138 TROMSO^^, Haunt of the Ihitcltcr Bird. Ti^fffcT 



In the Haunt of the Grey Butcher Bird 

 (Cracticus torquatus) 



By DON ALU F. F. THCJMSOX, R.A.CJ.i;., Canterbury, \'ic. 



During the spring, amongst the army of birds that followed 

 the plough or j)erched nearby on a point of vantage, to pounce 

 upon the cockchafer grubs turned over by the mouldboard, was 

 a pair of Grey Butcher liirds (Cracticus torquatus). 



For some time I watched them carefully without obtaining any 

 clue as to the whereabouts of the nest I felt sure was close by. 

 On October 7th, however, I was rewarded by .»eeing one bird 

 fly ofif into the timber with a mouthful of grubs. I watched 

 until it vanished in the trees, but hearing its loud echoing calls, 

 I knew it had not gone far. After a short search I found the 

 nest, about 20 feet high in a messmate or stringy bark sapling 

 so slender and straight that I was afraid photography would be 

 difficult. 



A second nest was discovered on the same day. It contained 

 two newly hatched nestings, and one egg, already cracking, from 

 which the bird was about to emerge. This nest was also about 

 20 feet high, but photography was practically impossible. The 

 male, though calling in the locality, displayed not the slightest 

 signs of alarm or annoyance as I climbed the dense Casuarina 

 tree to the nest. The female, brooding, sat tight until I was 

 w-ithin a few feet of her, when she quietly slipped off the nest. 

 After examining the nest, I descended the tree ; the female went 

 to a branch beside the nest, where she sat as if in great sorrow 

 or dejection, and was still there when I left. It was remarkable, 

 and intensely interesting. 



I noticed somewhat similar behaviour on the part of this 

 species at a later date. The extraordinarily quiet and detached 

 air of this pair of birds gave me an altogether false impression of 

 the nature of the species. 



I spent the afternoon in building a strong staging ujion which 

 to work the camera at the first nest. It proved a long job, and 

 the lifting of the green saplings into position was heavy work. 



The birds, during the early part of my operations, were singu- 

 larly silent and indifferent, remaining away from the locality for 

 long intervals. Often, however, as I toiled at my staging, in the 

 silence of the bush, one of the birds would swoop, like a bolt 

 from the blue, with a swirl of wings and a horrible grating cry 

 just over my head. More than once T received a scare, for, 

 though these visitations were repeated at intervals, I was gene- 

 rally caught unawares. I was somewhat taken aback, to say the 



