17 



Certhia diluta, Shaw. — Gen. Zool., Vol. viii., v,. 244. 



Philedon cceruleus, Cuvier. 



Melijjhaga ccBrulea, Steph.— Cow^. of Shaio's Gen. Zool, Yol. xiv., p. 264. 



Sylvia annulosa, var. b. — Sevains. Zool., 111., 1st. sei\, pi. 16. 



Zoster ops tenuirostris, Gould. — Proc. Z. S., 1837, p. 76. 



The stoiy of the irregular appearance of this little bird in New Zealand 

 has for years past been a fruitful topic of discussion among those who take an 

 interest in our local natural histoiy . Whether it came over to us originally from 

 Australia, or whether it is only a species from the extreme south of New Zea- 

 land, which has of late years perceptibly increased, and has migrated northwards, 

 is still a matter of conjecture. The evidence which, with Dr. Hector's assist- 

 ance, I have been able to collect on this subject is somewhat conflicting, but I 

 have myself arrived at the conclusion that the species, whether identical or not 

 with the Australian bird which it closely resembles, is in reality an indigenous 

 one. The history of the species, however, from a North Island point of view 

 is very interesting and suggestive. It appeared on the north side of Cook's 

 Strait, for the first time within the memory of the oldest native inhabitants, 

 in the winter of 1856. In the early part of June of that year I first heard of its 

 occurrence at Waikanae, a native settlement on the west coast, about forty 

 miles from Wellington. The native mailman brought in word that a new bird 

 had been seen, and that it was a visitor from some other land. A week later 

 he brought intelligence that large flocks had appeared, and that the "tau-hou" 

 (stranger) swarmed in the brush-wood near the coast ; reporting further that 

 they seemed weary after their journey, and that the natives had caught many 

 of them alive. Simultaneously with this intelligence, T observed a pair of them 

 in a garden hedge, in Wellington, and a fortnight later they appeared in large 

 numbers, frequenting the gardens and shrubberies both in and around the 

 town. They were to be seen daily in considerable flocks, hurrying forwards 

 from tree to tree, and from one garden to another, with a continuous, noisy 

 twitter. In the early morning, a flock of them might be seen clustering 

 together on the topmost twigs of a leafless willow, uttering short plaintive 

 notes, and if disturbed, suddenly rising in the air and wheeling oflf with a 

 confused and rapid twittering. When the flock had dispersed in the shrub- 

 bery, I always observed that two or more birds remained as sentinels or call- 

 birds, stationed on the highest twigs ; and that on the slightest alarm, the sharp 

 signal note of these watchers would instantly bring the whole fraternity 

 together. The number of individuals in a flock, at that time, never exceeded 

 forty or fifty, but of late years the number has sensibly increased, it being a 

 common thing now to see a hundred or more consorting together at one time. 

 They appeared to be uneasy during, or immediately preceding, a shower of rain, 

 becoming more noisy and more restless in their movements. They proclaimed 



D 



