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On the lyre bit 1.



were the rich full notes that may be called the lyre birds true song.

So perfect was the imitation that I could not distinguish any differ¬

ence between the notes of the rocker and those of the birds whose

cries he had been so successfully imitating, had I not been so close

to him I should have been quite deceived. On my disturbing the

gentleman in his performance, he gave the hens warning and several

of them flew over the tops of the bushes down into the gully.

Owing to their wings being feeble, short, and round, it is evident

that the birds depend more upon their legs for escape from any

danger than upon their wings, therefore it is quite unusual to see

them fly. The easy, graceful manner in which I have seen a cock

bird step, apparently without effort, from the ground on to the top

of a gigantic fallen log, makes one compare the legs to steel springs.


Last October it was my privilege to spend a week on the

slopes of Mount Dandenong, and although it was not the season for

the lyre bird to call, on most mornings I was able to get a sight or

hear their cry soon after sunrise. On the last morning, as we were

driving through the township of Mount Dandenong, we heard a

strange sound coming out of the head of a gully that takes its rise

in the township itself. The noise sounded almost like someone

knocking a piece of wood, the driver told us that it was a cock lyre

bird that always frequented that particular gully, although so close

to the houses. He said that it imitated all the various sounds of

the township, especially the crowing of the roosters.


Some years ago I was visiting some hilly country near a place

called “ Bembo ” in New South Wales. The country was very

similar to the Stringy Bark ranges of the Mount Lofty Hills but

rather dryer, less underbush and no Tree Fern gullies. I was most

pleased to find that lyre birds were not uncommon there, and I saw

a nest that had been built in a burnt-out stump about four feet

from the ground. The foundation was earth or clay, quite possibly

the clay had been conveyed there by ants and that the lyre bird had

chosen it as a nesting place afterwards. The nest was made of

twigs arched over. Only one egg is laid and the more usual nesting

place is on the ground under some overhanging fern or some well

hidden spot. The foxes are likely to destroy this wonderful bird

from the mainland of Australia. The gentleman I was with near



