PATRIOTISM.

Forest and Bird, Issue 11, 1 October 1926, Page 5

PATRIOTISM.

(By Patriot.)

Patriotism means a love and regard for one’s country. ere in New Zealand the characteristics of our country are our lakes, mountains, forests, birds, etc; in fact, they are New Zealand, and no one who does not show due respect for these, national characteristics can claim to be patriotic.

During the war our soldiers were in many lands and in conditions, varying from the mud and grime of France to the heated desert sands —those man-made deserts, the results of forest destruction by former civilisations, where it was at times necessary to travel animals for forty-eight hours and more without water, and where the oven-like heat was scarcely bearable. Naturally our thoughts at such and other times often turned to our fair land far away. On one occasion the writer witnessed a mortally wounded Australian soldier gazing intently at a sprig of wattle hanging on the hospital wall, impressed between a piece of plush and a sheet of glass. One can realise how this emblem, the last the dying soldier was to see of his sunny land, called up visions of earlier and happy days. Doubtless he could see his home and parents, as he knew them in his beloved land of the Avaratah.

Yes, midst all the dangers and hardships it was but natural we should long to return to our own peaceful lands, and we almost saw the cool rushing stream midst the gently wafted tree ferns, we almost heard the tui perched on the high rata tree, we almost heard the wliu-whu of the lazy pigeon as he flew from limb to limb, and we learned to love our homeland, hut. alas, there are, in far-off lands, other forestsforests, of little crosses:-which mark the graves of those brave ones, who really won the war. No little fantail flits there from tree to tree, but how pleasant it is to think that their brave spirits have long since returned and now dwell in those mossy mountain glades, where the last of the.huias may still remain, where the chorus song of the bell-bird can still be heard, and where the little confiding robin finds a home almost free from the vandal white man and his imported enemy pests.

Again it is incumbent on all to raise the banner and fight for our native land, and as the sword, a fitting tool, is no longer permissible, it has perforce to be supplanted by the humble pen. Let us then once more stand shoulder to.

shoulder. There are Huns within as well as without. Let us say to the wanton destroyer of our forests and birds, to the blatant politician, who in his cushioned chair ignorantly signs away our heritage, to the self-seeker who seeks to utilise •our national life-blood for his own paltry ends, to those who wish to exploit our heritage before ensuring its conservation; let us say, in no uncertain voice, “Thou shalt not! Thou shalt stay thy hand!" And let us fight on until some great and wise statesman shall arise, with visions far beyond the next election, who will see and teach that our forests and our birds are indeed our very life-blood, and that our beloved land without them will be converted into one more man-made desert of rock, shingle, and useless weeds, and that the Lord of all Nature will then say to us, “ You have failed to cherish that heritage which was so bounteously bestowed. You have but grasped at the shadow, the reality is now no more, and with it you and your race must die.”