Chapter XVII: Part 17

"When the Turkeys arrive in parts where food is abundant, they separate into smaller flocks, composed of birds of all ages and both sexes, promiscuously mingled, and devour all before them. This happens about the middle of November. So gentle do they sometimes become after these long journeys, that they have been seen to approach the farmhouses, associate with the Domestic Fowls, and enter the stables and corn-cribs in quest of food. In this way, roaming about the forests, and feeding chiefly on mast, they pass the autumn and part of the winter.

"As early as the middle of February the females separate and fly from the males, the latter strenuously pursue, and begin to gobble or to utter their notes of exultation. The sexes roost apart, but at no great distance from each other. When a female utters a call-note, all the gobblers within hearing return the sound, rolling note after note with as much rapidity as if they intended to emit the first and last together, not with spread tail, as when fluttering round the females on the ground, or practising on the branches of the trees on which they have roosted for the night, but much in the manner of the Domestic Turkey, when an unusual or unexpected noise elicits its singular hubbub. If the call of the female comes from the ground, all the males immediately fly towards the spot, and the moment they reach it, whether the hen be in sight or not, spread out and erect their tail, draw the head back on the shoulders, depress their wings with a quivering motion, and strut pompously about, emitting at the same time a succession of puffs from the lungs, and stopping now and then to listen and look, but whether they spy the female or not they continue to puff and strut, moving with as much celerity as their ideas of ceremony seem to admit. While thus occupied the males often encounter each other, in which case desperate battles take place, ending in bloodshed and often in the loss of many lives, the weaker falling under the blows inflicted upon the head by the stronger. The moment a rival is dead the conqueror treads him under foot, but what is strange, not with hatred, but with all the motions which he employs in caressing the female.

"About the middle of April, when the season is dry, the hens begin to look out for a place to deposit their eggs. This place requires to be as much as possible concealed from the eyes of the Crow, as that bird watches the Turkey when going to her nest, and, waiting in the neighbourhood until she has left it, removes and eats the eggs. The nest, which consists of a few withered leaves, is placed on the ground, in a hollow scooped out by the side of a log, or in the fallen top of a dry leafy tree, under a thicket of sumach or briars, or a few feet within the edge of a cornbrake, but always in a dry place. When laying her eggs the female approaches her nest very cautiously, scarcely ever following the same track twice, and when she leaves them covers them so carefully with leaves that it is very difficult for any person to find the nest, unless the mother has been suddenly started from it. When on her nest, if she perceives an enemy, she sits still and crouches low until the intruder has passed by, unless she is aware that she has been discovered."

"I have frequently," says Audubon, "approached within five or six paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, assuming an air of carelessness, and whistling or talking to myself, the female remaining undisturbed; whereas if I went cautiously towards it, she would never suffer me to approach within twenty paces, but would run off, with her tail spread on one side, to a distance of twenty or thirty yards, when, assuming a stately gait, she would walk about deliberately, uttering now and then a cluck."

The mother seldom abandons her nest on account of its having been disturbed by man, but if robbed by a snake or other wild animal she never approaches it again. If her brood has been destroyed, she lays a second set of eggs, but usually rears only one brood in the season. Sometimes several mothers lay their eggs in the same nest. Audubon once found three sitting upon forty-two eggs. In such a case one or other of the females always keeps guard over the nest, to prevent the approach of the weaker kind of enemies. When nearly hatching, the hen will not leave her eggs for any consideration, and will rather allow herself to be fenced in than desert her nest. Audubon tells us he once witnessed the hatching of a brood of Turkeys.

"I concealed myself," he says, "on the ground, within a very few feet, and saw the female raise herself half the length of her legs, look anxiously upon the eggs, cluck with a sound peculiar to the mother on such occasions, carefully remove each half-empty shell, and with her bill caress and dry the young birds that already stood tottering and attempting to make their way from the nest. I saw them all emerge from the shell, and in a few moments after tumble, roll, and push each other forward, with astonishing and inscrutable instinct."

Before the old bird leaves the nest she shakes herself violently, preens her feathers, and assumes quite a different appearance; she raises herself, stretches out her neck, and glances about and around to detect any enemy that may be nigh, spreads her wings, and clucking softly, endeavours to keep her young family together. As the brood are usually hatched in the afternoon, they often return and spend the first night in the nest, but afterwards remove to higher undulating ground, the mother dreading the effects of rain on her young, which seldom survive if thoroughly wetted at this tender age, when their only covering is a soft, delicate, hairy down. In about fourteen days the young birds, which till this time had rested on the ground, are able to fly to some low branch, and pass the night under the sheltering wings of their mother. A little later they leave the woods during the day, and search the prairies and glades for berries of various kinds, and grasshoppers. The young now rapidly increase in size and strength, and about the month of August are able to escape the attacks of their four-footed enemies by rising from the ground to the highest branches of the trees. About this time young and old assemble together and begin their pilgrimage.

Wild Turkeys will sometimes feed and associate with tame ones, whose owners are glad to welcome them, the half-breed being much the most hardy, and easily reared.

"While at Henderson," says Audubon, "I had among other birds a fine male Turkey, which had been reared from its earliest youth under my care, it having been caught by me when probably not more than two or three days old. It became so tame that it would follow any person who called it, and was the favourite of the little village; yet it would never roost with the tame Turkeys, but regularly betook itself at night to the roof of the house, where it remained till dawn. When two years old it began to fly to the woods, where it remained for a considerable part of the day, returning to the enclosure as soon as night approached. It continued this practice until the following spring, when I saw it several times fly from its roosting-place to the top of a high cotton tree on the Ohio, from which, after resting a little, it would sail to the opposite shore, the river being nearly half a mile wide, and return towards night. One morning I saw it fly off at a very early hour to the woods, in another direction, and took no particular notice of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the bird did not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green River, to shoot, when having walked five miles I saw a fine large gobbler cross the path before me, moving leisurely along. Turkeys being then in prime condition for the table, I ordered my dog to chase it and put it up. The animal went off with great rapidity, and as it approached the Turkey, I saw with much surprise that the latter paid little attention. Juno was on the point of seizing it, when she suddenly stopped and turned her head towards me. I hastened to them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I saw my own favourite bird, and discovered that it had recognised the dog and would not fly from it, although the sight of a strange dog would have caused it to run off at once."

The Wild Turkeys do not restrict themselves to any particular kind of food, but prefer the winter grape and the pecan-nut, being found in the greatest numbers where these are plentiful. They eat grass and various herbs, corn, berries, fruit, insects, tadpoles, and small lizards. When walking, these birds often open their wings a little, folding them again over each other, as if their weight were too great, then run a short distance, spreading their pinions and fanning their sides after the manner of the Domestic Fowl, then leaping two or three times into the air, and shaking themselves. While searching for food they keep the head raised, and are always on the watch, meanwhile scratching with their feet, and snatching up at once with the beak any prey which they may have found. In summer they roll themselves in the dust of roads or ploughed fields to clear themselves from ticks. After snow, when the ground becomes hard, the Turkeys will remain on their sleeping-places without food for three or four days, but sometimes venture into farmyards to the stacks of corn and stables, in search of grain. During falls of melting snow they run to surprising distances, and with such rapidity that no horse can keep up with them; late in the spring, however, their strength is not so great, and a good dog is able to overtake them.

With the exception of man, the most formidable enemies of the Wild Turkey are the lynx, the Snowy Owl, and the Virginian Owl. The lynx pursues both old and young, sucks their eggs, and does them great injury. The Owls attack them when roosting on the branches of trees, hovering around them with silent wing. "This, however," says Audubon, "is rarely done without being discovered; a single cluck from one of the party announces the approach of the murderer. They instantly start upon their legs and watch the motions of the Owl, which, selecting one as its victim, comes down upon it like an arrow, and would inevitably secure the prize, did not the latter at that moment lower its head, stoop, and spread its tail in an inverted manner over its back, so that the aggressor is met by a smooth inclined plane, along which it glances without hurting the Turkey; immediately after which the latter drops to the ground, and thus escapes merely with the loss of a few feathers."

Turkeys are hunted in all parts of America with ardour, but always in moderation. They are shot at pairing-time, and also when at roost; but they are most commonly caught in pens, in a manner thus described by Audubon:--

"Young trees, of four or five inches in diameter, are cut down and divided into pieces of the length of twelve or fourteen feet. Two of these are laid on the ground parallel to each other, at a distance of ten or twelve feet. Two others are laid across the ends of these at right angles to them, and in this manner successive layers are added until the fabric is raised to the height of about four feet. It is then covered with similar pieces of wood, placed three or four inches apart, and loaded with one or two heavy logs to render the whole firm. This done, a trench about eighteen inches in depth and width is cut under one side of the cage, into which it opens slantingly and rather abruptly. It is continued on its outside to some distance, so as gradually to attain the level of the surrounding ground. Over the part of this trench within the pen, and close to the wall, some sticks are placed so as to form a kind of bridge about a foot in breadth. The trap being now finished, the owner places a quantity of Indian corn in its centre, as well as in the trench; and as he walks off, drops here and there a few grains in the woods, sometimes to the distance of a mile. This is repeated at every visit to the trap after the Turkeys have found it. No sooner has a Turkey discovered the train of corn than it communicates the circumstance to the flock by a cluck, when all of them come up, and searching for the grains scattered about, at length come upon the trench, which they follow, squeezing themselves one after another through the passage under the bridge. In this manner the whole flock sometimes enters, but more commonly six or seven only, as they are alarmed by the least noise, even the cracking of a tree in frosty weather. Those within having gorged themselves, raise their heads, and try to force their way through the top or sides of the pen, passing and repassing on the bridge, but never for a moment looking down or attempting to escape by the passage by which they entered. Thus they remain until the owner of the trap arriving closes the trench and secures his captives. I have heard of eighteen Turkeys having been caught in this manner at a single visit to the trap."

When Turkeys are abundant, the owners sometimes neglect to visit their traps, and the poor prisoners are starved for want of food, for they never retrace their steps along the trench, as they might readily do, and thus regain their liberty.

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The AUSTRALIAN JUNGLE FOWLS (_Megapodinæ_) form a group of Australian birds, distinguished from all their feathered brethren by the strange manner in which their broods are incubated. For this process mounds of grass and earth are erected by the parents to receive their unusually large eggs, which are hatched by means of the heat engendered by the decaying vegetable matter. The young do not quit the shell until they are fully fledged and capable of supporting themselves. Gould is of opinion that this singular way of incubating the eggs, and the very small size of their brain, indicate that the _Megapodinæ_ hold but a low place in the scale of intelligence. Naturalists are much at variance concerning the systematic position of these birds, but in our own opinion Reichenbach is correct in considering them as nearly allied to the _Gallinaceæ_, and we shall therefore adopt his arrangement.

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The TALLEGALLI (_Tallegalli_) are recognisable by their strong curved beak, short toes, small much-rounded wings, and the bare patches on the head, neck, and breast. These birds inhabit the dense brushes, scrubby gullies, and primeval forests of Australia and New Guinea, where they are met with in small flocks on the ground. In disposition they are very shy, and when disturbed endeavour to escape by running into the thick brush or by flying up to the branches of trees, and then ascending to the top, which they gain by leaping from bough to bough; having attained the summit they sometimes fly off to a new locality in the underwood. During the mid-day heat they generally seek shelter under the shady branches of trees, often uttering a low chuckling noise; they also dust themselves on the ground, after the manner of other Gallinaceous Birds. Their food consists of seeds, berries, and insects.

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The BRUSH TURKEYS (_Catheturus_) are recognisable by their powerful frame, moderate-sized neck, large head, short rounded wings, and tail of medium length, composed of eighteen feathers; their soft woolly down, and a slight hairy growth on the head and neck. The fore part of the throat exhibits a long fleshy excrescence. These remarkable birds are natives of Australia.

THE BRUSH TURKEY, OR WATTLED TALLEGALLUS.

The BRUSH TURKEY, or WATTLED TALLEGALLUS (_Catheturus_, or _Tallegallus Lathami_), is of a beautiful chocolate-brown on the upper portions of the body, and light brown on the under side, which is marked with silver-grey. The eye is light brown, the wattle bright yellow, the beak lead-grey, and the foot light reddish brown. The bare skin on the head and neck is scarlet. This species is two feet and a half long; the wing measures twelve inches, and the tail nine inches and a half. The female closely resembles her mate.

"How far the range of the Wattled Tallegallus may extend," says Mr. Gould, "is not yet satisfactorily ascertained; it is known to inhabit various parts of New South Wales, from Cape Howe to Moreton Bay, and Mr. Macgillivray informed me that he had killed it as far up the east coast as Port Molle. The assaults of the cedar-cutters and others, who frequently hunt through the brushes of Illawarra and Maitland, had, however, nearly extirpated it from those localities when I visited the colony in 1838, and it probably does not now exist there; but I believe it is still plentiful in the dense and little-trodden brushes of the Manning and Clarence. I was at first led to believe the country between the mountain ranges and the coast constituted its sole habitat, but I was agreeably surprised when I found it in the Liverpool brushes and in the scrubby gullies and sides of the lower hills that branch off towards the interior.

"It has often been asserted that Australia abounds in anomalies, and in no instance is the truth of this assertion more fully exemplified than in the history of this very singular bird, respecting the situation of which in the natural system much diversity of opinion, as above noticed, has hitherto prevailed. It was consequently one of the birds which demanded my utmost attention during my visit to Australia.

"The most remarkable circumstance connected with the economy of this species is the fact of its eggs not being incubated in the manner of other birds. At the commencement of the spring the Wattled Tallegallus scratches together an immense heap of decaying matter as a depository for the eggs, and trusts to the heat developed by the process of fermentation for the development of the young. The heap employed for this purpose is collected by the birds during several weeks previous to the period of laying; it varies in size from two to many cartloads, and in most instances is of a pyramidal form. The construction of the mound is either the work of one pair of birds, or, as some suppose, of the united labours of several; the same site appears to be resorted to for several years in succession, the birds adding a fresh supply of materials each succeeding season.

"The materials composing these mounds are accumulated by the bird grasping a quantity in its foot, and throwing it backwards to a common centre, the surface of the ground for a considerable distance being so completely scratched over that scarcely a leaf or blade of grass is left. The mound being completed, and time being left for sufficient heat to be engendered, the eggs are deposited in a circle at the distance of nine or twelve inches from each other, and buried more than an arm's depth, with the large end upwards; they are covered up as they are laid, and allowed to remain until they are hatched. I have been credibly informed, both by natives and settlers living near their haunts, that it is not unusual to obtain half a bushel of eggs at a time from a single mound, and I have myself seen a native woman bring to the encampment in her net half that quantity, as the spoils of a foraging excursion to the neighbouring scrub. Some of the natives state that the females are constantly in the neighbourhood of the mound about the time the young are likely to be hatched, and frequently uncover and cover them up again, apparently for the purpose of assisting those that may have appeared, while others have informed me that the eggs are merely deposited and the young allowed to force their way unassisted. One point has been clearly ascertained, namely, that the young, from the hour that they are hatched, are clothed with feathers, and have their wings sufficiently developed to enable them to fly on to the branches of trees, should they need to do so to escape from danger. They are equally nimble on their legs; in fact, as a moth emerges from a chrysalis, dries its wings, and flies away, so the youthful Tallegallus, when it leaves the egg, is sufficiently perfect to be able to act independently and procure its own food.

"Although, unfortunately," continues Mr. Gould, "I was almost too late for the breeding season, I nevertheless saw several of these hatching mounds, both in the interior of New South Wales and at Illawarra. In every instance they were placed in the most retired and shady glens and on the slope of a hill, the part above the mound being scratched clean, while all below remained untouched, as if the birds had found it more easy to convey the materials down than to throw them up. The eggs are perfectly white, of a long oval form, three inches and three-quarters long, by two inches and a half in diameter."

In the Gardens of the Zoological Society in the Regent's Park, several old birds have constructed mounds, in which they deposited eggs, and their young have become developed.

"In the year 1854," says Mr. Sclater, "the singular phenomenon of the mound-raising faculty of the Tallegallus, which had been well ascertained in Australia by Mr. Gould, was effectually displayed by a pair of birds.

"On being removed into a sufficiently large enclosure, with an abundance of vegetable material within reach, the male began at once to throw it up into a heap behind him, by a scratching motion of his powerful feet, which projected each footful as he grasped it for a considerable distance in the rear. As he always began to work at the outer margin of the enclosure, the material was thrown inwards in concentric circles until it sufficiently neared the spot selected for the mound to be jerked upon it. As soon as the mound had risen to a height of about four feet, both birds worked in reducing it to an even surface, and then began to excavate a depression in the centre. In this in due time the eggs were placed, as they were laid, and arranged in a circle about fifteen inches below the summit of the mound, at regular intervals, with the smaller end of the egg pointing downwards. The male bird watched the temperature of the mound very carefully; the eggs were generally covered, a cylindrical opening being always maintained in the centre of the circle for the purpose of giving air to them, and probably to prevent the danger of a sudden increase of heat from the action of the sun, or accelerated fermentation in the mound itself. In hot days the eggs were nearly uncovered two or three times between morning and evening. In about a month after the first egg was supposed to have been laid a young bird was hatched, and is still living with its parents. Subsequent observation enables us to state that on the young bird chipping out of the egg, it remains in the mound for at least twelve hours, without making any effort to emerge from it, being at that time almost as deeply covered up as the rest of the eggs. On the second day it comes out with each of its wing-feathers well developed in a sheath which soon bursts, but apparently it has no inclination to use them, its powerful feet at once giving it ample means of locomotion. Early in the afternoon the young bird retires to the mound again, and is partially covered up for the night by the assiduous father, but at a diminished depth as compared with the circle of eggs from which it emerged in the morning. On the third day the nestling is capable of flight, and one of them accidentally forced its way through the strong netting which covered the enclosure."

In its native woods this species lives in small companies like other _Gallinæ_, and while on the ground appears shy and distrustful, but quite fearless when in the trees. "While stalking about the trees," says Mr. Gould, "the Tallegallus utters a rather loud clucking noise, but whether this sound is only produced by the female I could not ascertain; still, I think that such is the case, and that the spiteful male, who appears to delight in expanding his richly-coloured fleshy wattles and unmercifully thrashing his helpmate, is generally mute. In various parts of the brush I observed depressions in the earth, which the natives informed me were made by the birds in dusting themselves."

When disturbed, the Wattled Tallegallus readily eludes pursuit by the facility with which it runs through the tangled brush. If hard pressed, or when rushed upon by its great enemy the native dog, it springs upon the lowermost bough of some neighbouring tree, and by a succession of leaps from branch to branch ascends to the top, and either perches there or flies off to another part of the brush. It has also the habit of resorting to the branches of trees as a shelter from the mid-day sun, a peculiarity that greatly tends to its destruction; for, like the Ruffed Grouse of America, when assembled in small companies, these birds will allow a succession of shots to be fired until they are all brought down. Unless some measures be adopted for their preservation, this circumstance must lead to an early extinction of this singular species--an event much to be regretted, since, independently of its being an interesting object for the aviary, it is an excellent bird for the table.

THE MALEO.

The MALEO (_Megacephalon Maleo_) is characterised by a hard, round excrescence that commences at the nostrils and passes over the brow to the back of the head. The powerful beak is ridged at its culmen, and has the margin of the lower mandible almost straight; the third quill in the shell-shaped wing is longer than the rest; the rounded tail is composed of eighteen feathers, and the strong foot furnished with short toes. The plumage on the back, a band on the breast, and the region of the vent and thighs are blackish brown, and the breast and belly pale rose-red. The eye is yellow, the bare part of the head whitish blue, the occipital protuberance blue; the beak and the fore part of the foot are horn-grey. This species is twenty-four inches long; the wing measures eleven and the tail eight inches.

"In the months of August and September," says Wallace, "when there is little or no rain, the Maleos come down in pairs from the interior to one or two favourite spots, and scratch holes three or four feet deep, just above high-water mark, where the female deposits a single large egg, which she covers with about a foot of sand, and then returns to the forest. At the end of ten or twelve days she comes again to the same spot to lay another egg, and each female bird is supposed to lay six or eight eggs during the season. The male assists the female in making the hole, coming down and returning with her. The appearance of these birds when walking on the beach is very handsome. The glossy black and rosy white of the plumage, the helmeted head, and elevated tail, like that of the Common Fowl, give a striking character, which their stately and somewhat sedate walk renders still more remarkable. There is hardly any difference between the sexes, except that the casque or bonnet at the back of the head and the tubercles at the nostrils are a little larger, while the beautiful rosy salmon-colour is perhaps deeper in the male bird; but the difference is so slight that it is not always possible to tell a male from a female without dissection. They run quickly, but when shot at or suddenly disturbed take wing with a heavy noisy flight to some neighbouring tree, where they settle on a low branch; they probably roost at night in a similar situation. Many females lay in the same hole, for a dozen eggs are often found together, and these are so large that it is not possible for the body of the bird to contain more than one fully-developed egg at the same time. In all the female birds which I shot," continues this author, "none of the eggs besides the one large one exceeded the size of peas, and there were only eight or nine of these, which is possibly the extreme number a bird can lay in the season.

"Arrived at our destination, we built a hut, and prepared for a stay of some days, I to shoot and skin Maleos. The place is situated in the large bay between the islands of Limbé and Banca, and consists of a steep beach more than a mile in length, of deep, loose, and coarse black volcanic sand, or rather gravel, very fatiguing to walk over. It is in this loose black sand that those singular birds, the Maleos, deposit their eggs.

"Every year the natives come for fifty miles round to obtain these eggs, which are esteemed a great delicacy, and when quite fresh are indeed delicious. They are richer than Hens' eggs, and of a finer flavour, each one completely fills an ordinary tea-cup, and forms, with bread or rice, a very good meal. The colour of the shell is a pale brick-red, or very rarely pure white. They are elongate, and very slightly smaller at one end, from four to four and a half inches long, by two and a quarter and two and a half wide."

After the eggs are deposited in the sand they are no further cared for by the mother. The young birds on breaking the shell, work their way up through the sand, and run off at once to the forest. "I was assured by Mr. Duivenfoden, of Ternate," says Wallace, "that they can fly the very day they are hatched. He had taken some eggs on board his schooner which were hatched during the night, and in the morning the little birds flew readily across the cabin. Considering the great distances the hens come to deposit the eggs in a proper situation (often ten or fifteen miles), it seems extraordinary that they should take no further care of them. It is, however, quite certain that they neither do nor can watch them. The eggs being deposited by a number of hens in succession in the same hole would render it impossible for each to distinguish its own, and the food necessary for such large birds, consisting entirely of fallen fruits, can only be obtained by roaming over an extensive district; so that if the numbers which come down to this single beach in the breeding season, amounting to many hundreds, were obliged to remain in the vicinity, many would perish of hunger." In the structure of the feet of this bird we may detect a cause for its departing from the habits of its nearest allies, the _Megapodii_ and _Tallegalli_, which heap up earth, leaves, stones, and sticks into a large mound, wherein they bury their eggs. The feet of the Maleo are not nearly so large or strong in proportion as in these birds, while its claws are short and straight instead of being long and curved. The toes are, however, strongly webbed at the base, forming a broad powerful foot, this, with the rather long leg, is well adapted to scratch away the loose sand (which flies up in a perfect shower when the birds are at work), but they could not, without much labour, accumulate the heaps of miscellaneous rubbish brought together by the large grasping feet of the Megapodius.

THE OCELLATED LEIPOA.

The OCELLATED LEIPOA (_Leipoa ocellata_) has a slender body and a broad rounded wing, in which the second quill exceeds the rest in length; the tail, formed of fourteen feathers, is long, broad, and much rounded; the powerful foot is high, the beak comparatively small and straight. The colour of the head and crest is blackish brown, of the neck and shoulders dark ash-grey; the fore part of the former, from the chin to the breast, is marked by a series of lanceolate feathers, which are black, with a white stripe down the centre; the back and wings are conspicuously marked with three distinct bands of greyish white, brown, and black; near the tip of each feather the marks assume an ocellate form, particularly on the tips of the secondaries. The primaries are brown, their outer webs marked with zigzag lines of darker brown; the rump and upper tail-covers are brownish grey, the feathers of the latter transversely marked with two or three zigzag lines near their tip; all the under surface is light buff; the tips of the flank-feathers are barred with black; the tail is blackish brown, broadly tipped with buff; the bill black, and the foot blackish brown.

"The Ocellated Leipoa," says Gould, "appears to be more peculiarly suited for a plain and open country than for the tangled brush; and it is most curious to observe how beautifully the means employed by Nature for the reproduction of the species is adapted to the situations it is destined to inhabit." The following sketches of its economy, so far as it has yet been ascertained, were given me by Gilbert and Sir George Grey, and are here reproduced in their own words:--

"Wongan Hills, Western Australia, _September_ 28, 1842.

"This morning I had the good fortune to penetrate into the dense thicket I had so long been anxious to visit in search of the Leipoa's eggs, and had not proceeded far before the native who was with me told me to keep a good look out, as we were among the Ngou-oo's hillocks; and in half an hour after, we found one, around which the brush was so thick that we were almost running over it before seeing it. So anxious was I to see the hidden treasures within that, in my haste, I threw aside the black fellow and began scraping off the upper part of the mound; this did not please him at all, and he became very indignant, at the same time making me understand that as I had never seen this nest before, I had better trust him to get out the eggs, or I should, in my haste and impatience, certainly break them. I therefore let him have his own way, and he began scraping off the earth very carefully from the centre, throwing it over the side, so that the mound very soon presented the appearance of a huge basin. About two feet in depth of earth was in this way thrown off, when the large ends of two eggs met my anxious gaze; both these eggs were resting on their smaller apex, and the earth round them had to be very carefully removed to avoid breaking the shell, which is extremely fragile when first exposed to the atmosphere. About a hundred yards from this first mound, we came upon a second, rather larger, of the same external form and appearance; it contained three eggs. Although we saw seven or eight more mounds, only these two contained eggs: we were too early; a week later and we should doubtless have found many more. To give you an idea of the place these birds choose for their remarkable mode of rearing their young, I will describe it as nearly as I can.

"The Wongan Hills are about 1,300 feet above the level of the sea, in a north-north-east direction from Drummond's House in the Toodyay. Their sides are thickly clothed with a dense forest of _Eucalypti_, and at their base is a thicket, extending for several miles, of upright-growing and thick bushy plants, so high in most parts that we could not see over their tops, and so dense that if we only separated for a few yards we were obliged to 'cooey' to prevent our straying from each other. This thicket is again shadowed by a very curious species of dwarf _Eucalyptus_, bearing yellow blossoms, and growing from fifteen to thirty feet in height, known to the natives as the spear-wood, and of which they make their spears, digging-sticks, _dowaks_, &c. The whole formation is a fine reddish iron-stone gravel, and this the Leipoa scratches up for several yards around, and thus forms its mound, to be afterwards converted into a hotbed for the reproduction of its offspring. The interior of the mound is composed of the finer particles of the gravel, mixed with vegetable matter, the fermentation of which produces a warmth sufficient for the purpose of hatching. Mr. Drummond, who had been for years accustomed to hotbeds in England, gave it as his opinion that the heat around the eggs was about 89°. In both the nests with eggs the White Ant was very numerous, making its little covered galleries of earth around and attached to the shell, thus showing a beautiful provision of Nature in preparing the necessary tender food for the young bird on its emergence. One of the eggs I have preserved shows the White Ant's tracks most beautifully. The largest mound I saw, and which appeared as if in a state of preparation for eggs, measured forty-five feet in circumference, and, if round in proportion on the top, would have been fully five feet in height. I remarked that in all the mounds not ready for the reception of eggs the inside or vegetable portion was always wet and cold; and I imagine from the state of the others that the bird turns out the whole of the materials to dry before depositing its eggs and covering them up with the soil. In both cases where I found eggs, the upper part of the mound was perfectly and smoothly rounded over, so that any one passing it without knowing the singular habit of the bird might very readily suppose it to be an ant-hill. Mounds in this state always contain eggs within, while those without eggs are not only not rounded over, but have the centres so scooped out that they form a hollow. The eggs are laid directly in the centre, all at the same depth, separated only by about three inches of earth, and so placed as to form a circle. I regret we were so early. Had we been a week later, the probability is I should have found the circle of eggs complete. Is it not singular that all the eggs were equally fresh, as if their development was arrested until the full number were deposited, so that the young might all appear at the same time? No one considering the immense size of the egg can suppose for a moment the bird capable of laying more than one without at least the intermission of a day, and perhaps even more. Like those of the Megapodius, they are covered with an epidermis-like coating, and are certainly as large, being three inches and three-quarters in length by two and a half in breadth. They vary in colour from a very light brown to a light salmon. During the whole day we did not succeed in obtaining sight of the bird, although we saw numerous tracks of its feet, and many places where it had been scratching. We also saw its tracks on the sand when crossing the dried beds of the swamps at least two miles from the breeding thicket, which proves that the bird in procuring its food does not confine itself to the bushes around its nest, but merely resorts to them for the purpose of incubating. The native informed us that the only chance of procuring the bird was by stationing ourselves in sight of the mound at a little distance, and remaining quiet and immovable till it made its appearance at sundown. This I attempted, and, with the native, encamped within twenty yards of the mound about an hour before sunset, taking precautions to conceal ourselves well with bushes from the quick eye of the bird, but leaving just an opening to get a fair sight with my gun. In a half-sitting, half-crouching position, I thus remained in breathless anxiety for the approach of the bird I had so long wished to see, not daring to move a muscle for fear of stirring a branch or making a noise by crushing a dead leaf, till I was so cramped that I could scarcely bear the pain in my limbs. The bird did not, however, make its appearance, and the native, with the fear of wading through the thicket in the darkness (for there was no moon), became so impatient that he started up and began to talk so loud and make so much noise that I was compelled to give up all hopes of seeing the bird that night. However, just as we were passing the mound we started the bird from the opposite side, but, from the denseness of the thicket and the darkness closing round us, I had no chance of getting a shot at it."

Sir George Grey completes the account given by Gilbert. He says, "I have lately returned from the Murray, where I have been studying the habits and manners of the _Leipoa ocellata_, which is very plentiful in the sandy districts of the scrub. Its food consists chiefly of insects, such as _Phasmidæ_ and a species of _Cimex_. It also feeds on the seeds of various shrubs. It possesses the power of running with extraordinary rapidity; it roosts at night on trees, and never flies if it can avoid so doing.

"The mounds it constructs are from twelve to thirteen yards in circumference at the base, and from two to three feet in height, the general form being that of a dome. The sand and grass are sometimes scraped up for a distance of from fifteen to sixteen feet from its outer edge. The mound appears to be constructed as follows:--A nearly circular hole of about eighteen inches in diameter is scratched in the ground to the depth of seven or eight inches, and filled with dead leaves, dead grass, and similar materials; and a large mass of the same substance is placed all around it upon the ground. Over this first layer a large mound of sand, mixed with dried grass, &c., is thrown, and finally the whole assumes the form of a dome, as I have before stated.

"When an egg is to be deposited, the top is laid open, and a hole scraped in its centre, within two or three inches of the bottom of the layer of dead leaves. The egg is placed in the sand just at the edge of the hole, in a vertical position, with the smaller end downwards; the sand is then thrown in again, and the mound left in its original form. The egg which has thus been deposited is therefore completely surrounded and enveloped in soft sand, having from four to six inches of sand between the lower end of the egg and the layer of dead leaves. When a second egg is laid, it is deposited in precisely the same plane as the first, but at the opposite side of the hole before alluded to. When a third egg is laid, it is still placed in the same plane as the others, but, as it were, at the third corner of a square. When the fourth egg is laid, it is still placed in the same plane, but in the fourth corner of the square, or rather of the lozenge, the figure being of this form, ; the next four eggs in succession are placed in the interstices, but always on the same plane, so that at last there is a circle of eight eggs all standing upright in the sand, with several inches of sand intervening between each. The male bird assists the female in opening and covering up the mound, and, provided the birds are not themselves disturbed, the female continues to lay several eggs in the same mound, even after it has been several times robbed. The natives say that the females lay an egg every day. Eight is the greatest number I have heard of, from good authority, as having been found in one nest.

"The farthest point north at which I have seen the breeding-places of these birds is in Gantheaume Bay. The natives of King George's Sound say that the bird exists in their neighbourhood. I have never fallen in with its nests but in one description of country, viz., where the soil was dry and sandy, and so thickly wooded with a species of dwarf _Leptospermum_ that if you stray from the paths it is almost impossible to force your way through."

Besides the above particulars, we have from Gould the following account, which he elicited by cross-examination of several natives:--"There is only one male and one female to each mound; they repair an old mound, and do not build a new one; both assist in scratching the sand to the nest. The female commences laying about the beginning of September, or when the spear-grass begins to shoot. Both sexes approach the nest together when the female is about to lay, and they take an equal share in the labour of covering and uncovering the mound. After every sunrise the female lays an egg, and lays altogether from eight to ten. If the natives rob the mound, the female will lay again in the same nest, but she will only lay the full number of eggs twice in one summer. From the commencement of building until the last eggs are hatched, four moons elapse--this would give a very long period of time before the eggs were hatched. The young one scratches its way out alone, the mother does not assist it. They usually come out one at a time, occasionally a pair appear together. The mother, who is feeding in the scrub in its vicinity, hears its call and runs to it; she then takes care of the young one as a European Hen does of its chick. When all are hatched, the mother is accompanied by eight or ten young ones, who remain with her until they are more than half grown. The male bird does not accompany them. The two sexes have different calls, that of the female is constantly uttered as she walks about the scrub with her young ones.

"The natives frequently find the nest and eggs, but they seldom see the old birds, as they are very timid and quick-sighted. They run very fast like the Emu, roost on trees, live for a long time without water, but drink when it rains. The Ocellated Leipoa is a remarkably stout compact bird, and appears when alive to have as large a body as the female Turkey, but it is shorter in the legs. Mr. Schomburghk states that an egg he took home and placed under a Domestic Hen was hatched the next day, and the young bird appeared covered with feathers, and capable of at once obtaining its own food."

* * * * *

The MEGAPODES (_Megapodii_) have a large slender body, moderate-sized neck, and large head; the broadly-rounded wing has the third, fourth, and fifth quills of equal length; the tail, formed of ten feathers, is short and rounded; the tarsus very strong, and longer than the long, powerful middle toe, which is armed like the rest with a formidable and slightly-hooked claw. The straight beak is usually shorter than the head, and vaulted towards its tip. The thick plumage is prolonged upon the back of the head and the region of the eye; a large portion of the head and the throat and neck are always bare. We are indebted to Gould, Gilbert, and Macgillivray for full particulars respecting the mode of life of the Megapodes. "The habits and economy of the birds comprised in this family are," says Gould, "both curious and extraordinary, nor are they less singular in their structure; indeed, in my own opinion, no group of birds is more isolated. By one of our best ornithologists one species has been classed with the _Vultures_, another placed it with _Meleagres_, and a third authority considered it to be allied to the genus _Ralles_. From the colonists of Australia the three species inhabiting that country have received the trivial names of Brush Turkey, Native Pheasant, and Jungle Fowl, but to none of these birds are they in any way allied. In general appearance the _Megapodidæ_ offer a certain degree of alliance to the _Gallinaceæ_, but in the peculiar shape, colouring, and odour of their eggs, and in the mode in which they are incubated, they are totally different, and in some of these respects resemble the tortoises and turtles. Three species belonging to different genera inhabit Australia; others exist in New Guinea and the neighbouring islands, and extend as far north as the Philippines."

THE AUSTRALIAN MEGAPODE.

The AUSTRALIAN MEGAPODE (_Megapodius tumulus_) is about the size of a female Pheasant. The head of this species is dark reddish brown, the back and wing reddish brown, the upper and lower tail-covers deep chestnut-brown, the quills and tail-feathers blackish brown, and back of the head and under side grey. The eye is light reddish brown, the beak of rather a darker shade, and the foot bright orange.

"On my arrival at Port Essington," says Gilbert, "my attention was attracted to numerous immense mounds of earth, which were pointed out to me by some of the residents as the tumuli of the aborigines; on the other hand, I was assured by the natives that they were formed by the Megapode for the purpose of incubating its eggs. This latter statement appeared so extraordinary, and so much at variance with the general habits of birds, that no one in the settlement believed them or took sufficient interest in the matter to examine the mounds, and thus to verify or refute their accounts. Another circumstance which induced a doubt of their veracity was the great size of the eggs brought in by the natives as those of this bird. Aware that the eggs of the Leipoa were hatched in a similar manner, my attention was immediately arrested by these accounts, and I at once determined to ascertain all I possibly could respecting so singular a feature in the bird's economy; and having procured the assistance of a very intelligent native, who undertook to guide me to the different places resorted to by these birds, I proceeded on the 16th of November to Knocker's Bay, a part of Port Essington Harbour, comparatively but little known, and where I had been informed a number of these birds were always to be seen." A detailed account follows of his finding several different mounds, which he examined, and was quite convinced that the natives had spoken the truth concerning them. Somewhat later, Mr. John Macgillivray observed the Megapode on Nago Island, in Endeavour Straits, and during his stay there was so fortunate as to procure both the male and the female, and to find several mounds containing eggs.

"Few birds," says this gentleman, "are more wary and less easily procured than the Megapodius; it inhabits the belts of brush along the coast, and I never found the tumulus at a greater distance from the sea than a few hundred yards. When disturbed this species seldom rises at once, unless on the margin of a thicket, but runs off to some distance and then takes to wing, flying heavily, but without any of the whirring noise of the true _Gallinaceæ_. It seldom takes a long flight, and usually perches on a tree, remaining there in a crouching attitude with outstretched neck, but flying off again upon observing any motion made by its pursuer; and it is only by cautiously sneaking up under cover of the largest trees that it can be approached within gunshot. As an example of its shyness, I may mention that a party of three persons scattered about in a jungle on Nago Island for the purpose of shooting the Megapodius did not see a single bird, although they put up several, one of which came towards me and perched, unconscious of my presence, within twenty yards. At Port Essington I have shot this bird among mangroves, the roots of which were washed by the sea at high water; and Captain F. P. Blackwood killed one while running on the mud in a similar locality, in both instances close to a mound."