^"'igio^'] Whitlock, On the East Murchison. 213 



little known species. My only encouragement was in the fact that my 

 friend Mr. J. T. Tunney had seen a specimen about 50 miles to the 

 north-west of Lake Way some twelve yeai'S ago. His further informa- 

 tion that it was the only one he saw during his travels on the 

 Murchison was not too cheering, but I resolved to leave no stone 

 unturned in my endeavours to get the nest and eggs. One result of 

 Mr. Sid. W. Jackson's successful trip to tropical Queensland after the 

 eggs of the Tooth-billed Bower- Bird was to make the nest and eggs 

 of the present species the only remaining blank in the series of Bower- 

 Birds' eggs in Mr. H. L. White's great collection. To till this blank 

 was a great incentive in itself. 



Inquiries (accompanied by sketches of the play-ground) of local 

 sportsmen resulted in nothing but discouragement. No one had seen 

 such structures or had encountered such a bird. One of the more 

 intelligent blackfellows, however, to whom I showed a sketch of a 

 play-ground, looked thoughtfully at it for a time, and then laconically 

 uttered the words " Milly Pool." The latter locaUty had been 

 described to me as " a creek in the hills." This was very misleading, 

 and in driving out we actuallj^ passed by the pool, under the 

 impression it was just a casual sheet of water due to the exceptional 

 rains. However, it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, for by 

 over-shooting the mark I was led to other things. In a tract of York 

 gums near a shallow clay-pan I thought I saw an unfamiliar-looking 

 Ptilotis, and I resolved to return to the spot and investigate further. 

 Fortunately we overtook some stockmen, who told us we had passed 

 by Milly Pool, and from their description we recognized in the clay- 

 coloured sheet of water on the fiat some seven miles behind us our real 

 destination. There was nothing for it but to return. On arrival, 

 after unloading my gear, I soon had my tent up, under two small, 

 shady casuarinas, and next day was hard at work. I turned south. A 

 mile from my tent, and a quarter of a mile from the extremity of the 

 lower sheet of water, was a dense thicket of acacias. The latter were 

 growing on the verge of open country, grassed for the most part, but 

 with patches of salt-bush and lines of small flooded gums. Still 

 further south thick scrub of vigorous growth occurred, chiefly of the 

 mulga family, but with occasional gums and some exceptionally fine 

 casuarinas and beef-wood trees, with a host of smaller bushes whose 

 names I am unacquainted with. Half a mile to the west was the foot 

 of a gently rising elevation, whose summit perhaps may have been 200 

 feet above the surrounding plain. As I walked alongside the acacia 

 thicket admiring the vivacity of the numerous Carter Honey-eaters I 

 caught sight of a thick-set bird perched in a large hakea bush. It 

 was craning its neck, and appeared to be very curious as to my 

 presence. I approached cautiovisly until I was within 6 feet of the 

 bird, which, except for moving its head from side to side to get a 

 better view of me, did not change its position. It occasionally gave 

 vent to a harsh, disagreeable sound, like a very old man clearing his 

 throat. I could only see its lower parts distinctly, so I imitated as 

 well as I could the sounds it was making. This had the desired 

 effect. It hopped lower down, and I could clearly see the spotted 

 upper parts and silvery feathers of the head. There was no lilac visible 

 on the nape, and the plumage had a thin, immature look about it. 

 Also the angle of the gape was yellow. I had no gun with me, and 

 was very uncertain what to do. There was not a sign of another bird 

 like it to be seen. After watching it, and studying the plumage very 



