Her fat belly proclaims the advent of laying-time.

An hour later, when the excitement of being put in prison is allayed, my captive is in labour.

With eager, jerky steps, she explores the morsel of game, goes from the head to the tail, returns from the tail to the head, repeats the action several times and at last settles near an eye, a dimmed eye sunk into its socket.
The ovipositor bends at a right angle and dives into the junction of the beak, straight down to the root.

Then the eggs are emitted for nearly half an hour.

The layer, utterly absorbed in her serious business, remains stationary and impassive and is easily observed through my lens.