214 Whitlock, On the East Murchison. f 



Emu 



St April 



carefully, I felt convinced it was immature. I resolved to go back to 

 the camp for my gun. I returned in half an hour's time, only to find 

 the bird gone. I searched carefully around, and after a time spied it 

 perched on a dead eucalypt, from which it dived down into the acacia 

 scrub. I could see it still, and fired, knocking it over. It was a 

 veritable Bower-Bird, but unmistakably in thin, immature plumage. 

 I was packing it up when I heard a rustling, accompanied by a harsh 

 note, in the acacias overhead. There, within a few feet of me, was a 

 similar bird ! I replied to the note, and to my great astonishment a 

 third bird put in its appearance. The last arrival looked older. Its 

 plumage was deeper in tone and had a distinct gloss. It presently 

 hopped further into the scrub, and I crawled after it until I came to a 

 sort of play -ground. There was no inverted arch, but a large number 

 of small sticks had been carried to a clear space, with a feather or two 

 and a few sandal-wood nuts. My bird had disappeared, but I called to 

 it, and immediately got a reply. I repeated the sound, and the bird 

 presently returned and hopped down to the play-ground. I continued 

 to call, and to my great surprise got replies, accompanied by rustlings, 

 from other parts of the thicket. The sounds got nearer, and presently 

 I found myself the central object of interest to no less than seven 

 Yellow-spotted Bower- Birds. This was very exciting, and I found it 

 rather difficult to sit still. I was crouched down in the midst of the 

 acacias, and, with the exception of one bird, all were in the branches 

 overhead. The performance then commenced. The bird on the ground 

 was presently joined b^^ two others, which perched on very low 

 branches near at hand. He then puffed out his feathers, showing the 

 beautiful pink (not lilac) tract of plumage on his neck to great 

 advantage. With various harsh cries he advanced into the centre of 

 the cleared space and made a vigorous attack on some long, red- 

 looking object. He advanced and backed, hopped from side to side, 

 pecked vigorously, jumped into the air, and with much apparent 

 ferocity made rushes at one of his immediate audience. I took this 

 to be his mate. Now and again she uttered a short, harsh cry, but 

 otherwise seemed to regard the demostrations made by the male as 

 very matter-of-fact and hardly worthy of notice. I watched the 

 performance at close quarters for over an hour, the remaining birds in 

 the meantime studying me. They squatted rather than ] erched on 

 the branches, the tarsus being quite invisible. Occasionally one or 

 other uttered a harsh cry, or dodged a buffet from a passing Carter 

 Honey-eater, otherwise their attitude was one of strained curiosity — 

 their necks craned in my direction and their eyes staring. 



The matinee being over, the male, followed by his mate, hopped up 

 to the top of the acacias and fiew off. I scrambled out and followed 

 as best I could, but soon lost sight of both in the thick scrub. 

 Occasionally I could hear their harsh notes, but gradually I lost sound 

 of them too. So T turned back to camp. I had found my birds. Tlie 

 problem to be solved was — When and where would they breed ? 



I skinned and dissected the bird I had shot. It was a young female, 

 the ovules being extremely small. I was not encouraged wlien I 

 reflected she might easily have been one of a brood hatched during the 

 summer rains. 



In a year like 1909, when these rains had been so unusually copious, 

 the breeding of many species of birds gets out of its ordinary routine, 

 making Ihe solution of such a problem as I liad before me all the more 

 uncertain. Taking a line from Mr. Sid. W. Jackson's experiences in 



