THE ARISTOCRACY OF THE CREST 115 



In good time, however, there came another oppor- 

 tunity for photographing my crested acquaintances, 

 though not at the nest. In this case the home was 

 altogether inaccessible, and had only been dis- 

 covered through the agency of that powerful, 

 Cuckoo-like pipe of the male bird. When the rest- 

 less quivering of little wings above the rim of the 

 nest could be perceived from the ground, I climbed 

 some distance up and shook the slender tree-top. 

 Instantly there was a startled chattering, and three 

 baby Shrike-Tits fluttered out in different direc- 

 tions. Marking one, I followed it from place to 

 place, shaking it gently from one sapling after 

 another, until the poor wee thing came to the 

 ground in sheer weariness. Then it was placed 

 upon a low, horizontal bough, and tied down lightly 

 with a piece of cloth (torn from the lining of my 

 coat). And there the crested infant sat, "Charr- 

 charring" wonderingly at the great world in gene- 

 ral and its strange captor in particular, until its 

 father flew down and sat alongside. That is how 

 one of the accompanying photographs came to be 

 taken. 



Look, too, at the delightful solicitude betrayed by 

 both parents when the family is yet unlearned in the 

 ways of the great bush. They are just as proud of 

 those shapely youngsters as the little Shrike-Tits 

 obviously more than content in the possession of 

 that badge of notability, the crest, which with them 

 is developed early are of themselves. Let the 

 slightest suggestion of danger intrude, and commo- 

 tion reigns. With crests erect and tails spread 

 wide, the parents flit anxiously about, uttering a 



