OCEANIA WOOD 399 



Unga; in the old days the lowest class of Rarotonga society was 

 known by the same name, meaning, i. e., that all their property could 

 be carried on their backs. The common variety is a good deal like 

 the robber crab in habits ; the natives go so far as to say that it is 

 the same animal. The size of the kakara can be judged by the size 

 of his shell, which may be as small as a thimble or as large as an 

 orange. His soft and muscular body curls into the spiral of the 

 shell and is securely anchored by a twist of the tail. The interior 

 end reminds one of a tiny lobster; the same stalk eyes, same legs, 

 and strong claws. Maugre his name, he is gregarious." 



One day I was patiently and vainly waiting to catch a glimpse 

 of an exasperating lot of wild jungle fowl (near relatives of the 

 ancestors of our farmyard rooster and hen) that I had heard cack- 

 ling and crowing in the mountain forest of Beqa (or Mbenga, as 

 the Admiralty charts prefer to spell it, so the stranger may correctly 

 pronounce the name of this geographically important island) and 

 had come to rest on a trail about a thousand feet above and over- 

 looking the ocean. Beneath me a little native village, whose chief 

 was our host, lay scattered along a coral beach for half a mile. 

 Barely visible over the edge of the cliff was the chief's guest house 

 and a small weir in which was imprisonea a huge turtle for his 

 chiefly table; turtle is taboo for any Fijian below the rank of Bull. 

 Until the chief had, a few days previously, sent four as a present 

 to the quadrennial conference of chiefs, the watery inclosure was 

 pretty well filled with these ugly but toothsome chelonians. Beyond 

 lay the bay, and basking in the sunshine on three native boats 

 sprawled a dozen or more sailors, among them two or three Solomon 

 Islanders assisting the Fijians in a task in which the latter special- 

 ized, the South Seas form of the doice far niente. The day was so 

 beautiful that I forgot all about the "wild barnyard" I had 

 come so far to see, and gave myself up to imitating and sympathiz- 

 ing with the Polynesians in and on the water below me. I happened 

 to look at the partially covered path a few yards ahead of me and 

 became aware dimly that the square of earth was moving ever so 

 slowly down hill. A clearer view of this spot revealed a well-packed 

 array of shellfish of all sizes, big, little, and smallest, the last less 

 than half an inch, the first 4 or 5 inches across. Evidently a num- 

 ber of gastropod families were on the move and headed down the 

 trail. This guess proved correct so far as the exterior shell was con- 

 cerned, but the live interior turned out to be an equal number of 

 crustaceans — a large colony of hermit crabs on the march. With a 

 stick I touched several heads to see them withdrawn within the concha, 

 and marveled at the excellent choice these creatures had made of 

 properly sized shells, how well they fitted, how nicely concealed was 

 each interloping crab in his armored retreat, secure from outside 



