97 
When engaged in song, the Tui puffs out the feathers of his body, distends his throat, opens wide 
his beak, with the tongue raised and slightly protruded, and gesticulates with his head, as he pours 
forth the wild harmony of his soul. A pair may often be observed, scarcely a foot apart, on the 
same branch, performing in concert, for (as with the Korimako also) both sexes sing. The notes are 
rich and varied — now resembling the striking together of hollow metallic rods, then a long-drawn 
sigh, a warble, and a sob, followed by a note of great sweetness, like a touch on the high key of an 
organ. The last time I listened to the wild music of this bird, in all its depth and richness, was from 
the pew of a little country chapel, where a Maori deacon of the Church of England was delivering a 
sensible discourse and drawing his illustrations from surrounding objects. The chapel was over- 
shadowed by tall Eucalyptus trees, amongst the flowers of which the Tuis were regaling themselves 
on their viscid nectar, and stopping at intervals to pour forth their full volume of song, thus giving 
emphasis to the preacher’s appeal to nature. 
One of its finest notes is a clear, silvery toll, followed by a pause and then another toll, the 
performance lasting sometimes an hour or more. This is generally heard at the close of the day, or 
just before the bird betakes itself to its roost for the night. I have, however, on one or two occasions, 
heard the Tui’s sweet toll long after the shadow of darkness had settled down upon the forests and 
all other sounds were hushed. 
At other times it may be heard uttering a sweet warbling note, followed by a sneeze, after that 
a pause, then a sharp cry of tu-wlut , tu-whit, o-o-o, a pause again, and then its warbling note with 
variations, very soft and liquid, but ending abruptly in a sound like the breaking of a pane of glass. 
It has indeed such an endless variety of notes that it is impossible to convey in writing any adequate 
idea of its vocal powers *. 
Its flight is rapid, graceful, and slightly undulating, the rustling of the wings as they are alter- 
nately opened and closed being distinctly audible. Layard mentions (‘Ibis,’ 1863, p. 213) the 
peculiar habit which this bird has of mounting high in the air during fine weather, in parties of six 
or more, and performing wide aerial circles or indulging in a sportive flight, “ turning, twisting, 
throwing somersaults, dropping from a height with expanded wings and tails, and performing other 
antics, till, as if guided by some preconcerted signal, they suddenly dive into the forest and are lost 
to view. High in the air it may sometimes be seen closing its wings and supporting its body for a 
few moments by a rapid perpendicular movement of the expanded tail ; and slowly descending in this 
* The compass and variety of the Tui’s song may he judged 
Sir George Grey (‘ Poetry of the Kew-Zealanders ’) 
by the following Maori paraphrase, as reduced to writing by 
Ka timo te tai. 
Kga tai o te tu. 
Ko waka rara na tauna. 
Ma nga wai. 
Ko tu koe. 
Ko rongo koe. 
Ko te manuwhiri. 
Kau mai. 
Moemoe hia mai te kuri. 
Haere mai te manuwhiri. 
Ko runga te manuwhiri. 
Ko raro te manuwhiri. 
Ko to ti. 
Ko to ta. 
Ko waka i oio. 
Tupu kere kere. 
Tupu a nanga. 
Ka hea e wa. 
I ki e roro. 
Ki tahi ka tu ke he. 
Ko wai wai. 
Korero rero. 
Ka kore koro te toki. 
Te whare pa tahi. 
Te whare pa rua. 
Te ui te rangi ora. 
E roro ki waho. 
Ko tu koe. 
Ko rongo koe. 
Ko tenei te manuwhiri. 
Kau mai. 
Kaore te kai i te kainga. 
E ronga. 
E ronga. 
E ronga maru awa. 
Ka ha to tai. 
E tai taua? 
E tai, homai te wai. 
Ka hi te kai. 
Ka kawa te kai. 
Ka whakarere te kai. 
E kai. 
Ari nui. 
Ari roa. 
Ari ma noa noa. 
E titi rau ma hewa. 
E to kai moan a. 
E roro ki waho. 
0 
