REMINISCENCES FROM THE MELBOURNE ZOO. 
221 
score. So once more the hymn writer who said “Birds in their little 
nests agree” is proved to be wrong. It is very amusing to watch this 
colony at feeding time. They have chopped raw meat given them, and 
if a long thread of meat should happen to be among the mass it is bound 
to be grabbed by both an ibis and a gull. Then one of the funniest 
imaginable tugs of war takes place. Both pull their very hardest to 
make the other let go, and if the strip of meat gives way suddenly two 
very surprised birds spin over on their backs and pick themselves up, 
after an involuntary roll, to gobble up their half of the titbit. At other 
times the meat is too strong or tough to break, and as both birds pull 
one will decide it is necessary to get a firmer grip, and lets go for a 
second. But before he has any chance of catching hold of his end again 
the victor, who has gone rolling in the dust, is up and off, squealing with 
delight, to demolish his prize in some secluded spot. Should a stray 
frog happen to get inside this enclosure, one of the birds is bound to 
see the unfortunate trespasser, and with a shrill scream he pounces down 
and catches it by one leg. The scream has warned the company that 
something unusual is afoot, and at once the prize is coveted by the whole 
lot. A scramble, worse confounded than any football scrimmage, ensues 
as the whole pack rushes for the frog. Before they have actually sur- 
rounded the bird holding the delicacy they have managed to give the 
frog so many bites that it is fairly dead; but its final despatch is accom- 
plished by its being literally torn into shreds. If the captor manages 
to keep the one hind leg for himself he has done remarkably well. The 
same thing happens to any trespassing mouse or poor little fledgling 
sparrow that has accidentally tumbled out of its nest overhead. They 
are literally torn piecemeal. The gulls have the blacker record for mice 
and sparrows, and the ibises are the culprits where frogs are concerned. 
CxULLS AND ALBATROSSES. 
The Pacific gull is commonly called the mollyhawk, but Mr. Wilkie 
does not agree with those who identify him as that special terror of 
small birds. He is hatched an ugly drab brown in color, and he grows 
for a year or two a dirty-looking plumage. But as the months roll by 
he evolves some white feathers, and these gradually replace the dingy 
ones. By the time he is fully matured, about five years or so, he has 
changed into a magnificent bird, with purest white breast and jet black 
wings and back, and his yellow beak is surrounded by a handsome red 
ring. There is some doubt as to the exact length of time it takes for 
these final changes to take place, so a detailed study is being made of 
