THE RHEA 
I am not the fabulous Earth-mother 
That you might think me from my name^ 
But only a strange large bird, who came 
Out of an egg, like any other. 
Despite a title so arresting, 
I am as weak, while I am small, 
As some of those that you would call 
«« Poor little things,” if noticed nesting. 
Alas, and there will be no flying 
Even when we grow, for my queer breed ; 
But we can run with marvellous speed, 
And that’s a gift there’s no denying. 
On those broad^ rolling, treeless plains that are 
known as the Pampas of South America, may be 
found as quaint a baby bird as could be imagined. 
He is rather like a young goose, only he has 
such long, awkward-looking legs. His name, too, 
does not suit him very well, for he is called the 
Rhea.’^ The true meaning of this name is The 
Mother of the Gods,” but our quaint little bird is 
nothing more than a member of that long-legged, 
long-necked race of birds, known as the Ostrich 
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