THE NORTH ISLAND ROBIN 67 
the sustained power and passionate melody of the 
Poverty Bay race. 
Nests of the North Island Robin were, in 
Poverty Bay, built in situations not normal, 
the type of site most desired by the birds being 
unobtainable. One which I got in October was 
in the heart of a shrubby low-growing carpodetus. 
Its architects, failing the propitious shelf, had 
used as substitute the sound mud foundation of 
an ancient English Thrush’s nest. Three perfectly 
fresh eggs had just been destroyed by rats or 
weasels. The sitting bird, too, had probably 
been killed, for abundant dark feathers lay scat- 
tered beneath. Alas! that exquisite music now 
is mute, the green woods are no more, the birds 
are gone. ‘There are a few more sheep in the world; 
a few more cattle—surely God must wonder at 
the relative values we put upon his creatures. 
The generations to come have been despoiled of 
something precious and irreplaceable. 
* Although the above is an extreme case, there is nothing 
remarkable in the variation of song in different localities. The 
notes, for instance, of the Tui of the west coast of Stewart Island 
differ from the notes of the Tui of Hawkes Bay. I have listened 
in vain for that “ organ note of surpassing richness ” credited to 
the New Zealand Crow by one observer ; for that “ flute-like note ”’ 
attributed by another to the Saddleback. As in song, so in degree 
of shyness are there great variations in races of the same breed. 
The Banded Rail, for instance, is in the north an exceedingly 
shy and wary species, yet I have reason to believe it to be quite 
the reverse, strangely and remarkably tame indeed, on at least 
one very limited area. 
