“How can it prevent it from sinking?” asked Mary.
“Pretty much in the same manner,” said Uncle Thomas, “as fishes are enabled at pleasure to rise to the surface of the water. Fishes, you know, are furnished with what is called an air-bladder, which they have the power of filling and emptying at pleasure; when they wish to sink they force out the air, and their bodies being thus rendered specifically heavier than water, descend; and on the contrary, when they wish to rise, by inflating it they ascend. The ‘air-bladder,’ if I may so call it, of the Emu acts much in the same way. As the animal walks about it is, of course, of no use, and is allowed to remain empty; but, whenever it is threatened with drowning it is inflated, and the Emu is thus enabled to float with its head above the surface of the water.
“Mr. Jesse gives an account of a singular peculiarity in the habits of the Emu,” continued Uncle Thomas, “so contrary to the usual operations of Nature, that I am inclined to suppose it a mere accidental circumstance; it is this:—‘The only instance,’ he says, ‘which I have met with in which the hen bird has not the chief care in hatching and bringing up the young is in the case of the Emu at the farm belonging to the Zoological Society, near Kingston. A pair of these birds have now five young ones: the female, at different times, dropped nine eggs in various places in the pen in which she was confined. These were collected in one place by the male, who rolled them gently and carefully along with his beak. He then sat upon them himself, and continued to do so with the utmost assiduity for nine weeks, during which time the female never took his place, nor was he ever observed to leave the nest. When the young were hatched, he alone took charge of them, and has continued to do so ever since, the female not appearing to notice them in any way. On reading this anecdote, many persons would suppose that the female Emu was not possessed of that natural affection for its young which other birds have. In order to rescue it from this supposition I will mention that a female Emu, belonging to the Duke of Devonshire, at Chiswick, lately laid some eggs; and as there was no male bird, she collected them together herself and sat upon them.’”
“That is a very curious circumstance,” said Frank, “do you think the birds do so in their native haunts?”
“I should think not,” said Uncle Thomas. “I once heard a similar instance of a Turkey-cock hatching a brood of young. On one occasion, a female Turkey belonging to a gentleman in Sweden was sitting upon eggs, and as the cock in her absence began to appear uneasy and dejected, he was shut up with her. He immediately sat down by her side; and it was soon found that he had taken some eggs from under her, which he covered very carefully. The eggs were put back under the female, but he soon afterwards took them again. This induced the owner, by way of experiment, to have a nest made, and as many eggs put in it as it was thought the Turkey-cock could conveniently cover. The bird seemed highly pleased with this mark of confidence; he sat with great patience on the eggs, and was so attentive to the care of hatching them, as scarcely to afford himself time to take the food necessary for his support. At the usual period, twenty-eight young ones were produced; and the cock, who was in some measure the parent of this numerous offspring, appeared perplexed on seeing so many little creatures pecking around him, and requiring his care.”
“Does the Turkey come from New Holland as well as the Emu?” asked Mary.
“The Turkey,” said Uncle Thomas, “is a native of North America, and was unknown to Europeans before the discovery of that country. In some parts of America, however, it is now quite extinct as a wild bird, being only found in a state of domestication; but in the more western parts, where the native forests exist, it is still plentiful. The best account of the Turkey in its native haunts is that afforded by Prince Lucien Buonaparte, which Harry will have the goodness to read to us:—
“The wild Turkeys do not confine themselves to any particular kind of food; they eat maize, all sorts of berries, fruits, grasses, Beetles, and even Tadpoles; young Frogs and Lizards are occasionally found in their crops; but when the pecan nut is plentiful, they prefer that fruit to any other nourishment. Their more general predilection is, however, for the acorn, on which they rapidly fatten. When an unusually profuse crop of acorns is produced in a particular section of country, great numbers of Turkeys are enticed from their ordinary haunts in the surrounding districts. About the beginning of October, while the mast still remains on the trees, they assemble in flocks, and direct their course to the rich bottom lands. At this season they are observed in great numbers in the Ohio and Mississippi. The time of this irruption is known to the Indians by the name of the Turkey month.
“The male Turkeys, usually termed gobblers, associate in parties, numbering from ten to a hundred, and seek their food apart from the females; whilst the latter either move about singly with their young, then nearly two-thirds grown, or, in company with other females and their families, form troops, sometimes consisting of seventy or eighty individuals, all of whom are intent on avoiding the old males, who, whenever opportunity offers, attack and destroy the young, by repeated blows on the skull. All parties, however, travel in the same direction, and on foot, unless they are compelled to seek their individual safety by flying from the hunter’s-Dog, or their march is impeded by a large river. When about to cross a river, they select the highest eminences, that their flight may be the more certain; and here they sometimes remain for a day or more, as if for the purpose of consultation, or to be duly prepared for so hazardous a voyage. During this time the males gobble obstreperously, and strut with extraordinary importance, as if they would animate their companions, and inspire them with the utmost degree of hardihood; the females and young also assume much of the pompous air of the males, the former spreading their tails, and moving silently around. At length the assembled multitude mount to the tops of the highest trees, whence, at a signal note from a leader, the whole together wing their way towards the opposite shore. All the old and fat ones cross without difficulty, even when the river exceeds a mile in width; but the young, meagre, and weak, frequently fall short of the desired landing, and are forced to swim for their lives. This they do dexterously enough, spreading their tails for a support, closing their wings to the body, stretching the neck forwards, and striking out quickly and forcibly with their legs. If, in thus endeavouring to regain the land, they approach an elevated or inaccessible bank, their exertions are remitted, they resign themselves to the stream for a short time, in order to gain strength, and then with one violent effort escape from the water. But in this attempt all are not successful; some of the weaker, as they cannot rise sufficiently high in air to clear the bank, fall again and again into the water, and thus miserably perish. Immediately after the Turkeys have succeeded in crossing a river, they for some time ramble about without any apparent unanimity of purpose, and a great many are destroyed by the hunters, although they are then least valuable.
“When the Turkeys have arrived in their land of abundance, they disperse in small flocks, composed of individuals of all sexes and ages intermingled, who devour all the mast as they advance: this occurs about the middle of November. It has been observed that, after these long journeys, the Turkeys become so familiar as to venture on the plantations, and even approach so near the farm-houses as to enter the stables and corn cribs in search of food; in this way they pass the autumn, and part of the winter. During this season great numbers are killed by the inhabitants, who preserve them in a frozen state, in order to transport them to a distant market.