GIPPSLAND WILDS 



37 



to a "bit of forest," and show us the bird inhabitants. 

 Next morning we were astir early, and drove through 

 pelting rain to the appointed place. At least, we 

 drove part of the way; the roads were so bad that 

 our vehicle was left behmd, a mile from the "sanc- 

 tuary." Walking was like wading through a swamp 

 in summer; mud clung to our boots and squelched 



FEMALE LYRE-BIRD. 



above our ankles. Rain fell almost continuously; 

 there were only two or three brief periods of sun- 

 shine, so that camera work was nearly fruitless. Still, 

 the sights in the forest outweighed all discomforts, and 

 sweetened photographic failure. 



Through dripping brushwood, amid Tree-ferns 

 and Eucalypts, we toiled to the heart of the forest. 

 It was silent here, save for the pattering of rain drops 

 on leaves high overhead, and the rare call of some 

 sheltering bird. Silent for awhile. Then we heard 

 a female Lyre-Bird call, and our friend led the way 



