THE RHEA 
wings, spin round rapidly, often until they are quite 
giddy. 
Two young Rheas were hatched in the Zoo- 
logical Gardens, London some time ago. Although 
the father refused to care for them after they left the 
shell, they were lucky in finding a kind friend in a 
lady who took charge of them, and kept them warm 
in the breast of a woollen jersey that she wore. 
Their cry was a plaintive whistle, and they came 
readily when they were called. 
Their kind protectress caught flies for their 
food, and they would eat as many as fifty at a time. 
When a fly was held out on the open palm of a hand 
they would come tearing along, looking something 
like two torpedoes, their necks outstretched in a line 
with their bodies, and they would snap the fly off the 
hand with the greatest skill. 
Sad to say, this interesting pair did not live 
very long. Discovering that tender green grass was 
pleasant to the taste, they made a hearty meal of this 
delightful new food. The grass formed a hard ball 
inside each fluffy little body, and before long Master 
and Miss Rhea were cold and stiff and dead. 
6o 
