MENIRA. 317 



The Lyre-bird (Mniiim sitpcrhit) frequents the dense scrub-covered ravines and the fern 

 clad gullies of the mountain ranges of Eastern New South Wales. To a less extent it haunts 

 the tropical undergrowth of the rich coastal brushes, its range extending from the neighbourhood 

 of the Richmond River in the north, almost to the southern boundary of the State. 



The male Lyre-bird is far more frequently heard than seen, but occasional glimpses of it 

 may be sometimes caught as it quickly runs across one's path on some mountain track. The 

 long outer tail-feathers, however, are crossed and carried in a line with the body, so the beauty 

 of its tail is not seen. To see and hear the bird to advantage, one must follow it to its usual 

 scratching mound. These are low hillocks about three feet across, which these birds rake up 

 in the damp soil of the scrubs. Choose a bright, crisp day in July, when the female is engaged 

 in the duties of incubation, and the male is in perfect plumage. From the track on top of a 

 mountain range one hears the loud liquid-like notes of the male in a fern gully far below. Slowly 

 descending as noiselessly as possible, and taking care to proceed only while the bird is calling, 

 one passes through the tangled undergrowth, or over fallen timber. The bush gets thicker as 

 one gets lower down, and only occasional rays of the sun dart through the leaves of the surrounding 

 musk and sassafras trees. Nearing the bottom of the gully a thick canopy of fairy-like fern 

 fronds is overhead covered with sparkling dew-drops ; underneath are graceful festoons of 

 climbing plants, the stems of the ferns being hidden in a luxuriant growth of epiphytes and 

 cryptogams. A Rose-breasted Robin flits past echoing its monotonous " tick, tick, tick," 

 otherwise all is silent. The notes of the Lyre-bird are stopped, and one rests awhile, for although 

 it was clear and bracing on the top of the range, coming into contact with the damp undergrowth 

 coupled with the moisture-laden atmosphere, and the exertion of the descent, one is bathed in 

 perspiration. On the opposite side of a creek near at hand one hears the clear, confident swish- 

 like crack of the Whip-bird, followed by the slow harsh grating cry of the Funereal Black 

 Cockatoo, this is succeeded by the shrill notes of the Pied Crow-shrike, and the low whistle of 

 the King Lory; what a veritable bird paradise is this place. In the same direction again is 

 heard the loud natural notes of the Lyre-bird. Carefully crossing the bed of the creek, and 

 getting on the other side, one crawls nearer as he is engaged in his song, hardly daring to lift a 

 foot, for the snapping of a twig, or the rolling of a pebble is enough to alarm this timid bird. 

 Gently pushing one's way through an undergrowth of ferns, and keeping well within the shelter 

 of the stems of the intervening tree-ferns, it is possible to get within a few yards of the bird. 

 Through the ferns, by dint of perseverance and good fortune, one may see a fine old male swiftly 

 gyrating on his fern encircled playing-mound, and seemingly intoxicated with the pleasure of 

 his rich and varied repertoire, but far more often will he catch only a momentary glimpse of the 

 tips of his tail-feathers, which are carried erect. Now he is engaged scratching and searching 

 for insects, and inwardly repeating in low notes to himself his largely acquired vocabulary of 

 other species. This does not last long, for his loud and joyous notes again burst forth, as he 

 quickly twists and turns on his mound. To gain a better view one risks stepping very quietly 

 on to a fallen branch, or stone ; at the same time there is a slight movement in the low ferns on 

 the opposite side of the mound, and one's Whip-bird, Black Cockatoo, Pied Crow-Shrike and 

 King Lory have all vanished in the form of the wary mocking bird who has just been disturbed 

 from his well raked play ground. 



It is satisfactory to know that this species may be found within seven miles of Sydney. 

 Frequently while fishing have I listened to the loud notes of the male, in the rocky gullies of the 

 upper parts of Middle Harbour. During a very hot, dry summer, when bush fires were prevalent 

 in this neighbourhood, a female sought refuge in the fowl-yard of Mr. J. Fitzsimons, near the 

 railway line at Gordon, and was subsequently presented to the Trustees of the Australian 

 Museum. At Roseville Park I heard one of these birds when in company with Mr. R. N. iMeikle, 

 on the nth .\ugust, 1907. It was in a gully running into Middle Harbour that we stealthily 



