Tales out of school

by Frank R. Stockton

NEST OF THE MEGAPODIUS.

In this opening herbs and leaves are heaped up; and, on this the Megapodius places its eggs, eight in number, arranged in a circle, at equal distances from each other, with the points downward.

After the female has performed this task of arranging the eggs, both of the parent birds leave the nest, for they are of no use whatever to the young birds after they are hatched. So you see this great labor, in which they have shown so much skill is not for themselves, but for their children.

The leaves and herbs, enclosed in this great mass of compact earth, become so heated after a time that fermentation commences, and this heat hatches the eggs. How does the Megapodius know this? And how does it know what plants will produce poisonous vapors, so that it never brings these to its nest?

Most birds, you know, are born naked, or covered with a soft down, and they have to be fed for several weeks until their feathers grow, and they can be taught to fly. But the young Megapodius, we are told by travelers, comes out of its shell fully provided with feathers. They say that it throws off the hot leaves that surround it, and mounts to the top of the mound, looks about for a few minutes, flaps its wings, and then, at once, soars up in the air, and comes back to its nest no more. If this be true, it knows where to look for food, and how to take care of itself as soon as it is born.

Another Australian bird, the Telegalla, also builds a large nest, though, by no means equal in size to that of the Megapodius. The bird is larger, too. It is about the size of a turkey, and, like that fowl, carries itself with quite an important air. It works in the grassy fields. It cuts down grass by the handful; or rather, I should say, by the clawful. For, after it has gathered a small bunch of grass, it grasps it with one claw, and hops proudly along on the other claw to the spot it has chosen for its nest.

TELEGALLAS MAKING THEIR NESTS.

The male and female bird work for a long time in this way, and make a vast number of journeys to and fro, always bearing to the nest a little bundle of grass. They heap this up, as haymakers build up their haycocks. In fact a Telegalla’s nest is not unlike a haycock, and is about the size of one.

Having reared up their nest as high as they think proper, the female carefully places her eggs in the center; and then, with her mate, takes her departure. They do not trouble their minds any more about either eggs or nest. They know, in some mysterious way, that the grass they have piled up will dry, when exposed to the sun, and that it will be heated by this process. And they know that this heat will hatch the eggs; and that the young birds will be able to take care of themselves as soon as they issue from the shell. So, why should they worry themselves about the matter?