14 Stray Feathers. [^n.l'Tuiy 



trouble if caught by an inspector. On the No. i fence I am 

 informed that the Emus were much more numerous, and that 

 when travelling along the fence one was hardly ever clear of the 

 stench from dead birds. Do you think the A.O.U. can do any- 

 thing in the matter .'' Of course the only proof I have personally 

 seen was starved birds on the fence at my camp trying to get 

 through. They have a " pad " beaten along the fence, and 

 walk backwards and forwards, trying to find an opening. If 

 one gets a fright and rushes the fence, and falls over it, it goes 

 straight west when it gets up. I have never seen any on the 

 west side of the fence except one bird, which had three young 

 ones on the other side. The young birds were very weak, so I 

 watched my chance, got them in a corner, and, rushing them, 

 they made a dash into the netting, and then lay down, with 

 their necks stretched flat on the sand. In size the young were 

 as big as Wild Turkey, but I do not think the three would have 

 weighed more than a total of 12 lbs. They seemed to be only 

 bones and feathers. I believe if the Emus were on the west side 

 of the fence they would be all right, as no one has ever seen 

 them hang and perish on that side. — J. P. Rogers. Cunderdin 



(W.A.), 14/2/06. 



* * * 



Dunk Island (N.O.) NoTES.^It would appear that an 

 alliance has sprung into existence between myself and certain 

 birds of this island. The Drongo invariably gives warning of 

 the presence of the cruel Grey Falcon, the note of detection and 

 appeal for assistance being a peculiar discordant chatter, far 

 more intelligible and significant than the clamour of domestic 

 fowls. The Drongo will wait about until the Falcon is shot, 

 and will then fly off with quite a pretty exclamation, no doubt 

 expressive of satisfaction at the execution of a bold and 

 notorious criminal. On three separate occasions when I have 

 shot a Falcon which has fallen in the jungle, Varied Honey- 

 eaters have directed attention to the exact spot where the body 

 has lodged in the entanglement of vines and creepers. Now 

 that I understand the call — a peculiar combination of hissing 

 and chirping — I have no difficulty whatever in finding the dead 

 bird, and when it is removed the Honey-eaters shout for joy. 

 The other day a very pleasing experience was vouchsafed. 

 Walking along the rear-guard of a dense mass of mangroves, 

 my attention was attracted by an unusual commotion among 

 the Varied Honey-eaters. Excited chattering, mingled with 

 loud calls, evidenced the presence of something unwelcome, 

 which I thought might be a snake. Peering about for some 

 time, with the noisy birds fluttering from branch to branch, I at 

 last saw — still as a statue in bronze — a Rufous Owl angrily 

 glaring at the deriding intruders. As I approached he flitted 



