2 3 8 



' reflex of light their wing feathers change from a glossy green hue to a rich bronze colour. 

 ' The breast and neck boast a soft shade of silver-grey, the under plumage of the wings is 

 ' a delicate salmon-pink. Here and there the prevailing brown becomes merged in a 

 ' neutral tint. The Blue or Keck Pigeon is a much smaller bird— grey, witli markings of 

 ' black about the wings and head His bill is straight, not slightly curved as is usually the 

 ' case with the pigeon tribe. . . . The other morning I disturbed a covey of Quail, ten 

 ' birds in all, they were crouching in a patch of bush overgrown with wild oats, situated 

 ' not far from the farm paddocks, and doubtless the seeds had been dropped by birds as 

 ' they passed between the fields and a creek at the foot of the slope. The Quail will run 

 ' through long grass with incredible speed, and on the wing he is by means easy to shoot, 

 ' so swift is its flight. I have noticed but one kind of dove in these parts The beautiful 

 ' Bleeding-heart Dove is only to be found in more tropical regions; this bird has a single 

 ' speck of the brightest blood red hue on the plumage of his breast, hence the name. In 

 ' the neighbourhood of a river, especially where the soil is marshy, Swamp-hens— as some 

 ' call them— congregate by the hundred. Their deep blue plumage and red legs make a 

 ' brave show as they wheel in little clouds over the coarse reeds, or follow the windings of 

 1 the water with shrill outcry. Here the Grey Heron or Crane, with its long clumsy legs 

 ' and bayonet-like bill, may be seen apparently wrapped in contemplation, but in reality 

 ' very wide awake, standing sentinel upon a smooth-washed boulder in mid-stream. 

 ' Occasionally he darts swiftly downwards descending on some heedless frog or tadpole. 

 ' then returns to his former post of observation. . . . Some miles further back into the 

 ' stretch of country which lies between the valley of the Avon and that of the Helena, the 

 ' Emu, biggest of the bush birds, is still fairly plentiful ; their tracks are to be seen near 

 ' any water soak, and once a friend of mine, who was driving into York, told me that one 

 ' ran for quite a considerable distance just in front of his buggy, much to the discomfort of 

 ' the horse, and it was some time before he could scare the interloper away with shouts and 

 1 murderous menaces. I came across an Eagle-hawk's nest a few days ago, built in an in- 

 ' accessible fork at the very summit of a withered tree- These nests are remarkable for 

 ; their size, and are fashioned of twigs, many of them as large in circumference as a man's 

 little finger, like those of the Magpie and Pigeon they are roughly put together, present- 

 ing rather a ragged appearance. At this season, when by six or seven o'clock in the 

 morning the sun's rays are already unpleasantly powerful, the evening is perhaps the 

 ; best time to go abroad. Then only the higher hills and the topmost branches of the 

 forest trees catch the last warm gleams of light, and down in the hollow lands the night 

 1 is gathering about her a host of shadows. An hour when the curlew's weird crying 

 seems wonderfully in keeping with the eerie stillness of the lonely bush, and the Magpie's 

 note has a sweeter cadence than it had when the course of the burning day was yet un- 

 run. Even the Crow seems less carping'.y critical now that his nefarious errands are 



accomplished for awhile at least." 



( To be continued). 



Correspondence. 



A BARREN SEASON. 



Sir, — In response to your request for notes on the doings of my birds, 

 I may say that the season has been a very bad one with me, one of the 

 worst I can remember, that is, so far as the breeding of foreign birds is 

 concerned. I really cannot give any reason for this, for all the birds have 

 been in splendid condition. 



The Malabar Starlings which last year hatched four young, but did 

 not fully rear them, have not even made a nest this year. My Crested 

 Doves have been very idle, no nest built, but the hen has dropped a number 



