He talked to his brother, Tanehokahoka, who called all of his children, the birds of the air together.

Tanemahuta spoke to them.

"Something is eating my children, the trees. I need one of you to come down from the forest roof and live on the floor, so that my children can be saved, and your home can be saved. Who will come?"

All was quiet, and not a bird spoke.

Tanehokahoka turned to Tui.

"E Tui, will you come down from the forest roof?"

Tui looked up at the trees and saw the sun filtering through the leaves. Tui looked down at the forest floor and saw the cold, dark earth and shuddered.

"Kao, Tanehokahoka, for it is too dark and I am afraid of the dark."

All was quiet, and not a bird spoke.

Tanehokahoka turned to Pukeko.

"Pukeko, will you come down from the forest roof?"

Pukeko looked up at the trees and saw the sun filtering through the leaves. Pukeko looked down at the forest floor and saw the cold, damp earth and shuddered.

"Kao, Tanehokahoka, for it is too damp and I do not want to get my feet wet."

All was quiet, and not a bird spoke.

Tanehokahoka turned to Pipiwharauroa.

"Pipiwharauroa, will you come down from the forest roof?"

Pipiwharauroa looked up at the trees and saw the sun filtering through the leaves. Pipiwharauroa looked around and saw his family.

"Kao, Tanehokahoka, for I am busy at the moment building my nest."

All was quiet, and not a bird spoke. And great was the sadness in the heart of Tanehokahoka, for he knew, that if one of his children did not come down from the forest roof, not only would his brother loose his children, but the birds would have no home.

Tanehokahoka turned to Kiwi.

"E kiwi, will you come down from the forest roof?"

Kiwi looked up at the trees and saw the sun filtering through the leaves. Kiwi looked around and saw his family. Kiwi looked at the cold damp earth. Looking around once more, he turned to Tanehokahoka and said,

"I will."

Great was the joy in the hearts of Tanehokahoka and Tanemahuta, for this little bird was giving them hope. But Tanemahuta felt that he should warn kiwi of what would happen.

"E kiwi, do you realise that if you do this, you will have to grow thick, strong legs so that you can rip apart the logs on the ground and you will loose your beautiful coloured feathers and wings so that you will never be able to return to the forest roof. You will never see the light on day again."

All was quiet, and not a bird spoke.

"E kiwi, will you come down from the forest roof?"

Kiwi took one last look at the sun filtering through the trees and said a silent goodbye. Kiwi took one last look at the other birds, their wings and their coloured feathers and said a silent goodbye. Looking around once more, he turned to Tanehokahoka and said,

"I will."

Then Tanehokahoka turned to the other birds and said,