THE RHEA 
In South Africa he has cousins who are noted 
for their beautiful, white tail plumes. Master Rhea 
will never have such plumes as these, no matter how 
big he grows. But he never does grow as big as 
the African Ostrich either. He may console himself, 
however, with the thought that he has feathers on 
his neck, and three toes, while all other Ostriches 
have bare necks and two toes. 
And now comes the strangest part of this bird’s 
history. He has never known what it is to have a fond 
mother to care for him. She just lays the egg and 
then walks off, as if she had nothing more to do with 
it. The young Rhea would be in a sad plight indeed 
if it were not that he had one of the best of fathers. 
Mr. Rhea takes upon himself the whole business 
of hatching the eggs. Such large ones they are, too 
— cream coloured, with a thick shell, deeply pitted all 
over. He gathers the eggs together, raking them in 
with his wing, until he has about twenty or even 
more, in a shallow hole which he has scraped in 
the ground. These eggs, however, are all laid by 
different hens. The father sits on them until they 
are hatched, and then he trains the young ones to 
catch grasshoppers and other insects. 
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