50 
NATURE NOTES. 
SEPTEMBER IN NEW ZEALAND. 
HIS month the thermometer registered 76° in the shade 
of the verandah. Last month in the same situation 
the hottest day -was less by eight degrees. 
With this increasing warmth the grass has come on 
wonderfully. The clovers, too, show signs of growth again. As 
I lie on the sward waiting for the shepherds and sheep, moving 
more slowly in the greater heat, I see that every foot of ground 
is full of life and movement. Ants cross and recross each other, 
one dragging with infinite toil and labour a tiny struggling 
caterpillar ; a spider, with dark blue body and scarlet legs, moves 
apparently without purpose or aim through the cropped thicket 
of inch-high grass. In the sundew’s clammy leaves are to be 
found spiders, ants, and flies, struggling or already dead. There 
is a little history of life and work and death in each square 
inch of turf. The sap exuding from bored trees attracts now 
many insects and bees. Specimens of a butterfly very nearly 
allied to the “ painted lady ” of England are now becoming 
more numerous, although throughout the whole winter a few 
have been abroad. The caterpillar lives on a species of native 
nettle. When feeding, this gaudy and handsome butterfly will 
allow no other insect to approach, flapping its brilliant wings 
suddenly from time to time, and thus keeping all intruders at a 
distance. 
Great flocks of starlings are about the run. 
though I 
have 
never known one stay to build. Many native birds, however, 
are now preparing their nests. The kingfishers’ harsh cries may 
now be heard as they chase each other, their green-blue backs 
gleaming in the sunshine, almost as if they had dipped in the blue 
of the streams the}^ love, and the colour had adhered to their 
plumage. They often build in a sand bank by the edge of a 
brook, the hole sloping gently upw’ards. About a foot in, upon 
the bare flat earth, are deposited the four or five round white 
eggs. Holes are also made in the boles of rotten trees. Last 
year I noticed a kingfisher at work upon a stump only six or 
seven inches in diameter — a curious example of erring instinct. 
L^nlike many indigenous birds, this handsome species seems to 
increase in the land. The birds are very savage when sitting, 
and will strike at the intruding hand, and hold on until almost 
pulled out. In very dry weather cherries and fragments of other 
fruits are conveyed by the parents to their young. Grubs, 
worms, grasshoppers, mice, and small fish are also devoured by 
the kingfisher. The pigeon, too, with its roughly constructed 
nest through which the white eggs can be almost seen, is also 
building in the bush. On a clear morning after rain, the “kuku,” 
or “ kereru ” as the natives call him, loves to sun himself, the rays 
gleaming on the coppery-green and purple of his back, and head, 
and neck. When perched and motionless the bird is hard 
