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Owin*. to its excellent powers of mimicry, and the facility of rearing it m confinement, it is a 
favourite Ae-bird, both with the natives and the colonists. Although of very delicate constitution, 
it has been known to live in confinement for upwards of ten years. More frequently, however, it 
becomes subject, after the first year, to convulsive fits, under which it ultimately succumbs. Clean- 
liness a well-regulated diet, and protection from extremes of temperature are the proper safeguards. 
I had’ as many as ten of them caged at one time ; but they died off one by one, and invariably in the 
manner indicated. Naturally of a sprightly disposition, it is cheerful and playful in captivity, moss- 
santly flitting about in its cage and mimicking every sound within hearing. It will learn to articulate 
sentences of several words with clearness, to crow like a cock, and to imitate the barking of a dog to 
■perfection One, which I had kept caged in the same room with a Parrakeet (. Platycercus auriceps), 
acouired the rapid chattering note of that species ; and another, in the possession of a friend, could 
whistle several bars of a familiar tune in excellent time. Another, which I kept for two years, 
although a female bird, proved to be a good mimic. I first taught it to imitate the soft whistling 
note of the Huia, in repetition. When perfect in that, I gave it lessons m the long plaintive 
whistling-cry of the Shining Cuckoo, thrice repeated ; and, strange to say, after the bird had acquired 
that, and was accustomed to practise it a hundred times over during the day, I taught it to add or 
interject, the sharp four-times-repeated note which precedes the final strain. The bird learnt a 
to perfection, and never mixed the parts, exhibiting in this respect a remarkable exercise of memoiy . 
It has several times been brought alive to this country; and there is now to be seen m the 
Zoological Society’s Gardens, at Regent's Park, a very healthy one which I succeeded m bringing to 
England last year, and had the pleasure of presenting to the Society. It was one of three scarcely- 
fledged nestlings brought to me by a Maori shortly before 1 embarked on my trip home ; and 
although all of them survived the sea-voyage, the others soon succumbed to the severity of the 
° The Maoris fully appreciate the mocking-powers of this bird, and often devote much time and 
patience to its instruction. There are some wonderful stories current among them of the proficiency 
it sometimes acquires ; and I may mention an amusing incident that came under my own notice at 
Rangitikei some years ago. I had been addressing a large meeting of natives in the Whare-runanga, 
or Council-house, on a matter of considerable political importance, and had been urging my views 
with all the earnestness that the subject demanded : immediately on the conclusion of my speech, and 
before the old chief, to whom my arguments were chiefly addressed, had time to reply, a Ini, whose 
netted cage hung to a rafter overhead, responded, in a clear emphatic way, “Tito! (false). . The 
circumstance naturally caused much merriment among my audience, and quite upset the giavhy of 
the venerable old chief Nepia Taratoa. “Friend,” said he, laughing, “your arguments are very 
o-ood ; but my moJcai is a very wise bird, and he is not yet convinced ! 
In a state of nature the Tui is even more lively and active than in captivity. It is incessantly on 
the move, pausing only to utter its joyous notes. The early morning is the period devoted to melody, 
and the Tuis then perform in concert, gladdening the woods with their wild ecstacy. Besides their 
chime of five notes (always preceded by a key-note of preparation), they indulge m a peculiai outburst 
which has been facetiously described as “ a cough, a laugh, and a sneeze,” and a variety of other notes, 
fully entitling it to be ranked as a songster. 
* The Tui, as a caged bird, is apt to become excessively fat, through overfeeding and the want of proper muscular exercise ; 
nnd this may account for its tendency to fits. The intelligent bird mentioned above, without any apparent cause, began to mope 
nod refused its food. After a day or two it became subject to epileptic fits, falling suddenly from its perch, screaming in its 
revulsions and then lying perfectly inert for several minutes. These fits continued to increase in frequency and seventy, till 
finally it succumbed to one of them, and died in my hand. On dissecting it, I found the cavity of the stomach choked up with 
an accumulation of yellow fat, and the vital organs completely enveloped in fat. This excessive fatness had no doubt interfered 
with the performance of life’s regular functions and had caused the fits, which in the end proved fatal. 
