Kowhai Time.

This is kowhai flowering time in the bush, and in many of our parks and gardens. New Zealand's lovely blossom of spring, which has come to be regarded as the Dominion's national flower, is now displaying its yellow spangles. The scarlet clianthus, which is called by the Maoris the Kowhai-ngutu-kaka, or parrot's-beak kowhai, because of the shape of the rich red flowers, is longer in blossom than the golden kowhai, and is always in leaf, unlike the yellow one, which produces its flowers while the branches are quite bare. But the yellow one is the beauty. The Maori appreciates the beauty of the golden tree. There is an expression in songs, “te ura o te kowhai”—“the glow of the kowhai,” and there are references to the beauty of the drooping clusters of blossoms reflected on the glassy waters of calm bays and on dark, smooth bush rivers.

The “kowhai floods” have been on in the ranges. It is just at this time of the year that you see the golden tree in its glory in such places as the shores of Lake Taupo and along the Wanganui River. If you happen to be up in the Taupo country in September you will see a salvage of groves and lines of kowhai along the pumice-sanded east coast of the lake, close to the road.

There are miles of kowhai along the banks of the Wanganui, and very lovely they are flaming against the wet and sombre bush; and they provide a feast of nectar for our sweetest native singing birds. But there is no need to go all the way to the Upper Wanganui to see the kowhai in abundance. At many places along our railway lines the traveller's eye will be attracted by the sight of the tree of the Maori spring all a-dangle with its golden shower.

The Discovery of Nelson.

In an article on Nelson City and provincial district, in the last number of the Railways Magazine, a contributor told the story of the first discovery of the comfortable haven which is now the port of Nelson. Credit was given to Captain F. G. Moore, whose descendants live in Wellington to-day, for the discovery and for the piloting of the first English ships into the harbour, in 1841. This, when reprinted in a daily paper, drew a rather assertive criticism from a history student, who declared that Captain Arthur Wake-field was the discoverer. The writer of the Magazine article apparently did not consider the criticism was worth a reply. But it may here be said that there is page 42 abundant documentary evidence to show that Captain Moore was not only the pilot of the first ships into the harbour, but was in charge of the exploring boat which made the preliminary reconnaissance and found the haven and the entrance.

It was Moore who first advised the Wakefields', at Wellington, to explore the northern coast of the South Island for a site for the Nelson settlement, and who suggested Blind Bay as a likely place; and it was at the Wakefields' request that he piloted the expeditionary fleet. Authentic evidence places that beyond reasonable dispute.

But some of our young students of history continue to repeat the old story giving all the credit to Captain Wake-field. Some day, perhaps, when Captain Moore's complete narrative, preserved by his descendants, is published he will be given full credit for his pioneering work before Nelson colony came into existence.

Some Place Names.

The misspelling of some of our New Zealand names of places quite robs these names of their original significance. There are Maori place names of much beauty and of poetic and legendary value, which is lost by the mishandling of them in print. One of our dailies the other day gave quite a charming account of the sylvan loveliness and the teeming native bird life of a place on D'Urville Island officially called Manawakupukupu. That name, to those who are acquainted with Maori, is obviously misspelled. Really it should be Manawa-Kapakapa, which has a definite meaning. This correct version may be translated as “Fluttering Heart” or “Throbbing Heart,” which at once captures the imagination and arouses interest in the possible reason for the name given by some long-ago Maori explorer. And the account of that island retreat, with its bush and its bird-song and its air of repose suggests, also, what a place it should be to-day as a solace for that too-troubled heart.

There are music and beauty, too, in some of the original names of places around Wellington. Moera is an example. It is the steep sloping ground about where Marama Crescent is now, above the south side of Te Aro gully road, in Wellington City. One or two Maori families had their homes and cultivations there, and the spot was called Moe-ra, which means “Sleeping in the Sun.” That is the original Moera. The name has been given, in recent years, to a Lower Hutt Valley suburb, and it is consistently mispronounced Mo-ee-ra. The accent should be on the first syllable.

Raurimu, which means “Leaves of the Red Pine,” is the old name of a Maori clearing on Thorndon Flat. It is a pity the name has not been preserved as one of the street names.

Tangi-te-keu is one of the ancient names of Mt. Victoria, Wellington's Signal Station. It means “The Cry of the Wind.” Evidently it knew how to blow there in the days of the mat-clad Maori just as it does to-day.

Pukehinau (“Hill of the Hinau Tree”) is the Maori name of the hill slopes where Victoria University College, Wellington, stands. The name reminds us of the pre-pakeha days, when the hills were bushclad, and when the hinau tree of the beautiful white flowers and purple berries was plentiful here.

The site of the War Memorial Campanile, where we hear the carillon, the hill so inappropriately called Mt. Cook, was known to the Maoris as Puke-ahu, which signifies a hill heaped up or piled up in an even symmetrical shape.

New Life for the Horse.

Is our old reliable standby, the horse, likely to come into his own again? There are signs of a revulsion from the motor-vehicle and the motor machine, and a return to horse-power on many of our New Zealand farms. The excessive devotion to cars and benzine is sure to lead to a reaction in many directions, and “Tangiwai” for one is glad to note the indications of the times, tending to show that economy as well as a liking for the horse is likely to bring a return of the more natural old-time conditions.

One notes also indications in the Australian news that the horse is coming into favour again. But there always has been necessity for horseflesh in the great back country of the Commonwealth, and there is also the old-established trade in Army remounts for India. It was reported lately that a steamer in Australian waters was being fitted up for the conveyance of 800 horses to India. It is timely here to remind New Zealanders that there was at one time quite a large business here in the breeding and export of cavalry and artillery horses and polo ponies for India, a trade which has now quite vanished, though the demand still exists. The business could be revived with benefit. New Zealand can produce splendid horses in more than one class, and there is no reason why Australia should have a monopoly of this profitable department of breeding enterprise.

The Acclimatisation Mania.

A curious craze, the eternal hankering for all manner of foreign creatures to stock our plains and forests. Fortunately the mania is confined to a comparative few, mostly members of Acclimatisation Societies, but they are expert in wangling permission to introduce this bird and that on the plea of food for sportsmen or for

A Successful Mystery Train Outing In The Auckland Province.
(Photo, J. F. Louden.)
Members of the Hamilton-Okoroire Mystery Train party, 11th September, 1932.

the purpose of making war on other creatures introduced by their forerunners in acclimatisation. The latest notion is a suggestion in Auckland that certain game birds should be imported from Buenos Ayres to provide shooting in the north of New Zealand. Not long ago a lot of game birds called chukor were imported from India. Some time back someone interested in fur animals suggested introducing various North American creatures, including silver foxes; another man advocated beaver, which would do so well in the forest rivers of the Fiordland National Park.

Fortunately there is some check on these enthusiastic folk who cannot be content with New Zealand as it is, and who are ignorant of or indifferent to the fact that every foreign bird or animal introduced to the wild places of our country is inevitably a menace to the native life of bird and vegetation. The opossum and the German owl are sufficiently notorious examples of ill-judged zeal in acclimatisation.

We have far too many enemies to our birds as it is without bringing in more. And creatures which were comparatively harmless in their countries of origin have a way of becoming dangerous nuisances in New Zealand.

“If' twere not for my cat and dog, I think I could not live.”—Ebenezer Elliott.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Our Animal Friends.