ACROSS THE PLAINS 163 



in a garden became angry when I declined to take a 

 family group. More than one blue-shirted horseman 

 wished to be pictured in the saddle. I regretted that 

 I could not flatter the vanity of these good people, but 

 my supply of plates was too limited. At lonely 

 homes on the plains, however, I was constrained to 

 be more generous, and took photographs of a 

 boundary rider's family, a pet Kelpie, "the best dog 

 in the Riverina," and a station manager with his 

 buggy and horses. It was a small return for all the 

 kindness bestowed upon me. 



One of my objects in visiting the Riverina was 

 to study the Straw-necked Ibis [Carphibis spinicollis] 

 in its breeding haunts, and my friend at Jerilderie 

 agreed to take me to a Lignum swamp on Yanco 

 Station, where thousands of birds were nesting. In 

 the town I heard much of Ibises, and found that 

 nearly every resident recognised the great economic 

 value of the birds. One hot night vast numbers of 

 young grasshoppers invaded the town. Thousands 

 were crushed on the roadway and sidewalks, thou- 

 sands clustered on wire screen doors of shops and 

 dwellings, while every nook and corner held a pile of 

 insects. "The Ibises would make short work of those 

 pests," a man remarked to me, as he brushed a grass- 

 hopper from his coat sleeve. Ke had expressed the 

 general opinion of the townspeople. 



Travelling across the plains in a light two- 

 wheeled vehicle, we saw Ibises on patrol duty. Each 

 bird seemed to have a small area of its own, around 

 which it stalked, driving its long, sickle-shaped bill 

 into the dry grass at brief intervals. It was reason- 

 able to believe that every tap of the beak meant death 

 to a grasshopper. But for the birds, I thought, these 

 plains would soon become barren, and it is no wonder 

 that station owners protect them. The swamp was 

 in the centre of a large paddock, and guarded by a 

 row of gaunt trees. As we drew near hundreds of 



