135 
The Honey~eaters : The Tui 
neighbourhood. The tone of the high singer sounded very high, 
almost squeaky, especially when the high c was taken, yet it was 
musical. As usual, the ordinary calls came first, gradually 
ceasing as the chorus progressed. The moon, three days past 
the full, was high over the bush, shining silver through driving 
clouds; the hills of the mainland were misty-blue, the sea leaden, 
There was a chrome light over the hills, deep in colour along the 
tops, and paling away to where floated a few stratus clouds 
indigo in colour; the upper sky was rippled like a rugosa paua 
shell. 
On the 16th January I went over the spur to a neighbouring 
valley, to hear the morning song there, but it was not so good, 
fewer birds singing,—it may be because it was a windy morning. 
The call was the usual one, starting about three o’clock, and 
when the chorus began it was carried on mostly in the high 
pitch, sounding like tiny, light-sounding bells, some almost shrill, 
but so softly sounding that, like the unharmonious upper partial 
tones, they gave character to the chorus rather than discord. 
The young apparently do not learn to sing by listening only; 
for though I have not personally seen the teaching, I have notes 
from a correspondent who has seen it on two occasions. On the 
first occasion there were two young birds: the parent sang a 
single note; the young birds, with a ruffling of feathers, tried to 
imitate it, succeeding but poorly; the parent repeated the note, 
clearly and deliberately. The young ones were very unwilling, 
and after their poor efforts flew off. The parent followed, how- 
