^°\'q^^^''] Tasmaniau Notes. 227 



which the White-beards have not frequented this season. When 

 my friend was pruning his fruit trees with the long-handled 

 scccateurs, the male Honey-eater would come and attack the knives 

 while they were working, probably attracted by the sharp " click," 

 which much resembles his own alarm note. When the knives 

 were held up, but not worked, he desisted from the attack. — 

 H. Stuart Dove, F.Z.S. West Devonport, Tasmania. 



Harriers. — The Harrier {Circus goiildi) is, to my mind, after 

 the Wedge-tailed and Sea-Eagles, our finest bird of prey, and I 

 have been rejoiced to see a marked increase in its numbers during 

 the past two seasons. In springtime it is a grand sight to watch 

 a pair of these birds, with their great wing-spread, playing together 

 high up in the " ethereal blue," turning at times a complete 

 somersault, and uttering their wild cry as if permeated with the 

 sheer joy of living. How a man can pay his bills with such 

 " blood money " as that derived from the slaughter of these 

 harmless and beautiful birds, as related in the current Emti 

 (vol. xvii., p. 109), passes comprehension. I was pleased to see 

 the editor's comment — " Why this useless slaughter ? " If the 

 New Zealand Acclimatization Society will consider the case of 

 the brave and accomplished Lord Lucas, who lost his life during 

 an aeroplane ascent in Flanders, and had previously willed his 

 fine estate in Norfolk as a bird sanctuary, but especially for the 

 breeding and preservation of the Harriers, in whose aerial evolutions 

 he took the greatest delight, it should go far towards inducing 

 the society to abrogate its barbarous enactment. — H. Stuart 

 Dove, F.Z.S. West Devonport, Tasmania. 



The Black Bell-Magpie [Strepera fuliginosa). — Last Christmas 

 vacation I spent a week with friends (Wilsons) at The Steppes. 

 I was much interested in the Black Magpies, which were regular 

 visitants to the homestead. The original pair came about ten or 

 twelve years ago, and many of their progeny are now about, and 

 are particularly tame in winter, when snow is on the ground, and 

 food, therefore, scarce. A pair of the old birds frequently brought 

 their two young ones to the house during my visit. The latter 

 were nearly as big as their parents, but whenever the camera was 

 in evidence they kept under the shadow of a large willow tree 

 overhanging the roof. Sometimes their rather petulant cries 

 would be heard as early as 4 a.m. as they walked about the roof, 

 evidently wondering why their tit-bits had not been placed out 

 for them. There were several nests in the gum-trees near the 

 house, where the birds build regularly. In my journey to The 

 Steppes I noticed, as we drove along, fourteen nests of these 

 birds, placed at varying heights. Some were in the dark-leaved 

 cider gums, others in the ordinary white gums. Their nests were 

 also seen in some of the trees near the road on the way to the 



