the pekapeka, and was of sufficient length to reach from the lake-bottom to the surface, where it was fastened to the aka tauhu, or simply tauhu.

The tauhu, or ridgepole, consisted of a stronger length of aka, about 2 in thick. One end was usually attached to a tumu, or post, marking the crayfish-ground, the other being fastened to a poito, or float. The pekapeka were attached along it at intervals of 10 ft. To prevent the line of the tauhu being altered by winds or currents, a punga (anchor) was often attached by a line to the tauhu.

The complete tau is shown in the diagram (fig. 1). When set on the koura ground the tauhu line is fastened at one end to the tumu at the water-level, and kept on the surface, like the top rope of a net, by floats. Every 10 ft. along its length a pekapeka line hangs down to the bottom of the lake, with a fern bundle attached to its end by an aka tahua. Into these bundles the koura make their way and await their fate.

Before, however, the owner of the tau can secure the trapped koura he must be provided with a korapa, or hand-net. The korapa is shaped somewhat like a tennis-racquet on a large scale, without a handle. The frame is made of toatoa wood (Phyllocladus trichomanoides), which has a-springy, elastic fibre. The two ends are brought round in an oval, lashed together, and strengthened by a cross-piece a few inches above this binding. A flax net, with very little bag in it, is stretched across the frame.

Fig. 1.—The tau koura.

The process of securing koura by means of the tau is known as tata koura. If the owner of a tau invited you to accompany him to secure his catch he would say, Ka haere taua ki te tata koura (Let us go and tata koura). This is an idiomatic phrase that applies only to the tau. Having embarked on his canoe, he made his way to the ground and picked up the tauhu at the tumu, or post. He then hauled along the tauhu, hand over hand, until he reached the first vertical line, or pekapeka. He then drew up the pekapeka, evenly and smoothly. The koura lay in the leaves of the fern, and the movement, if not too sudden, had no disturbing effect upon them whilst the bundle was still in the water. Exposure to the air, however, was a different matter—as probably many of us will remember from our juvenile experiences in attempting to lure a fresh-water crayfish ashore on a bent pin baited with a worm : it will come to the surface clinging on tenaciously, but immediately it breaks the surface it lets go and kicks for the bottom again. The old-time Maori was acquainted with this

characteristic of the koura, and hence the invention of the korapa. Up came the pekapeka, hand over hand, until the butts of the stalks of the fern bundle appeared above the surface. Then the korapa was gently inserted between the fern bundle and the canoe. The butts of the stalks rested against the lashed end of the korapa just out of water, whilst the mass of the leaves of the fern bundle, still under water, rested against the submerged broad face of the korapa. The two were drawn up together, and just as the leaves of the fern were about to reach the surface there was a quick pull, with leverage against the canoe-side. In the latter stage of this pull the arms were assisted by the naked foot treading on the cross-bar of the korapa. The fern bundle left the water in a horizontal position with the korapa beneath it. The koura, kicking backwards for home, were intercepted by the net of the korapa, and shared the fate of those that the inner recesses of the fern bundle had lulled into false security. The korapa and fern bundle having been brought into the canoe, the leafy end of each stalk was carefully shaken until all the contents rested in the bottom of the canoe. The bundle was then returned to the water, and the canoe drawn hand over hand along the tauhu to the next pekapeka. In this manner the process was repeated to the end of the tau. By this time, if the season were good, the canoe would be laden to the gunwales.

In ancient times there were thieves, as now, and a good tau was liable to be raided. A thief was known as a korara, and, as he was generally in a hurry, he did not use a korapa, or net. In some cases the owner of a tau, to save himself from the depredations of these fresh-water pirates, would do without a tumu and floats, and thus allow the tauhu line to sink to the bottom. This procedure left no surface marks to serve as a guide for thieves. The owner, to ensure his picking up his tauhu, would mark the line of his tau by selecting landmarks ashore which would lie across this line. When he went to collect his catch he would paddle out till he picked up his landmarks, and then dredge across the line of his tau. This necessitated a dredge-hook, or marau, as part of his equipment.

The marau consisted of a three-pronged piece of wood, made from the part of a tree where two branches on the same level forked out from the trunk. A stone was lashed between two prongs, and a rope tied to the third or upper prong. With this dragged along the bottom, across the line of the tau, the tauhu was picked up, and the usual procedure carried out.

That the marau was necessary as a protection against thieves is proved by the song alluding to the Kaiore and Taramoa grounds. In it the poet states that men should live without creating trouble, and not meddle with the tau poito, or tau kept up by floats.

On some grounds, and in the appropriate season, the tau was also used to snare the toitoi, which took refuge in the fern bundles like the koura. When used in this way the tau was also called a porohe. In the song quoted above, the famous fishing-ground of Kaiore is alluded to as Kaiore tukunga porohe (Kaiore, where the toitoi traps are set). The Rev. Fletcher^* records that at Taupo the tau was used for catching kokopu as well as koura.

Best mentions the fern bundle as being called a taruke at Lake Rotoiti. As he states, the taruke is a trap used for catching sea-crayfish. Probably the Rotoiti people have adopted this word from their coastal relatives.