May,! O'DoNOGHUic, No/es OH Victovian Lyre-bird. 19 



my gesture to mean a celestial rather than a sub-aerial process 

 of waste and accumulation for the presence of gold in the 

 creeks and gullies of the district. 



The cock Lyre-bird is generally conceded to be a monogamist. 

 If, however, he is subjected to close observation in his native 

 \\dlds, one begins to doubt the justice of this conclusion and 

 to entertain the belief that, like the cock Malurus, he has a 

 leaven of Mormonism in his composition, or, in other words, 

 he is a polygamist. My conviction on this point is by no means 

 firm. 1 may be grossly maligning our feathered prince of 

 mimicry by even hinting at such a possibility. At all events, 

 if, among other indiscretions that would seem to warrant the 

 assumption of polygamy, he will persist in the nesting season 

 in wandering o'er hill and dale, as I have often noted, in 

 company with several of the weaker sex, he has only himself 

 to blame if the "lord of creation" endows him with a greater 

 bump of amative ness than he really possesses. To the con- 

 tention that he might be exercising the part of a guardian in 

 these rambles, I would reply that the male birds I encountered 

 were all first-class exponents of the truism " Self-preservation 

 is the first law of nature." On damp, foggy mornings I have 

 often encountered the male bird, in company with two and 

 sometimes three hens, on the crests of the ranges. During 

 these rambles I have not heard the bird mimic the call of any 

 member of the feathered tribe in the neighbourhood. He 

 invariably gave utterance to his peculiar note, " Tchoo, tchoo, 

 tchoo," from some log or fallen tree. 



The remembrance of many pleasant days spent amid 

 the Silurian hills of North Gippsland often reverts to mind 

 as in the country I pass, at dawn or dusk, some unkept box- 

 thorn hedge, wherein have congregated hundreds of noisy 

 sparrows and starlings. All are cheerful and content, and are 

 chirping away in various keys, and the air seems to throb with 

 the sound they occasion. My memory then recalls a narrow 

 Y-shaped valley filled with a luxuriant and varied growth of 

 vegetation. Steep, heavily-timbered slopes encompass it. 

 Two purling brooks cascade from lateral valleys to combine and 

 flow south along the main syncline to the river some miles 

 distant. As the twilight deepens the Lyre-birds, amid the 

 umbrageous coverts of the valley and those on the encompassing 

 slopes, loudly herald the approach of night. Bird answers 

 bird till the volume of sound their cries occcasion surpasses 

 description. Night falls apace, and silence broods over the 

 scene, broken occasionally by the pleasing call of the Boobook 

 Owl and the harsh, nasal cry of the Great Flying Phalang.er, 

 but more often by the Lyre-birds. The first faint flush in the 

 heavens heralding the advent of day is the signal for vocal 

 effort. Gradually the chorus swells in intensity till, as at 



