Sport in the islands resembles their climate and scenery. To name the distinguishing feature I have once more to employ the well-worn word, variety. Even if we limit the term to the pursuit of game, there is enough of that to enable an idle man to pass his time all the year round. In the autumn there is deer-shooting of the best, and in the early winter the sportsman may turn to wild ducks and swamp-hen. Then wild goats have begun to infest certain high ranges, especially the backbone of the province of Wellington and the mountains in central Otago. In stalking them the hunter may have to exhibit no small share of the coolness of head and stoutness of limb which are brought to play in Europe in the chase of the chamois, ibex, and moufflon. In addition to sureness of foot, the goats have already developed an activity and cunning unknown to their tame ancestors. They will lie or stand motionless and unnoticed among the bewildering rocks, letting the stalker seek for them in vain; and when roused they bound away at a speed that is no mean test of rifle-shooting, particularly when the marksman is hot and panting with fatigue. And when brought to a stand against rocks, or among the roots of mountain beeches, or on the stones of a river-bed, they will show fight and charge dogs and even men. The twisted or wrinkled horns of an old he-goat are not despicable weapons. As the reward of many hours’ hard clambering, varied by wading through ice-cold torrents, and spiced, it may be, with some danger, the goat hunter may secure a long pair of curving horns, or in mid-winter a thick, warm pelt, sometimes, though rarely, pure white. Moreover, he may feel that he is ridding the mountain pastures of an unlicensed competitor of that sacred quadruped, the sheep. Goats are by no means welcome on sheep-runs. Colonel Craddock, it is true, complains that it is not easy to regard them as wild, inasmuch as their coats retain the familiar colours of the domestic animals. He wishes they would change to some distinctive hue. This feeling is perhaps akin to the soldier’s dislike to shooting at men who retain the plain clothes of civilians instead of donning uniform--a repugnance experienced now and then by some of our fighting men in South Africa. Rabbits, of course, as a national scourge, are to be shot at any time, and though on the whole now held in check, are in some districts still only too abundant. Occasionally when elaborate plans are being laid for poisoning a tract of infested country, the owner of the land may wish no interference, and the man with a gun may be warned off as a disturber of a peace intended to lull the rabbit into security. But, speaking generally, any one who wishes to shoot these vermin may find country where he can do so to his heart’s content, and pose the while as a public benefactor.