MR PROCTOR AND THE NEW ZEALAND KEA.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1014, 1 December 1883, Page 4

MR PROCTOR AND THE NEW ZEALAND KEA.

Mr R. Proctor, the astronomer, writes:—New Zealand farmers complain of the destruction wrought in their flocks by the kea, a native parrot, which has within recent limes adopted a taste for flesh, which is exceedingly costly to them. The kea was formerly a vegetarian, or, if it indulged in flesheat>ng propensities, this must have been done in so quiet and surrepitious a manner as to escape attention. But from the time when New Zealand farmers kept large stocks of sheep, the kea has manifested a delight for the flesh and, especially for the fat, of the primest members of his flocks. At first this taste was shown by the attendance of large numbers of keas when sheep were killed and skinned. They were tame enough then, the keas; nor did the herdsmen concern themselves much when they found that the birds would pluck from around the kidneys of the dead sheep that portion of the fat and flesh which suited best their, newly-awakened carnivorous tastes. But “ now follows the dim horror of my tale.” Singular to relate, the keas found out my mysteriuos process of bird-reasoning, that the woollybacked members of the living flock were as readily to be made their prey as the dead carcasses. Tbeir meals on defunct sheep seem to have served them as lessons at the dissecting-table serve the student of anatomy. For, planting their strong claws firmly into the woolly loins of the live sheep, they pierced through to those very portions of the flesh and fat around the kidneys for which they had already showed so marked a preference. The sheep seem powerless to resist the attacks of the clever but wicked bird. One would imagine that instinct would have taught them the desirability of rolling upon their backs when first they felt the bird’s claws fixed in tbeir wool. This, indeed, if neatly and quickly done, wotiljd probably have turned the tables on'- 1 the bird, who would have been caught and killed in its own toils. But the silly beasts quietly suffer the kea to pursue its work of dissection, merely running hither and thither with loud bleatings. After the bird has made its hideous repast, the sheep dies a lingering death - Probably there are few more dlriOus instances of the acquisition of new and strange tastes by animals, than this change of the kea from vegetarian to carniverous li f e. The bird’s ways have changed in other respects also. Farmers try, now in vain to catch the kea by methods formerly most effective. The lighting of fires was formerly sufficient to attract the keas, who could be caught easily or shot from bushes near by. But now the case is different. As if conscious of its misdeeds, the kea has grown averse to the society of man. Probablylhe increased safety arising from this newly acquired caution compensates for the increased risks which the bird’s new habits necessarily involve. The kea’s chances in the struggle for existence, which might seeffi•-•measurably diminished by the acquisition of tastes that have turned men into enemies, have probably been at least proportionately increased by a cautious way of treating the human race, never thoroughly to be propitiated by tameand innocent ways. It would be interesting to watch the progress of this strange new chapter in animal life, to see whether, despite the dullness and stupidity of the sheep, habits might not be. gradually acquired in their struggles for life against the kea, altering in more or less marked degree, the characteristics of the race of* sheep in New Zealand. But the sheep is hot an animal which makes any maiked struggle for life under difficulties. It was my fortune during my Australasian journeys to have sheep often as fellow passengers; and I frequently noticed how in times of trial, as when waves broke over them, they simply huddled together, making no effort to secure the driest and safest places. Oh brie stormy night of travel from Melbourne to Hobart Town, sixty sheep out of four hundred simply died where they stood, though a very little effort would have brought them to a part of the deck which was comparatively dry. They let their lives be washed out of them rather than “make an effort,” as Mother Nature, like Mrs Chick, is always urging every living thing to do when life is endangered. Perhaps they are as unable to do so as was poor Mrs Dombey.