I picked up a few, which we fried for tea; they were excellent. I may here state that I was called by the Maories “Fish Oh,” which was the nearest approach they could make to Preshaw. By the diggers I was known as the “Banker with the Cabbage-tree Hat.”
A few days after this, on my return from one of my trips to the Greenstone, I was fortunate enough to come across about three dozen of these birds’ eggs. These I put in my “cabbage-tree” hat, and rode along till I came to a tent. Hailing the owner thereof, I said, “What have you for dinner?” “Bacon, damper, and tea,” was the reply. “All right,” I said, “you provide the bacon and I’ll provide the eggs.” “Eggs be d———d!” was the reply. “Well, here they are, old man. Give me the frying-pan and I’ll fry them,” which I did, and in less than five minutes we were both sitting down to a sumptuous repast.
