80 MATESHIP WITH BIRDS 



exclaimed an envious boy. "They can travel at a 

 pace !" 



"It's all very well for them," came smartly from 

 a curly-haired girl. "They haven't any hats to 

 hold on!" 



There was an occasion when a sudden shower 

 forced us to shelter in (of all places!) the clerics' 

 robe-room at a bush cemetery. And there those 

 joyous juniors fired off every bit of scientific bird- 

 nomenclature they knew all because a wide-eyed 

 old sexton and a wide-mouthed young stone-mason 

 sat agape on the door-step ! 



Scientific terms attract but few children. One 

 bush lad of twelve years or so, however, developed 

 into a regular technical treatise. In the course of 

 a flower-chat he exhibited huge satisfaction in roll- 

 ing off his tongue remarks on Diuris maculata, 

 Diuris punctata, Glossodia major, and other orchids. 

 The same boy insisted on carrying my camera later 

 and dropped it with a breaking thud to ejaculate, 

 in a tone telling plainly he was glad he had been 

 born: "Hullo! Bulbine bulbosa!" 



Latin terms are very necessary in zoology, but 

 not in the schoolroom or for general use. I call to 

 mind the fund of amusement we derived on a Mur- 

 ray River bird excursion by enlightening an origi- 

 nal cook's mate on the scientific names of many of 

 the birds met with. He seemed to derive a vast 

 amount of entertainment therefrom, and was 

 especially struck with the discovery that "the littlest 

 birds get the biggest names!" That ribald Aus- 

 tralian was not so eminently patriotic as John Bur- 

 roughs' guide of the Maine woods, who gained un- 



