and most remarkably good sport an "old man" or
"boomer"--as the full-grown males are called--will afford; and most
kangaroo dogs bear witness, by cruel scars, how keen a gash he can
inflict with his sharp hind claw when brought to bay. From ten to
twelve miles is by no means an unusual run, and when thoroughly
exhausted he makes a stand, either with his back against a tree, or in
the water. In both of these positions he is no despicable adversary,
and will do much damage to a pack of hounds, by grasping them in his
short fore arms and ripping them open, if on land; or by seizing and
holding them under, if in the water. Instances are on record of a
despairing kangaroo dashing through the dogs on the approach of a
dismounted hunter, and severely wounding him. The common practice when
the animal is brought to bay is to ride up and pistol him. But,
however he may be killed, his useful qualities have by no means
departed with his breath. His skin, properly cured, will make good
door-mats, boots, saddle-cloths, stock-whips, gaiters, and numberless
other useful articles. His long and heavy tail is much valued for the
soup it yields; and the hams can be cured, and, thus preserved, find
many admirers. The hind-quarters of a large "boomer" will run little
short of seventy pounds; and, with the tail, form the only parts
commonly eaten by Europeans.

The birds that we encountered were of every form and size; pigeons,
some coloured like parrots, others diminutive as sparrows, and of the
same sombre hue: pheasants, quail, every kind of feathered fowl that
could gladden the heart of the sportsman, were found in abundance, and
amongst these the scrub turkey and its nest. This latter bird is so
little known, that I am tempted to give a short account of it.

The Australian scrub turkey ('Tallegalla Lathami') is common in all the
thick jungles in the north of Queensland, and, though smaller than the
domestic bird, is sufficiently like it to be easily recognised, having
the same wattle, and neck denuded of feathers. The most remarkable
feature about this turkey is its nest, which is composed of sand,
leaves, and sticks, piled up into a great mound three feet or so in
height, and ten or more in diameter. This enormous mass is not the
unaided work of one pair, but of a whole colony, and the material is
got together by the bird grasping a quantity in its foot, and throwing
it behind him; the ground in the immediate vicinity of the