The Wilderness 



wilderness. Just once he came, but though I have looked and listened 

 I have had no sign or sound of him since. 



A very familiar birdcall in the wilderness is that of the cuckoo or 

 I should say " calls of the cuckoos," for there are five different sorts, 

 with five different calls, amongst our regular visitors. Of course, none 

 of them says " cuckoo." Once I used to cherish a secret feeling of 

 resentment that we should have so many true cuckoos in Australia 

 without one possessing the call associated with the name. But after 

 four English Mays, in which the cuckoo calls all day, I thanked fate 

 that I lived in a land where the cuckoo did not say " cuckoo " from dawn 

 till long after dark. For a more monotonous birdcall I have never 

 known. Our big scrub-cuckoo, the Koel, is nearest to it in monotony ; 

 but the five that visit the wilderness have quite different songs. True, 

 the fantail and the two little bronze cuckoos have merely plaintive 

 whistles, but the big pallid cuckoo has a fine ringing song right up the 

 scale, and the square-tailed calls over and over a distinct phrase, in 

 a higher key each time. 



The shrike-tit, that gorgeous 

 yellow-and-black fellow with the black 

 crest, is one of the loveliest birds 

 amongst our regular visitors, and one 

 of my favourites, for he has such an 

 unsuspicious nature. His long drawn 

 out, rather plaintive note is very easy 

 to imitate, and we can always bring 

 him down to us by repeating the call. 

 Again and again I have seen the A simple creature 



