120 
Native Notes. 
by the birds in their flights from the sea to the mountains. They flew over 
the homestead in hundreds, always about an hour after dark, some of them 
making a peculiar laughing sound. The Maoris believed that these noisy 
birds were the leaders, and that they uttered their call-notes in order to keep 
the flocks together. On the first dark, cloudy night after the Maoris's arriv;J 
Mr. Brooking was invited to take part in the killing, and he set out with a 
parly of nine for the titi hill. Seven of the Maoris carried well-dried firewood. 
Each had a light pole about 9ft. long, a weapon with which Mr. Brooking also 
was armed. 
One Maori carried the titi net. This was made of flax. It was about 
I2ft. long and 6fl. wide, and had a mesh of about 3in. Each end of the net 
was attached to a pole about 12ft. long. The top of the h'll was reached about 
half an hour after dark. A fire was lighted, all the wood was piled on it, and 
soon there was a roaring blaze. Two Maoris raised the net by means of the 
poles, holding them upright four yards behind the fire. Another Maori sat 
on his knees, with his pole in his hand, on the right front of the net. Other 
members of the party sat three on ea"',; side of the fire, each about 6ft. from 
his neighbour. It could not have been more than 10 minutes after the com- 
pletion of the arrangements when the first signal of the birds' approach was 
heard. This was a discordant laugh, repeated by members of the flock, until 
the sound was lost in the rear. Two of the leaders rushed headlong into the 
fire, scattering the embers in all directions. Others flung them to the ground, 
where they were quickly killed by the man on his knees. Members of the 
party stationed on each side of the fire in the meantime knocked down birds 
with their poles. 
The excitement continued for only a few minutes. The titi had passed 
on their way to the mountains. " The fun's all over," Mr. Brooking said 
to his neighbour. " Oh, no," he replied; " that was only the advance guard; 
the matua— main body — will be down on us soon." They had hardly ceased 
speaking when they again heard the laughing notes of hundreds of petrels. 
The birds came in scores, with a force as if they had been shot from guns. 
The netting swayed backward with the impact. The Maori on his knees in 
front was kept busy killing birds as they were flung back. The other fowlers 
did their part. The fire was at its height, lighting up the darkness for a score 
of yards around ; then about a dozen birds flew into it, scattering the burning 
wood so that the fire was partially put out. At the same time the Maori on 
the right received a knock from a bird that struck him on the forehead ; if 
it had flown 3in. lower its bill probably would have caused serious injury. That 
ended the first night's sport. The rearguard — the hunuru or camp-followers, 
as the Maoris called them — were allowed to pass unmolested. One hundred 
and three titi were slain that night, and on the other side only one man was 
wounded. The time from leaving the house to the return to it was slightly 
less than an hour. 
Mr. Brooking states that Maoris killed the mutton-birds only on very 
''ark, cloudy nights, preferably when there was drizzlinj- rain. The particular 
.jccies of petrel he refers to is described by him as " a bird marked distinctly 
