“BURNS” AT KOMATA.

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume XXXIII, Issue 4381, 22 February 1922, Page 3

“BURNS” AT KOMATA.

(“Gazette” Correspondent.) Truly they say pf fire, “A good servant, but d bad master.” While the burning of the bush is completely out of the control of the farmer, yet there is no factor in the season’s operations that is of greater importance than that of a successful bush burn. For months the mighty denizens of the forest have been crashing down before the axe of the woodsmen. Trees that in their noble grandeur were standing when first the white man came in quest of gold must fall,' for sentiment plays no part in the path pf progress. Week by week, day by day, a favourable opportunity to burn is waited for. To-morrow—then it rains, and weeks must elapse before it is dry again. Nature proves very fickle and again and again the day has to be postpone‘d. At last —today. The wind is fair and the sun hot and bright. Livid tongues of flame curl and twist, leaping forward, sometimes climbing to the tops of standing trees, while dense clouds of smoke gather until they obliterate the sun. The “burn” roars and cracks until the valleys echo and reecho.

At night it is hard to imagine anyi thing more picturesque. The hills glow as with a million ruby lamps, and the, clouds of flying, sparks rival any fireworks display. If the wind is constant there is every prospect of success. How often it drops or changes, leaving instead ruin. A ! bad burn means months of felling wasted and years of heart-breaking toil. Messrs McCormick, Patterpon, Ryan, and Waite have all this year had more or less successful "burns” at Komata.

The blue mountain duck visited the school swimming pool last week. It is understood that it is very rare in this island, although, plentiful in the South Island. Its plumage is,a beautiful bluish grey, mottled in parts with brown. The -bill has a most curious appendage on. the end. In remote regions it is a poor flier, depending on its wondeijful diving and swimming proclivities to escape its enemies. This curious duck nests in lbw trees, like the shags, wihich it resembles in many features. I wonder how many of our readers have ever heard the song of the white-eye, or Blighty ? Most of t|hose I have consulted were unaware that it sang,, while none had heard it.- As a student of Nature I always find the music and beauty' of! the world around compensate for life in the country. I know by heart most of the songs and calls of bird-life, but as I listened I discovered it was one quite dew. So sweet and. delicate, full of delightful runs and trills punctuated by plaintive notes, that I- decided to steal forward and observe the s_ongsten There, sitting bn the branch, was a Wax-eye, his throat puffed out as though it wou'd burst. It was soon over, but the daintiest song I have ever listened to.