We crossed the old river-bed of the Waimakiriri,and crawled slowly on to Main's,through the descending twilight.One sees Main's about six miles off,and it appears to be about six hours before one reaches it.
A little hump for the house,and a longer hump for the stables.
The tutu not having yet begun to spring,I yarded my bullocks at Main's.
This demands explanation.Tutu is a plant which dies away in the winter,and shoots up anew from the old roots in spring,growing from six inches to two or three feet in height,sometimes even to five or six.It is of a rich green colour,and presents,at a little distance,something the appearance of myrtle.On its first coming above the ground it resembles asparagus.I have seen three varieties of it,though I am not sure whether two of them may not be the same,varied somewhat by soil and position.The third grows only in high situations,and is unknown upon the plains;it has leaves very minutely subdivided,and looks like a fern,but the blossom and seed are nearly identical with the other varieties.The peculiar property of the plant is,that,though highly nutritious both for sheep and cattle when eaten upon a tolerably full stomach,it is very fatal upon an empty one.Sheep and cattle eat it to any extent,and with perfect safety,when running loose on their pasture,because they are then always pretty full;but take the same sheep and yard them for some few hours,or drive them so that they cannot feed,then turn them into tutu,and the result is that they are immediately attacked with apoplectic symptoms,and die unless promptly bled.Nor does bleeding by any means always save them.The worst of it is,that when empty they are keenest after it,and nab it in spite of one's most frantic appeals,both verbal and flagellatory.Some say that tutu acts like clover,and blows out the stomach,so that death ensues.