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southern limit yet recorded for this eminently tropical species. A boat was lowered and the prize 
picked up and successfully skinned. 
I never handle this specimen without being reminded of Charles Waterton’s touching story, as 
related in his ‘ Essays on Natural History,’ 1st series, p. 291 
“ The burning zone, in which the ancients have placed the zodiac, is the favourite resort of this 
solitary wanderer of the deep. . . . Far, far away from land, where the Atlantic waves roll beneath 
the northern tropic, our mariners are often favoured with a view of the bird which I am about to 
describe. The total absence of all other winged inhabitants of the air, save now and then a Mother 
Carey’s Chicken, renders the appearance of Phaeton very interesting in this sequestered region of the 
deep ; and every soul on board hastens to get a glance at him, as he wings his lonely way through 
the liquid void .... In my passage home across the Atlantic, on board the ‘ Dee, l(Vest Indiaman, 
commanded by Captain Gray, we saw Phaeton sitting on the wave, within gunshot of the ship— a 
rare occurrence. I fired at him with effect, and as he lay lifeless on the water, I said (without any 
expectation of recovering the bird), ‘ A guinea for him who will fetch the bird to me.’ The vessel 
was then going smartly through the water. A Danish sailor, who was standing on the forecastle, 
instantly plunged into the sea with all his clothes on, and swam towards the bird. Our people ran 
aft, to lower down the jolly-boat, but it was filled with lumber, and had been well secured with 
lashings for the passage home. Our poor Dane was now far astern ; and in our attempt to tack ship, 
she missed stays, and we were obliged to wear her. In the meantime, we all expected that the Dane 
had gone down into Davy’s locker. But, at last, we fortunately came up with him ; and we found 
him buffeting the waves, with the dead bird in his mouth. I dissected it, and prepared it, and have 
kept it ever since, nor do I intend that it shall leave my house, as the sight often brings to my 
remembrance an occurrence of uncommon interest, now long gone by ; for it is twenty years a,nd 
more since I received the Tropic Bird from the cold and trembling hand of our adventurous Dane.” 
The bird is well known to the Ngapuhi tribe at the north, under the name of Amokura, and 
they set a high value on the long red tail-feathers, which they exchange with the southern tribes for 
greenstone. Almost every year, after the prevalence of easterly gales, some specimens are washed 
ashore (generally dead) at the North Cape or in Spirits Bay. The natives of that district go out 
systematically to hunt for them at these periods. Owing to their rarity these plumes are more 
prized than those of the Huia or Kotuku, and in one instance a valuable slab of pounamu was given 
by a Hawke’s Bay chief in exchange for three feathers, one of which is now in the possession of the 
Manawatu natives. The allusion is to this bird in the love-song of the fairies, commencing 
Come, dock my head 
With amokura plumes *. 
Mr. Gould, who has figured the species with his usual skill in ‘ The Birds of Australia, states 
that it “ is very generally dispersed over the temperate and warmer latitudes of the Indian Ocean 
and the South Seas, where it often hovers round ships, and occasionally alights on their rigging. 
During the months of August and September it retires to various islands for the purpose of breeding ; 
among'’ other places selected for the performance of this duty are Norfolk Island off the east coast of 
Australia, and Eaine’s Islet in Torres Strait, from both of which localities I possess specimens of the 
* Kiatia taku rang! 
Te kapu o te amokura 
Tikapa o te hau 
0 kotuku te rang! 
Kati nei ano 
Aku rang! ki te iioko 
He pakinga ra tahi 
Ka wkana tu ai au, e-i. 
2b 2 
