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taken. I have followed one for the greater part of a day before I have succeeded in shooting it. 
These old birds, notwithstanding the extreme abundance of the species, are comparatively rare, and 
they are called Kahu-korako by the natives, in allusion to their hoary plumage. Birds in ordinary 
adult plumage are also somewhat shy ; but on horseback I have often approached near enough to 
detect the colour of the cere and legs. 
Besides devouring carrion of all kinds, the Harrier subsists on rats, mice, lizards, feeble or 
wounded birds, and even grubs and spiders. One, which I had confined in an outhouse, subsisted 
for several days entirely on spiders, for which he made a systematic search among the cobwebs that 
covered the walls. At the close of each day I found him with a matted circlet of spiders’ webs sur- 
rounding the base of his bill. On my offering him the body of a Wood-Robin ( Miro australis ) he 
struck his talons into it, and, holding it firmly down, plucked off the feathers with his beak with 
remarkable rapidity, and then, tearing it to pieces, devoured it — the whole proceeding occupying 
only a few minutes. Captain Mair, who kept several of these birds in confinement for a con- 
siderable time, fed them frequently with freshwater fish, which they devoured with great avidity ; 
and he assures me that he has observed them, in the wild state, capturing mullets in a shallow 
fish-pond. 
The Harrier secures his prey by grappling it in his talons, sometimes bearing it off with him, 
but more generally remaining on the spot to devour it. On newly ploughed land he may occasionally 
be seen regaling himself on grubs and earthworms. It may be noticed that on these occasions, 
instead of walking, he moves by a succession of hops, the toes being turned inwards, in order, as it 
would appear, to protect the fine points of his grappling-instruments. 
When the winter rains have inundated the low-lying flats and filled the lagoons, these places 
become the favourite resort of Wild Duck, Teal, Pukeko, and numerous other waterfowl ; but this 
Hawk also puts in his appearance with the new comers, and is a perpetual terror to them. I have 
frequently seen one attack a full-grown Pukeko ( Porphyrio melanotus ), attempting to grapple it in 
its talons — its long tarsi and legs being stretched downwards to their full extent, accompanied by 
much noiseless fluttering of the wings. The Pukeko, anticipating the attack, springs upwards with 
open mouth and outstretched neck, and generally succeeds in warding off its assailant till it reaches 
cover and hides in the sedge. Audubon, in his * Birds of America,’ states that he has seen the Circus 
cyaneus attack the Marsh-Hen ( Rallus crepitans ) in the same manner. Young birds, and those 
wounded by the sportsmen, suffer most. On one occasion I fired at and disabled a large Pukeko, 
which at once took refuge in some rushes on the edge of the lagoon ; but before I could get round 
to the spot, one of these Hawks had killed, plucked, and partly devoured it. 
Once I saw a Harrier boldly attack a party of seven Pukekos. The birds crowded together, as 
if for mutual protection, on a dry clump in the midst of the swamp, and eventually succeeded in 
warding off their assailant. 
But although, under press of extreme hunger, it will thus attack live birds, it is in reality a very 
cowardly representative of its tribe ; for I have seen one chased by a pair of Australian Magpies 
( Gymnorhina tibicen ) whose nest was in danger and driven ingloriously off the field, the pursuers 
assaulting it in a most determined manner and from opposite directions. An observant friend assured 
me that on one occasion he witnessed an attack made by four or five of these Magpies, acting in 
concert, and that the Harrier was not only vanquished but actually killed by them. 
In the spring months it may be seen skimming low along the edges of the lagoons in pursuit of 
young Ducks, ever and anon swooping down among a swimming brood, but not always with success, 
the young birds instinctively diving under water on the approach of their natural enemy. 
I have known the Harrier, when urged by excessive hunger, visit the poultry-yard and snatch 
up a chicken in its talons ; and I have occasionally seen it attack both the wild and the domestic 
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