Birds of Lone Mintaro.

Tramping up that ground canyon the Clinton Valley, on the way from the head of Lake Te Anau to McKinnon's Pass, where the foot-trail goes to Milford Sound, we came to a forest pool, a little lake bosomed in the rata and tawai and ribbonwood trees. Some early explorer, I think McKinnon himself, christened it Lake Mintaro. On either side of the forest-filled valley rose the lofty overmastering walls of granite, with long thin waterfalls strewn like white waving ropes down their grey precipices. An army marching through the forest would have made no sound, so thick was the soft carpet of moss and ferns. In the midst of this wild park Mintaro lay perfectly still, a lagoon of jade.

On this pool of solitude were little fleets of water birds, mostly blue duck (the whio of the Maori), with some putangitangi, or paradise duck. They cruised around and around; they whistled

Railway Improvements at Auckland.
The new overhead bridge recently completed at Campbell's Point, Auckland-Westfield deviation.

and made queer metallic cries—the whistlers were the whio—the harsh cries were those of the paradise duck. Those pretty birds were not afraid of man; at any rate they did not take flight when we approached and stood still, trying to look as much like tree trunks as a trio of beswagged trampers could. “Whio” and “putangitangi” went on arguing and insect-snapping and fishing; they knew we weren't going to interfere with their day's job.