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Sydney Porter—Notes on New Zealand Birds



utter it, being too busy searching for their living. But captive birds

I had, when they had finished one of their numerous repasts, would all

start and sing together in a beautiful soft warble, making one of the

most enchanting bird choruses I have ever listened to. I have never

heard single birds sing, neither did the few birds which I eventually

kept. I almost wish that I had kept the whole flock so sweet was

their melody.


In captivity they are charming little birds, always tame and full

of the joy of life ; they always keep in wonderful condition, except if

they begin to pluck each other. In fact I know of no bird more addicted

to plucking its fellows than this one. The strange thing is that the

birds seem to enjoy being plucked.


Some years ago a small consignment of these birds arrived in this

country. New Zealand birds had always been scarce in England, and

it was the first time the Zosterops had been offered for sale, so I was

anxious to get hold of a few. About forty were landed, but in a very

sorry state. When I heard from the person who had purchased them

from the captain of the ship who had brought them over, there were

only six left. I was anxious to have them, but was told that they

were in poor condition, and one of the conditions of the sale was that

I should come up to London and bring them home with me as they

were unfit to stand a long rail journey. Some time elapsed before

I got to town, and by that time very few were left. Well, I got a

shock when I saw them, it was the first time I have ever seen a bird

totally plucked of its feathers and still alive. I have certainly never

seen such derelicts, either before or since. One bird certainly had

about a dozen feathers, but the others were just miserable palpitating

little pink bodies, shivering and drooping with the cold. How they

had lived in that state is a mystery.


I hadn’t the heart to leave them, for I knew that in the morning

there would be several little pink and unlovely corpses. As soon as

they were packed up I hurried across London, paying several more

calls for birds, and eventually arrived at the station in the late evening.

Getting into one of the front carriages, I kept on the heat despite the

protests from the other occupants, and arrived home some hours later

on a bitterly cold winter’s night, expecting to find in the package



