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ALMOST HUMAN 
merit at the Zoo was recently, when a very young cassowary was placed 
in a small enclosure next to an old bird who had lived all by himself 
for years. He strongly resented the presence of the fledgling, and the 
poor little thing, feeling very miserable after being wrenched from its 
mother, tried its very hardest to make friends with the miserable old 
bird. It ran up and down the dividing fence, keeping up a most mourn- 
ful cry, but the old bird did his best to pick it to death. He flew savagely 
at the fence, and tried to batter it down, so as to get at the baby and 
destroy it. The staff was very pleased when the young bird was taken 
away by the man who owned it. 
Cassowaries are found in heavily timbered country, hiding in the 
thick vegetation. They live in pairs, and do not appear to have any 
of the pretty habits that naturalists love to watch. They are so 
accustomed to half lights that when they are kept in captivity in the 
bright sunlight they invariably go blind, queer cataracts forming first 
over one eye and then slowly spreading to the other. 
AN EMU CORROBOREE. 
The emu, although he is not what the Amerians call a “highbrow” 
like the cassowary, is a much more sociable bird, and consequently a 
greater favorite than the other. Emus live in colonies, on the plains, 
and they have a tribal dance like the Australian cranes — a real corroboree. 
There is often great fun at the Zoo when a colony of emus is in residence, 
for one bird will suddenly take it into his head to run around in a circle 
at full speed, and then a second, after making sure that his mate is 
exercising for sport, will throw himself down on his back and kick out 
vigorously with both feet, as though he has been caught in a maze of 
net work, and is struggling to get free. A third will then join in the 
game by jumping clean over the prostrate bird’s heels, without touching 
him, and a fourth will follow his example. Then, with a most peculiar 
booming sound, like the beating of a muffled drum, they will all start 
madly careering around in the circle made by the first bird, and as they 
run they kick out left and right. If a bird gets too close to his next 
door neighbour, there will be feathers flying in all directions, for one 
touch of the powerful claws will tear out a big tuft of his comrade’s 
plumage. There will be a momentary pause for explanations, but as 
soon as the injured bird is assured that it was a pure accident, he decides 
to bear no grudge, and the two set off in wild delight to rejoin their 
companions. But one bird has not joined in the hilarity, and that is 
the very oldest of them all. He has watched the scene from the 
beginning, and as soon as he is satisfied that the giddy young things are 
