I 86 D'Ombrain, Visi^ to an Ibis Rookery. [ancFX"!! 



We push on, and at last enter one of' the "Kaladbro " paddocks, 

 where we see both the Corella and the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo 

 {Licmetis nasica and Cacatuci galerita), in pairs and in small 

 families, screeching and chattering in anxiety over their nesting 

 cares. We now can see the woolshed, and, after skirting a large 

 circular swamp, my chum points out some men in the distance, one 

 of whom he fancies is his friend the manager, Mr. J. Hunt. 



As we drive up to the drafting yards his surmise turns out to be 

 correct, for there is Mr. Hunt busy giving delivery of a mob of sheep 

 to a tall, sunburnt drover, who, with dogs and tilt-cart, is ready for 

 the road. After some " parting injunction," Mr. Hunt joins us, and, 

 at his invitation, we " make tracks " for the homestead, " Avenue 

 Bank." 



Of course, shearing is in full swing, and it is the manager's busiest 

 time, but when we explain our mission he promises to join our ex- 

 pedition on Sunday morning — an act of self-denial, for he has earned 

 his Sunday rest. After a warm bush welcome from our hostess, 

 Mrs. Hunt, we remove our traces of travel and soon assist in 

 " removing " some food also, the latter with great zest. 



A yarn, with pipes going full blast, on the verandah and well-kept 

 buffalo grass lawns — for this garden and grounds would vie with any 

 Toorak one, being laid out by one of Melbourne's foremost 

 gardeners many years ago, and kept in excellent order ever since — 

 we pass the time till someone suggests " a piece of bed," and as we 

 are in for a tiring day on the morrow, at lo p.m. we retire. 



On the following morning at 6 o'clock I am up and out, and climb 

 up the windmill, from the top staging of which one can ^ei a good 

 view of the swamp where we are going to spend such a glorious 

 time. 



Briefly, it is an area of many acres, between 300 and 400, covered 

 from edge to edge with rushes varying in height from a foot, at the 

 edges, to 8 to 12 feet in the central portions. One can see what 

 appears to be a clear space in the centre of the swamp, on which 

 the glass shows hundreds of birds, and as there are always some 

 leaving and returning from this place, one can see they are the 

 Ibises, and that they are as busy as bees at the entrance to the hives. 

 Returning to the garden, I note the clear song of the Reed- Warbler 

 {Acrocephalus australis). I am allowed to get quite near him as he 

 hops from twig to twig of an apple tree in a sort of restless manner, 

 and I can watch his little throat swelling, and his cap erect, as he 

 keeps up his liquid song, which, though somewhat oft repeated, is 

 very musical, and sounds to my ear like " Choo-choo, wheea-wheea- 

 whee." 



Soon after breakfast we harness up, and proceed to the swamp, 

 where we are met by an employe, Mr. W. M'Lennan, of Casterton, 

 who, my friend Barton declares, is as enthusiastic as myself where 

 birds are concerned. Arrived at the opposite side of the swamp 

 from the house — this being the selected point of attack — we soon get 

 into " wading dress " (I might remark it is one not usually depicted 

 in fashion plates), and three of us (Mr. Hunt modestly declining our 



