Oversea Birds For Birdless Tahiti

The Remarkable Self-imposed Task of Eastham Guild

“An Englishman is in town, visiting our British Consul. A few days ago he came to the Consul, speaking to him in greatest confidence and ask ing him not to repeat it for fear the island people would think him crazy.

But he was sure he had seen a Hummingbird visiting his vanilla flowers! A Hummingbird in a bird less island! He himself thought the island was ‘getting him* “Undoubtedly, this is one of some ‘hummers * liberated over a month ago.

This man does know a ‘hummer* when he sees one.”

SO wrote Mr. Eastham Guild. Tahiti’s bird-man, in December, 1938.

Twenty years ago, when he came to the island it was birdless, except for a few sea and shore birds. A lover of nature, he had, as a child in Boston, learned his bird-lore from a naturalist friend of his father, and the inspiration to re-establish bird life in that tropical paradise came to him soon after he arrived in Tahiti.

The long and tedious correspondence necessary for permits to export birds from the various countries; the surveys made in Tahiti of indigenous seeds and small grains; the enormous expense of buying and shipping birds with proper care and equipment; importation of natural foods for the birds until such time as they could search for their own; the evolution of a card index system for keeping track of the birds after they had arrived; the careful checking of a variety before it was imported, so that there would be no violent economic repercussions should it adapt itself too readily to its new environ ment (e.g., the minah and the bul-bul of Asia, which introduced by interfering man into Fiji, have so upset the balance of Nature that the native birds have been driven right back into the moun tains)—all these things were necessary preliminaries to actually getting the birds to the island.

BUT, at last, the stage was set, and about 10 years ago Mr. Guild began importing. In all, he has imported about 8,000 birds, of 60 varieties. Most of the birds are waxbills and finches; all have been liberated, and 23 of the varie ties have reproduced themselves.

They were brought from countries with similar climates to Tahiti: finches from New Zealand, Australia, New Hebrides, New Guinea; waxbills, finches and weavers from Africa; tanagers and sugar birds from Central and South America; bluebirds, orioles, hummingbirds, meadow larks, tanagers, lazulie buntings, touhees, goldfinches from the United States and Mexico.

After the birds are imported, they are placed in conditioning aviaries until they are acclimatised. They are then liberated.

Mr. Guild established a feeding station at his home, where he fed the birds four times a day, and in this way the birds accustomed themselves to self-support in easy stages.

If the birds happen to be shipped from their home land at a season that is at odds with Tahiti’s, then they must be kept in the aviaries until their moulting and breeding period is changed. When the time is right for liberating, the birds are brought down to aviaries, close to the feeding station. The aviaries have feed ing platforms identical with those on the outside, and the birds acquaint them

selves with other birds on the outside, and with the feeding hours.

In a few days they are liberated, about ten or twelve at a time. This is done at the four o’clock feeding—at this hour the birds will not immediately fly away to find new fields, but will find a roosting spot nearby. The next morning at the six o’clock feeding they will find hundreds of others of their kind and accommodate themselves easily to their freedom.

It is interesting to note that birds do not interbreed —as do, for instance, dogs. (A Foxie will breed with a Bulldog; or an Alsatian with a Chow.) But no Fire finch breeds with a Cordon Bleu, no Sydney Waxbill with an African Waxbill —even though they are of the same classification.

IN selecting varieties for import, it was necessary to choose those that were not particularly migratory; even so, at times the migratory urge has proved too strong.

There was the case of the Western Bluebirds, five pairs of which came from the States in December, 1939. They changed their brooding and moulting season to accord with South Seas condi tions, nested and raised two families in early 1940; and then completely dis appeared. Where they went is not known—maybe north to the States or to greater warmth. In November, they re turned, nested, and brought up two more broods. In the following June they again disappeared. This has gone on for three

years now—leaving the island in June and returning about November.

The birds are known to be spreading about the island; but, although the French Government has passed laws pro tecting them, there are not many bird

minded people in Tahiti, and it is easy to lose track of them once liberated. Those that stay around the Guild’s house are propagating well—and it is assumed that those that have scattered to the far hills and valleys are doing likewise. It will probably be another five years before there is a real showing of bird-life in Tahiti.

GAME birds have also been brought in by Mr. Guild, and by Mr. Charles B Nordhoff (of Nordhoff and Hall fame). Wild ducks, geese, pheasant, quail, grouse, are among the varieties im

ported; but, because they nest on the ground where their eggs are a prey to rats, cats and dogs, they have not done well in populated areas. And, although there are now local game laws, the game birds have proved too great a temptation to the Tahitian, and most of them have ended in his stone oven.

One bird now firmly established in Tahiti was not introduced by Mr. Guild.

This is the Chestnut Breasted Waxbill— a finch common to Australia and shipped all over the world, from there, to bird fanciers.

The first Chestnut Breasters were in troduced into Tahiti when a shipment was passing through Papeete on its way to Chile.

Two drunks wandered on to the ship, sighted the cages. “Why, the pretty little birds! Why the pretty POOR little birds!

All caged up! It’s a shame. We’ll let ’em out, huh?” And they did.

Mrs. Geri von Bergmann, American business woman, of Tahiti, who is now

carrying on Mr. Guild’s work while he is in America doing a war job, says; “We have large flocks of them around our grounds—undoubtedly, some of the ori ginals flying over the island saw the birds on our station, and dropped in for a look see. They decided it was a soft spot and brought their friends and relations, and have proved a great nuisance as they eat out the other varieties who do not have such large broods, or so often. Mr. Guild has had to trap hundreds, and ship them to neighbouring islands and to Central America.”

THERE have been some amusing and heart-breaking instances attending Mr. Guild’s work.

There was the time when he was carry ing “live food” with a shipment from the States, and the mealy-worms ate through their cardboard boxes and invaded the ship; times when the birds got sick; or when a variety disappeared completely on liberation.

He has never been successful with pure yellow birds—Tahiti moonlight is bril liantly white, and while the birds sleep in the trees they are easily picked off by rats.

Eastham Guild disclaims all scientific knowledge of ornithology, but his know ledge is well-grounded, and his love of birds is all-sufficient. The war has brought a stop to his self-imposed task— the world has got a bigger job on at the moment: bird-collectors have gone out of business, shipping space is limited, per mits to import and collecting expeditions are off for the duration. But, after the war, when peace returns to the Pacific, it is hoped that the work will continue.

Right now, with things as they are— nothing written, nothing done that is not tied up to the war in some fashion—it is almost impossible to believe that there ever was a time when a man could spend his time simply aiding nature. It is even harder to believe that the day when we will have time and space to do as we wish will dawn again.

That Eastham Guild once had the time and employed it as he did, is a pretty happy thought in this war-torn world.