ZOOLOGY.
The Common Shrew (Sorex tetragonurus).—I kept one of these pretty little animals for a few days in a box with moss. It would eat almost any animal substance, but seemed to prefer insects and earthworms: the former it seized with a spring, and it would eat seven or eight house-flies at a time; if more were given it hid them in the moss. Small worms were caught by one end and munched slowly without being bitten through. On giving it a large one (about four or five inches long), it gave it a sharp bite, then sprang back, then flew at it again, until the worm was half dead, when it ate about half and hid the rest. It slept during the middle of the day, rolled up among the moss, but always waked up at once if worms or flies were put into the box. I believe that, when pressed for food, shrews will kill and eat frogs, but when a large one was placed in the box the present specimen did not seem inclined to prey upon it, although it now and then gave it a slight bite on the hind leg; after they had been together for some hours the poor frog was taken away. The shrew seemed to be very cleanly, constantly dressing its fur and "washing" its face with its fore paws, as rabbits do. It soon died by an accident.—E. R. Alston in the Zoologist.
A Moa's Egg.—The Nelson Examiner states:—"A moa's egg is now being exhibited at Messrs. Bethune and Hunter's offices. It is about ten inches long and five inches in diameter, of a dirty white colour. It was found at the Kaikoros, in the middle island, under singular circumstances. A labourer in Mr. Fyffe's employ, who was digging the foundation for a house, came upon the egg, and, unfortunately, with his pick broke some portions of the shell. It was found in the hands of the skeleton of a Maori, who was buried in a sitting posture, with the egg resting in his hands and held opposite to his head. The egg has been placed in a box of rimu, and protected with a sheet of glass on the top. In a drawer beneath, securely covered with glass, are the fragments of the shell, which have been carefully preserved. The injury, as the egg is placed in the box, is not perceptible, and it appears to be perfect."
Gulls Lookoing out.—Gulls hover about ships in port, and often far out at sea, diligently watching for the waste of the caboose. While the four great fleets, English, French, Turkish, and Egyptian, were lying in the Bosphorus, in the summer and autumn of 1853, a young lady of my family called my attention to the fact that the gulls were far more numerous about the ships of one of the fleets than about the others. This was verified by repeated observation, and the difference was owing no doubt to the greater abundance of the refuse from the cook-rooms of the naval squadron most frequented by the birds. Persons acquainted with the economy of the navies of the states in question, will be able to conjecture which fleet was most favoured with these delicate attentions.—Marsh's Man and Nature.
Anecdote of a Stork.—Birds do not often voluntarily take passage on board ships bound for foreign countries, but I can testify to one such case. A stork which had nested near one of the palaces on the Bosphorus, had, by some accident, injured a wing, and was unable to join his fellows when they commenced their winter migration to the banks of the Nile. Before he was able to fly again, he was caught, and the flag o the nation to which the palace belonged was tied to his leg, so that he was easily identified at a considerable distance. As his wing grew stronger, he made several unsatisfactory experiments at flight, and at last, by a vigorous effort, succeeded in reaching a passing ship bound southward, and perched himself on a topsail yard. I happened to witness this movement, and observed him quietly maintaining his position as long as I could discern him with a spy-glass. I suppose he finished the voyage, for he certainly did not return to the palace.—Ibid.
Acecdote of the Swift.—Mr. Yarrell mentions an instance of a sparrow accidentally hanging itself in a noose from its own nest, and I was the other day witness to an inciddent of a somewhat similar nature, though fortunately less tragic in its termination. A pair of swifts (Cypselus apus) had built their nest in a crevice under the caves of a house, and the aperture was so narrow that they could with difficulty squeeze themselves through. My attention was one morning attracted by a loud flapping of wings, and on hastening to the window to ascertain the cause I perceived that one of the birds had, by some means or other, caught one of its feet either in a chink of the brickwork, or in some portion of the materials of its nest (the height was too great to see which), and was held a prisoner just at the entrance. Its struggles were violent, and continued without intermission for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Sometimes the poor bird would hang for a few seconds with its head downwards, as if dead, and then again it would renew its efforts to escape. At length, after a longer pause than usual, by a sudden and vigorous exertion, it succeeded in casting itself free. I passed the building several times in the course of the day, but never saw either of the birds near the place. The following morning, however, they were going in and out as usual.—W. Weld, in Naturalist's Scrap Book.
