EARLY MASTERTON

Wairarapa Times-Age, 14 December 1938, Page 16 (Supplement)

EARLY MASTERTON

SELECTION OF THE TOWN SITE Open Area in Heart of Forest FACTORS THAT GUIDED FOUNDER’S CHOICE (Specially Written for the “Times-Age” by Charles Bannister.) I have been asked many times why my grandfather, Joseph Masters, selected the site of Mastertcn, when he had such good sites as Renall Street and Lansdowne to choose from. This is the answer I have given them If you had seen the place which Masterton occupies, when my grandfather first saw it, you would not wondei why he chose that place. Ke had many things to consider and if you can let your imagination follow me, I will try to describe it as he described it to me. Standing on the bank where the Lansdowne School is situated and looking over the terrace you will see a stream of water meandering through bush and flax witn a nve-foot bank, nice bathing holes and rapids. This stream formed a capital S straight in front of you, S for settlement, one reason why he selected this spot. Looking up the river on the north side, there was a beautiful stretch of bush from the river bank to the terrace starting at the Mawley Park, and finishing at Mahunga Golf Links. (Mahunga means the ton of the head —pronounced ma hu nga.) Then looking south and south-east a plain was to be seen. This extended fiom Villa Street in the west down to Pokohiwi (disappearance), now called Nursery Road. This plain was covered with bracken fern, short koromiko, and native grass. It would take very little to clear it to make it ready for cultivation.

Past this plain there was an unbroken belt of bush from where the Railway Station is now to Homebush. This was in the shape of a capital CThe west end was at the Railway Station. This merged into tall flax eight feet high, and extended to Lincoln Road. At Villa Street it crossed over to Albert street. The east end of this bush finished at Pokohiwi on the banks of the Ruamahanga River, opposite Homebush . The centra of the curve was at Worksop House. That ought to give one a comprehensive idea. Starting at the northwest peak of the bush, say Bentley’s Farm, and following the edge of the green bush which was about four chains from Lincoln Road, it would take you to a clump of white pine trees, hence the name Pine Street. (These trees stood till the nineties, when they were milled by Mr Stevens). The line of green bush was about where Pine Street now is till you came to Cora-

dine Street, halfway through this to Cole Street, then straight through till within two chains of Queen Street, then running parallel with it till it crossed ever at Jackson Street, then going on to Worksop Farm, keeping about three chains on lhe south side of where Worksop Road is now. The green bush crossed the Makora Creek at Colombo Road, then keeping close to the creek to Homebush. Then it recrossed the creek to the Ruamahanga River. That unbroken belt of bush was the first consideration in favour of the' site.- It was shelter for man and beast from all winds. The sections could be laid off giving each one wood, water, and some clear ground for cropping. The same applied to the Upper Plain The sections went back to West Bush Road. Also there was the Waipoua River to consider for bathing purposes for the rising generation. The Waipoua had not a wide bed then, as erosion had not started. BEAUTIFUL BUSH. It was a most beautiful bush, of the useful as well as the picturesque type. It consisted of totara of good quality and length for timber purposes, matai, white pine, and maire, while the shorter trees were titoki, whitewood and tawa, also that pretty foiiaged shrub rangiora. The scent from its flowers could be noticed quite a distance away. The edge of the bush consisted of lacebarks, wineberry, a few konini and some young lancewood, some in their juvenile state and others in their adult form. The carpeting, or the floor of the bush,

was of asplenium (what wo used to call hen and chickens) predominating on the banks of the creek where that nice dwarf maiden-hair fern grew in patches. It gave a finishing touch to those fingerlike creeping polypodiums which covered the old dead trunks. In damper places there grew those pretty little lace-like filmy ferns, which when wet with rain and the raindrops hanging underneath looked like diamonds. In the bends of the creeks the tree ferns, especially the silver fern, ponga, were resplendent, with the upperside of their fronds light green while the underside was of a silvery colour. When these were wafted wiih the wind it made a sight to be remembered. The other kind of tree fern was the one that bushmen

call “hunger.” It grew taller than the silver fern but it looked nice with its dark green fronds. It had a sheath of dead fronds hanging down the trunk. On the edge of the bush were two sorts of clematis, one being indivisa with its festoons' of white, starry flowers looped from tree to tree. Its feathery wreaths of silver-curled seeds are as beautiful as the flowers. The other sort was feotida. This was a smaller flowered variety with a greenish tint and blooming in great profusion on long sprays. Its fragrance could be detected afar. There were not many vines in the bush. The two most conspicuous were the supplejack with its attractive bunches of scarlet berries on which the birds fed late in the winter when all other sorts had gone- The other one was the New Zealand passion fruit, -which bears those round red berries of which the tui is so fond. . As all these trees and shrubs were food producers for

the birds, it was no wonder birds were numerous. MUSIC OF THE BIRDS. i The music of the bush used to start half an hour before daylight, when the call'bird of the tuis gave his first signal. It was then time to wake up and get ready to greet the rising sun coming over’the eastern hills, and such a greeting it was —thousands of throats singing, warbling, fluff, fluff, fluffing, seeing who could out-sing the one on the next tree. Of bellbirds there were thousands, with their sweet song ending like the toll of a bell, or like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil. Kakas were numerous and their screeches, mingled with the others, made such a noise that it could be heard for a mile. Pigeons were conspicuous with their soft “coo-coo,” sitting on the topmost branch of a tree and showing their large white shirt front and the metallic hue of their body feathers. There were two sorts of parakeets, the larger one with a red poll and the smaller one with a yellow poll, calling “pretty chap, be quick.” Then there was that confidential little chap, the fantail, flitting in and out, round about, twit-twit-twitting, also tomtits, warblers and a few saddlebacks. The bushman’s friend, the robin, was always there, or appeared a few moments after the first blow was struck with the axe. The robin was the tamest bird of the lot when he got used to a person. He would eat the grubs from the log that was being split, or the crumbs thrown to him at lunch time.

After a good song all the birds went to breakfast, of which there was plenty for all tastes. Towards noon the bush was fairly quiet as they were having a nap. About three o’clock they began singing again, but it was not like the morning song. As the sun went down all the day birds retired io their cosy nooks well crammed with berries or insects. AN OCTOBER REMINDER. About the middle of October the pipiwharauroa, the shining cuckoo, made its appearance, and sitting on top of a dry tree, it would send forth its pleasant penetrating call of “tweet, tweet, tweet, tweehue,” telling the Maoris it was time to plant their kumaras. The long-tailed cuckoo, koe-

koea, came later, but was very hard to locate as it always sat longways on the limb of a tree, with its breastbone pressed tight to the wood. Its call was a prolonged screech Of hawks there were two. the harrier with its gliding circling flight, swooping down to its quarry. The action of the karearea, the sparrow hawk, was quite different —a swiftness of flight, then a straight bard strike that finished its quarry with one blow. The ground lark or pipit was common in the open country, In the evening, when the sun had set, that little flying mouse-like creature called a bat came from its abode underneath the bark of totara trees. How they could dodge and twist in the air. It would take a good shooter to hit one. Then came the weka or wood hen with its plaintive call and thieving habits. These birds used to parade up and down till daylight. Moreporks were plentiful and on n clear, frosty night one could hear the echoes of their call. Of ducks there was the grey, two sorts of teal, the brown and the black, also the paradise duck with her attendants. ' She. always had six cr seven drakes to look after her. Pukekos were numerous in the swampy places. The bittern’s boom was heard coming from the back of the Park. Up in the flax at Bentley’s Farm, when the flax was in flower in December, there were thousands of bellbirds and tuis sucking the flowers for honey. The kakas used to give them a hand but they were not suckers. They used to tear the flowers to get the 1 nectar. It* was interesting to see those birds after a good morning's feast, with their necks covered with honey and pollen. Then they had to clean themselves or be captured by a Maori with a long manuka stick to strike them down before they could get on the wing. When we were boys we used to suck flax sticks and get all smothered with honey and pollen and it was no use to say we had not been sucking flax flowers. With all these beautiful surroundings it was no wonder that, our grandfather decided on this site for a township. As it -was proved afterwards, anything planted in this 'sheltered spot made a wonderful growth. For instance, some peach stones were

hrown out. In four years each tree bore a bucketful of ripe peaches. The first axe put into this bush started to opoil it and when Queen Street was -’elled from Jackson Street to the Convent, it let the southerlies in and they still keep coming. It makes native lovers sad to think that all these beautiful trees have gone and cannot be replaced. It makes me. think of W. P. Reeves’s poem “The Passing of he Forest.”

Gone is the forest world, its wealth of life, Its jostling, crowding, thrusting, struggling race. Creeper with creeper, bush with bush at strife Warring and wrestling for a breathing space. Below a realm with tangled rankness rife > Aloft tree columns, shafts of stateliest grace. Gone is the forest nation, none might stay, Giant and dwarf alike have passed away. Gone are the forest birds, arboreal things, Eaters of honey, honey-sweet of song. The tui, and the bellbird —he who sings That rich music we would prolong; Gone the wood-pigeon’s sudden whirr of wings, The daring robin, all unused to wrong. Wild, harmless, hamadryad creatures, they Lived with their trees, and died, and passed away.