] 



Stray Feat hey Si I^ 



patrol of the sad-hued water to take toll of the snakes. After a 

 graceful swoop down to the tips of a low-growing bush, he 

 alighted on the dead branch of a bloodwood 1 50 yards or so 

 away, and with the help of a telescope his occupation was 

 revealed — he was greedily tearing to pieces a wriggling snake, 

 gulping it in three-quarter of a yard lengths. Here was the 

 reason for the trustfulness and respect of the little birds. The 

 Eagle was destroying the chief bugbear of their existence, 

 the sneaking greeny-yellowy murderer of their kind and eater 

 of their eggs, whose colour and form so well harmonise with 

 leaves and their branches that he constantly evades the sharpest 

 eyes of them all, and squeezes out their lives and swallows them 

 whole. But the big red detective could see the vile thing 50 

 and even 100 yards away, and once seen — well, one enemy the 

 less. Briskly stropping his beak on the branch of the tree on 

 which he rested, and setting his breast plumage in order as one 

 might shake a crumb from his waistcoat, the Eagle adjusted his 

 searchlights and sat motionless. In five minutes a slight jerk 

 of the neck indicated a successful observation, and he soared 

 out, wheeled like a flash, and, half turning on his side, hustled 

 down in the foliage of a tall wattle, and back again to his perch. 

 Another snake was crumpled up in his talons, and he devoured 

 it in writhing, twisting pieces. The telescope gave unique 

 advantage during this entertainment — one of the tragedies of 

 nature, or rather the lawful execution of a designing and crafty 

 criminal. Within ten minutes the performance was repeated for 

 the third time, and then either the supply of snakes ran out or 

 the bird was satisfied. He shrewdly glanced this way and that, 

 craning and twisting his neck, and seeming to adjust the lenses 

 of his eyes for near and distant observation. No movement 

 among the leaves seemed to escape him. Two yards and a half, 

 or perhaps three yards, of live snakes constituted a repast. At 

 any rate, after twenty minutes passive watchfulness, he sailed up 

 over the trees and away in the direction of his home in the 

 same tree with a socialistic community of the Shining Calornis. 

 The Rufous-backed Sea-Eagle is a deadly foe to the pug- 

 nacious sea snake also. On the beach, just above high water 

 mark, was the headless carcass of one that must have been fully 

 5 feet long, and while it was under inspection an Eagle circled 

 about anxiously. Soon after the intruders disappeared the bird 

 swooped down and resumed his feast, and presently his mate 

 came sailing along to join him. The snake must have weighed 

 several pounds, and apparently was not as dainty to the taste as 

 the green arboreal variety, for after two days' occasional feasting 

 there was still some of the flesh left. — E, J. Banfield. Dunk 

 Island, North Queensland. 



[Mr. Banfield intends publishing shortly a little but interesting 

 book, entitled " The Confessions of a Beachcomber." It will 



