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katea. To add to the enchantment of the spot, there is a whole choir of singing Tuis, who, having 
regaled themselves among the flowers, are now piping and sobbing in chorus ; a wandering flock of 
Zosterops, quite concealed from view, are warbling a low, pathetic lay; a solitary Warauroa from a 
lofty tree-top emits his plaintive call, with none to answer ; and heedless of all the rest a tiny 
Riroriro, hiding in a bramble-bush, trills its silvery note with untiring energy. Then, as we move 
forward, a Parrakeet, startled by our approach, rises from the low underwood with laboured and zig- 
zag flight and settling on a branch near the roadside adds its lively chatter to the other sounds of 
this sylvan valley. As the sun goes down and the shades of evening advance all these voices are 
silenced ; but the Tui continues still to flit across our path, and the Flycatcher to display its pretty 
fan as it hawks for invisible flies. Then comes the scream of the Kaka as it wings its distant way 
high above the tree-tops ; after Avhich, with scarcely a moment of twilight between, the woods are 
plunged in gloom, the Owl comes out from its hiding-place, and the glow-worms shine on the damp 
roadside. 
Such is the New-Zealand bush, replete, as it is, with a flora entirely its own — charmingly green 
in summer and winter alike — the pride and glory of the land and the natural home of the birds 
whose life-history I have endeavoured to portray in the foregoing pages. 
