YOUNG CASSOWARY.
On October 6 the natives brought me two eggs and a young bird just hatched. I at once requested one of them to guide me to the nest, whither I took it, hoping thereby to attract the old bird. Near the nest, which was formed of a not very soft bed of loose leaves massed together, we placed the young one and then stepped aside to see what would happen. It first began to run after us, but as it soon lost sight of us, commenced to cry violently. After a lapse of about ten minutes we suddenly heard the voice of the cassowary, which usually sounds like thunder in the distance, but now, when calling its young, it reminded us of the lowing of a cow to its calf. The sound came nearer and nearer, and soon the beautiful blue and red neck of the bird appeared among the trees, and its black body became visible. It stopped and scanned its surroundings carefully in the dense scrub, but a charge of No. 3 shot, fired from a distance of fifteen paces, laid it low.
My black companion gave a shout of victory, and ran back to the camp to get some men to carry the precious burden home. Six natives took turns in carrying it to the station, where I at once set to work skinning it. The blacks made a feast of its flesh, and the skin formed a valuable addition to my collection. It was an unusually fine specimen of a male, who thus appears to care for the young, at least in the early stage. The eggs, three[[8]] in number, are frequently laid at long intervals. In this instance there was a bird just hatched, an egg almost hatched, and another egg the contents of which could easily be blown out. Thus we see that the young are not hatched at the same time, and that the male must therefore care for them while the female is busy brooding. After the third egg is hatched, the male and female probably share the burden of supporting the family.
[8]. The colour, which is a light green, varies in shade in the three eggs.
The first specimen of this variety of cassowary (Casuarius australis) was shot in these same scrubs near the close of the sixties.
Its eyes, which cannot fail to be admired, form the most beautiful feature of the cassowary. Their expression is defiant and proud, as that of the eagle’s eyes. The natives hunt the bird with the aid of their dingoes, which are able to kill the half-grown and sometimes even the old birds. The flesh tastes very much like beef, and is very fat. In the rainy season the cassowary is sometimes compelled to take to the water, and proves itself to be a good swimmer.
The blacks claim that their hands become white if washed in the contents of its stomach at the season of the year when it mainly feeds on a fruit which they call tobola. I give this for what it is worth; but I have seen natives having on their hands white spots which they insisted were produced in this manner; no doubt these spots were nothing more than vitiligo or leucopathia acquisita, found among all races of men.
CHAPTER VIII
Pleasant companions—Two new mammals—Large scrubs in the Coast Mountains—The lawyer-palm—“Never have a black-fellow behind you”—I decide to live with the blacks—Great expectations—My outfit—Tobacco is money—The baby of the gun.