Walter Goodfellow—Some Reminiscences of a Collector 187


dealt with drastically from birth, and when I started to do so it was

too late. I felt envions as I went through native villages and saw mere

chicks running about with firm legs and all the vigour imaginable, and

yet half-starved and having to compete with the village dogs for any

scraps of offal going. It taught me one lesson, however, and I resolved

that the next young Cassowary I had I would harden my heart in the

matter of feeding.


Perhaps two years later when on my way to the mountains in

British S.E. New Guinea I had my second chance. During a march

one very tiring day I had lingered with a companion a good deal in

the rear of the carriers watching various birds in the trees, when

suddenly far ahead we heard such a sudden hubbub and yells I naturally

thought some revolt had broken out or our men were being attacked.

I had been warned that there was much unrest among a certain tribe

we had to pass through. By the time we caught them up much of

the excitement was over, and through the coloured interpreter I learned

that the first carriers had disturbed a mother Cassowary with four or

five young ones. Although in thick jungle we were by the banks of

a river, and the birds had taken to the water at once in an endeavour

to swim across, for Cassowaries are perfectly good swimmers. All

had succeeded except one, which the current had carried into a small

bend where the bank was too steep for it to land, so the men had

captured it and gone on ahead with it. When we camped that evening

in a deserted forest village I enquired for the bird and found the poor

thing which was not more than a foot high, hanging by it legs from a

projection in one of the huts. They were intending to kill and cook

it as soon as they had started a fire, so I only arrived just in time to

save it. From then on I took entire charge of it. We had still some

six or seven days’ travelling to do, from early morning till night with

only a short halt at midday, so it was not a good beginning for such a

young bird and not giving it much of a chance. We were bound for high

ranges where dwelt the Long-tailed Birds of Paradise, the Princess

Stephanie’s, and Meyer’s Sickle-bill, and the only way it could travel

was tied up in a bag on the top of one of the loads. It was fed and

watered three times a day under great difficulties, as at first I was

always afraid it would run off into the forests. Eventually we settled



