°' ' I Australasian Ornithologists' U nion. 



1903 



attraction. At dusk every evening a move was generally made 

 for points of vantage to watch the incoming birds which darted 

 here and there with arrow- like flight everywhere in the immediate 

 neighbourhood. It was almost dark when the bulk of the birds 

 had pitched and were in their burrows, or were flopping clumsily 

 over the ground through the short scrub, uttering all sorts of 

 indescribable noises — squealing, grunting, cooing, &c. This bird 

 pandemonium continued all the live-long night, ceasing suddenly 

 about dawn, or just before the last outgoing birds depart to sea. 

 It was noticed by certain aerial voices that some of the birds 

 Cprobably old bachelors, or those who had lost their mates) 

 were on the wing over the rookery all night. So great were 

 the nocturnal noises near one of the tents (occupied by ladies) 

 that at one time it was deemed necessary to remove the tent 

 to a quieter quarter, in order that the occupants might have 

 some sleep. 



The amusement of egging was carried on during the day, 

 chiefly to supply the larder. Mutton-Birds' eggs fried are a 

 great delicacy, and were enjoyed by all in camp. But to gather 

 these eggs, hidden singly in burrows 4 feet to 6 feet in length, was 

 no easy matter. The burrow has first to be probed with a 

 crook (usually a tea-tree stick with a hook of fencing wire 

 at one end) to ascertain if the bird be within. If so, then 

 the crook has to be dexterously handled to withdraw the egg, 

 which, of course, is invisible till it is drawn to the mouth of the 

 hole. 



One warm afternoon a party of 10 (including 3 ladies) started 

 to spend a night on the great rookery on Cape Wollomai, distant 

 about 6 miles. Swags, consisting of wraps, " tucker," &c., were 

 divided, and a very pleasant walk along the Newhaven road, 

 and thence across country by way of Red Point, where the billy 

 and water bag were filled with pure spring water, brought the 

 party to the tussock-covered summit (330 feet above the sea) of 

 the Cape about 7 p.m. After a delightful repast, including 

 Russian tea (a squeeze of lemon instead of milk), and the sun 

 had dipped in amber-coloured splendour into the ocean (be- 

 tokening a mild night and heat on the coming morrow), 

 positions were taken up on the western plateau of the Cape. 

 After dark were witnessed all the scenes of the home-camp 

 rookery at The Narrows, only on a larger scale. The party 

 having returned through the darkness to their traps, about 10 

 o'clock, the camp-fire was stirred up, and members retired for 

 a nap, stretched on the hard earth among the tussock grass. 

 How many snakes lurked near nobody knew or cared, for 'twas 

 folly to be wise, &c. By half-past 2 o'clock some of the com- 

 pany were afield. And such a fresh and invigorating morn it 

 was — the spring of day at hand, seen over the loom of the main- 

 land, just flushing the eastern sky, still starlit, with the crescent 

 of a fast-waning moon in the centre — a lovely sight ! Birds were 



