CHAPTER XVIII.
GODWIT SHOOTING.
Whatever accusations of remissness and lack of zeal and energy may be brought against the New Zealand Government, no one can assert with any degree of truth, that the surveys of this part of the country are neglected by them. Before one surveyor's pegs have had time to commence to decay, and the lines cut, become grown up with tea-tree scrub, a new survey is ordered, new pegs are put in, and lines fresh cut. I am told that the cost of these repeated surveys sometimes exceeds the value of the land surveyed, and without for a moment supposing that they are unnecessary or useless, one cannot help thinking that the money spent in resurveying outlying and comparatively uninhabited districts, would be more judiciously expended in making good roads in those places that are already settled.
There have been two surveys at Matakohe over the same ground—or at any rate in a great measure over the same ground—during the four years I have lived there. One of the most efficient surveyors on the Government staff, Mr. J——, was with his party, at this time encamped on the outskirts of Matakohe, and he and his assistant, Mr. de C——, called on me, and an acquaintance sprang up which greatly helped to lessen the dulness of our country life.
Mr. J—— was fond of shooting, and whenever a day could be spared, we went out together with our guns. When I first became friendly with him—in April—pheasant shooting had not commenced, so we confined our attention to the wild fowl, the season for which had already opened, in consequence of the breeding time having been unusually early. The Acclimatisation Society has the power to alter the shooting season as it deems advisable, but the season for both native and imported game, usually extends from the 1st of May to the end of July. We enjoyed two or three good days' sport together, but the best I have ever had up here, was towards the end of April.
On this particular day, Mr. J—— rode in by appointment to have some godwit shooting, and as soon as the incoming tide reached my landing wharf, we embarked in my punt with our dogs, guns, luncheon, &c., in order to have some shooting before the flats became covered. I took with us one of my boys, a capital hand with the sculls, and his duty was to paddle the punt as quietly as possible, when we were coming up to birds, while my friend and myself placed ourselves as well as we could out of sight.
We first steered for a point about a quarter of a mile off, on which we could distinguish birds of some description. Mangrove grew in the shallow water off this point, and these I was careful to make use of, as a screen, as long as possible. As we neared the last one, I handed my boy the sculls, and crouched down in the stem, while Mr. J—— followed my example in the stern. Presently the last shelter was passed, and we came in full sight and range of a large flock of godwit. Up they rose to seek safety in flight, but the music of our guns rang out, feathers flew in all directions, and the dogs had their work cut out for some time. We dropped fifteen and a half brace with the three shots we got in; and when they were all bagged, we hoisted the sail, as a nice breeze was blowing, and shaped our course for a point called the Tent Rock, where I knew godwit, red-shanked plover, and other birds loved to congregate.
When within about a quarter of a mile, the sail was lowered, my boy again took the sculls, and Mr. J—— and myself laid up in the punt. In spite, however, of all our precautions, we only secured there a brace of red-shanked plover, a black duck, and a couple of New Zealand sandpipers. We now sailed away with a leading breeze for an island lying about three miles distant, which is only covered at high water, adding a couple of duck and a brace and a half of red-shanked plover to our bag on the way. On the island we had some grand sport, as the tide was by this time over all the flats, and the birds did not like leaving the only feeding place remaining to them.