i6o Our Singing Birds. [^ "^D. 



Nat. 



forest the thickhead preferably makes its home, where the trees 

 are not close enough together to exclude the sunlight. There 

 the thickhead sings at any time of the day ; but at sunrise and 

 sunset he is at his best. The thickhead may be termed a shy 

 bird ; but it is by no means uncommon to find it in a garden, 

 though it has nothing of the charming sociability of the thrush. 

 It is a pleasing fact that our four chief singing birds are all more 

 or less common. The magpie, indeed, is, I think, almost the 

 commonest of our Victorian native birds. In the Western District 

 it is particularly abundant, and is certainly not decreasing in 

 numbers. So that its pleasing carol may be heard everywhere. 

 It may, too, almost be heard at any time, as the magpie bursts 

 into song at the slightest provocation. On moonlit nights it 

 sings away by the hour ; and I have heard the carol on nights 

 that were completely dark. The thrush, though nowhere that I 

 know of very plentiful, is still a common bird, and a pair of them 

 may be found in any garden that has plenty of trees. Consider- 

 ing that the thrush is a free breeder, I have often been surprised 

 that they are not more numerous. Possibly their nests, which 

 are usually built close to the ground, are often raided by snakes 

 or large lizards, or even foxes ; while crows and other egg-eating 

 birds may account for some of them. At any rate, the thrush 

 does not appear to be doing more than holding its own. Even 

 that, however, in these days of land-settlement and forest-clearing, 

 is something to be thankful for. The Butcher-bird is also holding 

 its own well ; and, wherever there is a bit of open bush, fairly quiet, 

 there you may now hear his loud ringing song. Apart from his 

 song, the Butcher-bird is not an altogether desirable acquaintance. 

 His appearance is not particularly striking, while his habits may be 

 summed up in the old historian's language as ' beastly.' But his 

 musical voice atones for his other deficiencies, and so the Butcher- 

 bird remains on the roll of honour. The thickhead is in a class of 

 its own. Not only is it a sweet singer ; it is a lovely little thing, 

 both in appearance and manners. Both the Rufous-breasted and 

 the White-throated Thickhead sing beautifully, but the last-named 

 is, in my opinion, both the best songster and the prettiest in 

 appearance. Both are children of the bush. Indeed, I have never 

 seen the White-throated Thickhead anywhere, except in the heart of 

 the silent bush. The Rufous-breasted Thickhead is not so shy, and 

 may sometimes be seen and heard in a garden ; but its white-throated 

 cousin never, or rarely, leaves the shadow of the big yellow-box 

 and red-gum forests, where on an acacia or a spray of tea-tree 

 overhanging an almost-hidden bush creek, I have often seen it as it 

 poured out its evening song, until it flooded the balmy bush air 

 with melody." 



