difficult to find, night closed in upon me, before I could retrace my steps through the many dense thickets of wood, and hills of high fern, which lay between me and the anchorage of the ships; and I slept in the open air, without sustaining any other inconvenience than that of being awoke somewhat early in the morning by a shower of rain, with no other covering than some withered clematis, the fern being wet with the dew. The beautiful white flowers of the clematis appeared suspended in graceful festoons from the tops of the highest trees.
I, however, had no reason to regret passing the night in the woods, as I not only succeeded in shooting some pigeons, but it afforded me a fine opportunity in my favourite pursuit, ornithology, for observing the habits, and making myself acquainted with the notes of the various species of the feathered tribe. The bottom of the ravine, on the margin of which I passed the night, was brilliantly illumined by phosphorescent particles, which glittered like so many glow-worms, or fire flies, in the decaying wood. Over head, the Peka-peka, a small bat (Vespertilio tuberculata),—the only mammal in the country, with the exception of the native rat (kiore maori), which is now become nearly extinct—silently wheeled in circles above the wood, and in the topmost branches of a tree, the Ruru-ruru, a small owl (Strix Novæ Seelandiæ), kept up its incessant monotonous cry of "More-porke, more-porke," throughout the night. At dawn, I heard the voices of the natives, mingled with the barking of the dogs, and crowing of the cocks in a village, from which I found that I had been separated only by a Raupo swamp below me, overgrown with the typha, or bullrush, the favourite haunt of the Matuka, or Bittern (Ardea Australis), the Pukeko (Porphyrio Australis), and the Parera, or wild duck (Anas superciliosa). The latest bird in the evening was the Piwaka-Waka, an elegant little flycatcher (Rhipidura flabellifera), and the earliest in the morning was the Tui.
