INTRODUCTION. 
xliii 
aie fai moie common than they are in their native country, and even the Sky-Lark ( Alawda arvensis) 
not unfiequently exchanges its sober dress for a yellowish-white one. In illustration of this I 
biought to England two specimens of the latter, one of which I presented to the British Museum, the 
other to the Natural-History Museum at Cambridge. 
Among the Parrots I have recorded some beautiful crimson and yellow varieties, and in the case 
o Platycercus novce zealandice a single instance of cyanism. But the only New-Zealand birds in 
which I have ever detected any tendency whatever towards melanism, and then only in a slight 
degree, were Anthornis melanura and Miro albifrons. 
Many travellers in New Zealand have remarked on the notable absence of bird-life, especially in 
the uoods , and at certain seasons of the year this is indeed very noticeable. But, as fully explained 
in my histoiy of the AVood-Pigeon at page 232, the relative abundance or scarcity of birds is entirely 
i emulated by the food-supply, which, in turn, is governed by the seasons. At all times, however, 
in vuntei and summer alike, the New-Zealand woods, whether alive with birds or not, possess an 
indescribable charm owing to their evergreen character. In my several accounts of their feathered 
inhabitants I have, as the reader will perceive, never lost an opportunity of paying my tribute to the 
luxuiiant beauty of these woods ; but I have always felt that it was quite impossible to do full justice 
to the subject. *. 
In the strictest sense of the term, New Zealand is without “ song-birds but such species as 
tie Tui, the Korimako, and the Piopio possess vocal powers of a very respectable kind, the compass 
and vaiiety of their notes adding greatly to the charm of the New-Zealand woods. For example, the 
oi t i Island Thrush ( Turnagra hectori ) has many notes exactly resembling those of its English name- 
sa ve. As fully explained at pp. 28, 29 this handsome species is rapidly dying out and will soon be 
hut a memoiv of the past. But with the disappearance of this native Thrush, the English songster 
is fast becoming established in the country, frequenting the outskirts of the bush in the neighbour- 
loot of Emopean settlements and supplying to the loyal colonist yet another link of attachment to 
“ dear old England.” 
f Getting aside, however, their claim to the highest order of song, the birds of New Zealand do not 
, especially in the early morning, to make their native woods echo with delightful music, “ each 
. ° ut k’ s own notes without any regard for the others, the score having evidently been 
th tten foi the whole, since the innumerable strains make one divine harmony.” In the midst of 
b songi the harsh cry of the Kaka calling to its fellows will sometimes for a moment 
^ ie s P e ^> the performers, heedless of the discordant note and with bursting throats, 
ntmue their morning concert, till, as if by common consent, they cease altogether and disperse in 
quest of their daily food. 
^ n °thei feature not to be lost sight of in considering the present condition of the New-Zealand 
i auna is the lapid way in which it is being affected, and in some instances effaced, by the intro- 
of Belfast, who accompanied me through one of the northern forests, in the summer of 1884 , thus 
graphically describes it, in his ‘ Notes of Travel’ 
network t .] ' ,eno) > is indeed vci 3' wonderful. The enormous cabbage-trees, the gorgeous creepers clinging in a green 
magg c .• pmes, the dense undergrowth of shrubs, the tree-ferns, the great kauris, and the exquisite tints of the whole 
win''- t.t notation aie beautiful beyond description. Then the strange silence, unbroken even by the whir of a bird's 
trunks on eitk Samen< ‘ Sl> ^ ie ^ US L confuses you until you cannot tell how far you have travelled, the charred tree- 
„ ulC C ^ le roa< ^ ^at have been burnt down to clear a passage, and the oppressive loneliness of it all, tell that 
jou are far away from the beaten track of travel, and far into the heart of Maoriland.” 
