134 Southern Cross. 



devours the food forced up into the throat. By January 18th nearly 

 all the young birds had discarded their downy coat, and been seduced 

 to the water's edge and taught how to swim by their ever-attentive 

 parents. Strange to say, all the young birds, unlike the older, had 

 white throats ; evidently, they do not acquire the dark throat until 

 the first or second year." 



The account given by Dr. Racovitza {tx.) is also very entertaining. 

 He writes (p. 24) : — " As often happens with people of small size, 

 this bird is nervous, lively in its movements and passionate. Its 

 little personality, moreover, is full of an extravagant curiosity. As 

 soon as it perceived us appearing on the pack-ice, it approached with 

 the utmost celerity of which it was capable, and on arriving within 

 two or three paces, it regarded us with a curious eye, agitating its 

 wings, and uttering some interrogative interjections. Under ordinary 

 conditions our relations were extremely friendly, but what a change 

 took place when we laid hands on his back ! Cries and violent 

 protestations, and blows from his beak and wings fell like hail. 



"When it is not disturbed or annoyed, this Penguin w^alks on 

 its two feet, inclining its body alternatively to the right and to the 

 left, but when it wishes to advance quickly, it lies on its stomach 

 and pushes itself with its feet and wings. Seen from a distance, it 

 resembles a small up-to-date motor-car going at full speed. 



" At the approach of winter, these sensible beasts change their 

 garments. The old dress, which has undergone the vicissitudes of the 

 wear and tear of a year, can no longer serve as a protection against 

 the snow-storms and colds of winter, so at the end of February they 

 have begun to moult. It is a bad time for them to pass through ! 

 They cannot go into the water, because their old feathers have fallen 

 off in patches, and the new ones are still too little developed. 

 During the two weeks that the moult lasts the bird is an outcast, 

 and lives on its provision of fat. Moreover, they suffer from the 

 moulting-fever, as babies suffer in cutting their teeth. So to keep 

 company together and for mutual consolation, they assemble in small 

 companies of thirty or forty behind a hummock so as to shelter 

 themselves from the winds, and there they wait, their heads sunk 

 between their shoulders, morose and peevish, till the old plumes take 

 themselves off, and the new ones attain their required length. All 

 this time everything that comes into the neighbourhood of their 

 retreat, be it Bird or be it Seal, is violently cursed and loaded with 

 fierce invectives. I was obliged to admit that we were ourselves not 

 spared in the least, notwithstanding the exalted position which we 

 are supposed to hold in the animal scale." 



