The Harrier

NOT up to much,” and “a bad lot,” are, in human parlance, the positive and comparative, whilst “a bad egg” is the superlative of condemnation. “The bad egg” will commit actions so very low and dreadful that it has not been thought necessary to forbid them. Murder of babes by babes, and desertion of tender youth bytheir parents, are crimes too monstrous to anticipate.

The Harrier is a “bad egg,” a poor low coward, a terror only to deformed creatures and weaklings, fit to glean roast lizards after a fern fire, to tear out the eyes from cast page break

Plate XXV. Young Harriers.

page break page 115 sheep, and mean enough to gorge himself with carrion from the yards.

I accuse him of fratricide even in the nest, and worst of all, the lowest form of cowardice, a craven fear that will inexcusably sacrifice his nestlings' welfare and lives to his own wretched carcase. He is a disgrace to his honourable family, and different, indeed, to his gallant little cousin the Falcon, a gentleman from beak to talon tip. Harriers are fairly plentiful on Tutira, and begin to lay in the early days of October. This year, while photographing Fern Birds on the 23rd of that month, we noticed a pair of Harriers circling and wheeling, evidently above their nest.

Knowing, however, the character of the species, and wishing to run no risks of desertion, the site was not actually visited until November 3rd. The nest was built on tangled fern growth of six or seven years, and the eggs, four in number, and of a dirty dead white colour, lay on dried grasses and rush, amongst which were scattered a few feathers, big and little.

They hatched out shortly afterwards, and a preliminary screen at a short distance, and made of the surrounding scrub, was page 116 hastily run up when the youngest nestling was about four days old.

The greatest care was taken in no way to scare the parents, and owing to a sharp little eminence fortunately providing a stance from which the nest could be well viewed, its immediate surroundings were neither touched nor trodden.

Neither McLean or myself were ever within nine feet of the nest, and, as I have said, the herbage around was untouched. We, moreover, always left the vicinity immediately on the completion of any necessary work, and in the open country the Harriers could not but have witnessed our departure.

Nevertheless, these birds deserted their nestlings, for on the 10th, when McLean went to move the break nearer, the chicks were dead.

Now, as these Harriers must have circled above their offspring, and seen them, not as eggs, mind you, but sprawling in the nest, moreover, probably also heard them calling, this desertion argues an almost incredible heartlessness. During the second week in November I got another Harrier's nest. It was built in a swamp of very tall page break

Plate XXVI. Young Harriers Quarrelling.

page break page 117 raupo, where last season a pair of Harriers hatched out one brood successfully, and attempted a second. Harriers sit very close, and though I almost stumbled on the bird, I barely allowed myself a glance at the nest, and came away at once. Indeed, I believe that with shy species, unless you have actually exchanged glances with the sitting bird, and she knows you have her secret, it is judicious to gradually wander off as if still unenlightened. Birds see so much and notice everything.

At long intervals the briefest of glimpses were taken at this second nest, and it was not until the 9th of December, when the young, two in number, were sitting up— baby Harriers spend a great part of their time in this attitude—and about fifteen or seventeen days old, that siege operations were begun. The nest, supported on dense masses of dry, dead raupo, was by this time flattened into a broad stage by the traffic of the old birds and the movements of the nestlings. The latter were densely clothed in very short, pale, furry-looking down, and when sitting up, much resembled teddy bears, formidably mouthed and beaked.

On the 10th, manuka poles, hidden by the tall reeds, were erected a few yards from the nest, and cross pieces lashed to them. Nest day, raupo, in an upright, natural position, was thickly fastened on to these, and finally, the sham camera put into position.

So far all had gone well, and throughout these various operations the Harrier continued to sit. We now had to clear the raupo between the lens and nest.

This was done as quickly as possible, and after finding the focus, and fixing up the real camera, an instant retreat was made. All was now ready, and about eight the following morning I took up my position in the raupo shell, but after several hours' bootless waiting, had to give it up, and came away, thinking the birds extraordinarily shy certainly, but suspecting nothing more.

I believed then that the Harriers must be feeding their young late in the evening or early in the morning, while yet there was not light enough for photography, and when, consequently, neither of us were upon the spot. On that assumption, and fearing that, perhaps, we were keeping the nestlings page break

Plate XXVII. Harrier's Nest in Raupo Swamp.

page break page 119 hungry during the hours of daylight, a good gorge of raw meat was provided them.

Next morning the young seemed fit and well, and we still believed they must have been fed at dawn or dusk, for it seemed out of all reckoning that the old Harriers should have abandoned their young, still alive and strong, and conspicuously visible.

Later, we came to the conclusion that after the sitting bird had been scared by the passage made through the raupo for the lens, neither it nor its mate had ever returned, that neither full sight of the young, nor hearing of their whistle calls had been of any avail.

During the two mornings spent in watching the young my suspicions as to their criminal propensities were confirmed. Very often in a Harriers' nest at the beginning there may be three or four or five young. I have got as many as six eggs. Out of these three or four or five, two — usually two — leave the wicked nest. What becomes of the smaller, later hatched nestlings? I believe they are torn to pieces and devoured by the larger chicks. On some occasion, perhaps when parental delay page 120 in supply of food has sharpened the appetites of all, the youngest and most feeble is taken. The next youngest is then devoured, and so the horrid tale proceeds until but three are left. The third chick probably suffers from a combined attack of the biggest pair, battened on their nest fellows and oldest of the brood.

There were but two in this nest under observation in December — there had been four or five eggs — and though they had been gorged with raw meat to the very throat late in the afternoon, there were the following morning quarrels so violent that I expected to see a tragedy enacted before my very eyes. One of these surviving nestlings was considerably the larger, but the smaller, fiercer chick was the more strong. The second day the larger was weakening, and the smaller bird very nearly got him down on several occasions, seizing him by the head and hanging on as turkeys do.

This smaller chick I imagined to be calculating on his fellow's ebbing strength with the hideous interest of the cannibal convict in Marcus Clarke's story.

It is hardly necessary to repeat again that both McLean and myself were then page 121 still under the impression that the nestlings must be receiving supplies at dawn and dusk while we were absent.

Even when we removed the camera and gear, giving up all hope of securing negatives from this nest, we were not perfectly certain of its desertion, for the Harriers still hung about the vicinity.

All doubt, however, ceased, when we found the young fallen from the nest and dead.