Most of the Nueir villages lie on a spot where the Gazelle makes a bend from a north-east to a south-westerly direction. As we were making our way past the enclosures which lie on either side of the stream, my attention was arrested by the sight of a number of some of the most remarkable birds that are found in Africa. Strutting along the bank, they were employing their broad bills to grope in the slimy margins of the stream for fish. The bird was the _Balæniceps Rex_, a curiosity of the rarest kind, known amongst the sailors as the Abu-Markoob (or slipper-shape), a name derived from the peculiar form of its beak. It scientific name is due to the disproportionate magnitude of its head. Before 1850 no skins of this bird had been conveyed to Europe; and it appeared unaccountable to naturalists how a bird of such size, not less than four feet high, and of a shape so remarkable, should hitherto have remained unknown; they were not aware that its habitat is limited to a narrow range, which it does not quit. Except by the Gazelle and in the central district of the Bahr-el-Gebel, the Balæniceps has never been known to breed. The first that appeared I was fortunate enough to hit with a rifle ball, which wounded it in its back, and brought it down: we measured its wings, and found them to be more than six feet across. Another was struck, but although it was pursued by an active party of Nubians, it effected an escape. As generally observed, the bird is solitary, and sits in retired spots; its broad beak reclines upon its crop, and it stands upon the low ground very much as it is represented in the accompanying illustration: it rarely occupies the ant-hills which every here and there rise some feet above the vegetation. The great head of the bird rises over the tall blades of grass and ever betrays its position. Its general structure would class it between a pelican and a heron, whilst its legs resemble those of a maraboo; it snaps with its beak, and can make a clattering noise like the stork. This Balæniceps would seem to furnish a proof that not everything in nature is perfectly adapted to its end, for when the birds are full grown, they never have their beaks symmetrical. The upper part does not correspond with the lower; the two members fall apart, and, like an old woman’s jaws, go all awry. The colour of their plumage in winter is a dingy light brown, their wings are black, and they seem to fly with difficulty, carrying their ungraceful heads upon their necks at full stretch, like a heron. They build in the rainy season, always close to the open water, forming their great nests of ambatch-stalks. At the next groups of huts we made a stop, and did some bartering with the Nueir, who brought sheep and goats for exchange. Here, in the heart of the Nueir population, in a district called Nyeng, we fixed our quarters until the 16th. I made use of the time to spend the whole day in my ambatch-canoe, collecting the water-plants from the river.