VII. The Whitehead.

Given the clue to a mystery, difficulties quickly unravel themselves. The particular mystery connected with the nidification of the Whitehead was the number of individuals in attendance upon a single nest. For a few hours indeed the solution seemed simple. It was easy to surmise that the newly emancipated brood of a first hatching were still—as happens in the case of the Fantail—importuning their parents for food; that young freshly fledged Whitehead nestlings—the children of an earlier marriage—were still being given snacks and tit-bits by kindly parents even whilst engaged in the onerous duty of rearing a second family.

This theory seemed, moreover, to be corroborated by the habit of wing-quivering during the transference of supplies from one member of the little clan to another—evidently an earlier brood were still soliciting their parents for food, evidently page 74 still the parent birds were responding to their solicitations. Certainly it was difficult to imagine where first families had sprung from, for how could we have missed the foremost batch of nests so common on the island?

Our first solution of the puzzle was, however, soon discarded as untenable. Watching at the distance of a few feet, it became apparent that the birds busily flying to and fro were not expectant, tantalised, recently abandoned first-brood youngsters; indubitably they were mature specimens of the breed. More leisurely observation, too, established the fact that the insects transferred from beak to beak by birds, at first inclined to be somewhat shy of the camera, were not immediately devoured as would have happened in the case of ravenous, growing fledglings. The food relinquished by the shyest member or members to others less timid was in all cases conscientiously carried forward, and placed in the gaping mouths of the newly hatched clutch of not many days' growth. We soon in fact discovered that our first nest under the camera was being run by at least three birds—four, we believed. Three were easily identified at one and the same moment by the difference in quality and appearance of food carried, by the different manner in which the legs and wings of moths, &c., lay in the bills of the respective birds. The identity of the page break

Whitehead Sitting.

page break page 75 fourth, its relation to the other three, and its interest in the nest, was harder to establish, for when a single member of the quadruple alliance arrived alone, it commonly awaited the presence of a second and third shareholder, frequently of both, before proceeding to deliver the goods. Whilst waiting thus, the solitary bird occupied itself in cramming its already well-filled maw, jerking the latest layers into place with beak pointed upwards, so as not to drop the lower stratum of booty—much as a boy, face to sky, attempts to get a cherry into his mouth by the stem. Sometimes, however, as many species do, rather than waste time, the billful was swallowed, and the bird flew off to seek fresh provender. Again and again it was possible to swear to three separate birds, each definitely, distinguishable by the insect wings, legs, and bodies in its beak; the fourth was the difficulty. It was a bird which appeared to be partly engaged in feeding the brood, and partly engaged in acting as outlook or scout. The plumage of the sexes being but slightly differentiated, it was impossible to tell if one and the same bird always acted guard, if in fact the responsibility of scouting was shared or was settled by arrangement or by chance. It was not until the youngsters were taken from the nest and placed on a twig preparatory to being photographed, that all four parents showed themselves page 76 simultaneously. The efforts of each of the four partners in the brood to distract and allure, their excitement, anger, and apprehension, then announced their parenthood as surely as Solomon's proposition to divide the child discovered the true mother. Later we had a second nest, also containing young, under the camera. As in the first case recorded, we were sure of the four birds, but could not actually identify them until as before the youngsters were handled. Then, as in the first instance, the four partners fluttered about the camera in a frenzy of alarm. A third case gave similar results. Besides these three nests actually under the camera, watched and photographed from the distance of a few feet, there occurred dozens of instances, where nestlings were observed, perched side by side in the bunched tops of the bare, spray-scorched, wind-blown kanuka. As with youngsters in the nest, it is difficult if not impossible in the dense greenery to particularise the parents. Even a third partner seemed sometimes dubious, especially as the nestlings were soon coaxed from our observation into thicker and more distant covert by the sight of food alternately offered and withdrawn. Twice, however, by climbing isolated kanuka-trees, securing the newly emancipated brood and placing them on the ground, the four parents appeared together at one and the same time. In addition to the page break

Witehead And Young.

page break page 77 three nests under the camera and the two broods brought down from tops of isolated trees or tree-groups, there were innumerable cases of families which we believed also were fed by four old birds.

Although, however, in the vast majority of cases a Whitehead's nest is run by a quartette, there do seem to occur cases where a pair may own a nest. One such, containing eggs, I watched for many days without seeing the slightest indication of ownership by more than two birds. I believe, moreover, that in manipulation of the nest for purposes of photography, I had done enough to excite apprehension, and to bring into view owners number three and four had they existed. On the other hand, there were eggs only in the nest, always estimated at a lesser value than young. The third and fourth birds may therefore not have been sufficiently concerned to show themselves. Again, what I viewed as interchange of duty between birds one and two may have been interchange of duty between birds one and three, or between two and three and two and four, and so on. Be that as it may, the vast proportion of Whiteheads' nests are administered by four birds, not two birds.

We never came across a family of more than three. Three was the number of youngsters photographed in the nests run by groups of four old birds. Three likewise was the number of page 78 fledglings taken from the tree-tops, and immediately claimed as the property of four old birds. Three invariably was the number seen on the kanuka tops, where by-the-bye they offered excellent marks for counting, seated, as is their habit, cuddling close like love-birds. In our experience on Little Barrier Island—and it was an experience extending over weeks—a clutch of three eggs was never exceeded. One nest alone, already mentioned as owned perhaps by two birds only, contained two eggs.

Granting that the relationship between the small number of eggs laid and the large number of mature birds interested in the nest, rests on something other than chance, several questions raise themselves. Does each quartette consist of two pairs, male and female, or are there in each group three hens, each of which lays a single egg, and one cock? If there are two pairs—that is, two males and two females,—how does it happen that in these communal nests one of the females lays two eggs and the other one egg? What again is the originating cause of the strange partnership? Is it owing to the small number of eggs laid? Lastly, why should the clutch be a small one at all? Somewhat difficult to answer are these questions, because of the similarity of the plumage of the sexes; but watching the habits and customs of the breed, I thought I page 79 noticed that in the quartette nests one of the four owners acted more or less as warden; but then again might not each of the four have taken its turn to supervise the vicinity? Again, was transference of the food which took place in the proximity of the camera due to the greater timidity of one sex, or were certain individuals, not necessarily of the same sex, merely less courageous than others?

Although in the forest, both at high and low elevations, parties of Whitehead were from time to time noted, they were few and far between; they were comparatively rare. It was amongst the tall groves of kanuka fringing the coast and in lower-growing denser shrubberies of manuka that these birds were most plentiful. These two species of scrub almost exclusively supplied them with insect food and nesting material. Orchard and garden stocked with alien caterpillars and grubs, ordinarily so tempting both to natives and aliens, were unvisited by Whitehead. Practically all food and all building material were drawn from the kanuka thickets.

The nest of the Whitehead is a fairly substantial structure, based on rootlets and small rough pliable kanuka twigs; then comes moss, frayed grass, sedge, and thin strips of bark, intermixed sometimes and interwoven with a few skeleton leaves from a small group of Lombardy page 80 poplars. The interior is composed of very finely shredded kanuka bark, the edges of the nest as trim and tidy almost as those of the Chaffinch. Nests are placed in a variety of sites: sometimes deep in the dense mass of twig and small pliable branchlet, dead or green, that darken the interior of the solitary young kanuka-trees of ten and fifteen feet; sometimes at similar heights in groups of the same species. Oftenest, however, woven with web and fibre into suitable forks and branch junctions, they are placed high among the naked, rough-barked, wind-blown thickets. The nest already spoken of as possibly owned by only two birds and containing only two eggs was situated but four feet from the ground. It was built into the interior of an outlying kanuka, young and dense. Another nest, run by four birds, was also low to the ground, not more than six feet from the boulders; it too was placed in a mass of dense, dead, and green shrubbery. Perhaps the better to blend with pendent lichen and loosely hanging bark, a sort of tail or beard is sometimes a feature of the nest. The eggs are white, sprinkled and peppered with brown. The newly hatched young are in the beginning fed on crushed insects, and when rather older on small moths.

Whiteheads are much troubled with parasites, the old birds constantly searching their feathers page break

Whitehead And Chick.

page break page 81 for these troublesome pests, the young still in the nest spending long mornings preening and scratching. At a surprisingly early period they begin to stand upright in the nest and flap their little wings. Whenever they can grip the rough bark of the kanuka stems, they are encouraged to scramble upwards into the shade and shelter of the thick tops. There, immediately beneath the dense plane of green, they sit in threes, pressed close to one another. The old birds scale tree boles like the Rifleman, or mount upwards in alternate runs and pauses like Fern-birds on dry flax stems. Towards one another they are particularly sociable and friendly. Flying to and from the nest, meeting and passing, it is their custom to shiver wings in courteous greeting. Return to the nest, too, is always heralded by cheerful chirps and twitterings, audible at twenty and thirty yards. When, as not infrequently happens, one of the four is chased by a crabbed Tui or Bellbird, another of the little company will generally intervene to distract the foe. It is pleasant to be able to state that this amiable little species is plentiful on Little Barrier Island, and that there appears no reason why it should not continue so to remain on that ideal bird sanctuary.

In Mr Frank Hutchinson's bush reserve at Puketitri in Hawke's Bay, during ten delightful days in 1921, four old and two new nests were page 82 found on a strip of bush edge of nine or ten hundred yards. In this forest fringe, I believe, we located perhaps five lots of Whiteheads, each with a range of one hundred yards or so on either side. In this district the eggs of the Whitehead hatch late in November. One nest only, with young in it, was discovered. Watched from beneath there were no signs of more than two birds in attendance. As on Little Barrier, it was only apprehension of injury to the precious nestlings that assembled the four old birds.

My intention of obtaining the quartette on one plate, even if a faulty plate, was unfortunately frustrated by heavy, continuous, cold rain, which drowned the young. The Hawke's Bay nests were peculiarly picturesque structures, their exteriors roughed all over with curly, crisp, green moss of one particular sort. For preference these verdant ball-baskets were airily slung amongst loose trails of the smaller bush lawyer, the kind that tears the hands and face with innumerable minute cuts, and whose jagged teeth may well be supposed to baffle the approach of the Black Rat. The bases of these nests were in all cases solid and substantial, their interiors made soft and warm with pappus of clematis and bits of lacebark, but chiefly with frayed, brown, dead bark of kaiku. The edges were firmly bound, almost page 83 caked with spider-web, sometimes also—doubtless in appreciation of the preserver of their leafy sanctuary—with single hairs of wool; of course, Romney Marsh wool from the famous Rissington flock.