Tapapa, up the tree to capture them, and while he was so engaged, the 
parent birds came forth from their hiding-place, and darted at his face with a 
low growling note, making him yell with fear. The Maories share in the almost 
universal feeling of superstition regarding the owl. Hemi’s conscience was 
troubled ; and as the shades of night were closing in upon us, with the call 
of ‘more pork!’ in every direction, he handed me the captives and hurried 
away from the scene of his exploit, evidently sharing, in some degree, the 
horrors of that luckless wight, immortalized by Mr. Stevenson in his ‘ Birds 
of Norfolk,’ who, having killed the church owl as it flitted past him, ran 
shrieking home and confessed his awful crime, ‘I’ve been and shot a 
cherubim !’”—P. 19. 
Of the owl-parrot, the most interesting of all parrots, we have a 
long and exhaustive account: it seems needful to make a few 
extracts from this, but it would be undesirable to reprint it entire, 
seeing that we have so large a literature of the kakapo already. 
Since the first discovery, or rather first announcement of the existence 
of a kakapo, it has been the laudable aim of ornithologists to collect 
and circulate every scrap of information that it was possible to obtain 
respecting this strange bird. 
“Stringops habroptilus—This is one of the very remarkable forms 
peculiar to New Zealand, and has been appropriately termed an owl-parrot. 
