THE STITCHBIRD 37 
of the island are its creek beds. Though blocked 
and barred, these lines of light—of ingress and 
egress—afiord flight paths rather less barricaded 
with boles, rather less dim with leafage than the 
surrounding tree-clad, tree-cumbered lands. It 
is on this precipitous island, wooded from top 
to bottom, that the Stitchbird survives, a little 
fellow eight inches long, velvety black, canary 
yellow, and with a tuft of white feathers on either 
side of his head. 
The first nest of a species, about which no 
field naturalist facts are available, is always 
difficult to locate. In our search for the Stitch- 
bird’s nest we were ignorant whether perchance 
it was to be discovered on the ground or high in 
the air; amongst bunched green twigs of kanuka, 
oiten favoured by the Whitehead; in thicker 
scrub, such as is preferred by the Tui and Bell- 
bird; in deep holes in timber like the Parrakeet ; 
in rifts and chinks like the Rifleman; in hollowed 
knees and elbows of trees like the Tit; on shaded 
shelves like the Robin; or—where I have never 
yet found nests—amongst the astelia clumps 
perched high on the great limbs of giant trees. 
Then again in what part of the island did the 
bird breed: on the tops or near the coast, in 
the gorges or on the saddles and ridges? Was 
a particular aspect favoured, as the Stewart 
Island Kiwi favours the west and north? What 
