PORANGAHAU—THE CASPIAN TERN l1I1 
cheek, my half cheek had not been sufficient for 
this remarkable bird. He had waited for the eye 
and a full triumph. On another occasion, when 
during another gale the thin blinding of my 
screen had been fairly blown out in fold on fold 
of galloping cloth, again I stood worsted before 
this implacable Tern. Had I been caught in any 
human upright attitude, standing erect, man-like, 
god-like, this mishap might have been passed 
over as a mere bit of bad luck, I should have 
suffered frustration, not abasement. Owing, how- 
ever, to the lowness of the tent, the blast revealed 
me to the Tern’s malignant gaze in a ludicrous 
undignified stooping position—like that of 
Thwackum behind the curtains of poor Mollie 
Seagrim, or the habitual attitude of Baillie Mac- 
queeble in the presence of his superiors. Thus 
standing exposed for the second time, I heard the 
great bird roar forth a torrent of malediction. 
As pointed out, indeed, nearly every photograph 
portrays the Caspian Tern in belligerent mood, 
yet not a nest was deserted. It is satisfactory 
to be able to state that all the eggs known to us 
hatched safely. On the Porangahau beach that 
season there were added to the sum total of New 
Zealand shore birds six young Caspian Terns. 
