he Mutton-bird Season in Australia. 
[Spokane, Wash., Aug. 14. — Editor Forest and 
I ream: To lovers of bird hunting there is no 
[tter place than about the cliffs of Cape Wool- 
lai, Melbourne, Australia. On a recent visit 
.>re we had a thrilling experience. All over 
cliff there are mutton-bird holes, but in one 
ght hollow on the southern side there is 
rfect warren. This has been locally christ- 
d 'The Rookery.” Four acres of land are 
npletely honeycombed by their holes, which 
; within a yard, often a foot of each other. 
lay on the bluff near this warren looking 
r the sea at the setting sun, waiting for the 
Uk. Soon the light on Cape Schanck glim- 
ired in the distance and the sun set. There 
is no moon and a few clouds obscured the 
,'izon, still there was sufficient light to make 
• rything visible. Neither in sky nor sea was 
Ire a sign of any bird. We were getting im- 
ient, when Willie Fraser called, “Here he 
ines!” 
black bird suddenly flew past us, and with 
-t strange gurgling sound disappeared into the 
und. Two more followed, then four, then 
|i few seconds, from the firmament above and 
' waters below, as if created on the moment, 
udreds and thousands of birds appeared, 
’ rling around and filling the air with bizarre 
•nds, and covering the ground with black 
iving forms, which ran from hole to hole, 
p one as it seemed seeking its proper resi¬ 
de. These disappeared, but still thousands 
|' e arrived. The mystery of the mutton-bird's 
:iing was as great as the mystery of their 
Lppearance. They flew near us; they flew 
finst us if we were in their way. They ran 
":he ground beneath our legs and were caught 
h the hand. 
■ w as the strangest, weirdest sight I have wit- 
:.ed in animated nature. It was a Walpurgis 
jfit of the feathered tribe. The darkness in- 
i sed and we had to wend our way to the boat 
pe bushed for the night. This march back 
I" Cape Woolamai from the western shore 
I he Eastern Passage is one of the hardest 
is of this malanga. We were perpetually 
ping into mutton-birds’ holes as we forced 
1 way through patches of thick scrub and 
iocky grass. I do not think it is any ex¬ 
piration to say that there are millions of 
• s on the seaward side of Cape Woolamai. 
p birds followed us wherever we went. They 
>>ed around us in the air, dived under our 
< into the ground. They gurgled and groan- 
> i their holes. Earth and air were filled with 
I'nny sounds. The nearest thing in nature 
hich I can compare this note of the mutton- 
" is the daylight hoot of the owl. Very glad, 
led, were we to reach the cliffs on the other 
I of the cape, and by the reflection of the 
b-fires on the beach below saw our boats 
1 others at anchor. A party of Melbourne 
Is were waiting to sail back with us. Up 
t the sail and the anchor. As the Night Fly 
led through the water we looked back and 
saw the camp-fires, which cast deep shadows 
on the background of cliffs and lighted up the 
faces of the mutton-birders. Many boats had 
already arrived and more would be there by 
morning when, I was told, perhaps 300 people 
would camp under Cape Woolamai to pass all 
next day in egg hunting. These men come from 
all round Western Port and take away a large 
number of eggs, which are preserved for future 
food, besides having a pleasant picnic—a true 
malanga. Last year a party of five fishermen 
from Hastings obtained 285 dozen of mutton- 
birds’ eggs in two days. There is profit as well 
as sport in this. 
We arrived at Melbourne at 10:30, and after 
THE EVER-GAPING MOUTHS. 
partaking of roast mutton-bird, turned in for 
the night. I had been told that the eggs of the 
mutton-bird have a strong, disagreeable fishy 
flavor. On eating some for breakfast next 
morning I found that they were as good as any 
fowl’s eggs, with no perceptible difference in 
taste. C. Clyde Nickum. 
[The mutton-bird is a puffin (PuMnus brevi- 
cauda). As suggested it breeds under the 
ground.—E ditor.] 
Fall River to Acquire Woodlands. 
State Forester Rane, of Massachusetts, is a 
staunch advocate of the plan advocated by the 
American Civic Association for the establish¬ 
ment of municipal forests. Through proper 
forestation of drainage basins and sources of 
water supply, it is urged by State Forester Rane, 
citizens not only will be educated in the advan¬ 
tages of forestry, but a source of municipal in¬ 
come will be developed. Forester Rane recently 
drafted a plan for Fall River which eventually 
will mean 3,000 acres of woodland. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained from 
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supply you regularly. 
Nesting Time. 
To the bird student the most interesting period 
of the year is that time when the various birds 
are building their nests, incubating their eggs 
and feeding their young. 
The nesting season starts as early as Febru- 
ary, with the horned owl and some of the hardy 
hawks, and runs well on into the summer be¬ 
fore such laggards as the goldfinch and cedar 
bird settle down to domestic duties. 
The nests built at this time vary in size from 
the tiny cup of the hummingbird to the large 
conspicuous nests of the eagle and osprey, and 
in material and workmanship, from the beauti¬ 
ful weaving of oriole and vireo to the few care¬ 
less sticks of the mourning dove. Two things 
there are, however, which all species invariably 
weave into their nests. These are love and 
fidelity to their offspring. The bald eagle does 
not fight more valiantly in defense of its home 
and treasures than does the diminutive ruby- 
throated hummingbird. 
At this season most of the males pay great 
attention to the females; they bring them dain¬ 
ties while on the nest, strive to protect them 
from attack, sing to them from neighboring 
trees, and in some species help them with the 
incubation of the eggs. 
Once the young are hatched, both parents 
usually take upon themselves the task of pro¬ 
curing food for the ever gaping mouths of the 
young birds. 
A very noticeable exception to the above rule 
is found in the lordly grouse. As soon as his 
offspring appear, he unconcernedly struts away, 
leaving his mate with the full responsibility for 
the little family. Well, indeed, does she look 
out for them, instructing them in the many les¬ 
sons of woodcraft, so necessary to their exist¬ 
ence. If you come upon a hen grouse and her 
newly hatched brood, and she will flutter help¬ 
lessly at your very feet, dragging wing and leg, 
until, leading you into a futile chase, she will 
at length take wing, and describing a circle, will 
rejoin her hiding chicks. A few low calls and 
each chick responds from its hiding place. One 
comes forth from under a bunch of dead leaves, 
another from out a decayed log, while several 
more have squatted in the high grass. 
Another exception, and a most despicable one, 
is that of the cowbird. This species builds no 
nest at all, but deposits its eggs in the nests of 
other species, then wanders away and leaves its 
eggs and young to the care and attention of its 
victim. The yellow warbler is often the victim 
of this outrage, and I have many times seen the 
poor little yellow mother working herself to 
exhaustion, in a vain endeavor to fill the crav¬ 
ing appetites of her ugly foster children who, 
in size and eating capacity, far exceeded herself. 
Under these circumstances the foster parents 
sometimes show superior intelligence and build 
a new nest on top of the old, thus sealing up 
the cowbird eggs and raising their own family 
in the new “second story” of their home. If 
all birds imposed upon by this obnoxious species 
