IN

AUSTRALIAN
WILDS

CHARLES BARRETT. C.M.Z.S.

A
/

/ v

IN

AUSTRALIAN
WILDS

QH

IN AUSTRALIAN
WILDS

THE GLEANINGS OF A
NATURALIST

CHARLES BARRETT, C.M.Z.S.
o f

AUTHOR OF

"FROM RANGE TO SEA" "THE WIDE HORIZON
"THE ISLE OF PALMS"

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
BY THE AUTHOR

MELBOURNE PUBLISHING COMPANY

CROMWELL BUILDINGS, MELBOURNE
1919

TO
MY WIFE

CONTENTS

Page

List of Illustrations 7

Introduction 9

Chapter

I. The Bush Hut 1 1

II. Gippsland Wilds 36

III. Sea Birds' Haunts - 56

IV. The Mallee Country - - 79

V. Through the Big Swamps 103

VI. Eyre's Peninsula - 122

VII. Where the Pelican Builds 140

VIII. Across the Plains - 157

IX. Among the Palms - 182

X. Coral Isles - 200
Index ..... 225

ERRATUM.

On page 40, second line from bottom,
read "glass" for "grass."

ILLUSTRATIONS

Walden Hut Frontispiece

Page.

Australian Magpie . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Scarlet-Breasted Robin on Nest . . . . . . . . 14

White-Shafted Fantail on Nest 16

Mistletoe-Bird at Nest 18

Red-Tipped Pardalote 20

White-Browed Scrub- Wren in Nest 21

Nest of Striated Tit-Warbler 22

Nest and Eggs of Coachwhip-Bird . . . . . . 25

Coachwhip-Bird at Nest 26

Great Brown Kingfisher . . . . . . . . . . 28

Kookaburra Nestling . . . . . . .... . . 29

Blue-Tongued Lizard 30

Ring-Tail Opossum's Nest . . . . . . . . 32

Young Ring-Tail Opossum 33

Tit-Warbler Feeding Fledgling 34

Female Lyre-Bird . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Young Lyre-Bird 39

Bower of Satin Bower-Bird . . . . . . . . . . 41

Loading the Pack-Horse . . . . . . . . . . 46

In Lilly-Pilly Gully 47

Park Ranger and Emu . . . . . . . . . 48

Koalas or "Native Bears" . . . . . . . . . . 50

Nest of Helmeted Honey-Eater . . . . . . . . 52

Haunt of Emu-Wrens . . . . . . . . . . 54

The Valley of Dry Bones, King Island . . . . . . 57

Young Fairy Penguins . . . . . . . . . . 60

Gannet Rookery, Cat Island . . . . . . . . 63

Gannet on Nest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Pacific Gull's Nest and Eggs 67

Cormorant Rookery, Storehouse Island . . . . . . 69

Nest and Eggs of Oyster-Catcher . . . . . . . . 70

An Island Garden . . . . . . . . . . . 72

The "Endeavour's" Laboratory . . . . . . . . 75

Line Fishing from the "Endeavour" . . . . . . 76

White-Capped Albatross . . . . . . . . . . 77

Bearded Dragon or Jew Lizard . . . . . . . . 82

In the Heart of the Mallee 83

Nesting Mound of Lowan (closed) . . . . . . . . 86

Nesting Mound of Lowan (open) . . . . . . . . 87

Young Magpie-Larks . . . . . . . . . . . 93

Echidna, Walking 95

Echidna, Burrowing . . . . . . . . . . . . 96

A "Canoe" Tree 98

The Isle of the Dead, Kulkyne . . . . . . . . 99

Aborigines' Bark Canoe 100

Australian Coot's Nest and Eggs . . . . . . . . 104

Kitchen Midden, Lake Boga 106

Watching Egrets 108

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Page.

Among the Water Lilies Ill

On a Swamp Islet 113

Burrow and Eggs of Murray Tortoise . . . . . . 116

Swamp Hawk's Nest and Eggs 117

Bittern's Nest and Eggs . . 118

Nest and Eggs of Musk Duck 119

Sugar Gum Camp 123

At the Nest of the Many-Coloured Parrot . . . . 125

Lagoon at Warunda, Eyre's Peninsula . . . . . . 127

Climbing to a Tawny Frogmouth's Nest 128

Termites' ("White Ants") Mound .. 130

Stump-Tailed Lizard 133

Aborigines' Burial Place . . 134

Nest and Eggs of Rock-Parrot 137

Blacks' Wurlie, The Coorong 142

The Coorong 144

On Pelican Island 146

Pelicans' Headless Bodies 147

Nest and Eggs of Pelican 149

Pelicans at the Zoo 151

Cape Barren Geese . . . . . . . . . . 153

Black Swan and Cygnets 155

A Daring Climber at Nest of the Eagle-Hawk . . . . 159

White-Browed Wood-Swallow at Nest 161

Nest and Eggs of Straw-Necked Ibis . . . . . . 164

Ibis Nestlings 166

Bird Trappers' Camp 169

Galah Nestlings 171

Rose-Breasted Cockatoo (Galah) 173

Young Native Companion . . . . 174

At the Nest of the Yellow Parrot 176

Young Cockatoo-Parrot 177

Nankeen Kestrel (Fledgling) 179

Delicate Owl, Showing the Down 180

Palms and Parasites (Orchids and Ferns) . . . . . . 183

A Palm Grove, Tweed River 185

Cane-Cutter's Home, Tweed River 187

Nettle Tree, Among Palms 189

Tweed River at Tumbulgum 191

Nesting Place of Forest Kingfisher 193

In the Canefields 194

A Native Guide . . . . 197

An Island Beach 201

Corals and Shells 203

In the Pisonia Forest . . 207

Holothurians in Coral Pool . . 209

Turtle Tracks on the Beach . . 210

Turtles Coming Ashore . . . . 211

Turtle, Sleeping 212

Nest and Egg of White-Capped Noddy 213

White-Capped Noddy on Nest 214

Nest and Eggs of Reef Heron 216

Reef Heron Nestling 219

Sacred Kingfishers 221

Black Swans .. 223

INTRODUCTION

I FIRST met the author of this book as one of a
band of young enthusiasts calling themselves
"The Woodlanders," living their week-ends and
holidays in a bark hut at Olinda, and hunting wild
things very keenly and successfully with a camera;
quite content to live close to Nature and to study it
without collecting it. Most boys begin an intimate
friendship with Nature as collectors, but if the author
of this book ever had that failing it was before I met
him, and that is so very long ago that there is no need
to embarrass either of us over so small a matter of
dates. In the social intercourse of the human race
the character reader is often of more consequence than
the anatomist — though each may follow his bent with-
out necessarily belittling the researches of the other.
Mr. Barrett's standpoint to Nature has ever been a
friendly, even a loving one, full of quiet but deep
sentiment, which in his younger days he would have
been slow to acknowledge, because we all like to be-
little our own emotions. It is one of the very widest
of our unconvincing fictions. His soft side for
Nature was backed by courage and conviction, and
where the protection of wild things was concerned
no one amongst all the naturalists I have known was so
quick to recognize his duty in suppressing and pre-
venting wrong, and to do it without any regard at all
for personal consequences or convenience, recalling in
this something of the Kipling line, "Oh, beware my
country, when my country grows polite." His sense
of duty, while finding very quiet expression, was con-
spicuously strong — it was that same sense of duty
which induced him, when he had already given
hostages to fortune, to put aside all thoughts of per-
sonal comfort and preferment and throw in his lot
with "the army that never was broken."

10 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Mr. Barrett has in late years seen and studied
strange phases of Nature in other lands — in Egypt,
in Sinai, in Palestine — where one may still check his
impressions by reference to the first book of Nature.
And at the end of it he has come back, not to tell us
of war, either in its romance or its realities, but to
drop quietly into the old haunts and seclusions and
give us in his first published words just the old hobby
and the old home things. The one thing which all
his old friends and admirers would have wished is
that everyone who takes up this book could know the
author of it as we do. It would have added much to
their enjoyment and understanding of his work. He
is a tireless, even a daring hunter, without the hunter's
limitations in daring most only for the things that are
good to kill and to eat.

The author, though he has what the scientist is
pleased to call "attainments," is in no sense a cabinet
naturalist. His book is popular, which means that
it is human. The actual anatomy of bird or beast
appeals to him less than its habits, its activities, and,
above all, its living rights, in Nature's wonderful
scheme of things. The name of a thing — the point
where "scientific" knowledge so often begins and
ends — is of less importance to him than the thing it-
self. It is a book to read and keep for company's
sake, in the same sense that a picture is so often aptly
described as "good to live with."

DONALD MACDONALD.

CHAPTER I.
THE BUSH HUT

THE wattles on Olinda have blossomed many times
since the spring of our advent. Three roving
naturalists, familiar with the Bush, we had often
slept on a bed of bracken, with stars winking at us be-
tween gum tree boughs, and wakened at sunrise to hear
birds singing and see dew shining on the grass. It
is pleasant, now and then, to become a super-sun-
downer, to go on the wallaby with swag and billy,
careless whither a track leads, and take one's ease at
the Inn of Stars. We were Bush ramblers always in
holiday time, but we fell in love with Olinda Vale at
first sight, and knew that it would long stay our wan-
derings: a valley abrim with sunshine, and loud with
the songs of birds.

In those days the settlement, little more than
thirty miles from Melbourne, was small, perhaps a
score of homes in all; we never made a census of the
inhabitants. A gray old road came down hill from
the station, turning sharply into the valley below the
reservoir; an old road bordered with gum trees, and
furrowed by cart wheels, dusty in summer and muddy
in winter; a road that led past huts and cottages, and
over the creek into undiscovered country. Between
the road and the creek lay a broad strip of fertile land
on which the villagers lived and toiled. There were
bean and potato fields, small orchards, raspberry
patches and beds of strawberries. One or two men
were beekeepers; some felled trees for a livelihood.
But there was never a shop in the Vale, no "business
centre," no crowd on "late closing" night ; Olinda was
then in the Golden Age.

12 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

We soon made friends among the settlers, and
became tenants of a hut near the southern entrance to
the Valley. The owners, two brothers, had prospered
and built for themselves a neat cottage of weather-
board— a stately mansion compared with the hut —
and were glad to give us a lease of the old home with
its three acres of ground.

AUSTRALIAN MAGPIE.

Settling down was not accomplished in a day. For
the hut, though stoutly built of logs, with a bark roof,
needed some repairs, while the interior had to be
cleaned and fitted with bunks and other comforts. One
end of the building was occupied by an open fireplace,
writh wire hooks and chains dangling from an iron bar.
A slight partition, with a low doorway, justified us in
describing the hut as a two-roomed dwelling. Some
of the floor slabs were loose, there were gaps between
the wall logs, and the sky glazed holes in the roof.
But we worked hard, and at length our Bush home was

THE BUSH HUT 13

fit for any man unwedded to luxury. Our first care
had been to make the hut weatherproof ; then we dealt
with the interior. The rough logs were screened with
hessian, which, in turn, was covered with wallpaper
of a bright tint. Several bunks — sacking stretched
over wooden frames — were built along the walls; a
cupboard was fitted in a corner, and the mantelshelf,
a deal board, securely nailed above the fireplace. A few
photographs and pictures tacked against the walls, a
swinging lamp, pots, pans and crockery in their ap-
pointed places, and the hut began to look home-like.

It was late on a Saturday night when our task
was finished, and we rested, well pleased with the
result. A log fire chased shadows from corners,
gleamed redly on every polished surface, and shone on
three contented faces. Outside the wind moaned
around the hut, a loose piece of bark flapped like a
wounded bird, and once a Fox barked. It was
pleasant to sit by the fire and listen to those sounds of
unrest fretting the night. When the billy boiled we
charged tin pannikins with tea, and honoured the toast
of "Walden Hut." This name, of course, was borrowed
from Thoreau. We had read his books with keen
interest, and from the most famous of the series
gained the idea of living for awhile in a Bush hut.

Year after year we spent holidays, and any other
days that could be stolen from business, at Olinda
Vale. But the joy of living there continuously from
January to December was denied us. Thoreau,
however, was not the compleat Hermit, for he
received visitors and sometimes went to Concord.
We did likewise, only our Concord was the town of
Lilydale, some three miles from Olinda Vale. Many
times we made the journey by moonlight, laden with
parcels, but cheery as crickets on the hearth. We were
young then, young and in tune with the spirit of the
wild; our "thoughts were skimming swallows."

14

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Sunshine, flowers and bird song were all sweet
things; and night, with her stars, was desirable, too.
None of us has pleasanter memories than those which
were gathered in Olinda Vale. Like Thoreau, we
plucked life's finer fruits, and reckoned up accounts on
a thumb nail. I shall not weary you with details of

SCARLET -BREASTED ROBIN ON NEST IN WOODPILE.

economy, or records of the daily round at "Walden
Hut"; Nature is the theme. Every day was passed
in health and happiness. We lived frugally and spent
little. Meals consisted of bread, meat, occasionally
fish from the stream, fruit, wild honey and eggs, with
milk, tea and cool creek water. Luxuries were not
desired. On our sack bunks we slept soundly, after
a day in the open air. Doubtless, this mode of life
would suit few city -bred folk ; but we found it delight-

THE BUSH HUT 15

ful. There was no sense of "roughing it" in our old
Bush hut.

Garden and orchard needed some care, and wood-
splitting and spade work provided exercise, apart from
Bush rambles. The morning plunge in the swimming
hole, embowered in wattles and ferns, was refresh-
ing after slumber. Our garden was stocked with old-
fashioned plants: wallflowers, pansies, violets and
phlox. A rose bush grew at one end of the hut, and
ivy climbed about the other. Just beyond the threshold
long grass formed a jungle; then came the orchard,
with a narrow pathway leading to the creek. "Walden
Hut" fronted the road, but we promoted the back
door, because it opened on wildness and beauty. So
little was the other portal used that, in time, ivy sprays
crept across it, and spiders spun webs in the corners.
Indeed, the hut was a harbour for wild things. Blue
Wrens nested in the ivy, Swallows under the bark
eaves, and beneath the floor lurked snakes and
lizards; mice pattered between the logs and hessian,
and moths rested in crannies. Besides these boarders,
we received visitors from the Bush. Scarlet-breasted
Kobins [Petroica leggii] came to the garden, and a
pair nested in the woodpile. In the night, Opossums
[Phalangers] played about on the roof; at dawn we
were wakened by bird notes. Sometimes a Great
Brown Kingfisher [Dacelo gigas] would chuckle and
gurgle from the ridge pole; Magpies [Gymnorhina
leuconotci] rarely failed to carol, and small birds
greeted sunrise with a medley of sweet sounds. A
village girl, rising early, sang as she went through
dewy grass to the milking shed. It was good to lie
abed and hear all these morning sounds, while sun-
beams slanted through the window on to one's face;
pleasant, also, to win glimpses of sky through the open
doorway.

After an early breakfast, on fine days, we would
set out with camera and field glasses, to ramble in

16

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the Bush near home, walk to the falls, or climb the
neighbouring hills. Or we would take the old road
over the bridge and explore wilder Bushland to the
foot of a mountain. On these excursions we became

WHITE -SHAFTED FANTAIL ON NEST.

acquainted with the fauna and flora of the whole dis-
trict, and reaped a harvest of sun pictures.

Down by the creek many birds nested in spring
and summer. A friendly sprite was the White-
shafted Fantail [Rhipidura albiscapa], whose song
resembles soft notes of a violin. An accomplished

THE BUSH HUT 17

acrobat, this little gray bird tumbles and darts
through the air in pursuit of insects. The nest of the
White-shafted Fantail is a dainty structure of fine, dry
grass stems. The lining is of softer material, some-
times mingled with horsehair. Shaped like a wine-
glass, with the "foot" lacking, the nest is covered
externally with spiders' web, which gives it a
"finished" appearance. The Fantail broods closely,
and it is not difficult to photograph her on the nest,
which is usually fastened to a slender horizontal
branch, at no great height. At Olinda we found
scores of nests of this species, some among the hill
gum trees, others in the wattles. Many were saddled
on boughs overhanging the creek. When one of us
angled for trout or blackfish, Fantails were in con-
stant attendance. Often a bird would alight on the
rod, spread its tail, and sing, as if to encourage the
angler.

Another familiar bird was the Yellow-breasted
Shrike-Robin [Eopsaltria australis] , which was even
more confiding than the Fantails. "Yellow-bob" and
"Wild Canary" are its Bush names. On the upper
part of the body the plumage is dark gray, the throat
grayish-white, underparts bright primrose yellow, and
base of tail olive-yellow. The movements of this beau-
tiful bird are soft and silent ; one may be close at hand
and escape notice. The Yellow-breasted Shrike-Robin
has a habit of flying from the ground to a tree trunk
and clinging to it sideways; it may remain in this
position for some minutes. Like the Fantail, this
Bush bird is reluctant to leave its nest, whether the
contents be eggs or nestlings. More than once I have
stroked the head of a Shrike-Robin while it sat on the
nest, and pushed the bird gently aside to see her eggs.
The nest is cup-shaped, composed of bits of bark and
fine twigs, and lined with rootlets and dead leaves.
Externally it is draped with greenish-coloured lichens
and long strips of bark, so that it harmonises with

18 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

immediate surroundings. Nests may be placed close
to the ground, in the fork of a bough, or in a similar
position at some height. Typical eggs of the Yellow-
breasted Shrike-Robin are of a delicate apple-green
colour, splashed and spotted with chestnut and blue-
gray. A clutch in which the colour was blue, with-
out any markings, has been described. The coloration
of birds' eggs is a fascinating study.

MISTLETOE - BIRD AT NEST.

Mistletoe-Birds [Dicseum hirundinaceum] were
not rare ; but the discovery of a nest was an event for
rejoicing. Often we watched the brilliant little birds
(whose nearest relations flourish in the Indian region)
gleaning among big clumps of Loranthus on gum tree
boughs, and searched diligently for their pendulous
nurseries, generally in vain. Early in October one
year fortune favoured us. A nest was found suspended
in a gum sapling growing on a hill slope. It was the

THE BUSH HUT 19

prettiest and neatest bird home we had seen : roughly
pear-shaped, made of a felt-like mixture of gray-
coloured, downy plant substance, spiders' cocoons, etc.,
and with a narrow side entrance, which enlarged as
the two nestlings grew to bird's estate. It was about
three inches in length, the width being slightly
less, and swung from a slender branch ten feet from
the ground. We fixed the camera on the apex of a
pyramid made of old fence rails, focussed on the nest,
and went to cover behind a large bush, thirty feet
away. Nearly half an hour passed before the parent
birds ventured to approach. The mother came first.
She flew on to a branch, just above the nest, gazed at
the camera, and showed signs of indecision. But love
conquered fear, and soon the Flower Pecker left her
perch and clung to the side of her home. She thrust
her head inside, and began cleansing operation. The
slight noise when the camera shutter was released sent
her off to a tree close by; within ten minutes she re-
turned, this time with a beak full of food. In the
course of an hour she made many trips to and from the
nursery; and we exposed a dozen plates Once only
the male bird alighted in the sapling; he declined to
come within range of the lens. A week later we
visited the spot again, to find the fledglings out in the
world. One was captured, and the mother flew on to
the hand in which it was held.

We established friendly relations with the Dia-
mond Birds. Birds of the tree tops, small and ex-
quisitely coloured, their delicate clinking notes were
heard more often than the Pardalotes were seen. One
species, the Red-tipped Pardalote [Pardalotus
striatus], nested in hollows in dead branches,
or reared its broods underground. The nest of
the Spotted Pardalote [Pardalotus punctatm], placed
in a little domed chamber at the end of a tunnel about
a foot in length, is cup-shaped, and composed of fine
shreds of bark or dry grass stems. From four to

20

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

five eggs, pearly-white, and about the size of a small
marble, form the clutch.

Honey-eating birds were plentiful among the
thickets of Hazel, Acacia and Musk trees along
the creek. A striking form was the Yellow-faced

RED -TIPPED PARDALOTE

Honey-eater [Ptilotis chry sops'}, found in South Aus-
tralia, Queensland and New South Wales, as well as
Victoria. Nests of this species, composed of pieces of
golden-green moss, with spiders' web and bits of bark
interwoven, were suspended from slender twigs,
generally over the water, and the eggs, salmon-
coloured and flecked with reddish and purple-gray,
looked like jewels in a casket. New Holland Honey-
eaters [Meliornis novte -hollandix] were fairly
numerous, and we found many of their nests, built low

THE BUSH HUT

21

down, in the tangle of bracken, wire-grass and
creepers near the waterside. The birds betrayed
their nests by scolding any intruder. It was the same
with some other species. Often, the nest of a pair of

WHITE - BROWED SCRUB -WREN IN NEST.

White-browed Scrub-Wrens [Sericornis frontalis] was
discovered through the fussy concern of its owners.
Blue Wren-Warblers [Malurus cyaneus] were equally
foolish, and Brown Tit-Warblers or Thornbills [Acan-
thiza pusilla] led us to dome-shaped nests in the
bracken, not once, but fifty times.

NEST OF STRIATED TIT - WARBLER.

THE BUSH HUT 23

Nests of the Striated Tit-Warbler [A. lineata]
were not so easily discovered as those of the little brown
bird, its cousin. They were usually suspended from
slender twigs, and half hidden among leaves. One that
we found was a model, and when the brood had flown
we took it to the hut as an ornament for the ''•'mantel-
piece." Oval-shape, and about five inches in length,
it was neatly and strongly made of thin shreds of red-
brown bark; the domed side entrance had a slight
ledge — threshold and window-sill combined. The in-
terior, cosily lined with soft material, held three pearly
white eggs, spotted with chestnut-brown, so thickly
about the apex as to form a zone.

All day in spring the Vale was full of bird voices,
and we learned to distinguish the calls and songs of
over sixty species. Most insistent were the Cuckoos,
which called over and over and over again, as if they
never could tire of hearing their own voices. Four
species were abundant at Olinda, and small birds suf-
fered from their presence. Blue Wren-Warblers and
Tit-Warblers were usually chosen as foster-parents
for their offspring by Bronze Cuckoos [Chalcococcy.v
plagosus] and Narrow-billed Bronze Cuckoos [C.
basalis] ; the Fan-tailed Cuckoos [Cacomantis flabelli-
formis'] selected Scrub-Wrens' nests for their eggs;
while the Pallid Cuckoo [Cuculus pallidus] showed a
preference for those of Yellow-breasted Shrike-Robins
and Honey-eaters. We were fortunate to witness a
Bronze Cuckoo chick, blind and featherless, eject from
the nest two Blue Wren-Warblers, which were, per-
haps, a few hours younger. It was an interesting
but unpleasant sight, this tragedy of Birdland.

What impels Cuckoo nestlings to clear the nest of
the foster-parents' eggs, or chicks, as the case may be?
My own conclusions, the fruit of both observation and
reflection, are given in a paper entitled "The Origin
and Development of Parasitical Habits in the Culcu-
lidaB":*

-"The Emu," Vol. VI., Part 2, pp. 55-60.

24 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

"With reference to a suggestion that the action of
the infant Cuckoo in ejecting its nest fellows is purely
automatic, rythmic, and governed by external stimuli
or reflex action, I still cling to the belief that the pro-
cess is referable to hereditary instinct, or subconscious
memory, aided by dawning reason. . . . The actions
of the blind, featherless infant Cuckoo on this occasion
(at Olinda Creek, in 1904) certainly showed no sign
of being due to reflex action, but, on the contrary,
appeared to me a marvellous, and almost uncanny,
exhibition of instinct and subconscious reasoning."

Cuckoos have interested naturalists from the time
of .Mian, who flourished in the second century. He
observed their parasitical habits. It is certain that
much remains to be learned regarding these strange
birds. Authorities differ on several points. Some
declare that Cuckoos actually lay in nests, others that
each egg is laid on the ground, and borne to a nest in
the bird's beak. Possibly Cuckoos which choose open
nests deposit their eggs directly therein, while species
which favour dome-shaped nests adopt the other
method. A reliable Australian observer records
having seen a Pallid Cuckoo sitting on a Robin's nest.
With regard to resemblance between the Cuckoo's eggs
and those of the foster-parent, there are some notable
instances among Australian species. The Fan-tailed
Cuckoo's favourite foster-parent is the White-browed
Scrub-Wren [Sericornis frontalis], and the eggs of
the two species are much alike, both in size and colora-
tion. The Pallid Cuckoo frequently chooses nests of
Honey-eaters, which lay eggs closely resembling its
own. There are other cases which do not fit in with
the theory of mimicry, if that term is permissible here.

We devoted much time to Cuckoos, but they did
not interest us more than the elusive Coachwhip-Bird
[Psophodes crepitans], which was more often heard
than seen. These shy creatures frequented the
"jungle" along the creek and dense scrub in marshy

THE BUSH HUT

25

places, where the light was dim. Several nests were
discovered. Saucer-shaped, and composed of wire-
like rootlets and small twigs, they were placed in
tangled clumps of wire-grass, from three to six feet

NEST AND EGGS OF COACHWH1P - BIRD.

above the ground. The eggs (two form a full clutch),
sky-blue ground colour, with quaint scrawls and other
markings in sepia and gray, were lovely objects. De-
siring to obtain photographs of the birds themselves,
we marked down a nest which held two eggs, and
waited patiently for the time of nativity. At length
the eggs hatched, and a few days later the camera,
screened in boughs, was set up near the nest. The

26

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

photographer, early one morning, focussed on the nest,
made other necessary preparations, and went into hid-
ing. One hand held a bulb at the end of fifteen feet
of rubber tubing, connected with the camera shutter.

COACHWHIP- BIRD AT NEST.

Hour after hour he remained in a cramped position,
gasping in the humid atmosphere and tortured by
mosquitoes. The female Coachwhip-Bird soon re-
turned with food for her young, but she was sus-
picious, and for long refused to come within range of
the lens. She feared the "eye," which stared from
the centre of an unnatural bush. But the chicks were
hungry and clamoured for food. At the end of the

THE BUSH HUT 27

third hour the timorous bird flew on to the nest and
stayed for a moment, alert. The shutter clicked, and
she darted off; too late, however, to foil the patient
watcher. When the plate was developed, it showed
the mother bird, and a chick leaping from the nest to
greet her. This was the first photograph of the
Coachwhip-Bird obtained, and caused much interest
among Victorian ornithologists. Subsequently other
Nature photographers were successful.

Among the gum trees on the hill slopes Parrots,
Butcher Birds, Magpies and other species nested.
From a nest of Cracticus destructor we took three
fledglings, which became pets. They were merry little
creatures, but called almost incessantly for food.
Small pieces of raw meat, moistened in water, were
given to them. One bird learned to whistle the open-
ing bars of some simple tunes, but its own wild, sweet
notes were most pleasing. The Magpies' rich carolling
was always welcome, but seemed especially musical
after the screeching of a flock of Parrots or Cockatoos.
The Rosella Parrot [Platijcercus eximius] is a bird o?
gay plumage, as everyone knows, but it is not a "song-
less bright bird." It sings after a fashion of its own,
uttering, as it creeps among the foliage of a gum tree,
nicely modulated notes. The "song" is in harmony
with the whispering of leaves, and humming of insects
in the flowers:

All the live murmur of a Summer day.

Black Cockatoos [Caloptorhynchus funereus] did
not nest at Olinda Vale in our time, and are never
likely to do so. Sometimes a small flock came flying
over a hill, to sweep, with harsh cries, through the
sunlit valley. "When black cockies fly low look out
for rain," is a Bush saying that was not verified.
The birds which visited us did not know their business
as rain prophets, or else they were on holiday, for rain
was never the sequel to a low flight by Black Cockatoos.

28 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

A hollow in the trunk of a dead gum tree near
the hut was used each season by a pair of Great
Brown Kingfishers. The nest was inaccessible to our
boldest climber. Not that we wished to rob it, but
it would have been interesting to peer at the nestlings.
When fledged the young Laughing Jacks were pretty

GREAT BROWN KINGFISHER.

and desirable, but some chicks seen elsewhere proved
less attractive. The owners of our home nest were
friendly enough. When we worked in the garden one
or other of the birds would be in attendance, ready to
dart almost beneath spade or hoe, to snap up a worm
or fat white grub. All the Bush people had a good
word for Kookaburra. "They are rare good 'uns,"
a man remarked, "kill snakes and such like vermin."
We were not fortunate enough to see a snake killed by

THE BUSH HUT 29

a Kookaburra, but obtained convincing evidence of
the bird's good offices in this direction.

Reptiles were not particularly abundant in the
Valley, but many were seen, and some killed, in the
course of several years. That the hut, at times, har-
boured snakes was proved by the despairing squeaks
of captured mice, heard in the stillness of night.

KOOKABURRA NESTLING.

Sunny spots on the hillside were likely places for
snakes, and it was well to go warily through long grass.
A swamp some miles from Olinda Vale was infested by
venomous snakes (it may be so still), but it was far
out of our beat, and did not cause the least concern.
We found that snakes, as a rule, are anxious to avoid
an encounter with man.

The order Lacertilia was represented by several
species, notably the Blue-tongued Lizard [Tiliqua

30

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

nigrolutea], a slow-moving reptile. A specimen
which was kept in captivity for a few days declined
to become friendly. When it was touched it opened
wide its mouth, displaying the bright blue tongue, and
made a peculiar sound, between hissing and gasping,
evidently with the object of inspiring terror. In
other localities, nearer Melbourne, I have found these

BLUE-TONGUED LIZARD.

lizards in numbers. If a piece of sacking, an old
kerosene tin, or heap of brushwood on the moorland
be turned over, a "Blue Tongue" may be revealed.
Small brown lizards, swift on their legs as a dragon-
fly is on the wing, were common objects in warm
weather. And occasionally, on tree trunks, we saw
Geckoes, with "splay" feet and big eyes. Frogs were
met with in marshy places. Often, at night, they
serenaded us for hours — an insistent shrilling

THE BUSH HUT 31

noise, pleasant for a time, afterwards monotonous and
hard to tolerate.

Nominally, we took all Nature for our province,
but birds received the largest share of attention. We
did not neglect insect life, though, in those days, Henri
Fabre's wonderful books were unknown to us; nor
had we read "The Life of the Bee." In butterfly time
many gay insects danced in the sunlight, floated over
the bracken and sword-grass, and dallied with flowers
in the Bush and our garden. Most abundant was the
Common Brown [Heteronympha merope], which re-
velled in sunshine, and rested in shade. At the end
of November hundreds of these insects were on the
wing; it seemed as if Titania had sent into the Valley
an army of golden-mailed warriors to conquer. The
Large Wood Brown [Epinephile abeona], with
primaries of smoky-brown, blotched with orange, and
each bearing two purple spots, black margin and
white centre, was rather rare, but some were seen
floating about sword-grass (caterpillars' food plant),
close to the ground. Several other "Browns" were
fairly numerous, also the Australian Admiral
[Pyrameis itea~\, a lovely insect. Chrysalids of the
Admiral were equally beautiful, some being violet-
gray, flecked with black, others of a golden hue. Tiny
"Blues" flitted over the grass, like animated bits of
the Summer sky. We were never lucky enough to
see the Moonlight Blue [Miletus delicia], perhaps the
rarest and most beautiful of Victorian butterflies.

Dragon-flies, with delicate gauzy wings and bril-
liantly coloured bodies, threaded the air; beetles
climbed over grass stems, hid under loose bark on gum
trees, or circled on the surface of the creek. On hot
summer days the shrilling of cicadas was intolerable.
Millions of these goggle-eyed insects inhabited the
Eucalypts, whose boles and branches were studded
with pupal shells. On gum leaves were seen the

RING - TAIL OPOSSUM'S NEST.

THE BUSH HUT

33

curious stinging caterpillars of a Cup Moth [Lima-
codes longerans] ; the cup-shaped cocoons were fixed
in crevices of the bark. We noted handsome "Jewel"
Beetles [Buprestidx], showing metallic tints, resplen-
dent "Diamond" Beetles, and many fine Longicorns.

Among thickets of Native Hazel and Swamp Tea-
tree by the creek Ring-tailed Phalangers [Pseudo-
chlrus peregrinus] were at home. Their nests, in shape

YOUNG RING -TAIL OPOSSUM

like a rounded football, but larger, were easily
reached, but we did not harm the occupants. In
fact, it was rarely possible to catch an Opossum in
the nest. The vibration made in climbing warned the
little pink-nosed marsupial of danger, and gave it a
good chance to escape. Boys hunt Opossums with
dogs. They shake the poor animals from branches
to the ground, where the dogs are waiting to kill.

On moonlight nights we sat outside to witness
the play of Flying-Phalangers [Petauroides volans].

34

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

A tall dead gum tree, with horizontal bough stretch-
ing towards the creek, and forty feet above the
ground, was a favourite resort of the furred acrobats.
One would suddenly appear on the gaunt, gray limb,
creep to the end, gather itself together and leap lightly
into space. Dark in the moonlight, the animal's body
seemed to float for a moment, then glide swiftly down

TIT -WARBLER FEEDING FLEDGLING.

to a tree some distance away. One after another
would perform this feat — an Austral night's entertain-
ment. We rarely saw a Flying-Phalanger in day-
light. A smaller species [Acrobates pygmxus],
known to Bush folk as the "Sugar Squirrel," was ob-
served occasionally. One was captured, and made a
charming pet.

Day by day we discovered something new, bird,
flower, or insect. The riches of the Valley seemed to
be inexhaustible. That was before the district became
popular and received a new name. When we retired

THE BUSH HUT 35

from the scene there were already signs of change.
The tide of rural peace began to ebb long ago. Now
there are cottages among the gum trees on the hills;
the creek flows under a new bridge, larger but less
picturesque than the old log structure; "Walden Hut"
is overgrown by ivy, and the windows are dim with
dust and cobweb. The old place is forlorn. It may
be fancy that the creek has forgotten its song and the
birds their sweetest notes; but clearings on the hill
slopes, chimneys among the gums, and the new road
from the station, are real.

CHAPTER II.

GIPPSLAND WILDS

ONE must camp by creeks and rivers, and roam
through the tall gums, to realise the beauty of
Gippsland wilds. Despite all the settlement,
large areas of country remain in virgin state. If the
aborigines, the lost tribes, could come again to their
old demesne, they would find less game, perchance, but
ancient forests and running waters would welcome
them, unchanged. I write, of course, only of the
"wild" country. Where settlers "go on the land,"
clearing and cultivation begin, and the wild vanishes
before progress like mist before the sun.

Naturalists regret that more, and larger, areas
have not been reserved as sanctuaries for the native
fauna and flora. But regret is vain ; we must be con-
tent with what has been saved from settlement. There
are State forests, many small sanctuaries, and, best
of all, the National Park, which is safe for all time.

Gippsland wilds ! The very words revive pleasant
memories of fern gullies, running water, sunlit glades
and forests of tall trees. Were I to glean from a
dozen notebooks, the pot pourri would be fragrant of
wattle bloom, gum leaves, sassafras and musk. I
will describe a few excursions, which are typical of
many.

*****

At the end of August, one year, with a feliow-
member of the Bird Observers' Club, I travelled from
Melbourne to a station on the Gippsland railway. The
main object of our journey was to see the Lyre-Bird
[Menura victorise] in its native haunts. We were
met by a local naturalist, who had offered to guide us

GIPPSLAND WILDS

37

to a "bit of forest," and show us the bird inhabitants.
Next morning we were astir early, and drove through
pelting rain to the appointed place. At least, we
drove part of the way; the roads were so bad that
our vehicle was left behmd, a mile from the "sanc-
tuary." Walking was like wading through a swamp
in summer; mud clung to our boots and squelched

FEMALE LYRE-BIRD.

above our ankles. Rain fell almost continuously;
there were only two or three brief periods of sun-
shine, so that camera work was nearly fruitless. Still,
the sights in the forest outweighed all discomforts, and
sweetened photographic failure.

Through dripping brushwood, amid Tree-ferns
and Eucalypts, we toiled to the heart of the forest.
It was silent here, save for the pattering of rain drops
on leaves high overhead, and the rare call of some
sheltering bird. Silent for awhile. Then we heard
a female Lyre-Bird call, and our friend led the way

38 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

to a fern bower. On the deep mould of unnumbered
centuries our feet fell softly, without sound. The
light was dim, and one felt that noise was foreign here,
that the place was sacred to silence. This fancy
soon passed away; for we were at the home of the
Lyre-Bird, and eyes and ears became alert. The
nest, a bulky structure, was built between the trunks
of two lofty Tree-ferns, about ten feet from the
ground. Green fronds, and several dead ones, were
drooped around the "doorway." I clambered up, and
put a hand into the nest. Immediately a shrill pro-
test sounded. There was a downy chick inside, with
a feeble body but powerful voice, and its penetrating
alarm notes brought the mother bird on the scene.
She leaped lightly to a bough of an adjacent tree, and
ran up and down it, uttering notes that suggested
both anger and solicitude. I returned to earth; the
Lyre-Bird remained on the limb for a minute, and
then flew to her nest. We retired a few yards, to
watch. The bird appeared to be satisfied that her
offspring was not in peril, and, leaving the nest, she
foraged in the vicinity till we became tired of in-
action.

"She is tame enough," remarked our leader, and
he proved his words by approaching the bird and
touching her with a short stick. But as soon as her
nursery was approached she became restive. On
the bough, evidently a favourite perch, she stood,
watchful. The camera was used, but the light was
not sufficiently strong to give good results with quick
exposures. The photographer was only nine feet
away, and his subject, save for little movements, was
wonderfully obliging. It was lack of light alone
that caused failure. We boiled the billy and lunched
near the nest, and all the time the female Lyre-Bird
was visible; sometimes, apparently unconcerned, she
came so close that the firelight gleamed on her
plumage.

Photo.

YOUNG LYRE-BIRD.

C. P. Kinane

40 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Suddenly our guide lifted his hand for silence.
His quick ears had caught the male bird's notes.
Presently we, too, heard them, and hope surged high.
It was justified. Out into the open, twenty feet from
where we sat, strutted the bird, its splendid tail dis-
played. In full view, it stopped for a minute, as if
suspicious, but continued its parade, and made a
complete circle of the camping spot. Neither fire
nor smoke alarmed it. After receiving a welcome
from its mate, the male bird disappeared.

Later in the day we explored the scrub in other
directions, not without success. Several old nests
of Lyre-Birds were discovered, and also a dancing
mound on a hill slope. While at its mound we heard,
far away, the male bird calling. We advanced
cautiously, and, screened by the dense undergrowth,
were able to reach a hiding place fairly close to the
bird. It proved to be a master minstrel. Besides
its own varied notes, it had a wonderful repertoire,
and favoured us with excellent renderings of songs
and calls of over a dozen species of birds, imitated
the barking of a cattle dog, followed by the whistle
of its master, and became silent. But only for a
minute. Though the audience had not dared to de-
mand an encore, the whole programme was repeated.
We were singularly fortunate, having both seen and
heard the Lyre-Bird at its best.

It was in the Lyre-Birds' haunt that we found a
playground of the Satin Bower-Bird [Ptilonorhynchus
holosericeus] , one of the most remarkable examples
of bird architecture known to naturalists. The
bower stood in the centre of a little glade, with ferns
and shrubs forming a natural fence. Evidently the
bower had been finished recently, for the collection of
bright objects scattered around was small. There
were a few bleached bones, some land shells, several
blue feathers (Parrots'), bits of blue grass, and about
a score of flowers, chiefly violets. To gather the

42 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

blossoms, the Bower-Birds must have visited a set-
tler's garden, two or three miles from the scrub. We
caught glimpses of the birds, several females, and a
male in the "full dress" of shining blue-black (it is
believed that the adult plumage is not fully assumed
until the bird is seven years of age). A nest was dis-
covered some distance from the bower, in a Musk
tree. But it was old and empty, and we concluded
that it was too early yet for nidification. November
is a good month to search for Satin Bower-Birds'
nests.

Towards evening the return journey to the town-
ship was begun. A huge Tree-fern, dead and in-
clined over a tiny creek, detained us for awhile. It
was festooned with leaf and tendril, and the delicate
blossoms of Tecoma australis. Mosses had woven
a green mantle for the brown trunk, and many little
ferns clung to it: a botanical garden in miniature.

* ;- * * * #

A week in Lakeland is not so pleasant now as it
was in former years. The country has been opened
up, and the lake townships are popular holiday re-
sorts. On the Ninety Mile Beach, however, one may
wander in solitude and listen undisturbed to the long
wash of waves and the cries of Silver Gulls. After
a storm there are shells to be gathered on the wild
beach, and queer objects which the sea has jettisoned.
On a lucky day the shell of a Pearly Nautilus will
be found, stranded in a shallow or wrecked on the
beach.

Most visitors to the Gippsland Lakes make the
trip to Buchan Caves, a fairly long journey. As a
rule, it is unprofitable for a naturalist to follow the
tourists' trail; but in this instance it is worth while.
A drive of five miles from Cunninghame brings one
to the southern landing of Lake Tyers. The voyage
through this loveliest of Victorian lakes to Nowa
Nowa is enchanting. The shores, for miles, are

GIPPSLAND WILDS 43

timbered to the water's edge. Tall reeds grow in
quiet reaches, the haunts of Coot and Heron; Ducks
cruise inshore, and Cormorants, perched on dead
branches, look curiously at the motor launch as it
glides past. This forest lake, where "Peace comes
dropping slow," seems to be for the quiet passage of
bark canoes, and boats that move to the "dreamy drip
of oars."

The road from Nowa Nowa to Buchan, a distance
of seventeen miles, traverses a forest, and is one of
the finest coach drives in Victoria. But wild Nature
does not please everybody. "It's a pity that all this
country isn't under wheat," remarked a gaily dressed
young woman to a fellow-passenger, as the Buchan
coach was travelling through the forest. The party
included a youth, evidently a city clerk, whose foolish
talk entertained the girl who sighed for wheatfields
We were all anxious to see a "Native Bear" or Koala
[Phascolarctus cinereus], which, the driver had told
us, was domiciled in a gum tree along the road.
When he pointed with the whip handle, all eyes were
focussed on an innocent little creature, which re-
turned the compliment with a look of mild surprise.
The smart youth jumped out and flung a stone at the
"Bear"; he was rewarded with a sharp rebuke from
the driver, and resumed his seat, rather crestfallen.
The Koala climbed to the top of its tree, and the
coach rumbled forward.

Coming into Buchan is rather an exciting ex-
perience. The road slopes steeply from a windy
rise, and nervous passengers are inclined to become
limpets for the nonce. But Australian coach-drivers
know their business, and there is little to fear, coming
into Buchan.

The caves are both beautiful and interesting.
Fairy Cave, the "tourists' darling," has been civilised.
To a naturalist its most striking feature is a cluster
of swallows' nests, against the wall in the entrance,

44 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

just where slanting sunbeams fall after noon. Moon
Cave, at the time of my visit, was not ready for
tourists, and, therefore, most desirable from my point
of view. The guide led the way through dank gal-
leries, rugged and dripping with moisture, to a lofty
chamber. We stood on the margin of a subterranean
stream, and small fishes [Galaxias] were seen in the
clear, cold water, on which the torchlight gleamed. "A
Platypus comes here sometimes," said the guide. But
I peered in vain for a sight of Ornithorhynchus
anatinus. Coming from its dark channel under the
hills, the creek goes, singing, away through pleasant
valleys to some mysterious haunt of birds. Its banks,
here and there, are hidden by blackberry bushes. By
the ford we lunched, eating ripe berries for dessert.

Close to the township, where the Buchan River
flows past a farm, I disturbed a big lizard, which was
searching for hen eggs. It dived into the water and
swam swiftly down stream. Farmers' wives detest
the "Goanna" [Varanus varius] because it is fond of
eggs, and never misses a chance of pilfering from
poultry yards.

*****

Victoria's National Park is not greatly troubled
by tourists, though small parties camp there during
Easter and Christmas holidays. There are rest-
houses and other facilities. Two rangers, who dwell
in comfortable cottages, keep ward over the Park,
which is sanctuary for all native animals except snakes
and Dingoes.

Wilson's Promontory is linked to the mainland by
an isthmus, composed chiefly of sand dunes, some four-
teen miles in length and four miles across. Within
the Park the nature of the country varies. Innumer-
able small streams flow from the granite hills. Along
portion of the coast great dunes arise, and behind
them lie swamps and morasses, formed by inland
waters fighting their way to the sea. These lonely

GIPPSLAND WILDS 45

places are the haunts of wildfowl. Peaks on the
Promontory include Mount Latrobe (2,434 feet),
Mount Wilson (2,350 feet), Mount Vereker (2,092
feet), and Mount Oberon (1,965 feet). Masses of
granite, huge boulders sculptured curiously by wind
and rain and decked with lichens, are conspicuous.
There is much barren country. Also there are fern
gullies, areas of heathy and grass land, Banksia groves
and forests. One might wander over the Promontory
for months without exhausting its interest.

In Corner Inlet there are extensive mud flats, and
at low tide it is difficult for a boat to reach the landing
place. Spurious Mangroves [Avicenaria officinalis]
grow freely in this desolate region. There are
thousands of dead and living plants, and the mud is
studded with pneumataphores. These "breathing"
organs convey oxygen to the roots in the mud. Vast
numbers of crabs [Helcecius cordiformis] live among
the Mangroves. When camped near the flats one
night, my rest was disturbed by a loud noise, as of
heavy rain drops striking leaves. But the sky was
clear. Going down to the beach 1 saw, in the moon-
light, millions of Mangrove crabs patrolling the mud
flats; their movements had caused the strange sounds
that put my dreams to flight. They are difficult to
capture, these crabs; a step on the mud sends them
scuttling to cover down their burrows. The mud flats
are treacherous, and it is foolish to venture beyond
the sandy beach without long pieces of flat board
affixed to one's boots. With these "mud shoes," pro-
gress over the flats is comparatively safe and easy;
lacking them, one is likely to sink deeply into the
mud.

The Vereker Range was partly explored during
an Easter excursion. The weather was abominable,
heavy rain falling most of the time. Our horses,
used to rough country and wild gallops after cattle
among the hills, carried us bravely from the coast to

46

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the interior. There were some stiff pinches, too, and
sloping tracks agleam with water. At one stage the
horses had literally to climb among rocks, and break
a path through barriers of creepers and dead boughs.
But we had a glorious gallop across the heathy upland,

LOADING THE PACK - HORSE.

nor cared to stop when wildflowers beckoned. A
glimpse of cattle was obtained. They were feeding
far above us, on a grassy flat, and looked no bigger
than sheep. It must be exciting work mustering
cattle in the ranges. Presently we won clear of the
rougher country, and halted for lunch beside a creek.
The horses, especially the poor pack animal, were glad
to rest, like their riders. Late in the afternoon we

GIPPSLAND WILDS

47

plunged into Lilly-Pilly Gully, on the eastern side of
Mount Vereker. At the creek we had admired fine
specimens of King Fern [Todea barbara] ; now we
camped in a bower of Tree-ferns [Dicksonia Antarc-
tica, and Alsophila australis]. The place was dank,

IN LILLY- PI LLV GULLY

and every leaf shed moisture. But it was so wild and
beautiful that we made light of damp clothing and
other discomforts. The horses fared rather badly.
There was no feed for them save what they gleaned
from boughs of the Blanket-wood tree, which were
cut for their evening meal.

Night came without her train of stars, and rain
fell steadily till our fern bower became a bathroom,
roofed with sprinklers, whose unwelcome showers
could in no way be stopped. A fire was started with

48

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

difficulty — dry wood was at a premium — and, drenched
to the skin, we crouched around it like a band of Red
Indians, each with a sack over head and shoulders.
Hot tea, and tobacco smoke cheered us a little, and we
turned in for the night. But it was cold inside the

PARK RANGER AND EMU.

tent, a few yards from the fire, and we huddled to-
gether for warmth.

The morning scene was depressing. No ray of
sunlight penetrated the canopy of fern fronds and
Lilly-Pilly boughs, while the fire was a heap of wet
ashes. After a hasty meal, we caught the horses and
scrambled out of the Gully. A long ride through the
rain, and we reached a cottage on the isthmus side of
the boundary fence, where we camped in comfort for
the night.

GIPPSLAND WILDS 49

Next day the sky was clearer, and there were
"puffs of sunshine." We journeyed to the ranger's
home, on the Darby River, where two young Emus
[Dromaius Novte-hollandse] were seen, feeding quietly
inside the boundary fence. They were rather shy of
strangers, but took dainties from the ranger's hand.
Kangaroos, Wallabies, Phalangers, Lyre-Birds, and
other animals are released in the Park from time to
time, and it is now fairly well stocked. Most of the
animals do well.

In the afternoon we climbed to the summit of a
lofty hill, overlooking the sea. Huge granite boulders
were scattered among Eucalypts and She-oaks
[Casuarina] , reminding one of Stonehenge. Koalas
were numerous on this windy height; nearly every
gum tree contained specimens. Two young "Bears"
were photographed. One vigorous little fellow res-
ented capture, and left claw marks on the Doctor's
hands. At one time, we learned, Koalas were so
plentiful on Wilson's Promontory that thousands were
killed each year by trappers. On the way to the
beach we passed through lightly timbered areas, and
saw flocks of Pennant's Parrakeet [Platycercus
elegans], whose blue and crimson plumage gleamed
among the dark foliage. Several Wallabies were
startled from their resting pfeces, and went pounding
down the hillside. One large specimen sprang up
almost under my feet; we were both startled, but the
Wallaby recovered first, and was out of sight in a
minute.

Wilson's Promontory may become the last refuge
of many species of native animals, and therefore the
Mecca of Victorian naturalists. The flora, also, is of
much interest, hundreds of species having been re-
corded.

*****

A rare and beautiful bird, the Helmeted Honey-
eater [Ptilotis cassidix] was the object of a quest that

KOALAS OR "NATIVE BEARS.

GIPPSLAND WILDS 51

led me through miles of wild bush to a creek, which
had previously been associated with Bell-Miners
[Manorhina melanophrys'}. Bird lovers often visited
Cardinia Creek, Beaconsfield, for the sole pleasure of
hearing and seeing these lively birds, which nested in
a patch of scrub. A bush fire destroyed their haunt,
however, and the colony moved elsewhere — a general
exodus. The Bell-Miner's notes are musical, and
when scores of the birds are "tolling" in chorus the
Bush seems to be haunted by bands of fairy bell-
ringers.

Hearing that Helmeted Honey-eaters had been
observed on Cardinia Creek, I arranged to visit the
locality at the earliest opportunity, and try my luck
with a camera. The first nest of the species known to
science was found in 1884, on the banks of Olinda
Creek. It was obtained, at the expense of a ducking,
by an ardent field naturalist. The birds had chosen a
horizontal branch overhanging the water, and it broke
when the climber was reaching out a hand towards
the nest. The brooding bird clung to the nest until
the water closed over it, and neither she nor the eggs
were injured by the fall. The range of this species, so
far as known, is restricted to South-eastern Victoria.
Few naturalists have seen the nest in situ, and the
eggs are coveted by collectors.

Accompanied by a fellow bird lover, I went to
Beaconsfield in October, 1912, confident of success.
My companion, who was familiar with the district,
took the lead. After a long, hot walk over hills and
through scrub, we reached a sunny spot on the bank
of Cardinia Creek, and while the billy boiled prospected
for nests. A cheery cry from Wilson announced suc-
cess. The nest, which contained two flesh-coloured
eggs, was in a bush growing from the creek's bank,
close to the water. Withdrawing to cover, we waited
for the birds to return. When the female came, and
settled on the eggs, I crept forward, peered at her, and

52

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

formed a plan of action. It was a puzzle to fix the
camera. One tripod leg was plunged into the bush,
and the others, wide apart, in the crumbling bank of
the creek. It was still more difficult to focus. The
bird became restive, and a slight noise made in

NEST OF HELMETED HONEY -EATER
(Containing egg of P. Cassidix and Pallid Cuckoo's egg -on left;.

handling a dark-slide confirmed her suspicions.
Slipping from the nest, she flew down stream, bearing
with her my hopes of a unique photograph. Still, it
was a memorable day. We were able to observe the
rare birds at close range. And the nest near camp
was not the only one discovered; no fewer than four
others rewarded a diligent search. The last of the
series, found towards sundown, contained an egg of
the Pallid Cuckoo and one of Ptilotis cassidix.

GIPPSLAND WILDS 53

Many birds are "touchy" in nesting time; the
Helmeted Honey-eater is distinctly aggressive. Mr.
F. E. Wilson, who is an authority on the species, once
observed a male Ptilotis cassidix attack and rout a
flock of Sitellas. When one of the small birds tried
to leave the flock it was "rounded up" by the angry
Honey-eater, which drove the invaders from its domain
as a cattle dog drives sheep from forbidden pasture.

Homeward bound, we came again to the domain
of Emu-Wrens [Stipiturus malachurus], an acre or
more of uncultivated land fenced by Eucalypts. Here
Heath [Epacris] "Wedding-Bush," and other plants
throve so well that it was toil to wander through
them. Some bushes were overgrown by a parasitical
creeper [Dodder], with pale yellowish stems, and
fruits like red beads. In the forenoon we had spent
an hour searching in vain for nests of the Emu-Wren.
The nests, which are small, are always well hidden,
and in this miniature forest the chance of finding one
was slender. Still, we searched methodically, ex-
amining every foot of different areas that were
selected after watching pairs of birds. I fancy that
they enjoyed the game, and had little fear of losing it.
Once I felt sure that I was on the right trail. A male
bird was flushed from a bush and flew a few yards ; a
moment later a female followed. I explored the spot
whence they came, but there was no sign of a nest.
Then I watched the birds, which had been dodging
about nearly all the time. Presently they flew in
company to another likely place, about fifty yards
distant, and their actions indicated that the nursery
was there. I crouched and crept towards them,
marked the bush which seemed to attract them most,
and searched again. The birds soon returned to the
spot where they were first seen. My companion had
met with the same luck, and we continued our in-
terrupted journey, resolving to try again another day.
But that day was a to-morrow that never came; for

54

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

bush fires swept the locality in mid-summer, and
doubtless many of the Emu-Wrens, as well as their
undiscovered nests, were destroyed.

The Emu-Wren is a tiny bird of great beauty.
The long tail feathers are loosely webbed, resembling
those of the Emu, and are held erect over the back.

HAUNT OF EMU -WRENS, SPRINGFIELD, TASMANIA.

The blue colouring of the throat distinguishes the
male bird, and its tail feathers are more developed
than those of the female. The Emu-Wren's wings
are short and rounded, and its powers of flight are
weak. It is more at home on the ground than in the
air, and runs and creeps nimbly as a field mouse.

I had better fortune among the Emu-Wrens during
a holiday at Springfield, Tasmania. Miss J. A.
Fletcher, a keen observer, who had charge of the school
there, showed me several nests close to her home ; and I
discovered two more in a paddock a mile away. Some

GIPPSLAND WILDS 55

contained eggs and others nestlings. The parent birds
were dodging among the bushes and the long grass in
which their nurseries were built, all the time ; but none
of my long vigils with the camera was successful. The
birds were too elusive, and always kept out of range
of the lens. It was delightful to watch their glancing
forms ; to be on rather friendly terms with them ; and
at least gain some knowledge of their domestic life.
A favourite haunt was a patch of jungle, near an old
log hut on a rise, dotted with gum trees that fire had
killed. It was a "snaky" region, too While I was
at Springfield a lad was bitten by a venomous snake;
but, fortunately, his life was saved by prompt action.
Miss Fletcher, wisely, wore stout leather gloves when
searching for nests in the grassland and swampy
places. She knew all the birds of the district; and
many that frequented the school ground and her garden
were fairly tame. A Gray Shrike-Thrush [Colluri-
cincla harmonica'] every morning flew on to the sill of
the kitchen window, and pecked at dainties placed
there for it, while Miss Fletcher and her sister stood
close by. Wild nature can be won by kindness; fear
is the fruit of persecution. Springfield is far from
Gippsland, but in memory it is linked with that incult
paddock where the Emu-Wrens outwitted us, because
at both places the small birds were seen at their best.

CHAPTER III.
SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS

PERHAPS it is a relic of boyhood, this keen de-
light in lonely isles that lures so many lands-
men to the sea. Or it may be that sirens send
musical messages to win us away. Certain it is, that
islands, especially such as are inhabited only by wild
creatures, possess an elusive charm. Australian seas
are rich in isles, many of which are sea birds' nesting
haunts.

The islands of Bass Strait have long interested
naturalists. Some years ago the Royal Australasian
Ornithologists' Union chartered a small steamer for
a cruise among the isles, and I was one of her pas-
sengers. Later, as a special representative of the
Melbourne Herald, I enjoyed a cruise on the Federal
Fisheries' Investigation vessel, Endeavour. These
two short voyages enabled me to study "island life"
under the most favourable conditions.

King Island, which in recent years has become
well populated, lies midway between the south-east of
Cape Otway, on the Victorian coast, and the north-
west corner of Tasmania. It was frequented only by
fishermen and sealers in the early days. Going ashore
in November, 1908, at Currie Harbour, we found a
thriving township, and stayed at a large and comfort-
able hotel. Two days were devoted to excursions.
The sand-blow, some hundreds of acres in extent, at
the south-western end of the island, is a place of bones.
Tons of sub-fossil remains are scattered about on the
surface, and vast quantities, doubtless, lie hidden
beneath the sand. We collected Wombat skulls, por-
tions of the skeletons of "Native Cats" [Dasyurus]
and Wallabies, leg bones of the Emu and fragments

I

i

n

<>

58 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

of eggshell. Lower jaws of Wallabies were most
numerous. Portions of Seal skeletons were observed,
and bones of sheep also were scattered over the sand.
I had the luck to discover a specially fine Wombat
skull, which is now in the National Museum, Mel-
bourne.

A member of our party zealously collected the
largest bones he could find and returned to the boat
(we had come round the coast in the steamer) laden
with the spoil. When he showed them to an expert
he was disgusted to learn that nearly all the bones
which he had gathered were remains of the common
sheep, and cast the "rubbish" into the sea.

Most interesting of the sub-fossil remains from
King Island are those of the Emu, a species which has
long been extinct. Peron, the French naturalist, saw
the great birds alive. At the time of his visit men
on the island owned dogs which had been trained to
hunt Kangaroos and Emus. The King Island Emu
was distinct from the Tasmanian bird (also extinct),
and the form that still flourishes in Australia. It is
most regrettable that two members of the remarkable
family, Dromseidas, should be in the Legion of the Lost.
The King Island species was abundant when white men
first settled there, and must have been warred against
mercilessly. Animals on a small island have no way of
escape ; hunted from one refuge to another, extermina-
tion is their certain fate.

We were puzzled to account for the presence of
such vast quantities of sub-fossil remains in a
restricted area. One theory advanced was that Bush
fires had driven the animals to the place where they
perished, and left their bones to astonish naturalists
of a future age. Another suggestion was that, feed
being particularly abundant in the area now covered
by sand, it became a favourite resort of wild
creatures.

Penguin Island, one of the western isles of Bass
Strait, is honeycombed with burrows of Eudyptula

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS 59

minor. Walking over the rookery, one's feet break
through the earth crust and sink into tunnels, so that
progress is slow and laborious, unless one is careless
of destroying bird homes. Even when caution is
exercised, it is impossible to avoid ruining a few bur-
rows. Our party was responsible for the breakage of
a score of eggs, but I hope that none of the birds was
crushed. We saw little of the Penguins, save when
a burrow was explored. Many birds were "at home,"
but they were unwilling to receive visitors, and more
than one naturalist repented of his eagerness to bring
a Penguin from its nest. For the brave little birds
snapped fiercely at hands which attempted to grasp
them. In some cases the burrows were under bushes,
and had probably been made originally by Short-
tailed Petrels or Mutton-Birds [Puffinus brevicaudus] .
Cavities at the ends of rock crevices were tenanted.
The nest proper, in each instance, was a domed cham-
ber, with a carpet of dry grass or weeds.

The Little Penguin lays two eggs to a clutch. The
shell is white and of coarse texture, but slightly
glossed. In his charming book, "Antarctic Penguins,"
Dr. G. Murray Levick, R.N., says that the Adelie Pen-
guin [Pygoscelis Adelite] , seen for the first time, gives
one the impression of a very smart little man in an
evening dress suit, an admirable description. The
Little Penguin also is "the gentleman." If it were
a creature clad in fur, instead of feathers, and could
thrive away from the sea, it would become as popular
in drawing-rooms as Persian cats and Pomeranians
are at present; and children would demand Penguins
instead of Teddy Bears. About eighteen inches in
length, the Little Penguin wears a light blue coat,
while the under part of the body is covered in silvery
white feathers. The chicks, clad in dusky down, re-
semble balls of fluff. They cannot endure strong
light, and two that were taken from a burrow on
Penguin Island, crouched, with closed eyes, against the
rock.

60

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Clumsy and slow ashore, in the sea Penguins move
swiftly, with ease and grace. They are master
mariners. From a cliff at Sandringham, on Port
Phillip Bay, I have often watched Penguins chasing
fish in the shallows. They dart through the water like

YOUNG FAIRY PENGUINS.

torpedoes, propelled chiefly by their paddle-shaped
wings. The call note is a curious barking sound, which
echoes far over the sea.

On Penguin Island we discovered a small rookery
of Pelicans [Pelecanus conspicillatus'] . There were
about a dozen nests, each containing two eggs. The
birds were extremely wary; they flew out to sea when
we were fifty yards from the rookery, and did not re-
turn until our boat had left the island shore. The
cinematograph operator never had a chance.

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS 61

From Penguin Island we cruised to Albatross
Island, where the big sea birds nest. But waves were
spouting high on the granite cliffs, and the skipper
refused to risk a boat, though we thought that there
was a forlorn hope of landing. We had to be con-
tent with a distant view of snowy-plumaged birds,
sitting serenely on nests among the heights. Few
naturalists have been on Albatross Island, and the
birds are fairly safe there, even from plume hunters.

Three Hummock Island, the home of a lonely
family and a herd of cattle, was our next call. The
islanders were delighted to welcome us, and bestowed
generous hospitality. We dined on fried Mutton-
Bird eggs, not exactly a dainty dish, but most accept-
able when one's appetite had been sharpened by sea
air. Close to the cottage, on a slope fronting the sea,
was a Mutton-Bird rookery. Borrowing crooks, we
explored some burrows, and gathered a score of large
white eggs, which were handed over to the cook on the
steamer.

The eastern islands of Bass Strait are in some re-
spects more interesting than those of the west. Cape
Barren Island, visited in the course of our ornithologi-
cal cruise, is the home of a remarkable people.
Truganina, the last of the Tasmanian race, died in
May, 1876, at the age, it is believed, of seventy-three.
The tribes of Tasmania were terribly persecuted, and
their story is one of the saddest in Australian history.
Those who wish to read it can do so in Bonwick's
pages. In the early days many of the native women,
chiefly Tasmanians, became wives of white sealers and
sailors, who made homes among the islands. Some
of their descendants live at Cape Barren. There is
more than one type ; some of the natives possess woolly
locks, and others long, lank hair. Many of the
children are handsome. One boy especially caught
our fancy. He had abundance of curly hair, a finely
moulded face, and large, intelligent eyes. The skin
colouration of the Islanders varies considerably. Some

62 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

of them are nearly white, some pale-brown, and
others so dark-skinned that they would pass for pure-
blooded blacks. A few white people live on Cape
Barren Island. There is also a school, and the young
Islanders are educated. Many of them read and
write well. They can sketch, too, on slates, and a boy
showed me a spirited drawing of a Mutton-Bird. The
drum and fife band is a popular institution. One need
not be dull at Cape Barren.

The Islanders live in small huts clustered around
the harbour. The men are boat-builders and navi-
gators, and make voyages in small craft across the
stormy Strait to the Mutton-Bird islands. Their
principal industry is gathering nestlings of the
Short-tailed Petrel, which form their staple food
during the greater part of the year. A little sealing
is done, but it is upon Mutton-Birds that the Islanders
depend for sustenance and trading. On Babel and
other islands, where large rookeries exist, they have
built rude huts, which are inhabited during the periods
of harvesting chicks. An exodus from Cape Barren
to the bird-isles takes place when the time for "busi-
ness" arrives. Young birds are killed by dislocation
of the neck; the bodies are plucked and scalded, and
the feet removed. Subsequently, when they have been
decapitated and cleaned, the birds are pickled in
barrels. Birds preserved in this manner are market-
able.

Though the Islanders have been engaged in the
Mutton-Bird industry for many years, the rookeries
still give abundant yields. It is impossible to esti-
mate the numbers of these Petrels that nest on Bass
Strait islands. In summer they appear in great
flocks, which darken the sky or extend for miles over
the sea, forming a dusky carpet, that rises and falls
with the ocean swell. Matthew Flinders records
having seen a flight of Mutton-Birds in the Straits in
December, 1798. On the lowest computation, he

64 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

thought, the number of "Sooty Petrels" could not have
been less than one hundred millions. In the vicinity
of Cape Woolamai I have seen flocks composed, cer-
tainly, of more than a million birds.

Cat Island is the nesting place of thousands of
Gannets [Sula australis], and the rookery presents a
wonderful sight in the breeding season. Nests are so
numerous that, walking among them, one is within
reach of sharp beaks all the time. The birds are
rarely disturbed, and, consequently, are unafraid of
man. When we visited Cat Island most of the Gan-
nets were brooding. A dozen members of our party
invaded the rookery, and only a few birds took wing.
The report of a gun served to scare some hundreds
more. We had come, not to kill, but to study, and the
object of the shot was to enable a cinematograph
operator to take a flight picture. He had great ex-
pectations, which were not fully realised, for the
seabirds declined to rise in a body. The air, how-
ever, was crowded with flying forms, mostly Gannets
returned from fishing. Every minute some descended,
while others rose from the rookery, here and there.
The moving picture man exposed a long film, and
became more cheerful.

The Gannet lays only one egg to a clutch. The
nest, composed of soil, debris and guano, is mound-
shaped, and concave at the top. It may measure five
feet or more in circumference, and from four to six
inches in height. The Cat Island rookery resembles
a little city, in which all the houses are alike. The
nests are built at nearly an equal distance apart, in
rows, and the rookery shows more evidence of design
than do many Eastern villages. It would repay con-
tinuous study in nesting time. Naturalists have
made only flying visits to Gannetopolis, whereas a
month would not be too long a period to spend there.

Dispositions differ, even on Cat Island. Some of
the birds are peaceful, others are inclined to quarrel.

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS

65

If a homing bird alights too near its neighbour's nest,
it may be greeted by a peck, though serious dis-
turbances are rare. But there are enemies within
the gates, Pacific Gulls [Gabianus pacificus] and Silver
Gulls [Larus novse-hollandite], which nest among the
tussocky grass around the rookery, and prey upon the

GANNET ON NEST.

eggs of their big neighbours. If a Gannet leaves its
nest unprotected for a few minutes a Gull is sure to
seize the opportunity — and the egg. The Gannets,
however, are wary, and such chances rarely occur.
Gulls do not disdain to feed upon the "crumbs" left
over from Gannet meals; they patrol the rookery and
pick up bits of fish. These scavenger birds are beau-
tiful, and it seems a pity that their habits should be
so depraved. The Pacific Gull, much the larger of
the two species, possesses a raucous voice, while the
Silver Gull's notes are rather pleasing, at least to

66 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

a bird lover. Whenever I hear Gulls calling along the
coast near my home I long to be among the isles again.

Before leaving Melbourne we were advised to
"look out for snakes" on Cat Island. It was stated
that venomous species swarmed among the grass
tussocks, which must be traversed to reach the
rookery. On landing, we remembered the warning
and walked warily. Some of us wore leather leggings,
others had puttees, and one of the sailors went bare-
footed. Snakes may abound on Cat Island, but they
were not much in evidence on this occasion, for only
two were reported. Apart from the main rookery,
we discovered a small colony of birds, the aristocracy
of Gannetopolis, no doubt. I spent some time there,
and obtained a fine series of photographs, as the
birds were quiet and posed beautifully.

Close to Cat Island lies Storehouse Island, where
several Cormorant rookeries exist. Landing on the
wave-swept granite rocks was difficult, and one mem-
ber of our party met with disaster. He leaped too
late as the boat was falling back, and splashed into
the sea. Fortunately, he managed to reach a rock
and scrambled ashore, drenched. Then he emptied
his coat pockets, displaying a mess of broken eggs,
studded with coins and miscellaneous objects. This
mishap was retribution for robbing nests in the Gannet
rookery. Our comrade was unprovided with collect-
ing tins, and had slipped two or three eggs into his
pockets. He was philosophical, and laughed with us,
as he stood shivering on the rocks.

The Cormorants [Phalacrocorax gouldi] were
nesting close to the landing place, a company of solemn
looking birds, with white breasts and greenish-black
plumage on the upper part of the body. Some were
standing, with wings outspread, others sat on the
nests. As we drew near the birds became suspicious,
and presently all were gazing in our direction.
Cameras were used quickly, and, foot by foot, we

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS

67

crept forward, till a dozen birds took wing; a minute
later the others rose and circled in the air. The
nests, composed of seaweed, mingled with evil-smell-
ing guano, were built in terraces on the bare rock;
some were on ledges only a few feet above the sea.
Both eggs and nestlings were observed. The latter

PACIFIC GULL'S NEST AND EGG«

were ugly objects, covered in dusky-brown or blackish
down. The odour arising from the rookery was so
strong that we did not linger there. Death had been
busy among the nests, and decayed bodies of many
chicks were festering in the sun. Some of the in-
nocents had been trampled flat. One nest contained
three chicks, two dead and the other alive. Decom-
posed pieces of fish were scattered among the nests.
No sanitary inspectors here, to insist upon cleanliness.
Farther along the coast a second rookery was dis-

68 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

covered. There were over one hundred nests, nearly
all containing eggs.

Fishermen regard Cormorants as their worst
enemies. They assert that the birds take heavy toll of
edible fishes, and urge that the race should be ex-
terminated. It cannot be gainsaid that Cormorants
are fish-eaters, with hearty appetites ; but fishes are
so abundant in the Straits that the birds should not
be grudged a share in the harvest.

Cat, Storehouse and Babel Islands lie to the east
of Flinders Island, the giant of Furneaux Group. We
arrived off Cat Island in fine weather. But the cap-
tain had warned us that, if the wind changed, he
would have to clear out, sharp. The wind did change.
We naturalists were all ashore when the steamer's
siren rang shrilly over the sea, twice, impatiently the
second time. We hastened to the boats, but one man,
who had wandered far around the coast on Storehouse
Island, caused delay. He was missed when the roll
was called. The sea was rising, and the wind began
to blow fiercely. Even the short passage to the
steamer was rather dangerous. Immediately all were
safe aboard, the vessel made for the open sea. She
had to win through a narrow channel, and all the time
the wind was pressing her towards the rock-bound
shore of Cat Island. Beyond the entrance to the
channel, we saw surf flying over a reef. It was a
passage perilous, or seemed so to landsmen, and none
of us was sorry when the steamer reached shelter
under Babel Island, where she rode out a stormy
night.

Flinders Island, like its western sister, King Is-
land, is becoming civilised. But at the time of our
visit there were few inhabitants. We put in to
Killiecrankie Bay, where several half-castes were
living in little log huts. A ramble along the beach
to Killiecrankie was full of interest. Some of us
climbed high among the boulders, while others enjoyed

70 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

a swim. Black Oyster-catchers [H&matopus fuli-
ginosus} were parading the beach, uttering their
mournful notes. A downy chick was captured near
a rock, and photographed. It did not oiFer any ob-
jection, in fact, became rather friendly.

NEST AND EGGS OF OYSTER - CATCHER.

In "The Lost Tasmanian Race" Bonwick relates
that Walter, the son of "King George," a Tasmanian
native, presented to him "some pebbles in a bit of
rag." These were Killiecrankie "diamonds," gathered
on Flinders Island; they were the poor man's
treasure, and Bonwick cherished them as a memento
of his "friend Walter." Among the shingle at the
foot of Mount Killiecrankie, there were quantities of
these crystal-like pebbles, and we filled our pockets
with them. Some were large as marbles, others the
size of a pea; they varied greatly in shape, the
majority being very "rough diamonds." Real treasure

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS 71

trove was obtained at one of the huts. An object
of the call at Killiecrankie was to obtain information
regarding the Wombat, and, if possible, collect
specimens. The half-caste men were familiar with
the "Badger," as they called it. A naturalist's
roving eyes discovered in a deserted hut two skins of
the much-desired marsupial. These were secured,
and arrangements made for the natives to obtain
living "Badgers" and send them to Melbourne.

The Bass Strait species of Wombat was long be-
lieved to be extinct, though some naturalists thought
that it survived on Flinders Island. Mr. J. A.
Kershaw, F.E.S., Curator of the National Museum,
Melbourne, was a member of the Ornithologists' party
that visited the island in 1908. He obtained the
skins, as described, and gathered other evidence to
justify the belief that the species was not extinct.
The skins which he secured had evidently been used
as mats in the old hut; now they are treasured in a
great museum. Subsequently, living Wombats were
sent from Flinders Island to Melbourne. I saw one
of these at the Museum. It was a friendly animal,
and allowed its head to be stroked — indeed, seemed to
enjoy the caress.

When at Endeavour Bay, in 1909, I went ashore
for an hour, and strolling along the beach, found a
Wombat's home, a low cave in soft rock some thirty
feet above high tide mark. There were fresh footprints
on the sand at the mouth of the cave, whose dimen-
sions, however, were too small to permit of explora-
tion.

On the voyage back to Melbourne the steamer
called in at Kent Group, some fifty miles south-east
of Wilson's Promontory. Five islands compose the
group, Deal being the largest and most picturesque.
Erith and Dover Islands, linked by a narrow isthmus,
are opposite Deal Island, and the intervening sea-
way is known as Murray Pass; it is about one mile
across, and a strong current flows through. Rowers

72

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

need muscular arms to pull a boat from Deal
to Dover. The remaining islets are named South-
West and North-East respectively. The former is
a bleak rock, and the latter, on which Mutton-Birds
nest, has an area of about five acres.

AN ISLAND GARDEN.

On Deal Island there is a lighthouse, 900 feet
above sea level. We naturalists received a warm wel-
come from the lightkeeper and his family, and a day
was spent, pleasantly enough, rambling over the is-
land. One of the keeper's daughters owned a de-
lightful garden, sheltered from winds by a brushwood
fence. It was not large, but when the young
gardener flung open the gate and invited us to enter,
our eyes were dazzled by glowing colours. Here were
old-fashioned plants blooming on a lonely island ; the

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS 73

sight was refreshing, and the perfume sweet. Around
the fence grew giant mallows, with crimson flowers;
here was a bed of mignonette, there a cluster of lark-
spurs, purple, pink and Kingfisher blue. There were
daisies and marigolds for borders, a plot of roses, and
shrubs and creepers. We were presented with button-
hole posies, and carried from the island-garden some
seeds which germinated in ground hundreds of miles
away.

A pet Opossum [Trichosurus caninus'] was
proudly displayed by the young gardener. We made
overtures which were not kindly received ; the mar-
supial clung to its mistress, and, when she put it down,
scrambled over the fence and disappeared. The
Short-eared Phalanger is found both in Tasmania and
on the mainland, as well as islands in Bass Strait.
On Deal Island, it is stated, these animals rarely leave
the ground, and instead of eating Eucalypt leaves, feed
upon succulent plants. Fossil remains of a Kangaroo
have been recorded from Deal Island.

On the way from Kent Group to Port Phillip, our
steamer was caught in a gale off Wilson's Promontory.
She rolled to an alarming angle sometimes, and could
scarce make steering-way for awhile. But it ended all
right. For the most part, the weather had treated
us kindly, and the gale was only a boisterous farewell
from wind and wave.

*****

On board the Endeavour* I made a second cruise
in Bass Strait, in May, 1909. The late Mr. H.
C. Dannevig, Commonwealth Director of Fisheries,
afforded me every opportunity to gain knowledge, and
I gleaned some points of navigation, as well as learn-
ing much about trawling. The first trawl was shot
off Sealer's Cove, east of Wilson's Promontory, in six-
teen fathoms. As it proved, the bottom was unsuit-
able Endeavour sailed from Macquarie Island for Hobart
on December 3, 1914, and has not been heard of since. Search
steamers failed to find a trace of the missing vessel.

74 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

able, and the net was hauled up, damaged; but the
broken meshes were repaired by skilled hands. We
anchored in Murray Pass that night, a night of wind
and rain. I wished to visit my friends on Deal
Island, but the current was tearing through the Pass,
and it was not deemed safe to venture on a boat trip.

Before noon next day we left the anchorage, and
headed for Flinders Island. In the expressive lan-
guage of the sailors, we experienced "dirty" weather,
and the run of fifty miles occupied many hours. And
when we did make Flinders, it was only to take shel-
ter in Endeavour Bay. Later, we steamed to West
Sister Island, across the famous "pot boil," and
waited for dawn. The morrow was Sunday, and
shore-leave was granted. A party, with guns,
tramped across the island and returned with a big
bag of Hares and Wallabies. I wandered away alone,
to see what I should see. Among the brushwood on
high land Wallabies were abundant. Seated on a
rock, in the shadow of a bush, I tried to become,
temporarily, a statue. Presently a Wallaby came
quietly into the open, and others followed until there
were five. They fed close to me, but a sneeze, which
refused to be suppressed, sent the whole mob bounding
to cover. It was useless to wait longer. Walking on,
I startled several Hares. The island appeared to be
swarming with game. There were only two human
inhabitants at that date, and the Wallabies were not
much acquainted with man. Hares are always timid ;
I believe that, if one lived in perfect solitude for
years, it would leap away like the wind at the first
sight of an intruder.

The "fishing grounds" were reached on May 17th.
At daylight a trawl was "shot" in forty-five fathoms,
off Babel Island. For two hours the vessel steamed
slowly, then the "cod-end," or basket-like portion of
the net, wras wound inboard by the steam winch. It
was swung over the bow, and a minute later a mass of
fishes and other creatures poured into the "ponds" on

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS 75

the deck. Edible fishes were sorted out, cleaned and
sent to the refrigerating chamber in baskets. After the
Endeavour's biologist had picked out such specimens
as he desired, the "rubbish" was flung back into the
sea.

Trawling and scientific work, and occasionally
line-fishing, were carried on day by day, till the

A CORNER OF THE "ENDEAVOUR'S" LABORATORY.

time for the homeward voyage arrived. It
was always interesting to be on deck when the
"ponds" were abrim with creatures from the sea.
After the sorting one had chances of seeing crus-
taceans, sponges, echinoderms and molluscs. The bio-
logist collected scores of beautiful specimens, and his
laboratory became so well stocked that "Tommy," the
ship's pet kitten, was perturbed. The "lab." was his
favourite resort. He dozed on a cushion in a corner
most of the day, and slept there through the long night.

76

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

On a subsequent voyage poor "Tommy" went over-
board in a storm. Though his death was tragic, I
doubt whether any cat had a happier life; nothing
much to worry about, and unlimited supplies of fish.

Sea birds — Gulls, Albatrosses, Terns, and Petrels
— were in constant attendance on the Endeavour.
They were aware, apparently, that wherever the

LINE -FISHING FROM THE "ENDEAVOUR."

steamer went, the chance of obtaining food was ex-
cellent. As the trawl rose from the deep, fishes
which had been crushed through meshes of the "cod-
end" floated, and those that members of the crew were
unable to rescue with long-handled gaffs were snapped
up by the watchful birds. And when the "pond"
refuse was cast overboard the birds enjoyed a merry
scramble. From the stern, one day, I photographed
several Albatrosses. But the steamer dipped just
as the camera shutter clicked, and I nearly lurched
into the sea.

SEA BIRDS' HAUNTS

77

Mud Island, in Port Phillip Bay, is famed among
Australian naturalists as a breeding haunt of the
White-faced Storm-Petrel [Pelagodroma marina]. I
have camped on the island several times, and spent
nights on the rookeries. The main rookery is at the
south-east end of the island, among Blue-bush scrub.

WHITE - CAPPED ALBATROSS.

and there are many thousands of burrows. The soil
is loose, and it is easy to destroy a burrow by a care-
less step. To reach this rookery, one must wade
across a shallow lagoon.

One moonlight night I saw the Petrels come in
from the sea. First two or three arrived, then a
score, and presently the air was full of dusky forms,
which moved swiftly but silently as moths. All day

78 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the Petrels had been foraging at sea, far away in Bass
Strait, and now they were home again, with food for
their hungry offspring. Plaintive notes of welcome
issued from the nurseries. The food consists of
minute crustaceans, and is partially digested before
being conveyed to the chicks by means of regurgita-
tion. The number of Storm-Petrels that breed on
Mud Island has been estimated at 20,000, which is
probably near the mark. The island at one time was
visited constantly by men who gathered large quanti-
ties of guano, and destroyed portions of the rookeries ;
this vandalism long since ceased, and the Petrels are
protected under the State Game Act.

CHAPTER IV.
THE MALLEE COUNTRY

YEARS ago the north-western corner of Victoria
was the Cinderella area of the State, now it is
rapidly becoming settled, and bids fair to rival
in cereal wealth regions that have long been famed for
wheat-growing. So rapidly is the country being
opened up, that naturalists are fearful that little of it
will be left in its original state, as sanctuary for the
many remarkable plants and animals that are natives
of the Mallee. Government boring parties have
penetrated to the most remote places, and tapped
hidden water; tanks and dams exist where formerly
Emus and Dingoes roamed athirst.

On maps of the Mallee you see marked the
Northern, Central and Little Deserts. Most of the
country is wilderness or desert, with fertile areas.

The Mallee, of course, is not confined by State
boundaries, but extends into New South Wales and
South Australia. I propose to deal only with Vic-
toria's share of this strange country, which occupies
about one-fifth of the State.

Toll of human life has been taken by the wilder-
ness. Men have wandered into the lonely scrub and
never returned. More than one bleached skeleton has
been found, lying under a bush, with rotting swag and
battered billy beside it. Death from thirst and ex-
haustion is the fate of one who fails to find a way of
escape from the wilds. He might gather food, eggs
of the Mallee-Fowl, if fortunate, but search in vain
for water. I was lost once in the Gippsland bush, but
I travelled all day in the shade of tall gum trees,
and with a little creek for company. In the Mallee

80 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the sun shines fiercely, and there is rarely a drop of
water to moisten the parched lips and burning throat
of one who is "bushed."

Ouyen, a township 289 miles from Melbourne, was
the centre from which I worked in November, 1912.
After a wearisome rail journey I was left forlorn on
the station platform at 2.30 a.m. A light glimmered
somewhere amid the outer darkness, and I stumbled
towards it at a venture. Fortune favoured, for the
guiding star shone from a boarding-house window,
and vigorous knocking brought a response and a lodg-
ing for the night.

I had letters of introduction to a skilled bush-
man, but he was far away, a hundred miles or more,
and I was cast on my own resources. But not for
long. I found friends who offered their services. A
local tradesman drove me out to Tiega, on the line to
Murrayville; the schoolmaster went roaming with me
on Saturday, and with the Crown Lands bailiff I
made a memorable trip. For Mallee people, hospi-
tality to strangers seems to be a pleasant duty. Now,
my chief desire was to see the Mallee-Fowl [Leipoa
ocellata'] and examine its nesting mound. Of the shy
bird itself I did not obtain even a glimpse, and several
days elapsed before a "good" mound was located.

"There's a mound down on Jim's block," was the
welcome news brought by a boy one morning; and to
Jim's selection I went accordingly. The mound was
there, all right, in a stubble field, but it had not been
in use for years. Disappointing? Yes, but an ex-
cursion into the scrub was the reverse. A nest of
the lovely Purple-backed Wren-Warbler [Malurus
assimilis] was found in a clump of Porcupine-grass.
Black-backed Wren-Warblers [M. melanotus] were
seen, but we could not discover any of their nests.
Both these Wren-Warblers are noted for beauty of
plumage. They flash about the Porcupine tufts and
Turpentine bushes like big butterflies, one might say.

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 81

only that their flight is so different from that of any
insect, and they dart through bushes as easily as a fish
through water. The Scrub-Robin [Drymodes brun-
neopygius], a rare bird, was heard but not seen. The
opposite was the case with another interesting Mallee
bird. The Striated Grass-Wren [Amytornis striata]
favoured us with an occasional glimpse of its rufous-
coloured body, but ran silently from tussock to tus-
sock. The Grass- Wren is so shy that collectors ex-
perience great difficulty in securing specimens. One
could wish that other native birds were as elusive.

The Mallee Eucalypts were in flower, and we fre-
quently stopped to admire a mass of bloom, which was
thronged with little honey-seekers — birds and insects.
The wild creatures of the Mallee were happy in the
sunshine, while we perspired and looked mournfully at
an empty waterbag. Returning to the buggy, on the
edge of the scrub, we drank cold tea and clustered in
a patch of shade, as shipwrecked men huddle on a raft.
The sunlit earth beyond the shadow was the "sea"
that we dreaded.

That night came news which raised hope above
temperate level. The Crown Lands bailiff brought it,
and offered to drive me to a selection, about twenty
miles out, where several mounds of Leipoa ocellata
certainly existed. Early next morning we left the
township, and before the sun was high had broken
the back of the journey. Every mile of the way was
interesting, but the "going" was generally heavy.
Sand lay feet deep in some places. We drove through
a grove of Murray Pines, traversed some open, lightly
timbered country, and passed several homesteads. Oc-
casionally we saw a Bearded Dragon or Jew Lizard
[Amphibolurus barbatus], basking on a fence post.
When we came to the wilderness, my friend guided his
team right into the scrub. The small Mallee trees
are brittle at the root, where the stems break easily,
and we bowled along to the accompaniment of crack-

82

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

ing and swishing sounds. Now and then a limb
sprang at us like a relaxed bow, and some smart cuts
on the hand reminded me of schooldays. We passed
near a block on which a Mallee roller was at work,
flattening the scrub for burning off. This is the first

BEARDED DRAGON OR JEW LIZARD.

phase of clearing; next the roots (famous fuel) are
grubbed from the ground, which is then ready for the
plough.

When we halted for lunch, far from the outpost
of settlement, my companion formed a sun-shelter by
stretching a dust-rug between four long stems of a
gum tree. Even in shadow, the heat was sweltering
— perhaps a thermometer would have topped the cen-
tury. Heat, flies and mosquitoes formed a trio of dis-
comforts. And yet, I was content. Out here in the
wild scrub the charms of solitude were realised.

84 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Standing on a knoll, I gazed over miles of uncultivated
land, green foliage everywhere, glimmering beneath a
sky of burnished blue. The Mallee is most beautiful
in spring, when wonderful shades of green mingle
through the scrub, and dew lingers after sunrise ; when
the air thrills with bird song, and all the world is
young. In summer birds and blossoms delight one,
but the foliage loses its magical tints, morning its
freshness, and the sun becomes a burden. Still, the
Mallee must be seen in both these moods, for each is
beautiful.

After lunch we followed a line of surveyor's pegs
to the edge of the unknown. It was strange to stand
beside the last post, and try to realise that between it
and the Murray there was only trackless bush. I
did not venture far into the undiscovered country, for
it is easy to become "bushed" in the Mallee. Exploring
the scrub on either side of the survey line, we found
many traces of Emus and Kangaroos, but saw none
of the animals themselves. Under nearly every clump
of Mallee there was a slight hollow in the sand, the
resting place of a Kangaroo, while Emu tracks were
noted around the Quandong trees. We were led astray
by the ventriloquial efforts of a Crested Bell-Bird
[Oreoica cristata]. Now the notes seemed to issue
from a bush close by, then they sounded from afar.
Finally, the bird was discovered perched on a bough
not a dozen yards from the survey track. The bell
note was musical, a dew drop of sound, and welcome
in that lonely spot. A Rufous-breasted Whistler
[Pachycephala rufiventris] favoured us with a song,
sweet and sustained ; and when we reached the buggy
a Yellow-plumed Honey-eater [Ptilotis ornata'] flew
over, with tuneful hail and farewell.

It was now after noon, and no time was lost in
getting back to the road. An hour's drive brought
us to a selector's home, and after a brief rest, and a
drink of cool water, we set out for an uncleared block,

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 85

to seek mounds of the Mallee-Fowl. The journey
afoot was not long, but rough, and my legs ached.
Across acres of land, on which the "rolled" scrub lay
thickly, we toiled, along a sand ridge capped with
Pines, and down into the Mallee. Though the scrub
was fairly dense, our guide, who knew every foot of
the block, chose easy tracks, and with a little care for
low boughs and some dodging and scrambling, we
made good progress. Bird life was abundant, and
several nests were noticed. But we were after bigger
game than Honey-eaters and Wrens, and let nothing
detain us long on the way to the Lowan's mound.

"Just through there," said the guide, pointing
down a natural avenue, with a little glade beyond.
And a minute later we stood beside the mound. When
wind stirred the branches long thin shadows rippled
over the miniature pyramid, which was not in the
centre of the glade, but on the western side, close to
the palisade of trees.

The guide, after a brief inspection, remarked that
the mound looked "all right," but it was possible that
somebody had "been around." Under the Game Act,
Lowans and their eggs are protected, but there are
many people who care little for laws, when they run
counter to their own desires. Mallee-Fowl's eggs are
delicacies, and, even in sparsely settled districts, the
mounds are not safe from pilfering hands. I ex-
amined five mounds in one locality, and each was
empty. Dingoes and Foxes, of course, dig out and
eat eggs, but man is, perhaps, the worst enemy with
which the Lowan has to contend. When the "tucker
box" is low, and delicious eggs are obtainable, it is
not strange that a settler should yield to temptation.
Unless a very extensive area of the Mallee country is
strictly reserved as a sanctuary, the Lowan must ulti-
mately become extinct in Victoria.

Our guide's fears that the mound in the glade had
been robbed were well founded. When it was opened

86

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

up there was not even a piece of shell in the egg cham-
ber. But it was strange that the hollow should have
been filled in, and the dome raised, as we found it.
For there were indications that it had contained eggs ;
in fact, birds had been observed in the vicinity only
a week prior to our visit. A second mound, half a

NESTING MOUND OF LOWAN ^CLOSED).

mile distant from the first, was also examined. From
this incubator the chicks had escaped, apparently, to
begin their free life in the scrub. There was no dome
in this case, only a hollow, with low, smooth ramparts
of sand around it. Pieces of eggshell were picked
from loose sand in the cavity, and there were some
fragments near the mound.

The name "Thermometer-Bird" has been sug-
gested for Leipoa ocellata, and it is not inappropriate.
But the native word, Lowan, is more musical, and pre-
ferable even to Mallee-Fowl. The habits of these

THE MALLEE COUNTRY

87

remarkable birds have often been described, but in
recent years new facts have been gleaned by keen
observers. Lowans are industrious birds. Both
sexes share in the mound-building, for which large
quantities of vegetable matter and sandy soil are re-
quired. In some cases material is brought from a

NESTING MOUND OF LOWAN (OPEN).

considerable distance, the birds scraping it along the
ground with their powerful feet ; the wings, also, some
observers state, are used, and frayed feathers tend to
prove this. An old mound may be renovated or a
new one built each year. In either case, the pre-
liminary work is done in autumn, the mound being
left open. Before the winter rains begin the birds
scrape vegetable matter and other debris into the
hollow, and their work ceases, perhaps for several
months, until the heap has become sodden, when a
layer of sand is added. Follows another period of
waiting, while the hot-bed is getting up steam, as it

88 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

were. At length the incubator is in working order,
and egg-laying begins.

The eggs, which are large and of a delicate
pinkish-brown colour, are ranged in tiers, each resting
on the smaller end in a vertical position. A layer of
sand covers the hot-bed, and a stratum protects each
tier, so that the eggs are enveloped in sand. The
temperature of the egg chamber varies from 90
degrees to 96 degrees F. The parent birds' duties do
not end when the full clutch of eggs is safely in the
incubator; they open the mound at intervals to pre-
vent the consolidation of the material, and render it
easy for the chicks from the eggs of the lower tiers
to reach the outer world. Those hatched from the top
row of eggs, being near the surface, scramble through
without much difficulty.

Driving back to Ouyen from the scrub where the
Mallee-Fowls' mounds were located, we passed several
lonely homes. Once or twice we stopped for a few
minutes, to exchange greetings, discuss weather pros-
pects, and admire crops or "improvements." In a small
hut two brothers, well educated men, were living.
They gave us water, which was most acceptable. In
some parts of the Mallee a cup of cold water is no
mean gift, as I learned from a mild rebuke. Filling
the waterbag at a tank on a selection, I left the tap so
that drops fell from it slowly, as moisture slides from
a leaf after rain.

"It's dripping, mister ; please turn it off," said the
settler. "You know, that water was carted ten miles."

Nearly every Mallee homestead possesses a pet
of some kind. At a galvanised-iron shanty we were
introduced to a young Galah, perched on a soap box.
It was a greedy bird, and ate soft food, from a spoon
held to the beak by its owner, as eagerly as if it had
been starving for a week.

Along the road hundreds of large golden-coloured
beetles were seen, darting through the air like toy

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 89

flying machines. They made a loud buzzing noise, and
travelled so swiftly that it was not easy to make a
capture. However, after chasing a dozen vainly, I
brought down a fine specimen, and imprisoned it in
a wooden matchbox. It proved to be a species of
Buprestid, nearly two inches in length. Preserved
in formalin, this "aeroplane" beetle is a souvenir of
days in the Mallee.

An excursion in the direction of Murrayville was
not fruitful so far as natural history was concerned,
but enabled me to see more of home life in the back-
blocks. The sun was so fierce that my head, though
protected by a broad-brimmed hat, throbbed painfully,
and I was glad when, stopping at a cottage, we were
invited to afternoon tea. We were not ushered into
an elegant drawing-room to sit on spindle-legged
chairs, nor were Dresden China cups handed round
on a silver tray. No, we entered a rough room, sat,
one on a box, the other on a backless chair, and drank
from bush cups. Bare-legged children, instead of
daintily clad women, hovered around and shared in
the tea and "tucker." The eldest son, a youth of
eighteen, had met with an accident working on the
selection, and lay on a bed of suffering. The air was
stifling, and he was tormented by flies and mosquitoes,
but he did not complain; on the contrary, he spoke
cheerfully, and told his mother that he was "all right."
They are made of stern stuff, some of these pioneers,
who tame the wilderness. The men, young and old,
endure hardness, and the women are heroic. Here
was a mother, who had to do the housework and pre-
pare meals, besides attending to a sick son and a flock
of young children. Yet she bustled about with a
smiling face, to provide chance visitors with refresh-
ment.

In the Mallee I crossed more than one humble
threshold to stand on bare earth. Some of the small
houses are built almost entirely of galvanised iron,

90 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

and in the daytime the air becomes heated, so that it
is penance to be under the roof. On a broiling after-
noon I spent fifteen minutes in one of these dwellings,
changing plates in the dark-slides, and emerged limp
and perspiring, as if I had been over long in a Turkish
bath.

One of the most picturesque homesteads that I
visited in the Mallee country is inhabited by a large
family, which lives in the patriarchal style. Most of
the sons and daughters are grown up, and when the
family assembles for a meal the scene is impressive.
The father, a handsome white-haired old man, pre-
sides at the head of the long table, whence his eyes
can range over two rows of "children" to his wife,
seated at the other end of the board. It was a privi-
lege to join this family circle, if only for a day. I
came an utter stranger, and was welcomed like a son.

In the Mallee one meets all sorts and conditions
of men. The sun-tanned settler, who shouts a greet-
ing from amid the wheat, may have been tinker, tailor,
clerk or policeman before going on the land ; the "man
with a hoe," perhaps, was a pressman in other days.
Many of the settlers are prosperous. A young man
who earned forty shillings a week in the city may win
an income of £500 a year from his Mallee block. But
the loafer had better remain among crowded streets;
the Mallee is no place for idle hands. Labour and de-
termination are essential to success. Some men are
easily beaten, a bad season drives them on to the reef
of failure ; while others, stout of heart, weather every
storm and reach the port of prosperity.

When on a visit to Lake Boga, 205 miles from
Melbourne, I was driven out to a small patch of
Mallee scrub, a kind of private sanctuary, surrounded
by cultivated land. The owner had protected Lowans
and other birds, and a day spent in the scrub was
marked by many pleasant experiences. No fewer

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 91

than three mounds of the Mallee-Fowl were dis-
covered, and one was at an interesting stage. The
birds had been at work, probably on the previous
day, and the cavity was half-filled with dead leaves
and twigs, mingled with sand; the ground in the
vicinity of the mound was strewn with nesting
material, and several trails were followed into the
surrounding scrub. But the Lowans never showed
a feather. Nor did we see one of the birds that day.
They were not far away, we knew, but that was a poor
consolation.

Several nests of the White-winged Chough
[Corcorax melanorhamphus] , a common species in the
Mallee, were seen, saddled on horizontal boughs.
These curious nests, composed of reddish-coloured
mud, resemble large pudding basins. The feathered
masons are not particular about the appearance of
their work, aiming at strength rather than finish.
And certainly the nests are durable, weathering wind
and rain for years. Often enough, instead of build-
ing a new nest, mated birds repair an old one. The
battered walls are raised to the proper height with
layers of fresh mud. The lining consists of bark and
grass stems, occasionally fur, and a few feathers are
generally introduced. The eggs are beautiful ob-
jects, the shells resembling porcelain; their whitish
ground-colour is relieved by blotches of olive-brown
and slaty-blue. From five to eight eggs form a
clutch, seven being the average number. It has been
proved that more than one female Chough lays in a
single nest, a remarkable fact, but not without
parallel.

Choughs are entertaining birds. They roam the
wilds in flocks, composed of six or more individuals.
"Black Magpie" is the Bush name for the Chough, and
it does bear some resemblance to a Crow-Shrike; but
it is an anomalous bird, lacking a near relation. The
Australian genus Corcorax, represented by a single

92 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

species, is, writes Professor Alfred Newton, in the
"Dictionary of Birds," commonly placed by systema-
tists next to Pyrrhocorax, "but osteologists must be
further consulted before this assignment of the bird,
which is chiefly a frequenter of woodlands, can be
admitted without hesitation." The Chough's plumage
is glossy black, with white on the wings ; the bill and
feet are black. The European Chough [Pyrrhocorax']
also has glossy black plumage, but its feet are of a
brilliant red colour, and the beak red or yellow. Still,
it appears to be the closest relative that can be claimed
for the Australian bird.

White-winged Choughs attract attention by their
mournful cries ; besides, they are inquisitive birds, and
inclined to haunt the vicinity of a camp. When on
a sheep station in Riverina, I enjoyed the company of
a flock of Choughs. They were so tame that they
approached close to the hut door, where I was seated,
hopping and prancing in a comical manner.

Two other species of Australian birds build mud
nests similar to those of the Chough. One of them
is the Pied Grallina, or Magpie Lark [Grallina picata] ,
a study in black and white. Only two members of
the genus are known to science, the Magpie-Lark's re-
lation being Grallina bruijni, which inhabits New
Guinea. The Grallina's shrill call notes, "knee-deep,
knee-deep," are familiar sounds, both in country and
town. These birds haunt the waterside, stepping
daintily over the mud or sand. They are strictly
protected, for their value as destroyers of pond snails,
which are intermediate hosts of the liver fluke, is in-
estimable. Pastoralists dread the liver fluke, which,
in its mature stage, infests the livers of sheep. In
addition to pond snails, Magpie-Larks eat insects, so
that they must be ranked among the best of many
bird friends.

The Pied-Grallina's nest is smaller and neater than
that of the White-winged Chough, and is composed

THE MALLEE COUNTRY

93

usually of grey or blackish mud. Four eggs are laid
to a clutch. It has been observed that the eggs vary
in colour in different localities. In a district where
the ground is light coloured, the eggs are likely to be

YOUNG MAGPIE -LARKS.

gray or white, with pale purple and red spots, chiefly
around the apex. If the soil be chocolate or red,
Grallinas' eggs from the locality show a buff-red
ground colour, freely marked with rich purple and
purple-red.

The last of our trio of mud-nest builders is the
Apostle-Bird, or Grey Jumper [Struthidea cinerea}.
Like the White-winged Chough, this species is an

94 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

anomalous bird, and also it is gregarious. In Riverina
I saw families of eight or a dozen Grey Jumpers travel-
ling on the ground or among the trees, one after the
other, as if they were playing "follow the leader." A
coach-driver gravely informed me that they were
Larks. The nest of the Apostle-Bird is about the
same size as, but more elegant than, that of the
Magpie-Lark. Several nests were seen in a pad-
dock that was stocked with lusty young horses, a
troop of fifty or more. The animals were sportive
and curious, and wherever I went they followed.
When I began to climb a She-oak tree to examine a
Grey Jumper's nest, the whole troop charged up and
stood in a semi-circle, watching. I dropped a toma-
hawk, accidentally, which caused the colts to kick up
their hind hoofs, snort, and toss their heads. When
I descended, however, they retired and kept at a
respectful distance. But no sooner was the in-
truder over the fence than the mob charged valiantly
to the rails. It was a laughable experience, and re-
minded me of Gulliver's adventures among the
Houyhnhnms; only the behaviour of these Riverina
horses was anything but "orderly and rational, acute
and judicious."

Grey Jumpers' eggs are bluish-white, blotched
with umber and purple; from five to eight form the
clutch. It is fairly certain that two females, per-
haps more, lay in the one nest ; so that the gregarious
instinct dominates this species, as it does the White-
winged Chough.

A Chough's nest found in the Mallee sanctuary,
from which I have been led astray, was particularly
interesting; it had evidently been used in several suc-
cessive seasons, and was of great size, weighing per-
haps 9 Ibs.

Rambling through the scrub, we observed signs
of the Echidna [Echidna aculeata], but the shy little
animals kept out of sight. The "Native Porcupine" is

THE MALLEE COUNTRY

95

provided with strong limbs and claws, and is an ex-
pert excavator. So rapidly does an Echidna burrow
that it is difficult to capture one, unless it is found
napping. When a "Porcupine" is alarmed it usually
begins to burrow, and soon is safe underground.
Should it not have time to escape in this way, it forms

ECHIDNA, WALKING.

its body into a sphere, and presents to the enemy a
formidable array of sharp spines. Dogs are loath
to attack the creature when it plays Hedgehog, and
doubtless this manoeuvre foils Dingoes and other
natural enemies. The Echidna's food consists of
ants and termites and their eggs. The muzzle, to
quote Lydekker, "is in the form of a long, slender,
cylindrical, toothless beak, adapted for the protection
of the long, worm-like, extensile tongue." In secur-
ing its food the Echidna adopts the same method as

96

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the Banded Ant-eater [Myrmecobius fasciatus].
After an ants' or termites' mound has been dug open,
the spoiler protrudes its long tongue among the
swarming insects, and when the organ is covered with
tiny victims, retracts it, and swallows the lot. It is
wholesale slaughter.

ECHIDNA, BURROWING.

To reach Cantalla, a lonely lake in the Mallee, I
travelled nearly 300 miles down the Murray in a small
paddle steamer from Swan Hill. It was summer-
time, but the river voyage was pleasant. The flood
waters had not receded, and on either side the river
were billabongs and vast areas of swampy land. Bird
life was abundant. Like gray shadows, thousands
of Marsh Terns skimmed low over the water, dived,
or revelled in the sunshine above the tree-tops. Ibises
and Herons patrolled the flood-lands, and Black Swans

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 97

cruised around reedbeds, where their nests were con-
cealed.

Kulkyne, a cattle station, was my headquarters,
and when the steamer dropped me at the landing I
received an Australian welcome from Mr. C. Thomp-
son, the manager, and other station folk. For several
days I rambled around the homestead with camera
and field-glasses, and every hour was crowded with
interest. Numbers of birds were nesting on a small
island opposite the homestead. The Station Creek
flowed along one side, junctioning with a large billa-
bong at the eastern end of the long flake of slightly
elevated land, wh\ch was shaped like a boomerang.
Crested Pigeons' nests were found on the islet, built
near the ground in dense, prickly bushes ; Wood Swal-
lows, Parrots, and other birds were also rearing
broods.

Beneath a straggling clump of boxthorn was the
bower of a pair of Spotted Bower-Birds [Chlamydera
maculata]. It was neatly and strongly built. At
either end was a collection of bright objects — bleached
bones, pieces of weather-worn glass, green and blue,
some blue feathers, fresh glossy leaves, a few red
berries, a bit of perforated zinc, and other odds and
ends that the birds had gathered from far and near.
Conspicuous among the Bower-Birds' treasures were
five glass bottle stoppers and a big pellet of lead.

Through and around their bower the builders
run, tossing about the bones and other objects, and
evidently delighting in the play. Bower-Birds are
persecuted by settlers in the fruit-growing areas along
the Murray, for they are alleged to be destructive in
the orchards. The evidence is strong, but it is sad
to hear of hundreds of these wonderful birds being
shot. Unless they are afforded strict protection, I
fear that the species will become extinct in the near
future ; indeed, this fate threatens several other beau-
tiful and interesting Mallee birds.

98

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

The Murray banks were thickly populated by
aborigines in the early days, when the white men
came; but all the tribes have disappeared. One rarely
sees a black face along the river now. Yet there are

many relics of the lost tribes, and some of these are
on Kulkyne. The burial place of the Kulkyne blacks
(there are only two living now) is a big sand dune,
which is made an island by a creek and the river.
Perchance thousands of aborigines, men, women and
children, are buried in the sand. There are remains
of rude structures that once marked the graves. Logs

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 99

were placed, in the shape of a tent, over the dead,
and on them were hung fishing nets, and, in later times,
blankets that they had used in life. Before the
settlers' advent the blacks, apparently, piled logs
above the graves, and buried with the bodies stone
axes and other primitive implements.

Many old trees on the station bear marks of stone
axes, where Opossums' or Parrots' nests were cut out

THE ISLE OF THE DEAD, KULKYNE.

by the natives. And, here and there, one sees a great
Eucalypt, its gaunt gray limbs outstretched, from
which bark was stripped for a canoe. On the bank
of Chalka Creek, at the time of my visit, an ancient
bark canoe was rotting under some bushes. I made
a short voyage in it, and learned to admire the skill
of the aborigines, who launched such frail craft on
the Murray. It requires a thorough knowledge of
the art of balancing to keep a bark canoe afloat, even
on still water.

Lake Cantalla lies five miles, by water, from the
homestead. Accompanied by the station manager and

100 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

his nephew, a sturdy boy, I made the trip in a small
flat-bottomed boat. The craft was heavy laden, and
once or twice, when crossing the current or rounding
a bend where the water swirled against snags, it
nearly capsized. Down Station Creek we paddled,
across a billabong, and on to the Murray. For a

ABORIGINES' BARK CANOE.

mile, before we gained the little creek that links Can-
talla to the river, we voyaged among giant gum trees
in a billabong, startling Black Duck [Anas super-
ciliosa~], Grey Teal [Nettium gibberifrons] , Pink-eared
Ducks [Malacorhynchus membranaceus], Pelicans,
Ibises, White-fronted Herons, Night Herons, and
other birds during the passage. The Black Ducks
and Grey Teal had broods, and when the boat came
near them the ducklings scattered in all directions.
There was a log in the way as one brood sought safety,
and, one by one, nine little birds steeplechased over
the obstacle.

THE MALLEE COUNTRY 101

Paddling quietly up the creek, we saw many
charming pictures of wild bird life. The peace of this
stream is rarely troubled by man, and the birds were
nesting in safety. On the banks, thousands of White
Cockatoos [Cacatua galerita] were feeding, and occa-
sionally, as our boat glided past a tall tree, a pair flew
screeching overhead. The Cockatoos' nests were in
hollows, from fifty to ninety feet above the water, and
the fledglings were safe from all enemies except
Monitor Lizards ("Goannas") and snakes.

When the "flattie" shot into the lake, which was
studded with dead gum trees and clumps of Lignum,
there was a sound of whirring wings, and in a
moment the air was thronged with wildfowl. Coots
darted into the Lignum, Black-tailed Native Hens
rushed, with pattering feet, over the surface of the
water, and Grebes slipped from their nests and dived.
Our first discovery was the nest, in a hollow stump,
of a pair of Pink-eared Ducks. The birds were
quietly swimming over one hundred yards from the
stump; their secret was betrayed by a gray feather
caught on a splinter of bark. Later, other nests of
the species were found, all being in hollows, with the
eggs buried in down.

Nests of the Coot and the Black-tailed Native
Hen were hidden in the Lignum, and the nursery of
a pair of Black Swans, containing six large greenish-
coloured eggs, was seen beneath the branches of a
gum tree near the middle of the lake. Grebes were
diving all around us, and nests of the Hoary-headed
species [Podiceps poliocephalus'] were discovered,
moored to Lignum stems. After a long search, we
also found a nest of the Crested Grebe [Podiceps aus-
tmlis], containing four eggs. Before leaving their
nests, the Grebes scattered water weeds over the eggs.

A big gum tree, about fifty yards from the shore,
presented a spectacle of great interest. The branches
were laden with nests of the Pied Cormorant

102 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

\_Phalacrocorax hypoleucus], the Little Pied Cormor-
ant [P. melanoleucus] , and the Little Black Cor-
morant \_P. sulcirostris']. Among the highest
branches there were several nests of the Australian
Darter or Snake-Bird [Plotus novte-hollandise]. As
we approached the rookery, the birds rose in a cloud,
and for a minute circled over the tree, then, each
species forming a separate flock, they flew to the
other side of the lake. Soon after we left the tree
the birds returned, and settled, with ruffled feelings
no doubt, among their nests again.

Early in the afternoon, we landed on an islet.
While the billy boiled, I started to place fresh plates
in the dark-slides. But the mosquitoes were so
numerous and voracious that I was compelled to
suspend operations until my companions had lit a
score of gumleaf fires. Encircled by fires and en-
veloped in pungent smoke, I was able to keep my
hands in the changing-bag with impunity. But the
mosquitoes were lurking just outside the charmed
circle, and we were thankful to leave the islet after a
hasty meal.

We cruised about the lake till sundown, when
the water was patterned with purple shadows and
flushed with scarlet and gold. The wind began to
rise, clouds gathered in the west, and as we paddled
down Cantalla Creek the signs of storm multiplied.
But my memory of the Mallee lake is serene and beau-
tiful : sunlit water, gray gum trees, and a host of happy
wild birds.

CHAPTER V.
THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS

MY first experience of wading was gained k>ng
ago, at King Swamp, near Melbourne. Three
ardent ornithologists planned a trip, hoping to
collect eggs of the Coot [Fulica australis], the Reed-
Warbler \_Acrocephalus dusty-alls'] and the Grass-Bird
[Megalurus grammeus] , and persuaded me to accom-
pany them. We drove from the nearest railway
station to the broad sheet of water, which lay in a hol-
low surrounded by cultivated land. Donning old
clothes and heavy-soled boots, we entered the cold water
and started to explore the reed beds, which were dotted
about like islets. Soft black mud sucked at our feet,
pollen from flowering rushes filled our nostrils, and
around our heads midges danced in millions. Every
few minutes one of us stepped into a deep hole and
water rose to the armpits. These mishaps were
taken as part of the game, and we did not worry over
the minor discomforts.

The reeds were crowded with Warblers, which
sang blithely, and numbers of their pannier-shaped
nests were found, fastened to reed stems. Nests of
the Grass-Bird were not so numerous. One, among
the rushes, contained a full clutch of four eggs, of a
pinkish-white colour, freckled with red-brown. The
birds were rarely seen; they are shy, mysterious
little creatures, and their mournful notes are in har-
mony with the lonely places where they nest. The
Reed-Warbler's song is rich and sweet ; one can listen
to it for hours without tiring, whereas the Grass-
Bird's monotone soon becomes wearisome. At King
Swamp we heard the two species singing in chorus,
and the effect was rather pleasing.

104 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

In a dense clump of reeds a Coot's nest, containing
five eggs, was concealed — a platform of rushes raised
a few inches above the water, with a dome of stems
and leaves. A second nest discovered was empty,
having, no doubt, been robbed by a Water Rat; for

AUSTRALIAN COOT'S NEST AND EGGS.

there were some fragments of eggshell, and it was
too early for nestlings. Two nests of the Bald Coot
[Porphyrio melanonotus] , containing four and six eggs
respectively, were located. Roundish-oval in shape,
the eggs of this water bird are of a dull greenish or
stone colour, blotched with crimson-lake, purple and
pale gray.

Wading along a palisade of reeds, I was startled
by a loud "plomp," and turning quickly, saw a big
green frog swim away. We were well aware that

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS 105

snakes infested the swamp, but had forgotten the fact
in the excitement of nest-hunting; the frog had
jumped from the reeds, probably to escape from a
snake. One of my companions laughed at the in-
cident, but shortly afterwards some slimy thing
brushed across his legs, and he plunged forward.
It is not unusual to see a venomous snake in a swamp,
an unpleasant creature to encounter when one is at
a disadvantage. A piece of fencing wire is the best
weapon, as it cuts the water easily, but with a stick an
effective blow cannot be delivere'd.

Towards sundown we emerged from the swamp,
sorry-looking figures; muddy water dripped from our
garments, and the "weed was on our knees." Clad
in dry clothes again, we felt fit for the homeward
journey. The Reed-Warblers were still singing as
we drove away, and the sun was setting in a golden
haze. King Swamp is only a memory ; the water was
drained from the hollow soon after our visit, and
wheat grows now where of old the Coot dived for its
dinner and Reed-Warblers sang.

*****

Years after that day among the Reed-Warblers
I had a more memorable experience, a cruise in a
flattie through one of the vast Murray swamps in New
South Wales.

Lake Boga, the centre from which I made excur-
sions to swamps and lakes in the nesting season of
1912, is an interesting place. Boga is a fine sheet of
water whose shores were frequented by aborigines,
perhaps for thousands of years. Mr. A. C. Stone, dur-
ing a residence of eighteen years at Lake Boga,
gathered facts regarding the customs and manners of
the Gourrmjanyuk (along edge of trees) tribe, which
formed a distinct section of the Gnarryboluk nation,
and I am indebted to him for the following notes. The
last full-blood of the tribe, Hamilton Orr (Myarramin)
was drowned in the lake owing to a squall capsizing

106

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

his boat, in March, 1896. Mr. Stone uttered the
funeral oration, when the last of the Gourrmjanyuk
tribe was buried in Lake Boga Cemetery. The chief
camping ground of the tribe was around the site of
Boga township, the different lake shores, and on to

KITCHEN MIDDEN, LAKE BOGA.

the banks of the Little Murray River (Barne Mille).
In the olden time, according to tradition, this camping-
ground was occupied by the Buck (catfish) tribe.

In the vicinity of the township there are many
kitchen middens, where the blacks prepared their
meals. Exploring one of these mounds I found,
among burnt earth and ashes, charred remains of

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS 107

Wallaby bones, and fragments of freshwater mussel
shells. One can imagine the scene, when dusky forms
crouched around fires on the lake shore, feasting on
molluscs, marsupials and birds. They hunted, loved
and fought, those tribesmen, who are all dead now.
Boga railway station stands where the "Battle of
Blood" was lost and won. "All day long the noise of
battle rolled," as warriors of the Tyntynder and Boga
tribes attacked each other with waddies and spears,
and blood flowed freely.

The lake natives, 7naturally, were expert fisher-
men and clever navigators; they cruised on the lake
in bark canoes, hunting water-fowl and spearing and
netting fishes. One of many legends regarding the
lake is given by Mr. Stone in a paper on the "Abori-
gines of Lake Boga."* It is as follows:

"A long time ago (Nuil mea goon) there was a
floating island on the waters of Lake Boga. The
native idea was that it was formed of a mass of rushes
and reeds, on which the duststorms had deposited a
stratum of sand, and in which grass grew. One day
a number of young men were upon the island, and
the day being a warm one they spent a lot of time
swimming. One youth, not being a good swimmer,
became exhausted, and in danger of drowning. He
was rescued by his friends, and, being then very cold
and unconscious, a fire was made to warm him, after
which they went back to camp. During the night a
breeze sprang up and fanned the embers into a blaze,
with the result that the reeds and rushes speedily
caught fire, and the island was totally destroyed."

My guide in swampland was Rob Roy Macgregor,
an interesting companion, who rendered good service.
We drove from Boga to the Murray River, crossing
the Little Murray and Pental Island, a wearisome
journey. Rob, however, related stories of the natives,

^Proceedings of the Royal Society of Victoria,
Vol. XXIII. (New Series).

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS 109

which helped to pass the time. He said that the
aborigines of old time were expert with the spear and
boomerang. Black Swans were often killed on the
wing. Thousands of birds were slaughtered, and
vast quantities of their eggs taken for food. But the
Swans have won the long fight ; they flourish on river,
lake and lagoon, while the natives have become as a
tale that is told.

We reached the Little Murray early in the fore-
noon, to find bridge builders at work there. Pile-
driving in the sun, when, in the shade, a thermometer
registered 99 degrees, was not enviable labour, and
one of the men, to whom I spoke, expressed free
opinions of the weather, using forcible adjectives after
the manner of many Bush workers. We were ferried
across the river, vehicle, pony and all, and began the
long drive to the big Murray. Pental Island did not
leave a favourable impression. Far as the eye could
range lay arid, wind-swept land, relieved only by some
straggling bushes. We hoped to meet with Native
Companions [Antigone australasiana] , which nest in
this desert region, but were disappointed. Clouds of
fine, red dust, whipped up by the wind, powdered us
from head to foot, and at times made breathing dif-
ficult. When we emerged from the dust zone, condi-
tions improved, and an hour later we were among tall
trees on the bank of the Murray.

A bearded, sun-burned man came from his river-
side hut to greet us. He seemed glad to have com-
pany for awhile. After a chat, he rowed me across
the river in one of his two boats, and I stepped ashore
in New South Wales. Meanwhile, Macgregor, on the
Victorian bank, prepared his flattie, which had not
been used for some time, and was half-full of water.
It seemed a frail craft to launch on the Murray, whose
waters came swirling round a bend; but Rob
weathered the current and hugged the bank for half
a mile, landing at a point where I was waiting to

110 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

assist in pulling the flattie ashore. Dry weather had
caused the swamp waters to recede, and the boat had
to be dragged over a quarter of a mile through river
gums. It was hard work. The little boat seemed
to be weighted with lead, and we were glad to rest
when, at length, it floated among water lilies. Travers-
ing a narrow channel, we emerged on to a broad
expanse of dark, still water, the heart of the swamp;
a "lake" girdled by tall Eucalypts, instead of sloping
banks. Near the centre the water was several feet
in depth, and everywhere the surface was covered with
aquatic plants. Millions of yellow lilies glowed in
the sunlight, while here and there were clusters of
green reeds, quivering like spears held by palsied
hands. Beneath the surface was another world,
jungles of roots and twining stems, inhabited by tiny
creatures of many shapes and colours. There were
Water Boatmen [Rhynchota] , Water Beetles [Dytis-
cldsK], dragon-fly nymphs, Water Scorpions [Nepa],
and a host of other forms. On the surface Pond-
Skaters [Gerris] glided and cut figures with easy
grace. The air teemed with dragon-flies, some with
brown bodies, others clad in emerald, scarlet or
sapphire mail. They were glorious to behold — a fleet
of fairy aeroplanes manoeuvring in the sun.

This lonely swamp, aglow with colours, was
surely a place for youthful poets, an enchanted region
for dreamers. The still water, whose colour was that
of Homer's "wine-dark sea," reflected the sky and,
gazing down, we saw "cloud-capped towers and gor-
geous palaces." While Rob poled the flattie I rested,
trailing a hand in the water, and letting Fancy roam.
Here it was not hard to believe in fairies or the
gossamer City of Dreams. And when two objects, like
flakes of foam among the green rushes, shone ahead,
the spell was unbroken for a minute. Then I gazed
through the glasses, and cried, "Egrets!" The white
birds, identified as Herodias syrmatophorus [timorien-

112 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

sis], continued to feed quietly till the boat was within
thirty yards of the rushes, then they rose from
the water and flew over the trees beyond our ken.

Egrets have been ruthlessly hunted by emissaries
of the plume trade till, in Australia and other lands,
they have become rare. A few years ago a rookery
in New South Wales was visited by plume hunters,
who shot the nesting birds and left their offspring to
perish miserably of starvation. Formerly thousands
of Egrets nested among the Murray swamps, now few
are seen.

Continuing the voyage, we caused commotion
among the waterfowl. A Black Duck and a Grey
Teal, each in charge of a brood, dived into the rushes,
while a Coot paddled round the "corner." We were
now near the trees, which, rank behind rank, rose from
the water like brown pillars, supporting a dome of
green leaves. There was a stir in the dark colonnades,
and two Cormorants [Phalacrocorax melanoleucus]
came flying into the light; others followed until there
was a large number circling above the tree-tops. Poling
gently, Rob guided the flattie into the shadows, choos-
ing a channel which opened into a small basin encircled
by trees. Looking up, we saw the rookery, hundreds
of nests, which occupied most of the higher branches.
Deserted by their parents, scores of dusky-brown
chicks craned from their nurseries to watch us, in
fear. Some, I thought, must topple over ; but no acci-
dent of the kind occurred, and the nestlings continued
to gaze down upon us.

None of the tenanted nests could be reached from
the boat, and as we lacked a rope ladder and climbing
irons, only general photographs of the rookery were
obtained. Selecting a tree, which was fairly laden
with nests, Rob steadied the flattie, while I fixed the
camera tripod in the mud. My head was under the
focussing-cloth when the boat shifted; I saved the
camera, but for a minute my body was stretched over

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS

113

the water at an acute angle. Before we left the
rookery I had been in this undignified position half a
dozen times. It is rather exciting, photographing
from a flattie.

Near the Cormorants' rookery, on lofty branches,
were several nests of the Night Heron [Nycticorax
caledonicus] , known to the Lake Boga blacks as Yapul-
yapitch. Three of the beautiful birds rose from

ON A SWAMP ISLET: BOILING THE BILLY.

neighbouring boughs; but the nests contained neither
eggs nor fledglings. We landed at noon on an islet,
an acre or more of high land, and Rob soon had the
billy dangling over a brushwood fire. Meanwhile, I
turned over bits of bark around the bole of a big
gum tree, in quest of specimens. The "bag" was
meagre, consisting of a few beetles and a centipede. A
brown spider, with great furry legs, was disturbed,
and dodged into a crevice. A scorpion was killed
near the stump I had chosen as a seat. Snakes,

114 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

if there were any, lay low. When flood waters from
the Murray inundate the country for miles around,
knolls and small areas of raised land form islets, on
which snakes, rabbits and other animals take refuge.
Trappers sometimes gather hundreds of rabbits from
"flood islands." Before camping in such places it is
wise to make tours of inspection, and evict or kill any
venomous snakes discovered, lest, at night, they seek
a share of one's blanket.

The afternoon was devoted to a general cruise.
We poled the flattie along winding channels among
the trees, over shallow places — sunlit glades in dry
seasons — and through haunts of Coot and Heron. The
spirit of the swamp must be a "dark lady," with finger
ever at her lips, for the stillness was wonderful:
"tingling silentness," broken rarely by the wandering
cry of a bird. Wherever the sun's rays penetrated
water lilies grew thickly, forming a carpet of gold.
My guide was familiar with the swamp, and he could
always give the bearings; whereas I lost all sense of
direction after an hour's voyaging through the chan-
nels, which twisted and turned like paths in a maze.
We dragged the boat over an acre of dry land to gain
an arm of the swamp that seemed promising; but
it was labour in vain, the water was too shallow for
even a flat-bottomed craft.

The sun was now low in the west, and it was
time to begin the return voyage. Again our boat
threaded those tortuous channels, cutting across purple
shadows, bumping into snags and flinging aside the
water lilies in flakes of golden foam. Darkness was
brooding over it when we emerged on to the "lake."
The passage towards the river was swift and silent
till the shadows were reached, when two pairs of arms
were needed to get the boat through the weeds. Then
came the laborious portage to the river bank, followed
by ten minutes' paddling, and once more we stood on
Victorian soil.

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS 115

With one of Macgregor's sons as guide, I spent
a day rambling around Lake Boga. We visited some
sand dunes a few miles from the township, where
Bee-eaters [Merops ornatus] had nesting burrows.
The birds, whose plumage is of many colours,
brownish-green, orange-brown, blue, black and orange,
were on guard. Every few moments one would leave
its perch, a stem of a bush, and skim through the air,
resembling, I thought, a flake from a rainbow. Bee-
eaters, certainly, are insectivorous, but, despite their
popular name, it is doubtful whether they destroy
many bees.

In the low cliffs fronting the lake White-backed
Swallows [Cheramceca leucosternum] were nesting.
The colony was not large, perhaps thirty pairs of
birds in all. A burrow examined was about two
inches in diameter and two feet in length, the tunnel
widening at the end into a little cave, with a carpet
of dried grass, on which rested four white eggs, a
dainty sight. I was peering into another burrow,
when a Swallow darted out, brushing my face with
its wings. Many of the birds were flitting around
the cliff, while others skimmed over the lake, their
white backs flashing in the sunlight.

Near the Swallow cliffs we paused to watch a
Murray Tortoise [E my dura macquarise] scraping a
hole in the sand for its eggs. The lake was well
stocked with these quaint little animals. I suppose
that we saw, at least, two hundred in the course of
an hour. They were congregated near the shore,
where the water was shallow and warm. My com-
panion, with unerring eyes, followed tracks which I
scarce could see, and located several nests. One,
fifty yards from the water, in dry soil, contained fifteen
soft-shelled white eggs ; another, in sand at the base of
the cliff, held a baker's dozen. Schoolboys, I was
told, sometimes gather Tortoise eggs in large num-
bers and pelt each other with them.

116

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

A young local naturalist invited me to join him in
a trip to a small reedy swamp near Boga, promising
nests of the Coot and the Allied Swamp Hawk [Circus
Gouldi], with prospects of others. Of course, I ac-
cepted, and we drove to the swamp next morning. It
seemed a mere pool after Bull Swamp; but it proved

\^t -, ~ A
^™^kXs**

BURROW AND EGGS OF MURRAY TORTOISE.

to be a case of "little and good." My friend warned
me to keep an eye lifting, the swamp being noted as
a haunt of big Black Snakes [Pseudechis porphyria-
cus]. A dead specimen hanging over a barbed-wire
fence near by served to emphasise the warning words,
but we did not see a living reptile that day. The reed
beds, which my companion had previously explored,
were visited, the first nest seen being that of a pair
of Swamp Hawks. It contained four large white
eggs. This Hawk, which frequents swamps, marshy

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS

117

places, lakes and lagoons, usually flies low and in an
indolent manner, as if there were no reason to hurry;
but it is capable of smart wing wrork. The Swamp
Hawk's food consists chiefly of small birds, reptiles
and mice.

SWAMP HAWK'S NEST AND EGGS.

After inspecting the Coots' nest, which held a
clutch of five fresh eggs, we moved on to seek that of
a pair of White Ibises [Ibis molucca}. A platform
of rushes and grass, slightly hollowed, the nest was
hidden in a clump of reeds. There were three white,
oval-shaped eggs, on which the female bird was sit-
ting. She rose with a whirr of wings, and soared
until she appeared no bigger than a pigeon, a white
form floating in the blue. I was busy with the
camera when a Bittern "boomed" from the reeds, not

118

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

ten yards away. A second time the hollow notes
echoed across the water, like a challenge. "All right,
my friend," I thought, "I'll have your secret before
I leave this swamp." And I did. It was a long search,
though, the nest being cleverly hidden, right in
the centre of a reed bed. On the platform of inter-

BITTERN'S NEST AND EGGS.

woven rushes lay five beautiful olive-coloured eggs, a
sight to make the eyes of any bird-lover shine. The
Bittern [Botaurus poiciloptilus] is not rare, but little
is known regarding its home-life. A nocturnal bird,
frequenting lonely swamps and marshy places, it is
not often seen. But many people have heard its
booming notes, and ghost stories have been woven
around them.

The nest of the Bittern was not the last discovery
made in the swamp. The home of a pair of Musk-
Ducks [Biziura lobata] was found. It was formed

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS

119

of rushes, and lined with grass. There was also a
dome of plant stems, so that the two large, greenish-
coloured eggs were completely hidden.

Musk-Ducks are fairly abundant in sheltered
bays, and on inland waters. Expert swimmers and
divers, they are said to lack the power of flight; all

NEST (OPENi AND EGGS OF MUSK DUCK.

observers are not in accord on the point. It is cer-
tain that the wings are used chiefly as paddles. Startle
a Musk-Duck, and it flaps over the surface, churning
up the water like a miniature paddle-steamer. For
many years I have observed these birds on the sea
near my home, and have yet to see one on the wing.
The Musk-Duck derives its name from the fact
that it is provided with an oil gland at the base of the
tail from which a powerful, musky scent is diffused.

120 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

The semi-circular leathery appendage under the bill
of the male bird is not a "musk-pouch," as many
people, doubtless, believe. Like several other birds
mentioned in this book, the Musk-Duck is an anomaly.
In his "Handbook to the Birds of Australia," Gould
writes thus of the genus Biziura, Leach : —

"A genus of which only a single species is known,
and which is singularly different from every other
member of the Anatidas; so different, in fact, that I
question if this be its natural situation; and al-
though, like Bonaparte, I have placed it next to
Erismatura, I believe its alliance to that form is but
a seeming one. There is something about this ex-
traordinary bird which reminds one of the Cor-
morants, yet no ornithologist would, I presume, as-
sociate it with those birds. ... It is, in fact, a
Biziura and nothing more, for it stands alone."

It was late in the afternoon when the Musk-
Ducks' nest was found, and after exposing several
plates we packed up the camera and waded ashore.
The Bittern "boomed" again, and the reeds, stirred
by a puff of wind, rustled softly. These rather
mournful sounds alone were heard; there was never
a Warbler to enliven the solitude with songs of "merry
glee."

On the following day we visited Round Lake, not
far from Boga, hoping to find nests of the Crested-
Grebe [Podiceps australis] . This species is noted
for the tippet or frill, which is worn by both sexes
during the breeding season. The nest is a kind of
raft, composed of aquatic plants, and anchored among
rushes, a mass of lily leaves, or other vegetation.
Twenty or more nests had been noted on Round Lake
in the previous season, but we did not see one on this
occasion, the birds having sought some other breeding
place. I saw a number of the birds on Lake Boga,
which in former years was often covered with water-
fowl.

THROUGH THE BIG SWAMPS 121

We had better luck among the land birds at
Round Lake. Nests of the Chestnut-eared Finch
[Tseniopygia castanotis'] were discovered in the box-
thorn bushes that formed dense thickets near the
water. They were guarded by sharp thorns, and it
was impossible to examine one until some branches
had been cut away. The Finches darted in and out
of the bushes, dodging the thorns with ease;, in fact,
they did not seem even to look where they were going.
A pair of White-winged Wren-Warblers [Malurus
cyanotus] had built in a small boxthorn, but instead
of being concealed near the centre of the bush, the
nest was suspended among outer twigs : it swayed
gently in its bower of glossy, green leaves, decked in
coral-red berries. In bushes growing along the rail-
way, near Boga, other nests of this Wren-Warbler
were found. Heavy rain had fallen a few days pre-
viously, and three of the nests contained dead
fledglings.

On the way home my companion spoke of his pets,
and presently introduced me to one, a young Fox,
which followed him like a dog, and obeyed commands.
A Boga boy was also a Fox lover — at least, he had two
cubs, which were liberated on the lake shore for my
pleasure. They declined to pose for a photograph.
One, the male, ran to the water's edge, sniffed the air,
then rejoined its mate. They played together prettily,
rolling each other over on the sand, and snapping in
make-believe anger. The play of animals is always
interesting. I should not care to endorse all that
has been stated in some "animal stories," but wild
creatures, in infancy especially, appear to enjoy rough
and tumble "games." On the plains Native Com-
panions perform grotesque dances, probably for re-
creation. Numbers of the birds assemble and caper
on "light fantastic toes," the scene reminding one of
a blackfellows' corroboree.

CHAPTER VI.
EYRE'S PENINSULA

U /~\ AMPING in the Desert" was the title originally
I proposed for this chapter ; but the dictionary

^•^ declares that a desert is "a waterless and
treeless region," and the southern portion of Eyre's
Peninsula, South Australia, possesses both water and
trees. There are areas of barren land, it is true, and
desert plants, pioneers from the north, grow freely in
places ; but one must travel far from the coast to reach
the real desert, which is the highway to the "Dead
Heart of Australia." Large areas of the Peninsula
have been spoiled for the naturalist, farmers having
transformed the wilderness into wheatfields.

It was in October, 1909, that the Australasian
Ornithologists' Union held a working camp out on
Eyre's Peninsula. The party numbered twenty-six,
including the cook, who was not the least important
member, as it proved. There were botanists and
entomologists, as well as bird students, and a rich
harvest of facts regarding the fauna and flora of the
region was gathered. One of the chief objects of the
expedition was to compile a list of birds, with a view
of ascertaining the extent to which southern and
western forms intermingle on the Peninsula; there is
no distinct line of division. No fewer than 103
species were identified, seventy-six land birds and
twenty-seven waders and swimmers.

The main camp was formed at Warunda, in the
district of Wanilla, some twenty-eight miles from Port
Lincoln, and midway between the Koppio Range and
the Broom country. The site, selected by Captain
S. A. White, one of our leaders, was admirable, for

EYRE'S PENINSULA

128

the camp was close to permanent water, and within
easy reach of the railway line. Two rows of tents,
shaded by Sugar Gums [Eucalyptus'] formed a plea-
sant avenue, at the head of which floated the Union
Jack, tied to a bough. A special train conveyed us
from Port Lincoln. It stopped, not at a station, but
in the wilderness, and the truck-load of baggage was
dumped beside the rails. The wisdom of selecting

SUGAR GUM CAMP.

a camping ground near the railway now became ap-
parent. Tents, boxes, portmanteaux, cameras, and
all the other miscellaneous goods had to be trans-
ported by human labour alone; there was not even a
wheelbarrow to lighten the work, and our backs and
arms ached after a dozen journeys to and from the
camp and the railway. It was fatigue duty in
earnest, and afterwards came tent-pitching. How-
ever, the camp was shipshape by 9 p.m., when we
rested, weary but happy.

It was a night of stars, and some of us strolled
a mile or two from camp to smoke a pipe in peace.

124 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

The wind was asleep, and the cool, starlit silence was
soothing after the long day's work. Through the
trees the camp lights glimmered for awhile, then, one
by one, they disappeared. But a dying fire in the
avenue guided us back to the tents. Reveille sounded
at six o'clock next morning, and we tumbled out of
warm blankets into the crisp air, rubbing sleep from
our eyes. Cook was already busy at the camp fire,
and another early riser, towel over shoulder, was
hastening to the creek. The sun was smiling, and
a thousand birds were singing in the dawn: a morn-
ing to raise a pessimist's spirits, and cause ordinary
cheerful folk to bubble over with happiness. Break-
fast over, we divided into small parties, and started
to explore the neighbourhood. Botanists, laden with
cameras, press-books and vasculums, went towards
the flowery region, accompanied by an entomologist;
bird-lovers went east and west, deep into the scrub.
All returned to camp, well pleased, at noon.

Close to the camp nests of the Many-coloured
Parrot [Psephotus multicolor] and the Yellow-banded
or Port Lincoln Parrot [Barnardius zonarius~] were
found, in hollow limbs of gum trees. The former species
wears a brilliant livery of scarlet, yellow, blue and
green. The Port Lincoln Parrot, green and yellow,
with black head and a broad yellow collar round the
nape, is a popular cage bird, and consequently is de-
creasing in numbers. Thousands have been cap-
tured in the Port Lincoln District and sent to Ade-
laide. The Blue-bellied Lorikeet [Trichoglossus
swainsoni] was the common parrot at Warunda. The
birds were constantly seen and heard, and many nests
were discovered in the Sugar Gums, which provided
innumerable cosy hollows. There was no housing
problem here; each pair of happy birds could go into
residence without trouble. The Lorikeets formed a
noisy community; from dawn till dusk they chattered
and screeched, and, though we admired their beauty,

EYRE'S PENINSULA 125

their unmusical cries became wearisome. Purple-
crowned Lorikeets [Glossopsitta porphyrocephala]
also were nesting in the Sugar Gums.

AT THE NEST OF THE MANY- COLOURED PARROT

The botanists' list included Mallee Eucalypts,
Casuarinas, Hakeas, and a number of other plants.
Along the creek Acacias were abundant, small bushes
mostly, aglow with yellow bloom. A red-flowered
Grevillea [G. aspera] was noted, and fine specimens
of Hibiscus Wrayss, with purple blossoms, were
growing on the flats. Towards the ranges Hib-
bertia stricta covered acres of ground, the flowers
forming a golden carpet. Near the camp were many
clumps of Spinifex [Troidea irritans], surmounted

126 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

by fawn-coloured plumes. This grass was an ob-
stacle to the early explorers. Each clump is like
a cluster of lancets, and if one is foolish enough to
plunge a hand into it, he will suffer severely. Some
distance from the creek groves of Grass-trees
[X author rhcea semiplana~] were observed; many of
the trees had flower-spikes nearly ten feet in height.
"Blackboy" is one of the Bush names for this curious
plant, whose gum has commercial value.

Of course, we did not discover everything on the
first day, though a general idea of the fauna and
flora in the vicinity of the camp was obtained; and
around a big log fire at night results and prospects
were discussed. For a week the daily excursions,
near and far, continued, and all the time our store
of knowledge increased. Several places became
favourite resorts, one being a small lagoon about a
mile from camp. The water was surrounded by
Bottle Brush [Callistemon coccineus] and other
shrubs. The former plants were in bloom, and
from a distance the red flowers resembled tongues of
flame leaping from the green foliage. On the lagoon
we saw several Freckled Ducks [Stictonetta nszvosa],
but they were shy, and it was impossible to obtain a
photograph, except at long range. In a dead bush,
a few feet from the shore, a pair of Black-and-White
Fantails had their nest, which contained three fledg-
lings. Resenting the attention of naturalists, these
foolish little birds clambered on to the rim of the
nest, and endeavoured to fly, the result being that we
had to rescue two from the water, while the third
was saved by a cluster of twigs. The parent-birds
were greatly excited. When the nest was visited
next day it was empty; evidently the brood had been
taken safely to dry land, for there was no sign of a
tragedy.

We were much interested in the domestic affairs
of a pair of Tawny Frogmouths [Podargus strigoides] ,

128

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

whose nest was built in the fork of a Sugar Gum
about a mile from the creek. The female bird was
brooding on two eggs. She remained tranquil,
though inquisitive eyes were focussed upon her daily
for a week. Even when two photographers climbed

CLIMBING TO A TAWNY FROGMOUTH'S NEST
(Bird's Head is just below X).

to the nest, the faithful bird declined to leave until
a hand touched her.

The Podargus is an excellent example of protec-
tive mimicry, both in form and colour. The plumage
— rich browns and grays predominate — harmonises
with the bird's usual surroundings. And, instead
of perching on a branch in the ordinary manner of

EYRE'S PENINSULA 129

birds, the Frogmouth crouches along it, with the head
stretched rigidly in line with the body. It is easy
to mistake one, when in this characteristic attitude,
for a portion of the bough on which it is resting.
The birds appear to know that, while they remain
still, they are likely to escape notice, and allow one to
pass right beneath them without moving themselves.
The nest of the Frogmouth is a frail platform of twigs,
built in a fork, or at the end of a broken bough. Two
eggs form the clutch. The Frogmouth is popularly
known as the "Mopoke," owing to the widespread
belief that it utters the weird call, "more pork," heard
so frequently in the Bush on still nights. The Boobook
Owl [Ninox boobook], I think, is the true "Mopoke,"
though the Frogmouth also has a "more pork" call.
This is one of the vexed questions of Australian
ornithology, which has been debated scores of times.

Rambling through the scrub, we saw many
Termites' mounds, miniature pyramids, which teemed
with industrious insects. In the tropical North
"white ants" build enormous nests, but none of the
mounds seen on Eyre's Peninsula was above a few
feet in height. Termites may interest the naturalist,
but they are detested by people who live in districts
where they abound. Fence posts, telegraph poles,
and the woodwork of houses are attacked by the
pests, whose industry sometimes causes structures to
collapse. I camped once in a wooden cottage, the
walls of which were crumbling as a result of in-
vasion by Termites. In Victoria "white ants"
generally select a hollow tree or stump, and build
therein their termitarium of clay.

None of us is likely to forget the mosquitoes of
Warunda. The terrible insects attacked in millions,
and war against them was useless. During the day
their attentions were endurable, but after dark they
became so fierce and persistent that luckless persons
without nets had little peace. Smoke from the camp

130

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

fire afforded some protection, but in the tents this
was withdrawn, and the insects triumphed. On warm,
calm nights, the pests were most active, and it was
scarcely possible to obtain rest. If, after a long
day in the scrub, one slept from very weariness, he

TERMITES' ("WHITE ANTS") MOUND.

awoke at dawn to find face, neck and hands covered
with red lumps, which itched for hours. Wood-
cutting by the creek was a duty that nobody sought.
One's hands were necessarily engaged, and mosquitoes
took full advantage of the opportunity. We had
many regrets on leaving Warunda, but these were
leavened by the blissful thought that the mosquitoes
would no longer be able to feast on our blood.

EYRE'S PENINSULA 131

Our leaders planned an excursion to Coffin's Bay,
at the south-eastern end of the Great Australian
Bight, and it was my good fortune to be a member
of the small party selected for the journey, which
resulted in a number of species being added to our
list of birds. An evening was devoted to the study
of maps ; we pored over them in the light of a swing-
ing lantern, killing mosquitoes mechanically, and
brushing away moths and beetles in a manner that
would have disgusted our entomologist, had he been
present. Meanwhile, the organiser had visited the
nearest farmer, and hired a buckboard vehicle and
two Mallee brumbies. He also engaged a driver.
We began the journey early next morning. Our
companions, who were to remain in camp, assembled
to give us a farewell cheer, and we felt as if we were
bound on a mission of great moment. The vehicle
was built for six persons at most, and, with the
driver, we were eight. Besides, room had to be found
for cameras, guns and provision boxes. It was a
very tight squeeze indeed, and we took it in turn to
ride on the step. Occasionally, owing to the state
of the road, it became necessary for all except the
driver to alight. We did not mind this, for after
an hour spent above jolting wheels, walking was rest-
ful ; besides, we were able to glance at birds in the
scrub, which would otherwise have escaped notice
Our driver was a cheerful man, with large, freckled
face, framed in sandy whiskers. Nothing perturbed
him, but he chuckled once or twice when some long
word, Cinclorhamphus, for instance, tickled his ears.
Naturalists were "queer chaps" in his philosophy.

We had not covered five miles when one of the
horses became restive, kicked viciously, and broke a
swing bar. The driver was in no wise disconcerted ;
he jumped down, repaired the damage as he best
could, and resumed the "box seat," smiling genially.
An hour later, as a protest against the weight im-
posed upon it, one of the axle springs snapped — a

132 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

clean break. This mishap appeared to us to be
serious, but our driver showed no great concern.
Luckily, a piece of fencing wire was found by the
roadside, and with it and a wedge of Mallee wood
the broken spring was roughly spliced. The inter-
rupted journey was resumed, but progress was slow.
The vehicle had a list to port, and those who occupied
seats on that side endured a double share of bumps.
We were all anxious for a spell afoot, and leaped to
the ground with alacrity when the horses stopped
near a cottage on a pleasant rise. This was the home
of a solitary man, a scholar, who had come from Eng-
land to dwell in the wilderness. He seemed glad to
meet men with whom he could converse on subjects
not even remotely connected with crops and the
weather. Invited to dinner, we entered the cottage,
to see books and pictures that suggested a highly
cultured mind in their owner. A man's bookshelf is
generally an index to his character. Our new friend
prepared an excellent meal, and we did it justice.
Promising to pay a longer visit on our return to camp,
we said good-bye to our host, still smiling at one of
his good stories, which was told, not over walnuts and
wine, but pannikins of billy tea.

The driver had a hazy notion of distance. Asked
how far it was to some hill or farm, he would answer,
"About a quarter of a mile." When we were two
miles from Lake Wangary, someone said, "How far,
driver?" and "About a quarter of a mile" was the
instant response. Perhaps this was the man's little
joke, for his dry laugh mingled with our own merri-
ment. At Wangary we halted for the night, engag-
ing rooms at the comfortable hotel facing the
coach road. Next morning we drove to Horse
Peninsula, calling en route at a farm house to deliver
a letter of introduction. The farmer proved a good
friend. As a beginning, he presented a member of
the party with a fine fossil, portion of the jaw bone,

EYRE'S PENINSULA 133

with teeth attached, of a Diprotodon. Complete
skeletons of this extinct giant marsupial were dis-
covered some years ago, embedded in the mud of a
morass, in South Australia.

Mount Button Bay was reached before noon, and
we devoted an hour to rambling in the vicinity of the
jetty, where a brig was discharging cargo. Among
the rocks we found numbers of Stump-tailed Lizards
[Trackysaurus ruyosus], sluggish reptiles, which were

STUMP - TAILED LIZARD.

easily captured. Its long, thick body, short, flattened
tail, and stumpy limbs indicate that this lizard was
not designed by nature for activity; but it is a brave
little creature, and faces a foe with open mouth. Like
members of the genus Tiliqua, the Stump-tailed
Lizard frequently attacks and kills snakes. It is
not, perhaps, such a hero as Kipling's Rikki-tikki-
tavi, the Mongoose, but once its jaws close on the
flesh of a serpent, it clings with bulldog tenacity till
one or other of the combatants dies.

Nothing of special interest was seen during the
drive from the place of lizards to Horse Peninsula.
A narrow point of land jutting into Port Douglas,
the Peninsula forms portion of a sheep run; long

134

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

ago it was a favourite camping ground of aborigines.
Tea-tree and other plants cover a large portion of the
land; but little time was spent in the scrub, the
object of our visit being to examine the sand dunes,

ABORIGINES' BURIAL PLACE.

and gather relics of the lost tribes. The wind had
scooped valleys among the great dunes, and disin-
terred the nameless dead. On the surface of the
white sand portions of human skeletons were scat-
tered, skulls, limb bones, vertebrae and ribs. It
looked as though some sacrilegious person had played
skittles with these poor relics of the men of old time.
Sun, wind and rain had rendered most of the remains

EYRE'S PENINSULA 135

useless for museum purposes; when I lifted a skull it
crumbled to white powder in my hands. We gathered
many granite pounding-stones, quartz scrapers, and
other primitive implements. One skeleton discovered
rested in a depression, with pounding stones ranged
about it, one at the head, another at the feet, and
several on either side. Delving in the sand was not
very fruitful, but had we been able to spend a few
days among the dunes, interesting discoveries would
surely have been made. Standing in the midst of
this untended graveyard of a people whose name also
has perished, I remembered a passage in Sir Thomas
Browne's "Hydriotaphia" : —

"But who knows the fate of his bones, or how
often he is to be buried? Who hath the oracle of his
ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?"

Further along the coast a series of dilapidated
stone-walled ponds was discovered. Perchance the
very natives whose bones we had seen on the dunes
made these traps, into which fish were driven from
the sea, and speared. After exploring Horse
Peninsula, we followed the main coast line, along the
cliffs. The geologists were busy with their ham-
mers, tapping specimens from the rocks, until their
canvas satchels were filled. We rested at a spot of
mournful historic interest, where the cliff formed a
headland rising from a mass of jagged rocks, on
which the waves broke in a smother of foam. The
story is told that, in the early days, fifty or more of
the wretched natives, who had speared some sheep,
were driven by armed settlers on to this cliff, and
forced over the edge to perish. There are dark pages
in Australian history.

Returning to Horse Peninsula, where the vehicle
had been left in charge of the driver, we packed up
our collections, and in the cool of the evening drove
to Lake Wangary.

136 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

There was a day to spare before taking the track
that led to Sugar Gum Camp, and it was devoted to
a trip to Kellidie Bay. We travelled in comfort, for
our farmer-friend made room for three in his buggy,
and the back-blocks vehicle, with the broken spring,
carried a comparatively light load. As we drove
along the road near the sea, Rock-Parrots [Euphema
petrophila] rose from long grass beyond the wheel
tracks and flew to the nearest trees, where they
perched in rows. Two birds were shot for identifica-
tion; on the wing they resembled the Grass-Parrot
[E. elegans] . I deplored this slaughter, but it was
deemed necessary. A search was made for nests
among the scattered rocks, but none was found.
However, when we reached Coffin's Bay Station
homestead, which overlooks Kellidie Bay, we were
informed that many birds were breeding on Goat
Island, which lay about "a quarter of a mile" from
the shore, near the outlet to the sea. Boats were
placed at our disposal, and we rowed across to the
islet. As the boats drew near, somebody fired a gun,
and a minute later the air was thronged with birds.
From behind the Mesembryanthemum, which draped
the rock ledges, Rock-Parrots appeared in hundreds;
from dark nesting places into the light they came,
alarmed by the report that echoed around their
retreat. Beautiful they looked, with golden-green
plumage shimmering in the sun. Petrophila — the
rock-lover — was ever a bird more happily named?
Some of us had not previously seen these birds alive,
in their native haunt, and were enchanted when they
came flying over our heads.

Goat Island is less than two acres in extent. Its
rugged shores, rising steeply from the water, are
honeycombed, the sea having fretted the soft rock
(dune limestone) for countless centuries. The
vegetation on the flat surface of the isle consists
chiefly of small, wiry shrubs and grasses, while, as

138 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

already stated, Pig-faced Weed [Mesembryanthemum]
screens the rocky caves from the sun.

The islet was eagerly explored, and under little
piles of stones, as well as in hollows along the cliffs,
we found many nests of the Rock-Parrots. Fre-
quently, when one stooped to examine a natural cairn,
or overturn a boulder, a bird was flushed. Along
the cliffs the nests were difficult to locate. In some
cases the nest cavity was at the end of a burrow three
feet or more in length. On the crown of the islet,
however, eggs were found in slight depressions,
spanned by flat stones. One nest, a few feet above
sea-level, between two vertical rocks, contained five
birds in the down. Evidently the nesting season was
at its meridian. Four eggs appeared to form the
average clutch, but several nests each contained
three eggs that were heavily incubated. Though its
parents are beautiful, the young Rock-Parrot is not a
pretty object: the down is pale yellowish-grey.
Writing of this species, Gould stated that he received
specimens from Port Lincoln, but that the principal
habitat of the bird appeared to be the Western coast,
on Rottnest and other islands, near Swan River,
West Australia. It is probable that Gould's speci-
mens came from Kellidie Bay, which is not a great
distance from Port Lincoln. Gould also observed
that the Rock-Parrot bred in holes of the most pre-
cipitous cliffs, showing a preference for those which
faced the water and were most difficult of access.
Observations on Goat Island confirm the latter part
of the statement, for there, in the majority of cases,
nests were among hollows in the cliffs, and some were
inaccessible.

The trip to the West coast of the Peninsula was
intensely interesting to ourselves, and beneficial to
bird-life. Representations were made to the proper
authorities, with the result that the Rock-Parrots
were placed on the list of species that are protected

EYRE'S PENINSULA 139

all the year, while islands in Coffin's Bay were pro-
claimed bird sanctuaries.

Returning to the main camp, we found that other
members of the party had done good work in the
Eastern country. And it should be chronicled that
several followed in our tracks to the West coast, and
had interesting experiences. Two or three quiet
days were spent at Warunda, and then we prepared
to fold up our tents. On the night before the camp
was broken up we gave a farewell concert to the
settlers, with whom we had become friendly. Some
twenty persons, young and old, assembled, and oc-
cupied log seats ranged in a semi-circle before a big
camp fire. All the performers were amateurs, of
course, and only three of the "company" possessed
good voices; but the Peninsula folk seemed to enjoy
the songs, and joined heartily in every chorus. We
were further encouraged by encores.

The morning of farewell was dismal. Rain fell
steadily, and Sugar Gum Avenue, where rows of white
tents had glimmered in sunshine on the previous day,
was damp and desolate. But the sky cleared later,
and during the rail journey to Port Lincoln we looked
from open windows at the unclouded blue, and
breathed air which had all the freshness and
fragrance that delighted us on the first morning in
camp.

CHAPTER VII.
WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS

IN camp on Eyre's Peninsula I became acquainted
with a South Australian ornithologist, whose
descriptions of the Coorong and its wild life
made me long to visit that strange lake. Nearly two
years elapsed before an opportunity came. In June,
1911, my doctor advised a holiday in the Southern
State, and I went to Adelaide. After three days in
the city and as many weeks at Mount Lofty, I wearied
of the "rest cure." Leisurely rambles through the
hills in the season of mists were pleasant enough, but
birds were scarce, and I am never long content without
the music of wild wings. Where to seek it was the
problem. I remembered the Coorong, and decided to
go there, trusting to luck.

Coorong Lake is really an arm of the sea, opening
in the south-east part of Lake Alexandrina, and
running parallel with the coast in a south-easterly
direction for many miles. A rough road skirts one
shore, and the coastwise bank is formed of huge sand
dunes. The maximum width of the Coorong is about
two miles. In stormy weather the lake becomes
almost as perilous as the sea for small craft, and more
than one has been lost there. In no place very deep,
the water becomes shallow towards the upper reaches,
and the lake ends among swamps.

Accompanied by my wife, I travelled by train
from Adelaide to Milang, a township on Lake Alexan-
drina. Near the jetty there are reed beds, and at
low tide acres of slimy black mud are exposed to the
sun. These desolate flats form an insubstantial
highway to the reeds. Several hours were devoted

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS 141

to stalking birds on the flats, but they were too wary
to come within range of the camera. White-fronted
Herons [Notophoyx novx-hollandix] and Bald-Coots
[Porphyrio melanonotus] were abundant, but it was
too early for nests, and, therefore, not worth my while
to explore the reed beds. The Coots looked splendid
as they moved easily over the mud, printing quaint
patterns with their feet. The sun shone on their
blue breasts and red legs and bills. The Herons, clad
in dark gray, with white cravats, were like Quakers
among the gay Porphyries.

Lake Alexandrina, through which the Murray
River flows to the open sea, is navigated by a small
paddle steamer. The voyage to Meningie, on Lake
Albert, is tedious for passengers who are not in-
terested in bird-life. We made the trip on a cold,
gray day. At Narrung, a tiny port, the steamer
stopped for an hour to discharge merchandise and
take aboard live-stock. Several young natives, half-
castes from the Mission Station in the vicinity, were
at the jetty, and nearby stood a wurlie, which we in-
spected with interest. A gin answered my summons ;
she was a buxom woman of middle-age, neatly dressed
in the gipsy style — blue print blouse and skirt, and a
coloured handkerchief tied over the head. A bright-
eyed piccaninny clung to her skirt. She spoke good
English, and answered our questions willingly. But
the bare-legged boy was shy ; he whimpered and dodged
behind his mother when she told him not to be silly,
but held out a little black hand when the white woman
offered a new penny. We paid two shillings for a
basket woven of reed stems, and then asked the gin
whether we might peep inside her dwelling. She
demurred for awhile, then raised a loose bag, which
formed the door. We did not enter; a quick glance
round was sufficient. Sacks covered the earth floor,
a pile of blankets occupied one side of the wurlie,
boxes and bundles of reeds were scattered around,

142

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

and a Black Swan, evidently destined for the cooking
pot, was tethered in a corner. An Afghan hawker
also had his home near the jetty ; it was more modern,
and less picturesque, than the wurlie, a two-roomed
shanty, with the saving grace of a flower plot be-

BLACKS' WURLIE, THE COORONG.

neath each window. Portion of the roof consisted
of flattened kerosene tins, yellow-brown with rust.

Returning to the boat, we found the lower deck
aft crowded with pigs and cattle — penned apart, of
course — which protested loudly against the treatment
they had received in being driven aboard. These
new passengers were not pleasant company, so we
climbed to the upper deck and made friends with the
skipper, while the steamer passed through "The

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS 143

Narrows," a reedy channel which links Lake Alexan-
drina to Lake Albert. Several great birds came into
view once, when the vessel was close to the shore, and
were quickly identified as Ostriches. The skipper
stated that there were hundreds of these birds on two
of the lake stations, and we were destined to see more
of them. But the most interesting picture of wild
Nature vouchsafed us in the course of the voyage was
that of an Emu, bending to drink from a pool near the
beach.

We reached Meningie at dusk. The lights of the
little township looked friendly, and we were glad to
be among them, for the lake voyage had chilled us and
sharpened our appetites. After dinner we sat by a
fire of Mallee roots in the hotel parlour, and studied
a map of the Coorong. The host was interested in
our plans, and gave valuable advice. Later, I sallied
out to meet a fisherman, with a view to hiring his
motor-launch. But the lucky fellow said that he
was earning from £15 to £20 a week, it being the
Murray Cod season, and, unless I could pay him more,
he could not relinquish fishing. This was disconcert-
ing, because the bird-life of the lake could not be pro-
perly studied without a boat. However, I hired from
the hotelkeeper a light waggonette and pair of horses,
purposing to drive along the Coorong and seek a craft
at Woods Wells. A driver was engaged, and early
next morning we left Meningie. The air was bleak,
and, though muffled in great coats and rugs, we
shivered. A few miles out two sundowners were seen
crouched over a burning Grass-tree by the roadside.
Rain had fallen overnight, and in many places the
road was waterlogged. It was dreary driving through
the Mallee, though some amusement was derived from
the birds on the telegraph wires. Several Foxes were
seen; one loped across the road a few yards in front
of the horses, turning its head for a moment to gaze
at us, inquisitively. The driver remarked that the

144 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Coorong country was infested with Foxes, which took
toll of lambs and poultry. At noon we called a halt
for lunch. Bob soon had the billy boiling, and grilled
some chops to a turn. It was a jolly meal that we
ate under a She-oak tree.

THE COORONG.

We were now on the Coorong Road, and McGrath's
Flat, the site of a station homestead, was reached at
2 p.m. Rain had fallen steadily for an hour, and the
sky showed no sign of clearing. We drove to a
grassy flat bordering the lake, and the billy was boiled
once more, for there is nothing to equal tea when one
is wet and cold. The wind moaned around a wurlie
whose owners were away, and vicious little waves
darted at a boat drawn up on the shore. We coveted
the craft, and fervently wished that "Jemmy" had
been more considerate than to leave home on this par-
ticular day. We met him a few days later, driving
back from the township to his wurlie on the Coorong.

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS 145

Shortly after our departure from McGrath's
Flat, the rainclouds rolled away to the west, and in
sunshine the lake revealed fresh beauties. The water
was dark purple where cliffs cast shadows, green in
the shallows, and azure in mid-stream. Islets, barren
or covered with bushes, rugged headlands, and little
bays appeared in succession as we followed the wind-
ing road. We attempted to cross the lake to the
white dunes, wishing to gaze at the ocean. Waves
thundered along the hidden beach, but the sound that
reached us was a musical murmur. It was high tide,
and, when we were only a few yards from the shore,
water splashed into the vehicle. So Bob decided not
to risk the ford, and we continued cur journey on dry
land. As the shadows mustered and skirmished with
the light, the lake water became more beautiful —
purple, green and blue were flushed with rose. Night
came swiftly, and all the bright colours faded into
cold blue-gray. Presently, as we swung round a
bend, a light shone far ahead. At Woods Wells,
a boundary rider, his wife and child occupied an old
stone building on the headland, and we received a
warm welcome. After tea, our driver and the
station hand told tales of old times, when settlers
were few and natives roamed freely all over the lake
country. One story dealt with the wild deeds of a
white man, who has become a legendary figure in
Coorong history.

Before sunrise the boundary rider was astir. He
returned for breakfast after visiting a dozen traps,
dragging by the tail a big Fox. We had heard many of
the red-furred raiders barking through the night.
This morning the sky was clear, and we resumed our
journey in pleasant sunshine, though there was still
a nip in the air. Birds were singing blithely in the
scrub, and, crossing a flat, the horses flushed numbers
of Ground-Parrots [Pezoporus forrnosus] from the
grass. Disturbed at breakfast, the birds alighted

146

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

again after flying only a few yards. Evidently they
were not much alarmed. As they rose, the sun
gleamed on green plumage, barred with yellow and
black. Swamp-Hawks were numerous and bold;
eleven were perched in one tree, but groups of two or
three birds were usual. Several Hawks were flying

ON PELICAN ISLAND

lazily over the lake, close to the cliffs. We out-
spanned on Policeman's Point, a picturesque head-
land with a patch of scrub spreading down one slope
to the water's edge. The boundary rider had gal-
loped ahead to Salt Creek in search of a boat, and we
awaited the result of his mission. While we sat
quietly on a boulder, eagerly scanning the lake, a Fox
emerged from the scrub and trotted towards us. He
stopped once or twice and sniffed the air, but even-
tually passed within a dozen yards of our seat. Before
disappearing he turned, looked at us intently, and

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS

147

barked, as if in defiance. An hour after this incident
we heard a faint splash of oars, and presently a boat
shot into view. From the shore we had watched a
fleet of white birds, each with huge beak slanting to
its breast, cruising near Pelican Island, and the ar-
rival of the boat was welcome.

PELICANS' HEADLESS BODIES, PELICAN ISLAND.

The boatman greeted us cheerily, and offered his
services for the rest of the day. His craft was small
and leaky, and with three persons aboard sunk until
the combing was only a few inches above the water.
We had to "trim," and Jim rowed so carefully that
progress was slow. I baled every few minutes, for
water flowed in steadily, and our feet were awash all
the time. But we reached the island safely. The
Pelicans had not awaited our advent; when the boat
was a hundred yards away they rose with a clamour
of beating wings, and in V-shaped formation flew to-
wards the point. There were hundreds of nests on

148 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the island, but none contained eggs or young birds.
We were not much surprised, for, in 1910, Pelican
Island was raided by men who killed the nesting
birds. It had been alleged that Pelicans were a
menace to the fishing industry, and war was waged
against them. Among the empty nests, under
bushes, and along the barren shore, we found head-
less bodies, pathetic bundles of blood-stained feathers
and bleaching bones. We wondered why the birds
had gathered around this place of slaughter when it
had clearly been abandoned as a breeding haunt.

Jim suggested that it was "too early for eggs,"
but offered to take us to Jack's Point Island, some
two miles distant, on the chance of finding a rookery
there. We decided to go. The boat rocked on the
choppy waters, and I was again kept busy with the
baling tin during the passage. Not a bird was seen
on or near the islet, yet it was the site of a rookery.
There were several hundreds of old nests, and forty-
two new ones. The latter formed four fairly straight
rows in the lee of a low ridge, and nearly all contained
eggs, apparently fresh. Here and there on the out-
skirts of the rookery lay an empty shell with a jagged
hole in one side — the work of Crows. It was pleasing
to know that the Pelicans of the Coorong had estab-
lished a new colony, despite the ghastly work of the
destroyers in the previous year. After our return
to Melbourne news came that the Commissioner of
Crown Lands had arranged to place the bird islands
of the Coorong under the control of the South Aus-
tralian Ornithological Association, as lessees, and that
notice boards were to be erected, as a warning to
vandals. This was fairly satisfactory, only notice
boards cannot be relied upon to check people who have
no respect for laws. Rangers must be in charge of
sanctuaries if wild creatures are to enjoy complete
protection. Poachers and plume-hunters are not the
only enemies to be feared. A farmer once boasted

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS

149

to me that he cared nothing for the Game Laws, and
would shoot protected birds when he pleased. Un-
fortunately, I could never catch the man red-handed.

It seems strange that the Pelican, a prosaic bird,
should be the subject of myths. Even now there are
people who believe that a nest of the species has never
been discovered. In her poem, "Where the Pelican

NEST AND EGGS OF PELICAN.

Builds," Mary Hannay Foott describes the departure
of a party of horsemen for the undiscovered country :

"And thirst and hunger were banished words

When they spoke of the unknown West;
Xo drought they dreaded, no flood they feared,
Where the Pelican builds her nest."

A learned Greek of old gravely asserted that the
Pelican, when it found its offspring killed by a snake,
beat its sides, and with the blood produced restored
life to the stark bodies.

150 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

While we were on Jack's Point Island the wind be-
came more boisterous, and whipped the lake into fury.
We began the return voyage under rather dangerous
conditions. The boat rocked like a leaf in a troubled
pool, and was kept afloat only by constant baling. We
were not sorry to reach Policeman's Point, where Bob
awaited us, and quickly provided billy tea, which
helped to warm our chilled bodies. The boatman
asked us to visit his home at Salt Creek, and we readily
agreed. It was a drive of four miles, and on the
way we passed several tea-tree swamps, which were
tenanted by hundreds of Black-tailed Native Hens
[Tribonyx ventralis}. They scurried over the mud
and up and down dark avenues in the thickets as
busily as ants on a foraging expedition. These quaint
birds, which resemble black bantams, sometimes ap-
pear in great numbers in different localities. Many
were seen in the streets of Adelaide in 1846, and in-
vasions of other cities have been recorded in later
years.

Jim's home was like a little village, for there were
several detached buildings, inhabited by a numerous
family, and dogs and fowls were not lacking in the big
yard. The good wife, dusky-hued and buxom, proved
hospitable and generous. She presented us with
several native implements, notably a neatly shaped
stone, which had been used for pounding Nardoo
seeds. We learned that some two miles from the
creek there was a burial place, on an islet in the
middle of a swamp. The aborigines, instead of in-
terring their dead, wrapped the bodies in bark and
placed them on platforms among branches of stunted
trees.

Returning to Woods Wells, we again became
guests of the boundary rider, starting for Meningie
on the following day. The journey was pleasant.
On the lake we saw great flocks of Grey Teal, Black
Ducks and White-eyed Ducks [Nyroca australis] . A

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS

151

group of Chestnut-breasted Shieldrakes [Casarca
tadornoides] , sunning themselves on a sand spit, made
a charming picture. Black Cormorants [Phalacro-
corax carbo] were abundant. Several nests of the
species, built in dead bushes, had been noticed on Jack's

PELICANS AT THE ZOO.

Point Island. We stopped near a beach strewn with
rose-tinted shells to admire a flock of Red-necked
Avocets [Recurvirostra rubricollis] , which stood knee
deep in the water. Presently the birds divided into
small companies, and began to wade slowly, dipping
long beaks beneath the surface to slide them through
the ooze in quest of food. We could not detect a
leader, nor were any vocal commands given, yet the
Avocets conducted their foraging in an orderly

152 . IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

manner. Sometimes a detachment would form fours,
as it were, and, with heads erect, wade for a few yards
before beginning to feed again.

Our driver was highly amused by the scientific
names of different birds, and attempted to memorise
some for the benefit of his friends in the township.
Strepera fuliginosa took his fancy, but he insisted that
the specific name of the Black Bell-Magpie should be
pronounced "Let-you-know-Sir."

We arrived at Meningie just in time to miss the
steamer, which crosses the lakes once every two days.
We profited by what at first appeared to be a stroke
of ill-luck, for one of the spare days was spent on
Campbell Park Station, among the Ostriches. The
boy who drove us to the homestead on Lake Albert was
a fellow of infinite jest, and he entertained us by re-
lating his own experiences with Ostriches. One day,
when riding his bicycle across a paddock, he was con-
fronted by a row of the big birds, which barred his
way to the gate. Dismounting, he manoeuvred for a
few minutes, and made a dash when the chance came.
He was glad to be on the safe side of the gate, for
male Ostriches are not pleasant company when they
are angry. On another farm a man, who was un-
familiar with the ways of Ostriches, hung his watch
on a nail in a fence post, near the spot where he was
working. Half an hour later he saw the chain dangling
from the beak of a male bird. This anecdote was
followed by others, until the last paddock gate had
been shut behind us, and Campbell House appeared
in sight.

We were welcomed by Mr. A. P. Bowman, who
drove us out to the Ostrich paddocks, where hun-
dreds of the birds were seen. They are noted for
curiosity, and when the buggy entered the first pad-
dock a number of birds stalked up and gazed solemnly
at us. The males, after awhile, began to display
jealousy. If one came forward to win a better view,

154 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

he was sure to be buffeted by a rival, until one or
other retired. I wished to obtain photographs, and,
alighting, crept forward with the camera. The birds
became restless, but did not retire; on the contrary,
as soon as my head disappeared beneath the focussing
cloth they advanced. I followed their movements as
reflected on the ground glass, and found it necessary
more than once to suspend operations. My com-
panions in the buggy were unkind enough to laugh at
my discomfiture, but in the end I managed to get the
pictures desired. Here and there we noticed piles of
"Ostrich food" — crushed stone. The birds, of course,
do not subsist on such hard fare; grass is their prin-
cipal food on the farms, and it is said that one Ostrich
will consume nearly as much green stuff as a bullock.
Fragments of stone and other indigestible matter are
swallowed, to aid in the trituration of real food. Mr.
Bowman told us many interesting facts regarding the
breeding habits of the Ostrich. The males become
savage as the pairing season approaches, and combats
between rivals are of common occurrence. During
this period the birds are dangerous to human beings.
Each male forms a harem, and several hen birds lay in
a single nest. A nest that we saw on the station con-
tained over forty eggs, some of which were embedded
in the sandy soil. No fewer than sixty-four eggs
were counted in another nest. Both sexes brood in
fairly regular shifts.

It was interesting to see Ostriches and Emus in
company, as we did at Campbell Park. Unfortunately,
there were few of the Australian birds. The Emu
appears to be doomed, whereas the number of
Ostriches in Australia is increasing.

Learning that Black Swans had started to nest,
we drove to the reed beds, some miles from Campbell
House. The water was cold, and fairly deep where the
reeds grew, and the native stockman was asked to locate
a nest, if possible, in the thicket nearest to dry land.

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS

155

He entered the water, and explored the reeds without
success, except that he found the nest from which he
had taken five eggs a few days previously. As stated
in another chapter, aborigines are fond of Swans'
eggs, and probably thousands are gathered every
season in localities where the birds are numerous.

BLACK SWAN AND CYGNETS.

Leaving the Swans' haunt, we drove to a little bay
where, to my delight, a flock of Cape Barren Geese
[Cereopsis novx-hollandide] was seen. This remark-
able bird is rare, though formerly it was abundant,
especially among the Bass Strait islands. The genus
Cereopsis was founded by Latham in 1801 on a single
specimen. He included it in the order Grallse, but it
has long been recognised as a true Goose, and is the
only living representative of the sub-family Cereop-
sinx. The extinct Cnemiornis, of New Zealand, was
a near ally of the Cape Barren Goose. Two young
Geese, which were captured by a naturalist in Bass

156 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Strait and brought to Melbourne, became very tame,
and fed unconcernedly with a number of domestic
fowls. There was an old wooden box in the yard,
which the male Goose came to regard as its property.
Every day the bird mounted the box to utter its call
notes.

Our visit to the Ostrich farm was followed by a
trip to a large area of swampy land, a few miles from
Meningie, where Marsh Terns [Hydrochelidon
ftuviatilis'] nested in thousands in 1S10. There were
no graceful birds flying over the swamp when we saw
it, and no clamour of wild notes was heard. Frogs
leaped from some of the old nests, which studded the
bushes, and their croaking was the only sound that
broke the silence of the desolate place.

We left the lakes with regret, and some day a
promise to return will be fulfilled.

CHAPTER VIII.
ACROSS THE PLAINS

WHEN news came, in October, 1913, that it was
a good season for bird life in Riverina, I
promptly telegraphed to my naturalist friend
at Jerilderie, saying that I would join him in a trip
across the plains, to Yanco Creek and the Ibis swamps.
But it was near the end of November before I could
leave Melbourne.

A rail journey of 156 miles brought me to Tocum-
wal, a thriving border town in New South Wales,
where I caught the Finley coach. There was only
one other passenger, a youth from the city, who talked
of horses incessantly, a popular topic wherever one
goes in Australia. But I was not interested in the
Melbourne Cup or any other racing event, and my
fellow-traveller must have classed me as a "queer
chap." We spent the night at Finley, a typical
Riverina township, and on the morrow morn secured
seats in the Jerilderie coach. Luggage and mer-
chandise occupied the greater proportion of space,
and I had a box seat. This was no great advantage,
for it was cold in the wind till noon, when more genial
conditions prevailed. The driver was not in a com-
municative vein; he answered questions shortly, and
rarely volunteered a remark. Some coach drivers are
great talkers, and their conversation is interesting;
but, now and again, one meets the silent man. Of
a certain driver it is related, that he spoke to a box-
seat passenger twice in the course of two hours. As
the coach passed a sun-burned bushman on the road
the driver said, "Do you see that man?" "Yes," was
the expectant reply. But the man with the reins

158 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

seemed to fall into reverie, and they were twelve miles
from the spot where he called attention to the pedes-
trian when he remarked quietly, "He's my father."
This is a traveller's tale, but my own experience of
coaching in the Commonwealth helps me to credit it.

At a station homestead we were delayed for half
an hour while canvas bags were delivered and re-
ceived ; for we carried His Majesty's mail, and, along
the road, bundles of letters and newspapers were
tossed from the coach into old soap boxes or kerosene
tins, fastened to fence rails or tree trunks. Here
and there a man was waiting for the mail, and we
stopped for a minute, to deliver a welcome budget and
exchange news. The driver thawed in the afternoon,
when the sun beamed from a cloudless sky, and enter-
tained me with reminiscences of coaching in the early
days. He spoke of the Kelly Gang, who bailed up a
Jerilderie bank years ago ; of the pleasures and plagues
of driving; and of other things. After sunset the
box seat was not at all desirable, for we were driving
against the wind, which became too cool for comfort.
We were pleased when, at about 9 p.m., the town
lights glimmered ahead. My friend met me at the
hotel, and for an hour we discussed plans and
prospects.

A few days were devoted to rambles in and around
Jerilderie, which proved most interesting and profit-
able. Many fine photographs of birds and their nests
were obtained. My friend's own garden and
paddocks, with their trees and hedgerows, provided
so many delightful subjects that I was tempted to be
imprudent in the use of plates. I had brought about
two hundred, and could easily have exposed double
the number to advantage while in Riverina. Tri-
coloured Bush-Chats [Epthianura tricolor] were
nesting in the boxthorn hedges and small bushes,
within the town area, and I spent a sunny morning
among them. A hedgerow nest, containing three

A DARING CLIMBER AT NEST OF THE EAGLE -HAWK.

160 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

eggs, was chosen, and the camera erected five feet
away. Then I hid behind a box at a distance of
thirty feet, and waited. For ten or twelve minutes
the birds were highly suspicious. The male was the
first to gain confidence, and when he alighted on the
rim of the nest I pressed the bulb. The click of the
shutter made the bird spring into the air, ruffled and
puzzled, but it was soon back on the nest, and another
plate was exposed. The female Chat had been
hovering around, mostly on the other side of the hedge.
Content for half an hour, at least, to let her mate face
the apparent danger, she took the opportunity to
enjoy a quiet meal, gleaned amid the stubble in a
neighbouring paddock. The sun was so powerful that
I thought the rubber tubing would melt, and the heat
did actually damage the camera, causing a crack in
the wooden base. Often, on the open plains, it was
necessary to leave the camera standing in the sun
for an hour or more, in order to obtain a photograph
of some wild creature, and as a result all my dark
slides were slightly warped. Riverina sunshine in
November is nearly strong enough to boil a billy.
Under a verandah in Jerilderie one day the ther-
mometer registered 110 degrees.

Wood-Swallows of several species were nesting
in the hedges and street trees, among bushes in the
gardens, and in many odd places. Walking along an
old post and rail fence, I counted seven nests, some of
which were in danger of being wrecked by a gust of
wind. A pair of White-browed Wood-Swallows
[Artamus superciliosus] had selected as a nesting
site the top of a coil of wire-netting, standing in a yard
at the rear of the Mayor's house. Though the netting
was needed for repairs to a fence, the birds were left
in possession until a brood had been reared. I spent
several hours with these enterprising birds, and
secured a series of photographs. The male Wood-
Swallow was much annoyed on seeing the camera

ACROSS THE PLAINS

161

near the nest, and when I went into hiding behind
a packing case, it flew over again and again, express-
ing its opinion of impertinent intruders in an
unmistakable manner. Neither bird would visit the
nest for awhile, but, at length, the female alighted on
the edge of the coil of netting, and the camera shutter

WHITE - BROWED WOOD - SWALLOW AT NEST

clicked. The bird shot into the air like an arrow,
but soon returned. It was a scorching day, and the
nestlings suffered from the heat, as the mother bird
perceived, for she spread her wings above the nest
and vibrated them, at once giving shade and causing
an air current. She panted herself, poor bird. \
had to change my quarters before I could photograph
the male bird. When it was away at the end of the
yard I slipped across the open into a shed. The
bird, with a small grasshopper in its beak, came

162 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

sweeping over my former hiding place, wheeled
sharply, and alighted on a clothes line. After a
minute's hesitation, it flew to the nest and fed one of
the chicks. I did not miss the opportunity, but the
bird was on the wing a moment later.

In a sapling growing close to the schoolhouse we
found a nest of the Masked Wood-Swallow [A. per-
sonatus], which had been built while children romped
and laughed in the vicinity. The eggs were heavily
incubated, and there seemed to be every prospect of
a brood being reared. Since the Gould League of
Bird Lovers was formed, some years ago, Australian
boys and girls have learned to observe and protect wild
birds, and egg-collecting is rapidly becoming an
obsolete pastime. The league has over 61,000 mem-
bers in Victoria alone, and it is hoped that ultimately
the total for the Commonwealth will be 250,000.

Nests of the Wood-Swallow [A. sordidus] were
seen in many gardens. It was surprising, at first,
to find such numbers of birds nesting within the
town boundaries. But I learned that their value as
insect destroyers was recognised, and they were
strictly protected. A Chinese gardener's fruit trees
were full of "Skies' " nests, and he was "jolly glad"
to harbour the birds, because they ate "glassoppers
and glubs." The local name, "Sky," for all species
of Wood-Swallow frequenting the district, is not in-
appropriate, for the birds soar at great altitudes, and
are most graceful on the wing.

There was no resident photographer at Jeril-
derie while I was in the town, and during my rambles
with the camera I had some amusing experiences. A
prosperous Chinese, whose waistcoat was banded by
a gold cable chain, from which dangled a huge locket,
hailed me in the street one morning and asked, "How
much you chlarge?" He was incredulous when I
explained that I was photographing wild birds for
pleasure, shaking his head and smiling. A woman

ACROSS THE PLAINS 163

in a garden became angry when I declined to take a
family group. More than one blue-shirted horseman
wished to be pictured in the saddle. I regretted that
I could not flatter the vanity of these good people, but
my supply of plates was too limited. At lonely
homes on the plains, however, I was constrained to
be more generous, and took photographs of a
boundary rider's family, a pet Kelpie, "the best dog
in the Riverina," and a station manager with his
buggy and horses. It was a small return for all the
kindness bestowed upon me.

One of my objects in visiting the Riverina was
to study the Straw-necked Ibis [Carphibis spinicollis]
in its breeding haunts, and my friend at Jerilderie
agreed to take me to a Lignum swamp on Yanco
Station, where thousands of birds were nesting. In
the town I heard much of Ibises, and found that
nearly every resident recognised the great economic
value of the birds. One hot night vast numbers of
young grasshoppers invaded the town. Thousands
were crushed on the roadway and sidewalks, thou-
sands clustered on wire screen doors of shops and
dwellings, while every nook and corner held a pile of
insects. "The Ibises would make short work of those
pests," a man remarked to me, as he brushed a grass-
hopper from his coat sleeve. Ke had expressed the
general opinion of the townspeople.

Travelling across the plains in a light two-
wheeled vehicle, we saw Ibises on patrol duty. Each
bird seemed to have a small area of its own, around
which it stalked, driving its long, sickle-shaped bill
into the dry grass at brief intervals. It was reason-
able to believe that every tap of the beak meant death
to a grasshopper. But for the birds, I thought, these
plains would soon become barren, and it is no wonder
that station owners protect them. The swamp was
in the centre of a large paddock, and guarded by a
row of gaunt trees. As we drew near hundreds of

164

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

Ibises were observed, flying above the rookery, and
I was impatient to be among their nests. Halting
in the shade of a She-oak, we entered the swamp bare-
legged, but wearing old boots. The water, re-
sembling pea soup in colour and consistency, was

<

^^&

NEST AND EGGS OF STRAW- NECKED IBIS.

shallow, rarely rising more than a few inches above
our ankles, and there were many little mud islets
bearing marks of bird feet. Lignum bushes grew
thickly over the greater part of the swamp, and in
them the nests were situated. The stems of this
water-loving plant are tough and stringy, but the
Ibises break them down with their strong feet, and
form shallow, saucer-shaped nests of the more
pliable sticks and twigs.

ACROSS THE PLAINS 165

There were many thousands of nests in this
rookery. Some were empty, some contained eggs,
and others held young birds that were in the down,
half-fledged or nearly ready to fly. The most ad-
vanced fledglings, generally speaking, were found in
nests around the centre of the rookery, while the
empty nests were on the outskirts where the bushes
were surrounded by oozy mud. Nests of the inter-
vening area contained either heavily incubated eggs
or chicks a few days old. The birds begin to nest
in bushes which grow where the water is deepest, and
when all available sites have been occupied, the settled
area extends towards the shores. Early arrivals
secure the best positions, while the laggards must be
content with residence in the outer suburbs. As a
result, some are likely to lack families ; for, as summer
advances, the swamp dries up, and Ibises often
desert their nests when the water disappears. We
noted hundreds of addled eggs in nests near the banks,
also many which had been broken by Crows. In all
parts of the rookery dead nestlings were seen. Some
had fallen into the water, many had been trampled
upon by their parents or other Ibises, and, possibly,
Crows had killed a certain number.

We had no difficulty in securing photographs of
nestlings in the down, but it was different with those
of larger growth, which could move nimbly about the
bushes. Nearly every bush supported several nests,
and when, in the "advanced area," we focussed on
a charming group, the fledglings scrambled from
their nurseries. Some toppled into the water, and
had to be rescued promptly to avert tragedy; others
dived into the bush beneath the nests, and an ad-
venturous company of seven climbed to the sum-
mit, where they huddled in an old nest. This
occurred a dozen times. The parent birds were
even more troublesome; indeed, they baffled all our
efforts. There was plenty of cover, and, dragging

166

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the camera, I crept cautiously from bush to bush
towards a flock of some two hundred birds, which
were standing on and around a mud flat. But they
rose the instant I raised the camera from a bush.
Next, I approached some birds which were busy at

IBIS NESTLINGS.

their nests. The result was the same ; the birds took
wing and went soaring into the blue until they were
no larger than Larks to our sight. From the branches
of a lone tree, near the centre, we obtained panoramic
views of the rookery. The tripod legs were lashed
to twisted boughs, and by imitating a limb-contor-
tionist I managed to focus and expose some plates.
After this we rested. It had been a busy afternoon,
packed with interest. But I was not perfectly satis-

ACROSS THE PLAINS 167

fied ; for we had failed to find a nest of the Pink-eared
Duck [Malacorhynchus membranaceus] . My com-
panion knew this swamp to be a breeding place of the
species, and we searched diligently among the Lig-
num. It was rather risky, pulling aside the stems
and peering into the bushes, for Black Snakes were
likely to be disturbed. But neither nest nor reptile
was seen. The Pink-eared Duck, which is peculiar
to Australia and has no near relative,- is known to
sportsmen as the Widgeon. Gould was charmed by
this species ; in his "Handbook to the Birds of Aus-
tralia" he writes: —

"No one of the tribe that I have observed in a
state of Nature presents a more elegant or graceful
appearance than this little Duck, which is generally
seen in small companies of from six to twenty in
number, swimming over the placid lagoons, and be-
traying so little fear and shyness on the approach of
man, as to present a singular contrast in this respect
to the other members of the famiiy. Its flight is
very powerful and swift."

Near the swamp, in the shade of a gum tree, we
saw a flock of Maned Geese or Wood-Ducks [Chlamy-
dochen jubata], beautiful little birds — brown, black
and gray plumage, metallic green on the wings. We
met with this species again at Yanco Creek, where
the tent was pitched among lofty Eucalypts, old trees
with huge fantastic boughs. It was pleasant to rest
beside running water, and screened from the sun,
hear birds calling amid the leaves. But the camp
fire attracted hosts of insects, which dropped into the
tea, explored the "tucker box," or wandered into the
tent. The night was cool, and we might have enjoyed
sound slumber had the mosquitoes been less aggressive
than they were. In the morning, after a cruise in
a flattie among the gaunt, dead gum trees in the
creek, we began the homeward journey. The wind,
a zephyr when we started, gradually increased its

168 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

velocity until it was blowing half a gale. And we
were still four miles from Jerilderie when a towering
wall of darkness came sweeping across the plains.
There was no hope of escaping the duststorm, so we
stopped the pony, and, with muffled heads bent low,
awaited the onslaught. For several minutes the
landscape was blotted out by whirling clouds of dust,
and we were enveloped. Breathing was difficult, and
had the air not cleared quickly we would have been
half-suffocated. Our clothes were coated with dust,
and the pony appeared to have changed its colour. We
watched the storm tearing towards the town, and
followed in its tracks. Our troubles were not yet
over, for another duststorm overtook us, and we en-
tered Jerilderie in semi-darkness. These storms are
not unusual on the plains in summer, and Riverina
folk have become used to them ; but they are decidedly
unpleasant, and sometimes do damage.

My friend the naturalist was also a bird trapper,
and in the course of our rambles the question of bird
protection was discussed from different points of
view. He was aware that many ornithologists de-
sired to have the Rose-breasted Cockatoo or Galah
[Cacatua roseicapilla] included among protected
species, and explained the position. If trapping were
forbidden, he stated, the birds would increase beyond
measure, and farmers would continue to war against
them with poisoned wheat, which would claim other
feathered victims besides Galahs. Poisoning had
already resulted, in his district, in a considerable de-
crease in the numbers of one species of Parrot, which
was not regarded as a pest by wheat -growers. This
argument was weighty; but I wished to judge from
personal observations whether the Galah should be
branded as a pest, and also to see how birds were
caught. So I arranged to join a party of trappers.
Their outfit consisted of nets, etc., a waggon sur-
mounted by a large cage, divided into several com-

ACROSS THE PLAINS' 169

partments (one contained call birds), and a jinker,
with two horses for the large vehicle and a pony for
the other. There were four in the party, including
"the Boss" and myself. We travelled slowly in the
direction of Yanco, and late in the afternoon turned
into a farm paddock, where we outspanned in a grove

BIRD TRAPPERS' CAMP.

of gum trees. Remarking that Galahs were "eating
him out," the farmer welcomed us, and expressed the
hope that we would make a good haul.

That evening the trappers carried nets, poles,
bagging, iron stakes and mallets to a crop paddock,
where they worked hard for an hour. Two pairs of
nets were set, flat on the ground, so that a sharp pull
on a master-rope would cause them to spring up and
fold over each other in an instant. The rope, in
each case, was taken through a hole in a bag screen
erected along the wire fence, opposite the nets.

170 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Before sunrise next day the men were astir, for it
is only in the early morning that bird-trapping is
likely to be successful. Half -awake, I joined the
trappers as they left camp. Arrived at the paddock,
after call birds had been tethered to the nets, we
divided forces and hid behind the screens. Holding
the rope in one hand, my companion crouched against
the bagging and watched the nets through a spy-
hole. Soon after dawn Galahs began to appear from
the direction of the creek, at first in threes and fours,
then in fairly large flocks, until there were thousands
of birds flying above the wheat. Beautiful they
were, with the pale sunshine glancing on their silvery-
gray and rose-pink plumage. For awhile, they con-
tinued to fly over the field, hither and thither, as if
uncertain where to alight. Finally, one company
swept down; others soon followed the example, and
the trappers prepared for immediate action. A flock,
hearing the captive birds call, swept right over the
nets that I was observing, wheeled, and dropped to
earth. The trapper pulled the rope, the net poles
clashed, and discordant screeching, expressive of both
fear and anger, rent the air. But only eleven out of
some thirty birds had been captured. The unfor-
tunates fought valiantly with beaks and claws, and
made almost as much noise as a dozen sirens in a
sea fog. They were freed from the meshes and
placed in a box, where they continued to utter loud
protests. In the course of an hour the nets were
sprung three times, with the result that eighty-seven
birds were captured. This was not considered a
good tally. At the waggon the Galahs were trans-
ferred to the big cage, and perched in huddled rows on
the long bamboo rods. They declined food and water
for a few hours, and looked very sulky. By the next
day they had settled down a little to the new condi-
tions, and ate and drank without being coaxed.

I tramped across acres of stubble to see a wheat

ACROSS THE PLAINS

171

crop, which was said to have been ruined by Galahs.
A few birds were flying over the field, but none rose
from the ground as I drew near. The wheat stalks
had been broken down in many spots, and there was
not sufficient grain in the whole field to tempt a
gleaner.

GALAH NESTLINGS.

Admitting that Galahs do much damage among
the wheat, one must not forget that the birds also
render valuable service to farmers by destroying
grasshoppers' eggs, which they dig out of the earth
with their powerful beaks. But it is certain that
wheat-growers will continue to persecute Galahs, even
if trapping be forbidden, and poisoned grain is a
menace to birds of other species that do little, if any,

172 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

damage. It is best that the trappers should work
on the plains. At present there is no sign that the
Rose-breasted Cockatoo will become rare; I saw
countless thousands in Riverina. Trapped birds are
sold in Sydney for about ninepence apiece. The dealers
resell them at a good profit, chiefly, I believe, to officers
and seamen of overseas vessels. Large numbers are
taken to European countries. Besides using the nets,
trappers collect fledglings from the nests, and rear
them for market. They know nearly every nest in
their district, and go the rounds twice in a season,
securing a large number of baby birds each time.
Only a skilled climber can succeed at this work, for
many of the nest hollows are in lofty limbs of dead
trees. When the lowest bough of a tree is from
twenty to thirty feet above the ground, the Galah-
hunter ascends with the aid of a rope, looped around
the trunk. Planting his feet firmly against the bole,
he jerks the rope up a few feet, and pulls his body
after it, repeating the action until he can grasp a
bough.

Several farms were visited by the trappers, and
they were welcomed at all. Each morning the nets
were worked with varying success. When I left
them the men had three hundred birds in the cages.
At one pleasant homestead a hut was placed at our
disposal, and the landowners, two brothers and two
sisters, treated me with especial kindness. One of
the sisters was a lover of birds, and had tamed several
Galahs without caging them. Day long, she said,
the birds were away with the flocks, but towards sun-
down they returned to the homestead, where they re-
mained for the night. I saw three of these tame-
wild birds on a favourite perch near the windmill.
The most of the birds on the estate were protected,
and many of them had responded to kindness.
In the home paddocks several nests of the "Blue
Bonnet" [Psephotus xanthorrhous] , a beautiful little

ACROSS THE PLAINS 173

Parrot, were located. One was on the ground within
a hollow trunk, the entrance being a knot-hole twelve
feet above. One of the farmers told us that a pair
of Native Companions had nested in a swamp a mile
from the house. We had heard much concerning

ROSE - BREASTED COCKATOO (GALAH)
(A Tame -Wild Bird).

these birds at another farm, where a lanky fledgling
was being reared as a pet, though Riverina folk, as
a rule, regard the Crane as a pest. We were told
that one farmer had recently poisoned over four hun-
dred birds : the old story, "They damage wheat crops."
Great flocks of Galahs were seen in the vicinity
of the homestead, and my friend arranged for the
two men to stay there, while he and I went farther
afield to observe, instead of capture, birds. An albino

174

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Galah had been noticed in company with several
hundreds of the ordinary type, and the trappers were
anxious to secure it, such specimens being worth
anything up to £5. From a nest in the Jerilderie
district each season, for three years, two albino nest-
lings were taken, and all were reared.

YOUNG NATIVE COMPANION.

Bidding farewell to our hosts and the trappers,
we started in the j inker for Yanco Creek. To pass
the time, we talked of many things, one subject being
the longevity of Parrots and Cockatoos. A White
or Sulphur-crested Cockatoo [Cacatua galerita],
owned by Mrs. S. Bennett, of Tom Ugly's Point, Syd-
ney, was a Methuselah. "Cocky Bennett" was 118 years
old when he died. Captain George Ellis bequeathed

ACROSS THE PLAINS 175

the bird to Mrs. Bennett, who had it in her possession
for over twenty years. The captain, then a young
apprentice, first met "Cocky Bennett" on a sailing
vessel in the Pacific. The bird was owned by the
skipper, and was said to be about the same age as
the apprentice, who ultimately became captain of
the ship. "Cocky Bennett," during his declining
years, had few feathers to hide a shrivelled skin, and
the crest was represented by two yellow plumes. The
upper portion of the beak was of abnormal length; it
grew rapidly, and pieces had to be cut off from time
to time. The ancient bird was a celebrity, and de-
lighted numbers of visitors with quaint remarks, a
favourite sentence being, "I'll fly, I'll fly— I'll fly."

We reached a boundary rider's hut at sunset, and
stayed there for the night. Before starting again
in the morning, we strolled through a timbered pad-
dock, where a small flock of Crested-Pigeons
[Ocyphaps lophotes] was seen. Several nests were
discovered, but in each case the brood had flown. At
one farm, which we visited on this trip, Crested-
Pigeons were so tame that they fed daily among the
fowls, taking their share of the grain.

By noon we were among the gum trees on Yanco
Creek, and shade was very welcome after the sun-
glare on the plains. The afternoon was devoted to
camera craft, many of our pictures being obtained
from the flattie. Every dead tree in the creek — and
there were hundreds within view of the camping
place — was worth inspection. My companion, as we
paddled along slowly, pointed out the most interesting
hollows. The nursery of a pair of Black-cheeked
Falcons [Falco melanogenys'], in which a brood had
been reared each season for some years, was nearly
forty feet above the water; while two happy "Moun-
tain Ducks" [C. tadornoides] had tenanted a hollow,
which was easily examined from the flattie. Galahs'
nesting holes were both high and low, in boles and

AT THE NEST OF THE YELLOW PARROT.

ACROSS THE PLAINS

177

branches. One tree was in the possession of seven
pairs of birds, and had another hollow been available
it would surely have been used by an eighth couple.
In the majority of cases, the Cockatoos' nests contained
young birds, grotesque little objects, naked or with

YOUNG COCKATOO - PARROT

sprouting feathers. A nest of the Yellow Parrot
[Platycercus flaveolus] contained four eggs. This
splendid bird is rather rare in the district. Several
pairs of Cockatoo-Parrots [Calopsitta novse-hollandise]
were observed, and a nest was discovered, but it was
in an inaccessible position within the "mouth" of a
hollow stem, high above the water. Through the
glasses I watched the birds feeding their offspring.

178 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

First one, and then the other flew to the nest, and the
fledglings each received a generous share of partially
digested food, which the parents regurgitated. Galahs,
also, were feeding their young in a thousand dark
hollows.

The nest of a pair of White-rumped Wood-
Swallows [Artamus leucogaster] was revealed by the
actions of its owners, which flew around our heads as
the boat glided beneath a big, slanting bough. The
nest was in a slight depression on the upper part of
the limb, and shielded by a broad strip of bark; it
would certainly have escaped notice had the parent
birds remained tranquil. Three fledglings were
secured, taken ashore, and ranged on a slender
branch. But they tried the photographer's patience,
one after another, in response to the old birds' urgent
notes, fluttering from the perch. It was impossible
to photograph all three in a row, and, finally, the
troublesome birds were allowed to rejoin their parents.

Camp was shifted next morning. Crossing the
creek, we followed its course along a bush road
sheltered by ancient Eucalypts. Near a bridge we
stopped to admire some Ground-Doves [Geopelia tran-
quilla}, which were pecking busily among dead leaves
and twigs in a shady spot. Strangely enough, the
nest of a pair of Nankeen Kestrels [Cerchneis
cenchroides] was discovered a few minutes later.
Attention was transferred from peaceful Doves to
birds of prey. The Kestrels' home was in a hollow
of a gum tree by the creek side, and one of the four
fledglings that it contained was perched in the "door-
way." We captured the quartette after a sharp
skirmish, in which the birds used beaks and claws
with effect, and placed them on a low bough. They
remained quiet for awhile, and several photographs
were obtained. But when we attempted to catch them
again, to replace them in the nest, they developed
wing-power and flew over the creek.

NANKEEN KESTREL (FLEDGLING).

180

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

A nest of the Delicate Owl [Strix delicatula] , in
a hollow of a dead gum tree standing in the creek, was
visited. My companion had discovered the nest some

DELICATE OWL, SHOWING THE DOWN.

weeks previously, when it contained two eggs, and we
hoped to see a pair of nestlings. A natural causeway
of logs and debris enabled us to reach the tree dry
shod; but it was not so easy to scale the smooth bole.
There was only one nestling after all ; its fellow, no
doubt, was more advanced, and out in the world.
We brought the baby owl to the bank, where it blinked

ACROSS THE PLAINS 181

sleepily and was perfectly docile. Its back was
covered in soft white down, like teased silk, but the
wing and tail feathers were well developed. The
Delicate Owl is not a rare species, though its nest is
seldom found.

Leaving the Owls' haunt, we walked to a billa-
bong, where Warbling Grass-Parrots [Melopsittacus
undulatus] were nesting among the dead gum trees.
Many birds were seen entering or leaving hollows, but
all appeared to have chosen trees which stood in fairly
deep water, and, lacking a boat, we could not use the
camera to advantage. Crossing the plains, we had
seen vast flocks of "Betcherrygahs." Startled while
feeding, thousands of lovely little birds rose from the
ground, and flew to the nearest tree. In flight they
resembled butterflies, the glorious "Bird-Wings"
[Troides priamus], which flutter over Lantana bushes
on the northern rivers of New South Wales. During
some seasons Warbling Grass-Parrots are so numerous
in Riverina that trappers capture many thousands,
and the market becomes glutted, though the birds are
offered for sale at a few pence apiece.

After our adventures among birds on the Yanco,
we returned to Jerilderie, sunburned but satisfied,
with a store of pleasant memories and many unique
photographs. Riverina is a wonderland for bird-
lovers.

CHAPTER IX.
AMONG THE PALMS

A NATURALIST'S education has scarcely begun
until he has been in the tropics. For, as Grant
Allen expressed it, the tropics are biological
headquarters, where the struggle for existence among
plants and animals is carried on fiercely.

Though a Victorian, I freely admit that Queens-
land, from a naturalist's point of view, is the most
interesting State of the Commonwealth, chiefly be-
cause of its tropical fauna and flora. But the coastal
scrubs of Northern New South Wales are sub-tropical,
and one need not cross the Queensland border in order
to roam among palms and see the Rifle-Bird. In
November, 1907, in company with other naturalists,
I visited the Tweed River, Tumbulgum, a picturesque
township, being the base from which we worked.
Despite sugarcane culture and timber-cutting, we
found large areas of wild country to explore. The
Tweed rises in the Macpherson Range, and flows into
the Pacific Ocean ; it is not a great river, but one of the
most beautiful in Australia.

We travelled by rail from Brisbane to Tweed
Heads, and there boarded a small steamer. The river
voyage to Tumbulgum was delightful. The steamer
moved slowly along a narrow channel, rounded a sand-
spit, and headed up stream. Mangroves bordered
the water; Terns and Curlews [Numenius cyanops]
were feeding on the mud flats. Further inland the
scenery was more like what we had expected. On
one side of the river were low cliffs, and verdant slopes
dotted with trees ; the other bank presented a wall of

AMONG THE PALMS

183

luxuriant vegetation, and, naturally, received the
greater share of attention. Palms reared their grace-
ful crowns above the scrub, Moreton Bay Figs [Ficus

PALMS AND PARASITES (ORCHIDS AND FERNS).

macrophylla~] displayed masses of glossy, green
foliage; and beautiful shrubs and creepers kept the
botanist busy with pencil and notebook. To many of
us, the lesser plants were unfamiliar, but we could
admire them without knowing either their popular or
scientific names.

184 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

Some of the trees supported clumps of Staghorn-
Fern [Platy cerium], and lovely clusters of orchids
were seen. Green rushes marked little creeks, which
issued from the jungle — the heart of darkness — while
quiet backwaters were splendid with blue lily flowers.
Here and there the forest gave place to canefields, and
small cottages began to appear as we approached our
destination. Just below Tumbulgum two Kanaka
children, nearly naked, were paddling a canoe along
the bank. We reached the township early in the
afternoon, and our advent caused some excitement
among a section of the residents. A pile of lug-
gage, portmanteaux, collecting cases, and so forth,
strengthened the belief that we were an itinerant
theatrical company.

"What are you going to play?" asked a lounger.
"One of them bloodthirsty pieces?" We assured him
that we were only humble naturalists, and he looked
disappointed. But ere we left Tumbulgum "Bill" had
become a firm friend, and we parted with mutual
regret.

Our luggage was carried to the hotel by instal-
ments, the only vehicle available being a wheelbarrow.
We had comfortable quarters, and the host studied
our needs in a commendable manner. Observing
began after tea, when we strolled along the river bank,
smoking, and at peace with all the world. Fruit Bats
[Pteropus sp.~\, or Flying-Foxes as they are popularly
termed, were feeding in a big Moreton Bay Fig; a
noisy, quarrelsome dinner party, entirely lacking in
table manners. They wasted more than they ate, for
every moment figs with only tiny pieces nibbled out
dropped to earth. Standing under the old tree, we
saw many bats climbing among the branches, while
others were hanging by their claws, head downward,
eating fruit greedily. The restless ones squabbled
and uttered curious chirping notes. A specimen shot
for museum purposes proved to be a female, with a

186 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

naked young one clinging, spread-eagle fashion, to
the under surface of the body. The babe was a re-
pulsive looking creature, but we deeply regretted
having killed its mother. The bat was shot while on
the wing, which proved that the young are carried
during the long flights to and from the "camp." When
the dead animal and its offspring were taken indoors
a musky odour pervaded the room, and we were
politely asked by a young woman, who, at first, had
been anxious to inspect them, to "take the horrid
things away." Our zoologist spent an hour skinning
the adult bat, while the young one was chloroformed
and placed in spirits.

The head of a Fruit Bat resembles that of a Fox,
hence the popular name. Some simple folk, per-
haps, really believe that the creatures are winged
Foxes. Several species inhabit North and Eastern
Australia, and in some districts the animals are ex-
ceedingly numerous. They are gregarious, forming
large "camps" in wild spots, remote from human
habitations. Day long the bats remain in "camp"
hanging head downward from the branches, which
often bend beneath the burden. At sundown the
creatures unfold their wings, rise above the trees,
and fly swiftly to the feeding ground, which may be
many miles from the "camp." They are particularly
partial to cultivated fruit, and do much damage in
orchards in the settled districts. At intervals the
growers form hunting parties, which proceed to a
"camp" and shoot hundreds of Flying-Foxes as they
hang from the boughs. It is not sport, but merciless
slaughter. Aborigines regard the Fruit Bat as a
delicacy, for their noses are not offended by the musky
scent, which nauseates white people. It is said that
the flesh is palatable, but I should not care to taste it.
In Queensland these huge bats often enter towns;
I have seen them even in Brisbane, feeding in a More-
ton Bay Fig tree near the central railway station.

AMONG THE PALMS 187

Our first day in the scrub was packed with in-
terest. Crossing the river in a ferry boat (fare one
penny), we divided forces. I joined the smaller party,
which decided to follow a road leading into the hills.
A cart laden with sugarcane for the mill was met, and
the driver gave us a lift for a mile. Afoot again, we

CANE - CUTTER'S HOME, TWEED RIVER.

made slow progress, for the slopes on our right were
clothed in luxuriant vegetation that demanded con-
stant attention. Palms and ferns of many species,
wild Bananas, and other plants were noted. At one
spot the crimson flowers of an Hibiscus shone among
the ferns. Presently the road narrowed and entered
a grove of tall trees, chiefly Cedars and Eucalypts, in-
terspersed with Spear Palms. Butterflies flew lazily
in the sunshine, the most beautiful being the Bird-

188 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

wing [Troides priamus, var. richmcndius] . The male
of this lovely insect has a golden body and splendid
wings, which measure about six inches from tip to
tip. The fore wings are velvety black with a golden-
green band along the front ; the hind wings are bright
golden-green with velvety black margins and spots.
The female is larger than the male, and of a blackish-
brown colour, with some white on the wings. On the
northern rivers this butterfly is known as "The
Trogan."

There were gaily-coloured birds, as well as in-
sects, along the forest highway. Red-backed Wren-
Warblers [Malurus cruentatus] darted in and out of
the bushes, or, with tails erect, hopped about the road.
High among the branches a Spangled Drongo [Chibia
bracteata] was seen. It was pleasant wayfaring, but
after awhile we tired of the open road, and, plunging
into a gully, began to break a path through palms and
ferns and clinging creepers. The Climbing Lawyer
Palm [Calamus sp.], with its endless barbed stems,
was the most formidable obstacle, and was overcome
only by the vigorous use of clasp knives. The thorns
are curved, and when they penetrate flesh or clothing
it is difficult to remove them. Our hands were badly
lacerated, and we left many fragments of cloth among
the Lawyer Palms. Everywhere in the scrub this
strange plant was encountered, the stems in most
cases being of great length; in fact, one could rarely
discover where they began and ended. We learned
to respect another vegetable wonder, the Giant Nettle-
Tree [Laportea gigas\. If one's hand comes in con-
tact with a "Touch-me-not Tree" (popular name) he
is likely to suffer from sharp stinging pains for many
hours afterwards. The Giant Nettle, which some-
times attains a height of eighty feet, is native to New
South Wales and Queensland. Specimens of the
Walking-stick Palm [Kentia minor'], some five feet in
height, were cut to aid us in our scramble through the
scrub.

AMONG THE PALMS

189

When we rested for lunch, it was discovered that
ticks had selected quarters on different portions of our
bodies, chiefly at the back of the neck. These repul-
sive parasites swarm on foliage in the scrub, and

NETTLE TREE, AMONG PALMS.

when one passes close enough seize the opportunity
to win a warm-blooded host. The scrub tick is small,
and works so gently that one does not feel any incon-
venience, perhaps, until it has buried its head deeply
in the flesh. If, in disgust, the victim tries to tear
a tick from its hold, the head is apt to be left in the

190 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

flesh, with serious consequences. Undressing for a
bath one evening on the Tweed, I felt a slight pain in
the right shoulder, and found that a tick was lodged
there. It was removed quickly, all save a fragment
of the snout ; but the flesh around the spot became in-
flamed, and I still bear a circular scar on my shoulder.
Dogs and other animals, which become infested by
scrub ticks, sometimes die as a result. One method
of dislodging a tick is to touch the protruding part of
the body with a red-hot needle, when the creature,
writhing in pain, loosens its hold.

Besides scrub ticks, we had to combat thirsty
leeches, which, as soon as we remained still in any
moist place, advanced in battalions, and crawled over
arms and legs, seeking flesh on which to batten. The
scrub, of course, harboured millions of ants. Most
interesting was a species about half an inch in length,
which progressed by jumping. It was laughable to
see a number of the insects leaping in all directions.
Tiny red ants swarmed on the foliage, and we found
nests in clumps of Staghorn Fern, and swollen stems
of other plants, which were riddled with galleries.
Under a bush we found a pile of broken land shells,
which indicated the presence of Noisy Pittas [Pitta
strepitans] . Some of the shells were of large size,
and handsomely coloured — bands of Vandyke brown,
pale orange and amber. Pittas feed largely on land
molluscs, breaking the shells by dashing them against
a stone or log.

Hours slipped away unheeded, and we penetrated
deeper into the scrub, careless of direction till late in
the afternoon, when somebody suggested that it was
time to seek the road. This was more difficult than
we had anticipated, and it was dark ere we emerged
from the scrub in the gully. A "short cut" led us
into further trouble, and we stumbled through the
jungle till a track was discovered. It was rough and
steep, and there was no moonlight to reveal the stumps
and fallen trees. But we welcomed the darkness, be-

AMONG THE PALMS

191

cause it enhanced the brightness of the fire-flies' fairy
lamps. We imprisoned a dozen insects in a butterfly
net, and by the light which they produced were able to
read a watch dial. Luciala ftavicollis is a small beetle
of a light brown colour. During the day it clings to
leaves and twigs, becoming active after sunset.
Flashes of light are emitted from the end of the

THE TWEED RIVER AT TUMBULGU.M.

abdomen, like sparks struck from glowing iron, only
of a bluish-green colour instead of rose red. It is
worth while to spend a night in a tropical forest, if
only to see the fire-flies.

When we reached the ferry it was nearly ten
o'clock, and the boat was moored on the other side of
the river. But the boatmen heard our urgent sum-
mons, and half an hour later we were among our
friends, who had returned before twilight, and had
begun to fear that we were "bushed."

192 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS.

Day after day we scrambled through the scrub or
strolled along the river. The wild luxuriance of the
vegetation was amazing, and our botanist was em-
barrassed by riches ; the entomologist was in the same
happy position. We bird-lovers had fewer species to
study, but were more than content. Regent-Birds
[Sericulus chrysocephalus] were not numerous, but
several pairs frequented a palm grove near the town-
ship, which also became our favourite resort. We
never tired of gazing at the palms, with their grace-
ful fronds and clusters of coral-red fruit. And there
were lilies, orchids, ferns, and a host of other plants,
all beautiful. Along the river Forest Kingfishers
[Halcyon macleayi~] were fairly numerous, but a nest
of the species was not discovered until we searched
in the palm grove. The Kingfishers had drilled a
hole in a Tree-ants' [Termites'] clay nest, which was
plastered against the trunk of a Cedar some fifteen
feet above the ground. In the north, Kingfishers of
several species, notably the White-tailed [Tanysiptera
sylvia] , nest in Termites' mounds.

Once only, on the Tweed, I obtained a glimpse of
the Rifle-Bird [Ptiloris paradisea] , the most
southerly representative of the Birds of Paradise. I
was walking along a forest pathway, paying more at-
tention to butterflies than birds, when a rustling sound
made me look up, just in time. A male Rifle-Bird flew
right over me, and disappeared among the palms,
twenty yards ahead. I ran down the track, but was
not favoured with another view of the glorious bird.
The adult male Rifle-Bird is thus described by Gould :
"General plumage rich velvety black, glossed on the
upper surface with brownish lilac; under surface
similar to upper, but all the feathers of the abdomen
and flanks broadly margined with rich olive green;
feathers of the head and throat small, scale-like, and
of a shining metallic blue-green; two centre tail-
feathers rich shining metallic green, the remainder

AMONG THE PALMS

193

deep black; bill and feet black." The colouration of
the female's plumage is very different, the whole of the
upper surface being grayish-brown; wings and tail
margined with ferruginous; under surface deep buff,
each feather bearing a black mark near the tip.

TERMITES' CLAY HOME ON CEDAR; NESTING PLACE
OF FOREST KINGFISHER.

A memorable day was spent on Stott's Island, a
reserve some two miles below Tumbulgum. We sailed
down the river in a fishing boat, and had to tack a
dozen times owing to the direction of the wind. The
boat was brought close to the island shore, where a
break appeared in the jungle, and we leaped from the
bows on to a tangle of roots, which rose, like the ribs

194

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

of a wrecked craft, from the mud. Following a
natural avenue, we were soon in the heart of the
forest. Palms, with bunches of red fruit depending
from their crowns, Richmond River Pines [Araucaria
cunninghamii'} ,Cedars, and Moreton Bay Figs, formed
the aristocracy of this little island's flora. The trees,

IN THE CANEFIELDS.

in many instances, were festooned with creepers, whose
rope-like stems swung gently. One could easily have
climbed these stout stems to the roof of the jungle.
Branches were tufted with orchids and parasitical
ferns; but there was a marked scarcity of flowers,
except in glades, where Convolvulus bells, pink, blue
and lilac, hung from the mantle of leaves, and in
marshy hollows, where lilies grew thickly. Red-
crowned Fruit Pigeons [Ptilonopus swainsoni] were
feeding among the palms and fig trees. Pademelons
[Macropus thetidis] went bounding through the scrub,
startled by our noisy footsteps; in the glades, butter-

AMONG THE PALMS 195

flies dallied with flowers, or rested on the sun-warmed
earth. In one corner of the island, Paper-bark Tea
Tree [Melaleuca] formed dense thickets, and huge
logs cumbered the marshy ground. The logs appeared
to be sound, but crumbled beneath our feet.

Roaming through this tropical forest, now in
shadow and then in shine, one realised that it was
at once a nursery, a battlefield, and a cemetery. Here
the struggle for existence was being carried on with
wild energy. Every species was fighting without
allies, striving for roothold and a place in the sun.
Of a thousand seeds, one-tenth may germinate, and
of the seedlings only the fittest can survive.

Stott's Island was again visited by several members
of our party, who had a minor adventure. A Carpet-
Snake [Python variegatus], which measured over
eleven feet in length, was surprised in a marshy spot.
It was coiled beside a log, beneath which it en-
deavoured to glide when a naturalist grasped it by
the tail. But two other pairs of hands gripped the
reptile's body, and a tug-of-war soon ended in favour
of the naturalists. Enclosed in a strong wooden box,
the snake was despatched to Melbourne, where it was
welcomed by a nature lover who delights in strange
pets. After my return to Victoria, I handled the
snake, and allowed it to coil around my waist. For
a few minutes it remained quiet, then the coils began
to tighten, and the snake's jaws closed on portion of
my coat. I was glad to accept assistance in freeing
myself from the reptile's embrace. Carpet snakes, of
course, are non-venomous, and nobody who has lived
in Python country for any length of time has the
slightest fear of them.

Occasionally, in the Tweed River scrubs, tree snakes
(non-venomous) were seen gliding among the
branches, like undulating tubes of delicately-tinted
glass. The Common Green Tree Snake [Dendrophus
punctulatus] — olive-green on the upper surface and

196 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

yellow beneath — was not easily detected, because it
harmonised well with its surroundings. This species
sometimes attains a length of seven feet, but none that
we saw exceeded five feet.

Nightly we were serenaded by Slender Tree Frogs
[Hyla gracilenta] , attractive creatures, of a bright
green or yellowish-green colour. Two fine specimens
were found in a cavity in a rotting fence post, and
one of the pair was subsequently domiciled in an Ade-
laide garden. When last I saw it, the frog was cling-
ing to a pot-plant in a greenhouse, apparently as
happy as ever it was in the fence post on the Tweed.
There were other animal musicians whose evening
concerts became rather wearisome. The Cicadas in
the Lantana bushes by the riverside began to "fiddle"
at about 6 p.m. each day, a habit which earned them
the name of "Six-o'clock Cicadas." Often I waited to
hear them, and the following extract from my note--
book was written on such an occasion : — "Fruit Bats
are flying around the old Moreton Bay Fig, beneath
which I am seated, and Cicadas among the Lantana
bushes have begun to stridulate. The river is placid.
a mirror for crimson clouds and purple hills."

Butterflies were a constant delight, and in the
course of our rambles along the river banks we identi-
fied a fair number of species. A specimen of the
curious Glass-wing Butterfly [Acrssa andromacha ] ,
which is the only representative of the sub-family
Acrseinae in Australia, was captured. The fore wings
are hyaline, with brown markings, while the hind
wings, creamy-white with brown margins, are opaque.
These insects are believed to be distasteful to birds,
and presumably other animals; but when dining in a
Brisbane restaurant I rescued a Glass-wing Butterfly
from a cat, which had captured it in the yard.

A trip to Mount Warning was, perhaps, our most
memorable excursion from Tumbulgum. An easy-
going aborigine was engaged as guide, as he promised

A NATIVE GLIDE

198 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

to show us mounds of the Brush-Turkey [Catheturus
lathami]. We drove to the foot of the mountain, and,
with the native in the lead, began the ascent. Our
guide, who was accompanied by a mongrel dog and
carried an antiquated gun, was inclined to dawdle, but
he soon discovered a Brush-Turkey's nesting mound,
close to the track. Composed of earth and vegetable
matter, it was about three feet in height, with a cir-
cumference at the base of thirty feet. The mound
was in ruins, and, of course, we were not satisfied with
it; but the guide considered that he had fulfilled his
promise, and did not worry about finding another
mound. He displayed energy, however, when we
approached a group of trees, among whose lofty
branches Topknot Pigeons [Lopholaimus antarcticus]
were feeding. Two shots were fired, and a brace of
plump birds was picked up by the native.

For hours we wandered on the mountain slopes,
amid enchanting forest scenery. But the atmosphere
was oppressive, like that in a hot house, and when we
reached the open country again it was good to breathe
cool air.

In every way, our sojourn in the Tweed River
district was successful, though we had not sufficient
time to visit all the interesting spots. Perchance
some of the scrub which we explored has been de-
stroyed; but whatever axe and fire have done, they
cannot dim bright memories of days among the palms.

Brisbane, the fair capital cf Queensland, is a
pleasant place for naturalists. When in the city a
few years ago, I frequently visited the Botanic Gar-
dens to observe Fig-Birds [Sphecoiheres maxillaris]
and Friar-Birds [Tropidorhynchus corniculatus] ,
which were numerous. But a more interesting locality
is the Enoggera water reserve, about eight miles from
the city, where Comb-crested Jacanas [Parra gal-
linaceci] may be studied at close range.

AMONG THE PALMS 199

When I visited Enoggera the lake was aglow with
water lily blooms, both blue and white. In some
places lilies grew so thickly that it was difficult to
force a passage for the boat, and at every stroke the
oars received a burden of leaves and stems. But speed
was not required; one wished to linger where thou-
sands of blossoms nodded above still water like chalices
abrim with sunshine. Several Jacanas were observed,
walking over the broad, flat lily leaves. The feet of
the Lotus-Bird (a prettier name than Jacana) are
adapted for walking over floating leaves ; the toes and
claws are of great length, and the latter are turned
upward. An hour's search among the lilies was re-
warded by the discovery of two nests, composed of
aquatic plants, each containing four eggs — the average
clutch. The eggs of the Jacana are beautiful, and col-
lectors prize them. Pyriform in shape, the shell is
of fine texture, and highly glossed; the ground colour
is rich, yellowish olive, freely marked with lines of
dark brown and black, which interlaces, forming
blotches.

CHAPTER X.
CORAL ISLES

T^ORTUNE favoured the Ornithologists' Union
•H when it organised an expedition to the Capri-
-^- corn Group, at the southern extremity of the
Great Barrier Reef. The use of the Federal
Fisheries Investigation vessel Endeavour, as a trans-
port, was granted, and the captain and crew rendered
assistance which smoothed more than one rough place.
The steamer conveyed us to and from the mainland
and the isles; we enjoyed short cruises aboard her,
and the skipper sent gifts of fish to our camps. The
farewell cheers that were given when we returned to
Gladstone were not formal, but prompted by gratitude
to our sailor friends.

The Capricorn Archipelago was visited by Pro-
fessor Jukes in 1843, in H.M.S. Fly, and, so far as
known, no other naturalists worked among the isles
until 1904, when Mr. C. Hedley, F.L.S., of Sydney,
and several of his friends, spent a week on Mast Head.
In his paper on the mollusca of the reef,* Mr. Hedley
states that, strictly speaking, the group is not a part of
the Great Barrier, which ends in Swain Reefs, a coral
maze, north of the Capricorns, between which and the
islands lies Curtis Channel, which is broad and deep.
But, he adds, for zoological purposes, these pseud-
atolls may conveniently be regarded as a continuation
of the Great Barrier. We met Mr. Hedley in Sydney,
and from him obtained information which proved of
great service. He warned us not to be far out on the

*Proceedings of the Linnean Society of Neiv
South Wales, 1906, Vol. XXX., Part 3.

CORAL ISLES

201

reef at the turn of the tide, for the sea raced over the
coral at a rate of two knots an hour. The range of
the tides is fourteen to fifteen feet. The Tropic of
Capricorn bisects the Archipelago.

We left Gladstone Jetty early on the morning of
October 8th, 1910, and enjoyed a calm passage to the
Capricorns. ' The Pacific, dimpling in the tropic sun-
light, seemed to welcome us, and the sky was serene

AN ISLAND BEACH.

as the sea. From the steamer's deck we observed
birds and marine animals, becoming so engrossed that
the hours passed unheeded. There was some ex-
citement when a Flying-Fish [Exocetus volitans]
leaped from the sea near the Endeavour, and skimmed
above the surface for a hundred yards. The ques-
tion whether the Flying-Fish actually beats the air
with its wing-like pectoral fins, which are lengthened
and of great size, or uses them merely as parachutes,
has been much debated. During the voyage to the
Capricorns hundreds of these queer fishes were seen

202 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

darting through the air, and several observers declared
that the pectoral fins were vibrated, but not con-
tinuously, the motion being most apparent when the
fishes passed the centre of the arc of their "flight."

Dolphins [Dolphinus delphis] , popularly called
Porpoises, gambolled around the steamer's bows; oc-
casionally a huge shark was seen ; and the transparent
water was thronged with beautiful Medusae. A sharp
look-out was kept for Portuguese Men-of-War
[Physalia~] , but none was observed. On the Brisbane
River, a few days previously, in a launch, we passed
through a fleet of these creatures, and found thou-
sands, with deflated air bladders, stranded on a sand
bank.

Just before noon North-West Island, the largest
of the Capricorns, appeared in sight — a long- gray
shadow resting on the sea. We had decided to divide
into two parties, one of which was landed on North-
West Island. It was not safe for the steamer to
come close to the coral reef, and the anchor was
dropped in about nine fathoms, two miles from the
beach. It was flood tide, and the boats, though
heavy laden, rode easily over the reef. The unruffled
sea, of a wonderful blue tint, won oar admiration, but
in the lagoon its beauty was rivalled by that of the
corals, clearly visible on the white sand below. Pent
in "walls of glass," the submarine garden glowed with
many colours. We had read many descriptions of
coral reefs, and were not disappointed by the reality.
Few objects in Nature are moie enchanting than
living corals ; the "skeletons" stored in museums are
interesting, but can never satisfy one who has drifted
in a boat over a reef in the tropic sea.

My lot was cast with the second party, and when
the boats returned to the steamer I was aboard the
mate's craft. With a farewell shriek from her siren,
the Endeavour headed for Mast Head, an islet about
one hundred acres in extent, lying seventeen miles to

204 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

westward. It was 3 p.m. when she arrived off the
reef, and the tide was ebbing fast. We disembarked
from the boats on the outer edge of the reef. Heavy
boxes, water cans and other baggage had to be carried
across the causeway of dead coral, and after an hour
of this work, some of us felt like the penitent who
forgot to boil the peas that he was ordered to place
in his shoes. The men with stout sea boots suffered
only fatigue, but others wore rubber-shoes, and felt
jagged coral through the soles, while in the shallow
lagoon coral scratched and bruised their legs. The
seamen worked with a will — but for their help we
would have been in a worse plight — and it was dark
when they bade us good-bye. All the baggage was
piled on the island beach. But our troubles had not
ended ; before the tents could be pitched, a storm
burst. Rain fell in torrents, and, drenched to the
skin, we erected the large tent, which became both
store-house and dwelling. Our blankets were damp,
but amid bulging sacks, boxes and portmanteaux we
made ourselves fairly comfortable, and smoked and
yarned till after midnight. The rain continued, and
its tattoo on the canvas finally lulled us to sleep.

The dawn was bright and fragrant, and it was
with rising spirits that we emerged from a dripping
tent into sunlight. There was work for all hands
during the forenoon, and when the cook beat his
dinner gong (a biscuit tin) we felt that a meal had
been earned. The tents were pitched in a grove of
Casuarinas on one of the raised beaches; a fireplace
was built of coral-sand-rock and "nigger-heads" ; and
when the Union Jack fluttered from a sapling, the
camp was fully established. Our stock of flour,
sugar, tea, tinned meats, and so forth was sufficient
for a month; but the water supply was limited, and
as there was not even a pool on Mast Head, we had to
be careful. We washed in the sea, a handful of fine
coral sand being used for scrubbing. Salt water and

CORAL ISLES 205

soap do not agree, and, lacking lather, it was difficult
to maintain a civilised standard of bodily cleanliness.
Shaving became almost a lost art among us, and in a
week the young men, who had landed on Mast Head
with smooth cheeks and chins, were bearded.

When the Endeavour's skipper sent water ashore
to replenish our cans, we enjoyed liberal draughts, but
in a day or two returned to the old order. Only once,
however, did we actually feel the need of water, when
the cans were nearly all empty, and there was no sign
of the steamer. Half in jest and half in earnest, we
discussed the possibility of making a condenser. Next
morning the Endeavour was lying off the reef, and
we sent three cheers ringing across the sea. They
were not heard, of course, but doubtless, through his
glass the captain discerned us grouped upon the
beach. The lack of permanent fresh water on the
island was beneficial in one respect. We were not
worried by mosquitoes ; indeed, there were few pests
of any kind, unless the small crabs, which burrowed
in the sand beneath our blankets, could be classed as
such.

At leisure after camp-making on that first long
day at Mast Head, we began to explore the islet. We
walked around it on the sunlit beach, and crossed in
different directions through the jungle. A series of
storm beaches, fringed with She-oaks, and a stratum
of coral-sand-rock, were of special interest. The She-
oaks formed a girdle, broken here and there, and be-
hind them grew bushes of Sophora, Turenefortia, Pan-
danus Palms, and smaller plants, while the centre of
the islet was occupied chiefly by Pisonia trees. In
the forest were glades and avenues, where the sun-
light gleamed on a carpet of dead leaves; white-
flowered creepers [Ipomsea] festooned the tree trunks.
Some of the Pisonias rose to a height of nearly sixty
feet, and their spreading branches, strung with broad
leaves, afforded grateful shade. A species of Ficus,

206 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

with small red fruit, was comparatively rare, but
Pandanus Palms flourished in the forest, as well as
along the beach. The rod-like, aerial roots of some
of the palms formed a high palisada around the trunks.

On the sand spits Bridled Terns [Onychoprion
amestheta] , Crested-Terns [Sterna cristate], Lesser-
Crested Terns [S. media], and Black-naped Terns [S.
melanauchen] were congregated, but they rose in
clouds when disturbed by the unaccustomed sight of
men, and, with querulous cries, joined the birds
scattered over the reef. Rounding a corner, we sur-
prised five Reef-Herons [Demiegretta sacra], perched
on limbs of a dead tree, in the characteristic hunch-
backed attitude, looking at the sea — or perhaps they
were watching some Silver Gulls that were feeding
on the decomposed flesh of a stranded shark. Many
other birds were noted, and we returned to camp
satisfied that Mast Head was a naturalists' Eden.

Our second night on the islet was passed in com-
fort, and thenceforward we had no reason to complain
of harsh treatment from the elements. The violent
storm which marked our arrival was followed by
halcyon weather. For ten days we studied the bird
life, and the wonderful fauna of the reef, under most
favourable conditions. Cook did all the dreary camp
work, and we lost none of the precious hours that
could be devoted to natural history. Quiet rambles
along the beach and in the forest, with field glass and
camera, collecting on the reef, and fish-spearing in
the lagoon, were daily occupations. A small, flat-
bottomed boat was used for cruises in the lagoon, but
it was too frail a craft to navigate in the sea beyond
the coral barrier. Fish were speared for food, though
the marine zoologist rescued some specimens, which
he considered it a scandal to place in the frying-pan,
and preserved them in spirit. Many of the fishes
captured were small, and all were beautiful, blue,

THE PISONIA FOREST

208 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

scarlet, silver, gold, orange-brown, and green be-
ing among the colours displayed by different species.
Tiny fishes, which haunted the branches of living
corals, harmonised with their surroundings, and were
detected only when frightened away from their
shelter. It was the same with crustaceans and other
animals.

The reef at low tide was exposed for some four
miles from east to west, and less than half that dis-
tance from north to south. It proved to be a rich collect-
ing place. Overturning "nigger-heads," we found num-
bers of molluscs, sponges, echinoderms, and so forth.
Cowries were so abundant that one could gather a
bucketful in an hour. Some were large, but a small
species, with a delicate violet-coloured shell, was most
attractive. As a rule, the shell was concealed by a black
mantle. It was necessary to shatter clumps of coral
in order to obtain some of the cowries, which were
buried among the branches. Tridacna shells of
large size were numerous, the finest specimens being
in the lagoon. A few "nigger-heads" were collected
on the crest of the reef and carried ashore, but they
were too bulky to pack in specimen cases, and were
abandoned when we left the islet. These curious
objects are composed of an Astrean species of coral;
they are roughly globular, and of a dark colour. At
Mast Head many of the "nigger-heads" were tufted
with purple-shelled rock oysters.

We waded in the lagoon at low tide, when the
dead tops of coral masses showed above the surface.
The "floor" of the lagoon was nearly covered with
living coral. Sandy channels intersected the sub-
merged "tableland" — composed of clumps of Madre-
pora, Turbinaria, and other corals — which sometimes
crumbled as we walked along it, with the result that
our legs were scratched by the jagged fragments.
The colours of the corals included purple, violet,
yellow, brown, green and crimson, and we never tired

CORAL ISLES

209

of gazing at the "flowers" in this submarine garden.
A series of specimens of the Mushroom Coral
[Fungia], illustrating the life history, was collected.
This solitary coral increases by budding, and one of
our specimens was a recently detached bud, which re-
sembled a tiny toadstool.

HOLOTHURIANS IN CORAL POOL.

Holothurians, the beche-de-mer of commerce,
were abundant in the lagoon, where they crawled
over the sandy spots or lay huddled in the shelter of
coral blocks. A large black species, slimy and re-
pulsive, was most numerous. When alarmed, these
sea-slugs contracted their bodies, and ejected a cloud
of sticky, white filaments, which waved in the water
like cilia. Another species, about six inches in
length, was shaped like a cucumber, and the pinky-
red body was dotted with blunted spikes. Sea Hares

N

210

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

[Aplysia] also inhabited the lagoon. When dis-
turbed the creatures discharged from glands in the
mantle a purplish fluid that discoloured the water
for yards around. Among the coral black-and-white
eels were seen occasionally. Sea snakes kept out of
our way, and none of us was particularly anxious to
encounter venomous reptiles.

TURTLE TRACKS ON THE BEACH.

We were able to study the Green Turtle [Chelone
mydas] at close range; for the breeding season had
begun, and thousands of the huge creatures had come
to the Capricorns. It was nothing unusual to see
twenty or thirty basking on the beach, and as many
more swimming in the lagoon. When a sleeping
turtle was aroused, it hastened to the sea, spurting
sand in all directions with its powerful, paddle-shaped
limbs. A full-grown Turtle can drag two men, or
carry them on its carapace. Frequently we enjoyed
turtle-back rides. It was easy enough to secure a

CORAL ISLES

211

steed, but impossible to control it. Creeping up to
a basking Turtle, one leaped on to its carapace,
secured a firm hold, and awaited events. As a rule
the ride was short and exciting. Aroused, the Turtle
scrambled over the beach to the sea, swam for a few
yards, and dived, when the rider, if wise, relinquished
his seat immediately.

TURTLES COMING ASHORE.

The Turtles' nests were situated along the edge
of the scrub, among sand hillocks. Probably there
was a large number, but only a few fresh nests were
discovered; hollows in the coral sand marked the
sites of old ones. Turtle tracks from the lagoon to
the scrub scarred the beach all around the islet. The
animals come from the sea at night to make their
nests, excavating deep holes with their hind flippers.
When the eggs have been deposited, the hollows are

212

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

filled in, and the Turtles return to the sea. A Logger-
head Turtle [Thalassochelys caretta] was seen swim-
ming in the lagoon at Mast Head, and a dead specimen
was found on the beach. The Loggerhead possesses
a more powerful beak than the Green Turtle, and its
carapace is beautifully marked. Many of the Turtles

TURTLE, SLEEPING.

examined were "old stagers," whose carapaces were
dotted with barnacles and limpets. When our supply
of fresh meat failed a Turtle was killed; judg-
ing by the toughness of its grilled flesh, the creature
was a centenarian.

During several hours of the day the heat was so
great that one could not walk bare-footed on the
beach without discomfort; for the sand was almost
hot enough to blister the flesh. But the nights were
cool. Moonlight silvered the sea, and the white beach

CORAL ISLES

213

was barred by the shadows of flying birds. Often I
walked alone from the camp to Frigate-Bird Point,
where, seated on a sand hummock, I endeavoured
to identify birds by their notes. The night was
always loud with bird voices, which drowned the
musical ripple of the sea, and the croon of She-oak

NEST AND EGG OF WHITE - CAPPED NODDY.

boughs. Thousands of shadowy forms passed over-
head, to and from the sea and the scrub, and thou-
sands patrolled the beach. The plaintive calls of
the Black Oyster-Catcher [Hasmatopus fuliginosus]
and the clicking croak of the White-capped Noddy
[Anous leucocapillus], were unmistakable ; many of the
other notes were puzzling. A small flock of Lesser
Frigate-Birds [Tachypetes (Fregata) ariel] at dusk
each day came to the Point to roost in the Casuarinas.
We never failed to watch for the birds, which late in

214

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

the afternoon appeared suddenly, a cluster of black
specks at first, as if created by magic of the burnished
sky. When close to the islet the great birds, high
in air, performed graceful manoeuvres on apparently
motionless wings. They soared for an hour or
longer, before sweeping down to the She-oaks.

WHITE -CAPPED NODDY ON NEST.

White-capped Noddies, whose nests were built on
branches of the Pisonia trees, began to lay a few days
before our departure from Mast Head. The nests,
composed of layers of Pisonia leaves, pressed to-
gether when damp, were flimsy structures, measuring
from six to nine inches across the top. One egg
formed the clutch. The variation in markings was
so great that no two eggs of the hundreds examined
were exactly alike ; the colours of spots and blotches
ranged from delicate lilac to rich carmine, on a

CORAL ISLES 215

creamy white or buff ground. Nests were so
numerous that one could not walk a dozen yards in
the forest without seeing scores. It was roughly
estimated that between 30,000 and 40,000 Noddies
were nesting on the islet. All through the night we
heard the birds calling, and at dawn saw vast flocks
leave the. trees and fly out to sea in quest of food;
towards evening we watched them return. In all
my wanderings I have seen nothing more wonderful
than these flights of wild sea birds.

Brooding Noddies were easily captured; they
seemed to have little fear of man. One brave little
bird, whose egg I wished to see, pecked my hand when
it touched the nest. A bird-lover came to grief when
endeavouring to photograph a Tern on its nest. He
climbed the tall Pisonia, and ventured too far out on the
horizontal limb, which snapped, and down came
naturalist, camera and all. Fortunately, no harm
was done, except to the tree. Pisonia boughs, ap-
parently tough, are soft and sappy, and no great strain
is required to break them.

The sandy soil in the Pisonia forest was honey-
combed with burrows of the Wedge-tailed Petrel
[Puffinus sphenurus] . The birds came in from the
sea at night to renovate the old burrows, preparatory
to egg-laying, and many blundered into our tents.
One night we were aroused by a cry from the cook.
"I've got one," he shouted, and, hurrying to his
quarters, we found a Wedge-tailed Petrel had got him.
The bird had flown into the tent, and when cook, who
was in scanty attire, tried to catch it, fixed its beak
in his bare leg. The Wedge-tailed Petrel is more
slender than the Short-tailed Petrel or Mutton-Bird
[P. brevicaudus], and has light-coloured feet.

Silver Gulls [Larus novse-hollandite] were nest-
ing along the edge of the scrub, close to our tents.
One nest was prettily situated beneath a She-oak
sapling, whose drooping branches formed a natural
umbrella, screening the eggs from the sun. The

216

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Gulls, though nesting in company, were not friends,
and the owners of one nest, we suspected, destroyed
the eggs of their nearest neighbours. Silver Gulls
are charming birds, but one cannot say much for their
character. Several young birds in the down were
seen on the beach; when an attempt was made to
capture one it darted into the sea, and swam bravely
for a few yards.

NEST AND EGGS OF REEF HERON.

In dense bushes near the beach, and amid the
harsh frondage of Pandanus Palms, Reef -Herons had
built their stick nests. Some contained either two
or three bluish-white eggs, while fledglings, quaint
little creatures, whose heads and beaks appeared too
big for their feeble bodies, occupied others. The
nestlings were timid, and when anybody approached
scrambled from the nest to hide in the undergrowth.
Both the blue and the white coloured Reef-Herons

CORAL ISLES 217

were nesting on the islet, and but for evidence to the
contrary, might have been mistaken for two distinct
species. The white birds were conspicuous when
they flew from the She-oaks out to the brown reef,
where they resembled flakes of foam among the coral.

A pair of White-bellied Sea Eagles [Haliasetus
leucogaster] had an eyrie in a Pisonia tree at the
eastern end of the islet. An eaglet gazed fiercely at
the naturalist wrho climbed to the nest, and menaced
him with beak and claws. The ground beneath the
nest was strewn with the skeletons of sea snakes and
fishes; bird remains were lacking. We could not
ascertain whether the Sea Eagles preyed on Terns,
though their actions on several occasions were sus-
picious, and the Noddies scattered when they swooped
over the trees.

Several Pied Bell-Magpies [Strepera graculina]
were constantly in the vicinity of our camp, and were
welcome visitors. Two Sacred Kingfishers [Halcyon
sanctus] were also friendly, and deigned to pick up
scraps thrown to them by the cook. Their nest was
near by, in a hollow limb of a Pisonia tree. These
bright birds had a favourite perch, the stake to which
our boat was moored, and one or other could be seen
upon it at intervals every day. While the storm was
raging on the night of our arrival two Kingfishers,
weary and bedraggled, flew on board the steamer,
and were captured. They seemed to be dazed, and
when brought ashore made no effort to fly for some
time.

A nest of the Barred-shouldered Dove [Geopelia
humeralis] was found in a low bush, not far from the
Sea Eagles' tree. It contained two white eggs, from
which the female bird was flushed. I spent the best
part of a morning at the nest, endeavouring to photo-
graph the bird brooding; but she slipped from the
nest when the camera was erected about six feet

218 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

away, and did not return until it was removed. Broad-
billed Bronze Cuckoos [Chalcococcyx lucidus] were
observed flying about the Turnefortia bushes, their
metallic green plumage shining in the sun. Alto-
gether forty species of birds were identified among
the Capricorns, including a number of waders. A
Barred-rumped Godwit [Limosa uropygialis] , cap-
tured on the beach one evening, was in poor condition ;
it had evidently just reached Mast Head after a
long migratory flight. Eastern Siberia is the breed-
ing place of the species.

When the Endeavour appeared off Mast Head one
afternoon, we went aboard, and a short cruise was
planned for the following day. Starting soon after
sunrise, we were able to visit two islands, and spend
a few hours on each, rambling along the beaches and
through the scrub. Erskine Island, the smallest of
the Capricorn Group, lying only a few miles from Mast
Head, was quickly explored. The sunlit beach was
strewn with shells. Many specimens of the Bailer
Shell [Melo diadema] were collected, but few were
perfect. The nest of a pair of White-bellied Sea
Eagles, built on the summit of a large Sophora bush,
became the centre of interest, because it was occupied
by a fledgling. Before we landed one of the parent
birds was at the eyrie, but it flew to the other side of
the islet, leaving the eaglet to take care of itself. Climb-
ing to the nest, a huge pile of sticks that would have
filled a dray, I found the eaglet ready for battle. And
when I retired to secure a photograph from the ground,
it clambered to the rim of the nest, where it perched
in an attitude of defiance.

On Heron Island, which resembled Mast Head in
most respects, we did not observe Sea Eagles, but felt
sure that one pair at least was in possession. Black
Oyster-Catchers were busy on the beach, and a nest
containing a chick and a chipped egg was discovered
on the sand under a bush. Reef-Herons were more

CORAL ISLES

219

numerous than at Mast Head, and were nesting among
the larger bushes and Pandanus Palms. Hundreds
of Turtles were basking on the southern beach, and
few of them stirred until we were close enough to
touch their huge bodies with a stick. Heron Island
possessed many charms ; but we had come to regard

REEF HERON NESTLING.

Mast Head as "our island," and were glad to be back
again after our pleasant cruise.

It was my good fortune to be chosen as historian
of the expedition, and I spent a few days with the
party on North-West Island. Their camp was dif-
ferent from ours at Mast Head, because they made use
of some buildings on the island, where turtle-soup
canning operations had been carried on. A huge
pile of bleached bones near the silent "factory" showed

220 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

that the flesh of many Turtles had been reduced to
soup. Nobody connected with the industry visited
the island during the naturalists' sojourn there.

Birds on North-West Island had enemies in their
midst, domestic cats gone wild. One of the fierce
animals was shot; but others were seen, and we feared
that the tribe might increase and become a serious
menace to bird-life. Walking through the scrub one
morning, I was astonished by the sight of a neat picket
fence, enclosing a small area, and with a wooden cross
at one end. It was the grave of a child, a lonely rest-
ing place within sound of the sea. The jungle was
building green walls about it, and the cross was shaded
by a drooping bough. The spot seemed familiar, and
suddenly I remembered a solitary grave on a hillside
in Queensland. Continuing my ramble, I met two
other naturalists, and together we crossed the island
through the Pisonia forest. Emerging from the scrub
on to a sunlit beach, we disturbed a flock of Terns and
spoiled the post prandial nap of a Turtle. North-
West Island seemed to be a stronghold of Turtles, for
hundreds were counted during the walk back to camp.

On board the Endeavour a trip was made to North
Reef, which is marked by a lighthouse. The keepers
and their kin, though taken by surprise, gave us a
warm welcome. North Reef Islet is only a ridge of
sand, with bushes growing on the summit, and "Roly-
poly" grass and evergreen creepers spread over the
flat area. It was low tide when we arrived, and the
reef was exposed. Among the pools Reef-Herons
were feeding, and they allowed us to approach close
to them. The light-keepers explained that they liked
to have the birds about, and never disturbed them.

From North Reef the steamer took us to Tryon
Island, where an exciting incident occurred. The tide
was at half-flood when the first boat left the En-
deavour to take four naturalists ashore. When it was
about three-quarters of a mile from the beach the boat

222 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

struck a reef, and its occupants, jumping out, began
to wade. The water inside the reef, waist deep at
first, as the tide rushed in rose to the waders' arm-
pits, and in the swirl it was hard for them to keep on
their feet. Several big sharks were seen, and Green
Turtles were swimming in all directions. From the
steamer's deck I watched my friends battling with the
sea, and was thankful when they reached the beach.
The second boat was taken over the reef with ease, for
the water was deeper. On Tryon Island Reef -Herons
and other birds were nesting, but we had time for only
hurried observations.

When the day of departure came we were sorry
to bid the islands farewell, and during the voyage to
Gladstone could talk only of their beauty and wonder-
ful fauna. The expedition had been successful, for
we gleaned diligently, but another month could have
been profitably spent among the Capricorns.
Naturalists who visit the group in the future should
reap a rich harvest.

FINIS.

BLACK SWANS.

INDEX

Page

Page

Albatross ' . .

. . . . 61, 76

Cowrie

. ..208

Ants, Red

190

Crabs, Mangrove

. .. 45

Ant-eater Banded

96

Crow

148, 165

Apostle Bird

. . . . 93, 94

Cuckoo, Broad-billed Bronze .

23,218

Avocets, Red-necked . . .

. . 151, 152

„ Narrow-billed Bronze

. .. 23

Fantailed

. 23,24

Bats ("Flying-Foxes") .

. . 184, 186

Pallid

23, 24, 52

Bell-bird, Crested . .

84

Curlew ,

. ..182

Bell-Miner

51

Bell-Magpie, Black

. . . 152, 217

Bee-eater

115

Diamond Bird (Pardalote),

Red-

Beche-de-mer

209

tipped 19

Beetles, Diamond . .

31

Spotted . . .

. .. 19

Firefly . .

191

Dingo

. 44, 85

Dolphin

202

,, Jewel
Longicorn . . . .

ol
33

Dove, Barred-shouldered . . .

. ..217

„ Water

110

„ Ground

. . . 178

Bittern

. . 117, 118

Dragonfly

31, 110

Blanket-wood tree . .

47

Drongo, Spangled

. . . 188

Bottlebrush

126

Duck, Black 100

, 112, 150

Bower-Bird, Satin . .

... 40, 42

„ Freckled

.. 126

Spotted . .

97

„ Musk 118, 119, 120

Butcher-Bird

27

Pink-eared 100

, 101, 167

Bush-Chat, tricolored . . .

. . 158, 160

„ White-eyed

. ..150

Butterfly, Australian Admiral ... 31

„ Wood (Maned Goose) .

. ..167

Bird-wing . .

.. 181,188

Common Brown

31

Eagle, White-bellied Sea . .

217,218

„ Glass-wing . .

196

Eel

. ..210

Moonlight Blue

31

Egret

110, 112

Wood-Brown . .

31

Emu 49, 56, 57, 84

, 142. 154

•**— -«~ 1

Emvi-Wren

53, G4, 55

Cat

I

Centipede

1,, \

Chough, White-winged . .

91,92, 93,94

Falcon, Black-cheeked

. . . 175

Cicada

. .. 31,196

Fantail, Black-and-White .. .

. . . 126

Coachwhip-Bird

24,25,26,27

White-shafted . .

. 16, 17

Cockatoo, Black

27

Fern, King

. .. 47

Rose-breasted (Galah) . 88,

„ Tree

. . 42, 47

168,

169, 170, 171,

,, Staghorn

. . . 184

172

, 173, 174, 178

Fern, Staghorn

. . . 184

*•? ilnVmr r -t^d

(White) 101,

Fig-Bird

198

174. 175

Fig, Moreton liay

183. 184

Coral

202, 208, 209

Finch, Chestnut-eared.

. ..121

Cormorant. Black . .

151

Fish. Coral

206, 208

Little Black

102

„ Flying

201, 202

Pied

. . 101, 102

Fox 85, 121, 143

, 144, 146

Little Pied . .

. .. 101,112

Friar-Bird

. ..198

White-breasted . . . 66, 68

Frigate-Bird, Lesser

213,214

226

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Page

Patre

Frog 30, 104, 105, 156

Lowan (Mallee Fowl) ..

79, 80, 81, 84,

,, Slender Tree . .

196

86

87, 88, 90, 91

Frogmouth, Tawny . .

126, 128, 129

Lyre Bird 36

37, 38, 40, 49

Gannet

. . . . 64, 65

Magpie, White-backed . .

.. .. 15,27

Godwit, Barred-rumped .

218

Magpie-Lark

. . . . 92, 93

Goose, Cape Barren . . .

. . 155, 156

Mangrove, Spurious . .

45

„ Maned

167

Mistletoe Bird

... 18, 19

Grass-Bird

103

Mopoke

129

Grass-tree

126

Mosquitoes

102, 129, 130

Grasshopper

163

Moth, Cup

33

Grass-Wren, Striated . .

81

Grebe, Crested

. . . 101, 120

Native Cat

56

Hoary-headed . . .

101

Native Companion

109, 121, 173

Grey Jumper

. . . . 93, 94

Native Hen, Black-tailed .

. .. 101, 150

Gum, Sugar

123

Nautilus, Pearly

42

Gull, Pacific

65

Nettle Giant

188

„ Silver . . . . 42, 65

206, 215, 216

Ostrich

143, 152, 154

Hare

74

Owl, Delicate

. . . 180, 181

Hawk, Allied Swamp . .

116, 117, 146

„ Boobook

129

Heath

53

Oyster-catcher, Black . . .

90, 213, 218

Heron, Reef . . . . 206,

216, 217, 218,

Oyster, Rock

208

219, 220, 222

Opossum (Phalanger), Fly

ing . 33, 31

„ Night

. . 100, 113

Ring-tail ....

15, 33

White-fronted . . .

. . 100, 141

Short-eared . .

73

Honey-eater, Helmeted .

49, 51, 52, 53

"Sugar Squirre

" . . . . 34

New Holland

20

Yellow-faced

20

Pademelon

194

Yellow-plumed .. .. 84

Palm, Climbing Lawyer

188

„ Pandanus

- .. 205,206

Jbis, Straw-necked . . 163

164, 165, 1S6

„ Walking-stick . . .

.. ..188

„ White

117

Parrot, "Blue Bonnet" .

.. 172,173

Cockatoo

177

Grass

Jacana, Comb-crested . .

. . 198, 199

lob

Ground

. . . 145, 146

Kangaroo
Kestrel, Nankeen
Kingfisher, Forest . . . .

. 49, 73, 84
178
192

Many Coloured . .
PennantV (Crimso
„ Por^Xincoln .. .

124
n) . . . 49
124

„ Great Brown

(Kooka-

jr'» Rosella

. . 136, 138
27

burra)
Sacred . .

. . 15, 28, 29
.. ..217

Warbling-Grass . .

.. ..181

White-tailed .
Koala ("Native Bear") .

192
. .. 43,49

,, Yellow i't f
Pelican 60, 100, 147, 148, 149
Penguin, Fairy 59, 60

Petrel, Short-tailed (Mutton Bird) 59,

Lilies, Water . .. 110,114,

184, 194, 199

61, 62, 72, 216

Leech

190

Wedge-tailed .. .

215

Lizard, Bearded Dragon .

81

White-faced Storm

77, 78

Blue-tongued . .

. . . 29, 30

Pigeon, Crested

. . 97, 175

Gecko

30

,, Red-crowned . . .

194

Monitor ("Goanna

') . 44, 101

Topknot

198

,, Stump-tailed . . .

133

Pine, Richmond River . .

194

Lorikeet, Blue-bellied .. .

124

Pitta, Noisy

190

„ Purple-crowned

125

Platypus

44

INDEX

227

V&vc

Pajfo

Pond-skater

. ..110

Teal, Grey 100,112,150

Porcupine (Echidna) . .

. 94, 95

Tea-tree, Paperbark 194

Portuguese Man-of-War

202

Tern Black-naped . . 206

„ Bridled 206

Rabbit

114

„ Crested 206

Rat, Water

. ..104

„ Lesser Crested 206

Reedwarbler

103, 105

., Marsh 95, 156

Re(?ent-Bird . . . '.

. . . 192

„ White-capped Noddy . . 213, 214

Rifle Bird 182

, 192, 193

215, 217

Robin, Scarlet-breasted ....

... 15

Tick, Scrub 189, 190

„ Yellow-breasted Shrike

. . 17,

Tit- Warbler, Brown 21

18, 23

Striated 23

„ Scrub

. . . 81

Tortoise, Murray 115

Turkey, Brush 198

Scorpion
Scrub-Robin

. ..113
. .. 31

Turpentine Bush 80
Turtle, Green 210, 211, 212,

Scrub-Wren. White-browed .

21,23, 24

219.220,222

Sea Hare

209,210

Seal

. . . 58

Shell, Bailer

. . 218

Wallaby 49. 56, 57, 74, 194

„ Cowries

. . . 208

Water Boatmen 110

,, Tridacna

. . . 208

Water-Scorpion 110

Shieldrake, Chestnut - breasted

Whistler, Rufous-breasted 84

(Mountain Duck)

151, 175

White Ants (Termites) 129

Shrike-Thrush, Grey

. .. 55

Wood-swallow 162

Snake 29, 55, 66, 105

, 113, 116

Masked 162

„ Black

114, 167

White-browed . 160, 161

Carpet

. . . 195

White-rumped . ..178

Green Tree

195, 196

Wombat 56, 57, 71

,. Sea

210,217

Wren, Emu 53, 54, 55

Spiders

. .. 113

Wren-Warbler, Blue 15, 21, 23

Spinifex (Porcupine Grass) .

. 80, 125

Purple-backed .... 80

Swans, Black . . 96, 109, 142

, 154, 155

Black-backed . . . . 80

Swallows, Welcome

. U, 43

Red-backed 188

White-backed . . .

.. 115

White-winged .. ..121

INDEX TO SCIENTIFIC NAMES

[Though the scientific name appears only once in the text, the number of
each page on which the species is referred to by its vernacular name is given
here.]

Page

Page

Acanthiza pusilla

.. .. 21

Cheramoaca leucosternum

115

lineata

23

Chalcococcyx basalis . . .

23

Acresea andromacha . . .

. . . . 196

,, lucidus . . .

218

Acrocephalus australb . .

. . 103, 105

,, plagosus . .

23

Acrobates pygmams . .

34

Chelone mydas

210,211,212,

Alsophila australis

47

219, 220, 222

Amytornis striata

81

Circus gouldi

116, 117, 146

Amphibolurus barbatus . .

.. .. 81

Corcorax melanorhamphus

.. 91,92,

Anas supersilosa

100, 112, 150

93, 94

Anous leucocapillus . 213,

214,215,217

Colluricincla harmonica .

55

Antigone australasiana .

109, 121, 173

Cracticus destructor . . .

27

Aplysia

.. 209,210

Cuculus pallidus

. . 23, 24, 52

Araucaria cunninghamii .

.. ..194

Artamus leucogaster . . .

.. ..178

Dacelo gigas

. . 15, 28, 29

personatus . . .

. . . . 162

Dasyrus

56

sordidus
superciliosus . . .

162
. . 160, 161

Dendrophus punctulatuj .
Demigretta sacra

. . 195, 196
206,216,217,

Avicenaria officinalis . . .

45

218

219, 220, 222

Dicseum hirundinaceum .

. . . 18, 19

Barnardius zonarius . . .

. . . . 124

Dicksonia antarctica . . .

47

Biziura lobata

118, 119,120

Diprotodon

. . . . 133

Botaurus poiciloptiius . . .

. . 117, 118

Dodder

53

Buprestidae

. . . 33, 89

Dolphinus delphis . .

202

Dromaius novse-hollandia?

. 49, 143, 154

Cacatua roseicapilla . .
170, 171, 172,
galerita

88, 168, 169,
173, 174, 178
101, 174. 175

Drymodes brunneopygius
Dytiscidse
Echidna aculeata

81
110
. . . . 94, 95

Calopsitta novK-hollandiae
Cacomantis flabelliformis

177
... 23, 24

Emydura macquaria' . . .
Eopsaltria australis . .

115

. . 17, 18, 23

Caloptorhynchus funereu?
Catheturus lathami . .
Carphibis spinicollis . 163,
Casarca tadornoides ....
Casuarina

27
198
164, 165, 166
. . 151, 175
. . 125, 205

Epinephila abeona . .
Epacris
Epthianura tricolor . .
Eudyptula minor
Euphema elegans . .

31
53
.. 158,160
. . 58, 59, 60
136

Callistemon coccineus . .
Calamus

126
188

petrophila . . .
Exocetes volitans

136

. . 201, 202

Cereopsis novre-hollandia»

. . 155, 156

Cerchneis cenchroides . .

178

Falco melanogenys . .

175

Chibia bracteata

188

Ficus

183, 184, 186

Chenopsis atrata

96, 101, 109,

206, 207

142, 154, 155

Fulica australis

101, 103, 104,

Chlanaydochen jubata . .

167

116, 117

Chlaraydera maculata . .

97

Fungia

209

INDEX

229

Page

Gabianus pacincus
Galaxias

. .. 65

. 44

Geopelia humeralis

.. 217

,, tranquilla

, . . 178

Gerris

. ..110

Glossopsitta porphyrocephala .

.. 125

Grallina picata

. 92, 93

bruijni •

.. 92

Grevillea aspera

.. 125

Gymnorhina leuconota

. 15, 27

Hakea 125

Haemotopus fuliginosus . . 70, 213, 218

Halisctus leucogaster 217, 218

Halcyon macleayi 192

sanctus 217

Heloecius cordiformis 45

Herodias syrmatophorus (timorien-

sis) 110, 112

Heteronyrnpha merope 31

Hibbertia stricta 125

Hibiscus wrayse 125

Hirundo neoxena 15, 43

Hydrochelidon fluviatilis . . . . 96, 156

Hyla gracilenta 196

Holothurian . . . . 209

Ibis molucca
Ipomwa .

Kentia minor . .

.. 117
.. 205

Larus novK-hollandia;- . . . . 42, 65, 206,
215,216

Laporta gigas 188

Leipoa ocellata . . . . 79, 80, 81, 84, 86,
87, 88, 90, 91

Limosa uropygialis 218

Limacodes longerans 33

Loranthus 18

Lopholamus antarcticus 198

Luciola flavicollis 191

Malurus assimilis 80

,, cyaneus 15, 21

cruentatu 188

cyanotus 121

,, melanotus 80

Malacorhynchus membranaceus . 101,
167

Madreporu 208

Manorhina nielanopiirys 51

Macropus thetidis 194

Melo diadema 218

Melaleuca .. ..196

Page

Melopsittacus undulatus 181

Meliornis novje-hollandiso . . . . 20, 21

Menura victoria; 36, 87, 38,

40.49

Mesembryanthemum 136, 138

Merops ornatus 115

Miletus delicia 31

Myrmecobius fasciatus 96

Nepa 110

Nettium gibberifrons . . . . 100, 112, 150

Ninox boobook 129

Notophoyx novae-hollandiu) . . 104, 141

Numenius cyanops 182

Nyroca australis 160

Nycticorax caledonicus . . . . 100, 113

Oreoica cristata 84

Ocyphaps lophotes 97, 176

Onychoprion anajstheta 206

Ornithorhynchus anatinus . . . . 44

Pachycephala rufiventris 84

Pardalotus striatus 19

,, punctatus 19

Parra gallinacea 198, 199

Pelagodroma marina 77, 78

Pelecanus conspicillatus . . 60, 100, 147
148, 149

Pezoporus formosus 145, 146

Petauroides volans 33, 34

Petropus 184, 186

Petroica leggii 16

Phascolarctus cinereus 43, 49

Phalacrocorax gouldi 66

carbo 151

hypoleucus .... 101, 102
melanoleucus . . 102, 112

sulcirostris 102

Physalia 202

Pisonia 205, 215

Pitta strepitans 190

Platycercus eximius 27

elegans 49

flaveolus 177

Platycerium 184

Plotus novse-hollandite 102

Podargus strigoides . . . . 126, 128, 129

Podiceps australis 101, 120

,, poliocephalus 101

Porphyrio melanonotus 104

Psephotus multicolor 124

xanthorrhous . . . . 172, 173
Psophodes crepitans . . 24, 26, 26, 27
Pseudochirus peregrinus . . . . 15, 38

230

IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS

Page

Page

Pseudechis porphyriacus

. . .. 116,167

Stictonetta nsovosa

. . . . 126

Ptilotis cassidix .... .

49, 51, 52, 53

Stipiturus malachuru:; . .

53, 54, 55

chrysops

20

Strix delicatula

. 180, 181

„ ornatus

84

Struthidea cinerea

. . 93, 94

Ptiloris paradisea . .

182, 192, 193

Sula australis

. . 64, 65

Ptilonopus swainsoni . .

194

Ptilonorhynchus holoseric
Puffinus brevicaudus . .

eus . . 40, 42
59,62,72,215

Tachypetes (Fregata) ariel
Taaniopygia castanotis . .

. 213,214
. . . . 121

,, sphenurus . . . .
Pygoscelis adelaise . .

59
31

Tanysiptera sylvia
Tecoma austral is

.. ..192
. . . . 42

Python variegatus . .
Pyrrhocorax

195
93

Termitedso
Thalassochelys caretta . .
Tiliqua nigroleutea

. 129, 192
.. ..212
. . 29, 30

Recurvirostris rubricollis
Rhipidura albiscapa . . .
,, motacilloides .
Rhynchota

.. .. 151, 152
16, 17
126
110

Todea barbara
Trachysaurus rugosus . .
Tribonyx ventralis
Trichoglossus swainsoni . .
Trichosarus caninus

. . . . 47
. . . . 133
.. ..150
.... 124
.... 73

Tropidorhynchus corniculatus

. . . . 198

Sericornis frontalis . . .

.. 21,23,24

Troidea irretans

. 125, 126

Sericulus chrysocephaluo

192

Troides priamus

. 181, 188

Sitella

53

Turbinaria

. . . . 203

Sophora

205

Turnefortia

. . . . 205

Specotheres maxillaris

198

Strepera fuliginosa . .

.. .. 152,217

Sterna cristata

206

Varanus varius

. . 44, 101

,, media

206

,, melanauchen . .

206

Xanthorrhoea semiplana . .

. . . . 126

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