The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 8, Issue 8 (December 1, 1933)
A Spring morning at Whakaipo Bay, Lake Taupo, North Island. A beach of white sand, perfectly half-moon in shape. Overhead, a deep blue arch of exquisite ether. Around, radiant sunshine, also a sheet of fairy rippling water. To the right, a heavily wooded headland, hundreds of feet high, rises sheer from the water. The left extremity, gently rolling hills. In the foreground, a crystal stream murmurs over its gravelly bed; between banks clothed with fern and Tutu (a shrub poisonous to cattle).
In the shingle-bottomed pools lurk the speckled treasure of lake and stream—flitting and glancing. Feathery kowhais and tender willows outline the beach, lovely in Spring green.
A tui—called a “parson” bird (chiefly on account of the cluster of dainty white aigrette-like feathers under his beak)—sings gaily in a thicket of his beloved bush. Not yet has he sent forth his seemingly mournful “mating” call.
And in the leafage of the stately bushland adjacent, the “bushwarbler,” cheery little soul, trills ecstatically. Gulls, with the wing-spread of the true sea rover, cross and re-cross, some disturbing the peace by their shrill piercing cries.
And we stand, joyous, invigorated—lungs expanded to inhale the breath of the neighbouring snows—exhilarating as a draught of champagne.