2o8 Gabriel, Notes on the Mutton-birds of Bass Strait. [^' 



Gt. Nat. 

 March 



fishermen and a few residents of Western Port have taken an 

 annual gathering of Mutton-bird eggs. They also take a few 

 birds— I advisedly say a few birds, for our people do not take 

 to the flesh like the people of the Strait, who can get little else. 



During recent years many visitors have gone to Cape 

 Woolamai during the laying season to see the wonderful sight 

 of the incoming and outgoing of the birds. On 23rd November 

 last no less than one thousand people were said to be there, 

 principally for that purpose. The bulk of these people went 

 away disappointed, for the birds, as in the previous season, 

 were two days late. Nevertheless, the rookeries were duly 

 robbed and the usual large number of eggs taken. Fortunately, 

 30th November is the last day, as after that date egg-gathering 

 is tabooed by the eggers. The fact, however, remains that in 

 a few days you will find an egg in nearly every hole. Some 

 years ago I was on Cape Woolamai on loth December, and 

 picked up over three dozen eggs which were lying outside the 

 holes ; there were also a number lying about half-eaten by 

 lizards, &c. On 5th December last, while at Murray's Rookery, 

 I picked up ten loose eggs, and this in spite of the fact that 

 Mr. Dixon's children were daily gathering the loose eggs. 

 I have written to Mr. Dixon since then, and in reply he says 

 that " his youngsters gathered three dozen eggs." Now, this 

 rookery had been well robbed of its eggs up to 30th November. 

 I tried a number of holes, and found them all occupied, the 

 petrel smell being very pronounced. " Nature does not make 

 mistakes " is the old-time saying. If you dissect one of the 

 birds which has been robbed of its egg, you will find one or more 

 following eggs. This sufficiently accounts for eggs in every hole. 



I have watched the flights at night on Chappel Island, on 

 the Stacks, and on Phillip Island, and the story is alway the 

 same — excess of birds and extreme quarrelling for the pos- 

 session of the holes. 



About twelve years ago, while steaming along the East Coast 

 of Tasmania, we passed enormous numbers of these birds, 

 together with a fair sprinkling of Stormy Petrels. 



If we take Flinders' estimate of one hundred million birds, 

 and, dividing it by four, reduce it to twenty-five millions, then 

 say 1,500,000 are destroyed every year, we cannot but con- 

 clude that the overplus over and over again makes up for the 

 birds and eggs taken. 



Once again, when our late enthusiastic member, Mr. H. P. C. 

 Ashworth, and myself were on the Stacks in October, 1905, the 

 Mutton-birds were clearing out their holes — this was unusual, 

 as September is the regular month for this work. Later on 

 I heard from Mr. North and others that enormous numbers of 

 dead birds had been seen on the New South Wales beaches 



