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Out in the Open.

[Contributions to be addressed to G. M. Thomson, F.L.S., Dunedin.]

If the question were asked, In what respect does New Zealand differ most from all other countries in the world? the replies no doubt would be of a very varied nature. Its scenery cannot be considered its most distinctive feature; for fine as it undoubtedly is, many of its beauties can be matched—we will not say excelled—in other parts of the world. Its geological structure, its mineral wealth, its climate, are all paralleled elsewhere. It is only when we come to consider its indigenous animal and vegetable life that we find its most unique and distinctive characteristics. Even in this department of Natural History, however, we find that the characteristics of New Zealand are generally those of large isolated islands, of which, for instance, Madagascar furnishes another example.

Not only new comers to these favoured islands, but even its natives of the present generation, often ask this question:—What is there to be seen in this new—this very new land? It seems so destitute of bright wild flowers and showy insects to charm the eye; it has few sweet songsters to enchant the ear. We miss alike the eglantine and cowslip from its woods, and the purple heather from its hills, Nature revels here only in shades of green, and these mostly of sombre hue. Our answer to the question is—much every way.

Naturalists in other lands look to New Zealand as one of the most remarkable fields for investigation in the world. Separated for enormously long geological ages from all other lands, it has developed a very peculiar fauna and flora, the study of which has been, and will always continue to be, a delight to zoologist and botanist alike. So that, while we speak of it as a new country, we feel that in reality it is one of the old lands of the globe, a relic of an archaic world. During all these past æons it has been under conditions quite different from those existing anywhere else, and as a result its plants and animals have here developed certain peculiar features. Into this remarkable old preserve of Nature's, we are now intruding all sorts of immigrants, without the shadow of an idea as to how they will develop in their new surroundings. We introduce forms of life which for long past periods have been subjected to the keen competition of the struggle for existence in more densely populated regions (using the word populated here with reference not to human beings, but to all of the humbler forms of life), and we take no account of the fact that here all the conditions are altered. One result of our settlement is, that the old, the original, and indigenous animals and plants are disappearing before the new comers, just as the Maori race, weakened for the struggle by long isolation, is melting away in the conflict with the European race, which is itself the outcome of a long-protracted development.

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Here then lies a field for our young and rising naturalists—a field in which the patient and observant eye is wanted more than anything else. Much has been recorded on the curiosities of our native plants and animals, but infinitely more remains to be done. Newton's simile is true here, as elsewhere:—We are but children picking pebbles on the seashore while the sea of knowledge stretches its illimitable expanse before us. But every day conditions are being changed. We not only want to record all we can about these indigenous forms of life as they exist while under unaltered conditions, we also want to note the changes which they undergo as their surroundings alted, and further, the changes which the introduced forms of life are rapidly undergoing. Just let us consider a few of the innumerable question of this nature which face the naturalist. We have brought here scores of plants which are annual in the old country, but which here—on account of the milder winter—are biennial or perennial. Let us record the alterations in habit which they undergo. Many native flowers are fertilized by special and peculiar forms of insects; in many cases these insects are rapidly disappearing before our introduced birds, while we have ourselves introduced other flower-fertilizing insects, such as hive and humble-bees to further complicate the question. The development of the last-named insect promises itself to present an interesting problem. We have placed them here in much the same circumstances as the rabbits were—in a new country where none of their hereditary enemies exist. Here, then, is field for work and observation. Nor must we forget what opportunities the disciples of Isaak Walton enjoy for furthering the knowledge of Nature. We have stocked our streams and lakes with several varieties of trout, but again we have left their enemies behind them. What remarkable changes may have to be chronicled regarding them we cannot yet surmise.

In this page of Zealandia we hope to be able to present a constant record of facts bearing on these and cognate questions. We ask our many readers to contribute from their stores of observations all such facts, remembering that no item of the kind is trivial, especially in the eye of the future. We may be able from time to time to propound questions to be answered from all parts of the colony, and it will be a gratifying feature of this enterprise if these notes of "Out in the Open" become a very popular part of the Magazine.