As for other game, every time I went out in the mountain woods I had
splendid sport with the wild chickens or jungle fowl and pigeons,
and I would often return with my guide bearing a long pole loaded
at both ends with the birds I had shot. The pigeons, which were
large birds, settled on the tops of the tallest trees and made a
very peculiar kind of growling noise. Many years ago (as Ratu Lala
told me) the natives of Taviuni had been in the habit of catching
great quantities of pigeons by means of large nets suspended from
the trees. The chickens would generally get up like a pheasant,
and it was good sport taking a snap shot at an old cock bird on
the wing. It was curious to hear them crowing away in the depths of
the forest, and at first I kept imagining that I was close to some
village. I also obtained some good duck shooting on a lake high up in
the mountains, and Ratu Lala described to me what must be a species
of apteryx, or wingless bird (like the Kiwi of New Zealand), which
he said was found in the mountains and lived in holes in the ground,
but I never came across it, though I had many a weary search. Ratu
Lala also assured me that the wild chickens were indigenous in Fiji,
and were not descended from the domestic fowl. We had plenty of fish,
both salt and fresh water, and the mountain streams were full of
large fish, which Ratu Lala, who is a keen fisherman, caught with
the fly or grasshoppers. He sometimes caught over one hundred in
a day, some of them over three pounds in weight. The streams were
also full of huge eels and large prawns, and a kind of oyster was
abundant in the sea, so what with wild pig, wild chickens, pigeons,
turtles, oysters, prawns, crabs, eels, and fish of infinite variety,
we fared exceedingly well. Oranges, lemons, limes, large shaddocks,
"kavika," and other wild fruits were plentiful everywhere.

During my stay here in August and September the climate was delightful,
and it was remarkably cool for the tropics. I often accompanied Ratu
Lala on his fishing excursions, and he would often recount to me
many of his escapades. On one occasion he told me that he had put
a fish-hook through the lip of his jester, a little old man of the
name of Stivani, and played him about with rod and reel like a fish,
and had made him swim about in the water until he had tired him out,
and then he added, "I landed the finest fish I ever got."

I added a good many interesting birds to my collection during