“The ice was undulating, with little valleys and hummocks, and the birds would now for a second or two disappear in a hollow and now show on a hummock, pause a moment, and then hop down again out of sight into the next hollow.
“To judge by their expressions and manners they were in a great state of anxiety on emerging from a hollow to a hummock as to whether I was still there. Now and then the one in front would appear craning his neck, and, on seeing me still ahead, would turn round and shriek ‘Ke-a,’ as much as to say ‘It is all right, boys; come along,’ and the others, putting their heads down, would set their teeth, or rather their beaks, and travel for all they knew, a fat one in the rear evidently making heavy weather of it.”
They seem to be ever on the look-out for mischief; and, when a good joke is in view, they take good care not to lose it.
A story is told of a dog that was lying asleep near a hut, when several Keas came down, and (evidently bent on mischief) walked round him, laying their plans.
The boldest Kea then crept up and bit the dog’s tail, thus causing him to wake up and growl; but hardly was his head laid down on the ground again when Kea number two had a pull.
This went on for some time, until at last the dog got tired of it, and retired growling to the verandah.
Their playfulness, though amusing, often becomes a great nuisance, as they can do a lot of damage in a very short time.
The late Mr. Potts is responsible for the following story. “On one occasion a hut was shut up, as the shepherd was elsewhere required for a day or two. On returning he was surprised to hear something moving within the hut, and on entering he found that it proceeded from a Kea which had gained access by the chimney; this socially-disposed bird had evidently endeavoured to dispel the ennui attendant on solitude by exercising its powerful mandibles most industriously. Blankets, bedding, and clothes were grieviously rent and torn; pannikins and plates were scattered about;
