“Like Small Bells, Exquisitely Tuned”

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 128, 20 August 1927, Page 24

“Like Small Bells, Exquisitely Tuned”

Captain Cook Praised the Tui

Written for THE SUN by

“C."

NEW ZEALAND has been particularly fortunate not only in her

song-birds, but in other varieties. Many are peculiar to this land, species unknown and unclassified before its discovery by Captain Cook. Unfortunately some are now quite extinct while others are verging on extinction. Our sweetest and most delightful song-bird is the tui; and if we consider the opinions of earlier writers—and these are certainly worth considering —the tui in any part of the world is without peer for rang*:, diversity and quality of song. An early Colonist writes of him: “Nothing, not even the nightingale, can approach this tui in infinite sweetness when he sings his own song.” Captain Cook is more eloquent and writes: “We were awakened by the singing of birds . . that seemed to strain their throats in emulation of each other. This wild melody was superior to anything we had ever heard ... it seemed like small bells exquisitely tuned.” This song of which Captain Cook writes is no doubt the tui’s “concertsong”; for the bird has a variety of songs which it sings both night and day. There are the live-song, the whis-per-song, the concert-song, with many others that vary not only according to the time of day, but to season and place. The whisper-song the tui croons softly and sweetly to itself: so low is the tone the listener finds it difficult to catch the elusive melody. The concert-song, orchestrally beautiful, is always started by a female bird. The silence of the bush is suddenly disrupted by a gurgling discordant note; a tew moments of silence; then again the note is repeated. This seems the signal for starting; every bird nearby, male and female, simultaneously bursts into voluptuous melody. The first time the writer heard the tui was in the bush outside Taihape. He had only recently come over from Aut.ralia and was surprised at the sudden and wonderful cascade of sound, the birds for the moment being unseen. Then one flashed across space into a totara tree and began to feed. The song is not altogether unlike the earlymorning yodelling of the Australian magpie, but it is richer, sweeter and more varied. The tui belongs to the family of honey-eaters (Meliphagidae) which are remarkable for having extensile and multiple tongues. The family does not occur in the British Isles, and is located only in Australia and New Zealand. The tui itself is confined to New Zealand. A strange peculiarity exists in the different shape of the male and female bill; the former is heavy and straight, while that of the latter is long, slender, and considerably curved downwards. It almost seems that Nature meant them to hunt in conjunction, the male to remove surface obstacles, the female to probe into tunnels. The beaks of both are greatly prized by the Maoris, who make of them ornaments and fetishes. When polished and prepared the beaks are not unlike a cock’s spur. There are many legends and proverbs attached to the tui by the

natives. One legend gives Parauri as the tutelar deity of the bird during spring and summer months, but in the winter the deity is changed to Urutahi This goddess was the tui’s mother by Tane when that god’s creative power was being evidenced through nature. One of the proverbs is “Me he korokoro” (How eloquent is he, he has the throat of a tui) and is possibly the outcome of the wonderful power of mimicry possessed by the bird. In its wild state it mimics every other bird of the bush, when in* captivity increasing the repertoire to every sound it hears. The tui was first made known in Britain by Captain Cook in 1777, and described by him as the “Poy-bird” on account of the white feathers on its neck —for the same reason it is now known as the Parson-bird—that were considered to resemble the “po.vs” (ear-rings) worn by the Otahiteans. The first one to reach England was taken across by the “Dido” in 1849, and caused a European stir; but it is thought that one was bought for the Earl of Derby’s aviary four years earlier. In its own way it is something of a glutton; for, during the winter it becomes so excessively fat, according to Maori lore, that it lacerates its own breast to let the fattening oils escape. It is remarkably fond of rifling the dark-red flowers of the flax plant of

their nectar and makes quite a pretty picture while doing so. One writer says it becomes so covered in the red pollen from the flower as to resemble a distinct and foreign species and quite another bird. He further goes on to liken it, when so smeared, to Whatiliua, whose with the forest-ny-mph were betrayed through the scarlet favours bestowed upon him by her. The coloration of both sexes is alike, an iridescent deep bronze-black, silver streaked hackle, and a white spot on each wiDg. Below the throat are also two tufts of -curling white feathers. Bold, elegant, beautiful in flight, a perfect mimic and taking readily to captivity, there is no won der the tui was so prime a favourite among the Maoris, both in captivity and a wild state. Wellington.