185 
JANUARY IN NEW ZEALAND. 
hopelessly struggling in clammy clay serves to deter another . 
from the attempt to cross. 
Since the occupation of land for sheep grazing an alteration 
of another sort is taking place in shingle country. There as the 
sheep pull out the loosely rooted herbage and thus destroy the 
chance of seeding, the shingle slips are enormously increasing. 
While speaking of the hill slopes it is interesting to notice the 
different grades in the tracks of sheep, cattle and pigs. Sheep 
paths are excellently laid off, winding in among the hills at good 
riding slopes ; cattle tracks are also good to ride on in dry ground, 
but unsafe to follow in wet, for they cross swamps and marshes 
that no horseman could get through. Pig tracks on the other 
hand are frightfully steep and rough, and cross ravines and 
gullies that no sheep would attempt. 
There must be few who have not noticed how sinuous and 
winding are the paths — centuries old very often — through the 
meadows and fields in the midland grass counties of England. 
Here in a new land it is interesting to note how in all proba- 
bility these curves first arose. The causes were originally quite 
trivial, for the “ line of least resistance ” is attractive to both 
men and animals. In one place a tree stump, in another a stone 
may have caused a deviation, nay, even a clump of weeds or a 
briar bush may have been sufficient. Though of course I can 
speak only from a limited experience of twelve years, yet the 
paths between the house and wool shed, or round the lake 
when the traffic is constant and regular, never vary. Year after 
year we avoid the spot where once some enormous thistle grew, 
or where once a dropped post in early days had caused us 
then to diverge. Once a curve always a curve seems to be the 
rule. Riding tracks, I have noticed, are considerably straighter, 
for a horse at speed will cut off any very sharp angles ; the 
windings, however, are here also to be observed, and these also 
have been caused by the same slight original obstructions. The 
old native tracks through the ferns were very narrow, the IMaories 
walking in single file, and with toes rather turned in. Very 
many used to live about the lake then ; now, however, they only 
come in parties for the eels. In the small streams on the run it 
is only necessary to stir up the mud to procure one or two of 
these creatures. The dirt goes down in the current, and the 
eels, from former experiences imagining an unfortunate sheep to 
be in the water, come up for the feast. The natives have many 
ways of procuring these highly desired dainties. The most 
simple plan takes advantage of the natural desire of the eel to get 
out to sea. Close to us there is a big fresh- water lagoon, which 
after heavy rain breaks out into the ocean. When the flood has 
risen to nearly the top of the bank and is percolating through 
the sand the Maories scoop a narrow passage of four or five feet 
in length, running towards the sea. There two of them sit, one 
with a tightly tied bundle of reeds in his hand, the other ready 
to catch the eels. Presently one comes wriggling along the 
