sometimes found long distances from the nearest possible birthplace, scratching away vigorously and flying when frightened with remarkable vigour and speed, though but a few hours old.  I come gladly to the conclusion that the megapode is a sagacious bird, not only in the avoidance of the dismal duty of incubation, but in respect of the making of those great mounds of decaying vegetable matter and earth which perform the function so effectively.  In a particularly rugged part of the island is a mound almost completely walled in by immense boulders.  In such a situation the birds could hardly have found it possible to accumulate by kicking and scratching so great a quantity of debris.  The material was not available on the site, and as the makers do not carry their rubbish, it was puzzling to account for it all, until it was noticed that the junction of two boulders with an inclination towards each other formed a natural flume or shoot down which most of the material of the mound had been sent.  As the rains and use flatten the apex fresh stuff is deposited with a trifling amount of labour, to afford an illustration of “purposive conscious action.”

The megapode seems to delight in flying in the face of laws to which ordinary fowls are obedient.  While making a law unto herself for the incubation of eggs, she scandalously violates that which provides that the size of the egg shall be in proportion to the size of the bird.  Though much less in weight than an average domestic fowl, the egg that she lays equals nearly three of the fowl’s.  Comparisons between the egg of the cassowary (one of the giants among birds) and of the common fowl with that of the megapode, are highly complimentary to the latter.  A fair weight for a full-grown cassowary is 150 lb., and the egg weighs 1 lb. 6 oz.  A good-conditioned megapode weighs 3 lb., the egg 5 1/4 oz.; ordinary domestic fowl, 4 lb., egg 2 oz.  The egg of the cassowary represents 1 per cent. of the weight of the bird, the domestic fowl’s 3 1/8 per cent., and that of megapode no less than 11 1/2 per cent of its weight.

When these facts are considered, we realise why the homey head of the great cassowary, the layer of the largest of Australian eggs, is carried so low as she bursts through the jungle; why the pair converse in such humble tones and why, on the other hand, the megapode exults so loudly so coarsely and in such shocking intervals, careless of the sentiments and of the sense of melody of every other bird.

Though the powers of the flight of this bird are feeble it inhabits islands 3 and 4 miles further out to sea than their most adjacent neighbours.  The laboured way in which a startled bird flies across the narrow expanse of my plantation proves that a long journey would never be undertaken voluntarily.  Not many months ago some blacks walking on the beach on the mainland had their attention attracted by a bird flying low on the water from the direction of Dunk Island, 2 1/2 miles away.  It was labouring heavily, and some little distance from land fell exhausted into the sea.  When it drifted ashore—­a godsend to the boys—­it was found to be a megapode—­and the feat was camp talk.  None could credit that a “kee-rowan” could fly so far.