^fgol^'] A. J. Campbell, Emu Eggs. 25 



Emu Eggs. 



By a. J. Campbell, Melbourne. 



An article on "Emu Feathers" from the pen of Mr. D. Le 

 Souef, C.M.Z.S., appeared in the initial number of our journal. 

 Therefore it may not be out of place to record a few remarks 

 concerning " Emu Eggs" in opening vol. ii. Such remarks are 

 " seasonable," because Emus are now (midwinter) incubating 

 where conditions are favourable in the great interior tracts of 

 our island continent. Formerly, of course, Emus also nested 

 near the sea borders, but now have either been extirpated or 

 driven back by an ever-advancing tide — the tide of civilisation. 



Emu eggs, by reason of their size, shape, and colour, are 

 amongst the most beautiful objects in nature. Their size 

 (about 5 inches long by 39/^ inches broad) places them with 

 the largest-sized birds' eggs of the world. Their shape is a 

 graceful ellipse, while their colour ranges through the art greens 

 — dark and light. An average weight for an &g^ when full is 

 about 23 ounces. Deducting 3 ounces for the shell there re- 

 main 20 ounces, equivalent to the bulk of 20 ordinary domestic 

 fowls' eggs — not a bad breakfast for a small family. Some 

 persons consider Emu eggs tasteless, but they are really a 

 delicacy. When cooked (fried) the yolk is lightish yellow in 

 colour, and the albumen, although firm, is semi-transparent and 

 does not become opaque white like the common hen's egg. 



The nest depicted in the illustration (plate i.) I had the 

 enjoyment and good fortune to photograph some seasons ago 

 when Emu-egging (by permit) in Riverina, N.S.W. How 

 delightful to me are the reminiscences of that winter camp-out, 

 occurring during a succession of calm, cloudless days, succeeded 

 by clear, frosty nights ! The winter's day did seem so short. 

 Hardly had the sun risen out of the plain from behind the pine 

 ridges and chased away the cold, grey m.ist hanging in the red gum 

 tops along the river, ere it seemed to " slope its westering wheel " 

 and sink all too soon behind the box forest, where naked trees, 

 ring-barked, stood silent emblems of death and desolation — a 

 scene rendered additionally weird in its setting of back-lighting. 

 With darkness there set in a freezing temperature and the 

 awesome hush typical of a winter's night in Riverina — a hush 

 that makes one yearn for some sound, however slight, to break 

 the overpowering stillness. Where are the evensongs of the 

 myriads of crickets that cheer the summer tide } Gone, with 

 the great flooded wastes of backwaters from the Wakool and the 

 Neimur of the previous spring — God's bountiful supply that 

 man has wantonly wasted. Is it any wonder that droughts 

 exist? 



But to return to the Emu's nest. The photo, has never been 

 previously reproduced, and represents one of six nests I either 



