THE CANTERBURY MOAS.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 4268, 24 November 1874, Page 3

THE CANTERBURY MOAS.

Geoffry Crabtree, a quaint but effective writer in the Adelaide Observer, has the following on the latest moa find in Canterbury : My credulity has so frequently been practised upon by sensationally-worded, but altogether untrustworthy reports, purporting to relate the capture of that aboriginal bugbear, the Bunyip, that I cannot place very much credence in the late rumored discovery at Browning’s Pass, New Zealand, of two live moas. Having been previously bitten, I am naturally disinclined to swallow these last two specimens of the Dinornis tribe, or at least I must take the Brobdignagian birds, not with a grain of salt, but with the original pinch thereof employed in their capture, as an appropriate accompaniment to the tale. Nevertheless, true or untrue, the faintest whisper of such a wonderful discovery reaching the ears of Europe, will be quite enough to set the scientific world of naturalists agog to see this ornithological Gog and Magog; and as a bird in the flesh is worth two in the bone, modern savans will be quite justified in crowding impatiently about their world-re-nowned chief, Professor Chyen, and ravenously asking for moa. That there is nothing extravagantly beyond belief in this reported find, and that there are yet one or two secluded spots upon this old earth of ours Svhere the gigantic creations of the past still find a congenial home, may be seen by a reference to my entertaining Hochstetter, who speaks with a certain air of belief of the existence of “ yEpiornia maxima,” the monstrous bird of Madagascar, and describes one of its eggs, measuring 2J feet in circumference, and in a state as though it had been laid but very recently, as reaching the Museum at Paris so late as 1851. [I don’t know if in opening it they used an axe, but they certainly did not hatch it.] But between the cases of Madagascar and New Zealand the difference lies in this :—Nobody has ever had the temerity to say, “ Lo, I have cafohed an iEpiornia !”—the fabulous Buc of my romantic and credulous Marco Polo, and no doubt the Eoo of my marvel-loving “Arabian Nights.” Yet every year or so some mighty hunter of new zeal and enthusiasm endeavors to sell the scientific circles of civilisation with stories of seeing if not capturing, alone and unaided, that mysterious and gigantic bird, the moa. [To which unwonted display of paleontological erudition your Geoffry need only add the appropriate remark that it is fortunate for some folks these creatures did not live on the confines of ancient Syria, considering the dreadful number of Moa-bites they would have taken every morning for their breakfasts.] It is suggested that the captured birds are only what the natives call the “ roa-roa,” a much more harmless creature than its rhyming rival; but on this point your Geoffry defers judgment until further evidence has been produced. Still, before calling the next case, let me give space to a few verses communicated by an ardent ornithological student, just now in the throes of enthusiastic excitement and scientific doubt : Ode to the Moas. Lately discovered at Browning’s Pass, New Zealand. Hail, strange huge fowls I If fitly yo be called By name accorded to the poultry clan. Hail, birds, before whose stature stands appalled Degenerate, dwindling, puny, six-foot man ! Vast feathered giants from New Zealand caves. Halt mythic, all extinct by savans deemed, Whose brothers’ bones grow white in limestone caves 1 Of seeing you alive, what mortal dreamed? Ho, mammoth couple, who may haply trace Your line of pedigree long ages back To that great founder of your lofty race, " Dinornis elephantopus." I lack Appropriate language to express my awe Of birds, who, ere her earliest conqueror's proas Zealandia's high storm-shrouded headlands saw Through dense dark forests roamed as monarch moas. ’Neath swift extermination’s reckless hand, To what kind fortune may we now ascribe The fact that ye esciiped, and living stand Lone representatives of all your tribe? Mother and offspring, old and young are ye? If so. then where is now the mountain mate? The very last groat moa, It may bo. Now roams the kauri woods disconsolate. Grand living links between our times and those When nature's forces, not as now grown weak. Displayed themselves in forest forms that rose Gigantic, did she but her mandate speak! Descendants maybe of a tribe that trod The mammoth-peopled weird old world of Noah's; Our dwarfish creatures must indeed look odd To eyes long used-to giants, noble moas ! Grand birds, a proud career awaits you now ! With care transported from your native isle. All Europe’s savans at your feet shall bow And quarrel o’er you in their wonted style. But Oh! if after all there’s some mistake. And yo should prove io bo but roa-roas, A deep and solemn vow 1 then will make To never more believe in living moas.