SOME AUSTRALIAN BIRDS.--1
THOUGH Australian birds are for the most part song- less, the beauty of their plumage gladdens the plains and scrubs of the back country ; and to the lonely bush- man riding over those immense tracts of sheep and cattle pasture the chattering of the cockatoos, the shrill scream of the galahs, and the clang and honk of the wild swans flying overhead make a music of their own which, harsh as it is, in some sense compensates him for the absence of songbirds.
The king of Australian birds is, of course, the emu. He is now a well-known inhabitant of most of our zoological gardens, and requires no description here ; but .to be seen at his best he must be viewed in his natural surroundings of grey bush and golden plain, feeding majestically in the tall barley grass or running at speed along a wire fence or down some brush-covered sandhill, his fleetness of foot soon putting him beyond the reach of any but the swiftest and most determined pursuer ; while anyone who has come across him, drawn up to his full height, standing at bay in a circle of savage kangaroo-hounds thirsting for his blood is not likely to forget the picture.
The plains of Western Australia, New South Wales and Queensland are covered with flocks of galahs, the pink and grey parrot of the Bush. These birds, quick and active as plovers, wheel and alight in dense and serried ranks, giving a shrill, chattering cry familiar to all who have travelled the western river-roads or rounded-up stock on the great plains. There are few more beautiful sights in bird life than that presented by a flock of galahs whirling up into the sunlight in a gleaming cloud of pink and silver.
One seldom rides far in the Bush without coming upon a flock of white cockatoos ; big, handsome fellows with yellow crests. One hears them screeching and chattering in the thin-leafed box-trees, or sees them clinging in a snow-white cloud to a dead pine or gum-tree on some ring-barked clearing. They seem to have a particular objection to the human intruder upon their solitudes, and their worst language is directed upon the innocent passer-by, who, even if he happened to have a gun with him would be unwilling to turn it upon these beautiful and harmless creatures, noisy and aggressive as they are. Their cousins, the black cockatoos, are much rarer. They have the same querulous outlook upon life and the same noisy greeting for the stranger. When their cry is par- ticularly loud it is supposed to be a sign of coming rain ; but one hears some very high-pitched and explosive lan- guage from them even in the most prolonged and severe droughts.
The ibises, both black and white, are watermen pure and simple. They haunt the big timber which grows along the banks of such rivers as the Lachlan, the Murray, the Darling and the Warrego, and pursue their riparian investigations silently and with grim determination. Whether they wage war on the cod, catfish and perch of those muddy streams, or only on the slugs and snails and water-beetles, I do not know, but their long curved beaks are formidable enough for any purpose. There is some- thing a little sinister in their haunting, silent presence ; but they are inseparable from one's memory of the western rivers, and a white ibis perched high upon a dead tree above the rushing waters of the Darling in flood, with the sunset glow upon its glistening feathers, is an impressive sight.
The pelican is a somewhat rare bird in the settled dis- tricts. One has to travel far out into the Never-Never country of Western Queensland to find them in large flocks. There, on the great silent, lonely lagoons they nest and breed. So remote are they in their habits that the phrase, "where the pelican builds her nest" has become accepted as the expression of the loneliest imaginable outpost, and incidentally has supplied the refrain for one of the most beautiful lyrics ever written in Australia. With their heavy, stunted bodies and huge, exaggerated bills they are fascinating birds to watch ; and it is a fine sight to see a great flock of them sail down to a Bush lagoon at sunset, snow-white in the ruddy glare.
A beautiful bird is the brolga—generally known as the "native companion." Belonging to the flamingo tribe, it is a tall, grey bird wall a pale red upon the underwings, and with the long, stilt-like legs of the crane family. It is fairly common on the western plains, and is seen in large flocks feeding across the open country or dancing on some claypan or beside some lagoon. Dancing is its chief interest and recreation. One of the strange, weird sights which sooner or later burst upon the gaze of the new- comer to the Bush is that of a flock of brolgas dancing. They bow and curtsey, back and advance and set to partners in the gravest and most correct manner, and have apparently certain dances of their own of which the steps are as strictly adhered to as are those of our own valses and quadrilles.
I have seen a tame brolga which never tired of playing this game, and, when one approached and bowed, would hold out a wing and go through a sort of valse with evident enjoyment.
In their wild state they are shy and difficult to approach, especially as they choose for their temporary ballroom the most open country which they can find. The bushmen have a particular fondness for this quaint and lovable bird, and to shoot a brolga is to court unpopularity.
WILL H. OGILVIE.
Previous page
