98 
We are standing on the banks of the Horowhenua Lake, perhaps the most picturesque sheet of 
water in the North Island, Shaded by a lofty forest, and its banks clothed with beautiful evergreens 
to the water’s edge, studded with lovely wooded islets, and along the shore fringes of raupo alterna- 
ting with overhanging bush and charming little beaches, it is the perfection of a New-Zealand lake 
and a favourite resort for numerous waterfowl. We have just quitted our canoe, after a long day’s 
duck-shooting, and our Maori attendant is now securing it to a stake in the bank. The evening is 
advancing and all is still. A string of Black Swan, high in the air, are winging their way to some 
favourite feeding-ground near the coast ; a pair of Papango, having just emerged from a bed of reeds, 
are floating on the placid waters ; a small Black Shag with much awkward fluttering is settling itself 
for the night in a kowai bough overhanging the lake ; a solitary Pekapeka is flitting silently overhead, 
chasing in zigzag lines the minute insect-life upon which this bat subsists ; the locust has ceased his 
drumming, and the melancholy note of the F’ern-Sparrow, calling to his fellows among the rushes, has 
grown languid and finally died away ; now, with the deepening shade comes the doleful cry of the 
Morepork, and at intervals of five minutes the Koekoea, from a distant clump of bush, sends forth 
one long and plaintive scream, and then all is quiet again. We listen, and in the stillness of the 
evening there falls upon the ear, with peculiar effect, a sharp, shrill cry, like the scream of a startled 
sea-bird. Still we listen, and the cry is repeated over and over again before we are able with any 
certainty to locate the sound ; at first it seems in front of us, then to the left of us, then to the 
right; and whilst we arc still in doubt it ceases altogether. This is the cry of the Patatai, the subject 
•of this article. It is a difficult sound to denote by syllables, but easily distinguished from all the 
other voices of the field and forest. 
lhat the bird is semi-nocturnal in its habits I have no doubt, for on one occasion in the Here- 
taunga district I heard its unmistakable cry long after darkness had set in. It is also frequently 
heard in the early morning. 
Allowing that the varieties enumerated above are all referable to one and the same species, we find 
that this Rail enjoys a very extensive territorial range. It is found all over the southern portion of the 
Australian continent; and, unless Mr. Gould’s specimens from the north coast and from Eaine’s Islet 
should hereafter prove to be a distinct species, it has an almost unlimited range northwards, migrating 
from one part of the country to another with the changes of season. It occurs also in Polynesia 
proper, the Celebes, the Navigators’, the Caroline Islands, New Caledonia, and the Philippine Islands * 
It is spread throughout New Zealand in all suitable localities ; but owing to its extremely shy 
disposition, it is far oftener heard than seen. It rarely takes wing — and when it does, flies low and 
straight, with the legs trailing behind, and soon drops under cover again. But it is a nimble runner, 
and glides through the dense herbage with amazing facility. It feeds on insects, seeds, and the 
succulent parts of various native grasses ; and its habits generally are very similar to those of the 
Land-Rail {Crex pratensis) of Europe. 
It is also to be met with in the mangrove-swamps, in the branches of the Waitemata and 
Kaipara, at the Whangarei heads, and in other similar localities. 
Ihis is one of the few native birds that have perceptibly increased with the progress of settle- 
ment, the new conditions of life being favourable to their existence. Twenty years ago it was an 
extiemely rare biid in all parts of the country ; now it is to be met with in suitable localities every- 
where, and especially in the settled and cultivated districts. I have even heard its unmistakable 
cry on quiet evenings, from my own garden on Wellington Terrace, and very recently the local news- 
papers recorded the capture of one in the Union Steamship Company’s Offices in the very heart of 
the city. 
* The Otago Museum contains a veritable example from Macquarie Island, a fact of considerable interest from a zoo- 
geographical point of view. 
