Order PASSERIFORMES.] 



[Family MELIPHAGID^E. 



P 11 S T II EMADERA NOV^ZEA L A N I) I M. 



(TUI OR PARSON-BIRD.) 



Prosthemadera novae-zealandiae (G-melin), Buller, Birds of New Zealand, vol. i., p. 94. 



I consider it one of the principal charms of my country home at Papaitonga that the 

 Tui is very plentiful there, enjoying the freedom of its native woods unmolested, and nesting 

 freely wherever the local conditions are favourable. To add to the inducements to stay, 

 I have planted the edges of the native bush with Australian Acacia, Eucalyptus, and Bottle- 

 brush, the flowers of which trees are a "perpetual joy" to the Tui. 



Those who have observed this bird at all closely will be aware that it is in the nesting 

 season — from September to December — that the Tui poses as a songster, and shows off to 

 the greatest perfection. Whilst the hen-bird is sitting the male is accustomed to perch 

 himself on the high limb of a tree not far distant from his mate, using this as a post of 

 outlook ; and then, throughout the whole day, he pours out his soul in song. Puffing out 

 his body feathers and gesticulating freely, so as to give greater emphasis to his melody, he 

 produces quite a medley of musical notes, interspersed at intervals with that peculiar cough, 

 and a sound not unlike the breaking of a pane of glass, followed by a series of gentle sobs. 

 Then, quick as thought, he dashes upwards and makes a wide circuit in the air, or silently 

 dives into the bush to exchange courtesies with his mate, snaps at a fly on the way, and 

 then returns to his post of observation and song. After sunset, and as the shadows of 

 evening begin to darken the forest, he alters his tune, and utters a succession of notes like 

 the tolling of a distant bell. Many of the passages in the Tui's ordinary song are of sur- 

 passing sweetness, and so rapid is the change from one set of notes to another that the 

 naturalist never tires of listening to the wild melody. Both sexes sing, but in the breeding- 

 season the female confines her efforts to a prolonged note like the low chirping of a turkey-hen. 

 As already mentioned, the male has an evening song quite distinct from that of the bright 

 morning. To many ears it has a resemblance to the tolling of a highly pitched silver bell, 

 but to me it is more suggestive of the distant tapping on a metal anvil. Of course, these 

 resemblances are merely fanciful, but the musical cadence of the note is exquisite, as all who 

 are familiar with it will readily admit.* 



There can be no doubt that the protection extended to the Tui, some years ago, by a 

 Government proclamation, has had a beneficial effect, for this beautiful and characteristic 

 bird, which was becoming alarmingly scarce in some districts, has perceptibly increased. 

 Although still killed in large numbers by the Maoris in remote districts, where the law 

 is practically inoperative, during certain seasons of the year, it is effectually protected against 

 the senseless killing by larrikins from the towns, and trade collectors, who at one time shot 

 them by hundreds for the sale of the skin to ladies' costumiers in England. 



There is this to be said for the Maoris, that they will not allow the Tui to be killed 

 wantonly or when out of condition. Their practice is to send a man out to spear a sample 

 Tui after the berry season has commenced. The bird is then examined, and, if not fat 

 enough, the slaughter of the Tuis is, by common consent, postponed for a time. In purely 



* On a quiet summer evening the Tui may sometimes be heard long after dusk. On the wooded shores of 

 the Papaitonga Lake I have heard them tolling up to nine o'clock at night, the notes having a very sweet effect 

 on the water. 



