REMINISCENCES FROM THE MELBOURNE ZOO. 
53 
nice and dry. He covers it with rough grass, dead leaves, or some such 
bedding, and makes himself very comfortable. From this bedroom he 
tunnels an exit in another direction, and reaches the door of his passage 
higher up the bank, on a convenient slope. Here he can cautiously peep 
out, and if any danger threatens can dive into the water before the 
watcher has realised his presence. Then, making down stream, he can 
enter his burrow secretly and get into safety without again being seen. 
For weeks and weeks the trail of this escaped platypus was found 
every morning, leading from the pond, sometimes for hundreds of yards 
in different directions about the gardens. Following it carefully trackers 
always found the return tracks to the pond, but never once could they 
discover the platypus itself. One morning they traced him to a drain 
pipe that ran down through the gardens, and there he was finally lost. 
He evidently decided to attempt an escape that way, and by dint of 
strong swimming he would ultimately come, to his great delight, to the 
waters of the Yarra. 
“THE FRETFUL PORPENTINE.” 
The echidna, or ant-eating porcupine, is a very strange little animal. 
When attacked, he rolls himself into a ball of spikes, and then dogs and 
men know better than to try to pick him up. There are usually a couple 
of these queer spiky things in the gardens, but they can rarely be seen 
during cool or cold weather because they burrow two or three feet down 
in the loose earth and roll themselves up to hibernate. All that can 
be discerned is a very dusty, dirty heap of prickles just showing above 
a depression of earth. But early in the morning they are all alert and 
are watching keenly for the coming of their breakfast. They get 
surprisingly friendly, too, and know the man that feeds them, and the 
Zoo keepers cannot understand why Shakespeare should have described 
them as “fretful porpentines.” They have very queer long tongues, 
like those of the American ant-eater, but Mr. Wilkie questions whether 
they really do eat ants — if they do, it must be only the tiny black ants, 
for the opening of the lips is not big enough to admit the soldier ants 
if thickly fastened on the tongue. The tongue is a long, soft, finger- 
like substance, about three times as long as the snout. There is no 
action of the jaw at all, but the lips merely open enough to allow the 
thin tongue to pass through. They are fed on beaten egg, new milk, 
and very finely-chopped meat. They cannot swallow the meat, but 
have a great fancy for the flavor of it, and the juices are nourishing for 
them. Individual echidnas have been kept at the Zoo for years. They 
are very amusing to watch at feeding time, for they come out and 
