rimson-headed parakeets, may swell the list. Such is a "papa" river!
and there are many such.

Features for which the traveller in New Zealand should be prepared are
the far-reaching prospects over which the eye can travel, the sight
and sound of rapid water, and the glimpses of snow high overhead, or
far off--glimpses to be caught in almost every landscape in the South
Island and in many of the most beautiful of the North. Through the
sunny, lucid atmosphere it is no uncommon thing to see mountain peaks
sixty and eighty miles away diminished in size by distance, but with
their outlines clearly cut. From great heights you may see much longer
distances, especially on very early mornings of still midsummer days.
Then, before the air is heated or troubled or tainted, but when night
seems to have cooled and purged it from all impurity, far-off ridges
and summits stand out clean, sharp and vivid. On such mornings, though
standing low down by the sea-shore, I have seen the hills of Bank's
Peninsula between sixty and seventy miles off, albeit they are not
great mountains. Often did they seem to rise purple-coloured from the
sea, wearing "the likeness of a clump of peaked isles," as Shelley
says of the Euganean hills seen from Venice. On such a morning from
a hill looking northward over league after league of rolling virgin
forest I have seen the great volcano, Mount Ruapehu, rear up his 9,000
feet, seeming a solitary mass, the upper part distinctly seen, blue
and snow-capped, the lower bathed and half-lost in a pearl-coloured
haze. Most impressive of all is it to catch sight, through a cleft
in the forest, of the peak of Mount Egmont, and of the flanks of the
almost perfect cone curving upward from the sea-shore for 8,300 feet.
The sentinel volcano stands alone. Sunrise is the moment to see him
when his summit, sheeted with snow, is tinged with the crimson of
morning and touched by clouds streaming past in the wind. Lucky is the
eye that thus beholds Egmont, for he is a cloud-gatherer who does not
show his face every day or to every gazer. Almost as fine a spectacle
is the sight of the "Kaikouras," or "Lookers-on." When seen from the
deck of a coasting steamer they seem almost to hang over the sea
heaving more than 8,000 feet below their summits. Strangely beautiful
are these mighty ridges when the moonlight bathes them and turns the
sea beneath to silver. But more, beautiful are they still in the calm
and glow of early mornin