THE SPIRIT OF AUSTRALIA 165 



Like its grey relative and seemingly in despite 

 of the solemn appearance of the genus the pied 

 Butcher-Bird sometimes becomes as merry on the 

 wing as any Skylark more so, probably, for the 

 unceasing individual efforts of the little European 

 songster are apt to bring it under the suspicion of 

 being a trifle mechanical. And there was emphatic- 

 ally no trace of this element in the movements of 

 a quartette of Butcher-Birds which greeted a 

 Christmas morning near the border highlands of 

 Queensland and New South Wales. Joying in each 

 other's company and the freshness of the morning, 

 they left the trees and swung up and down in the 

 air, both movements and voices having the breezy 

 freedom of merry children. 



One other memory of the mellifluous voice of this 

 gifted bird belongs to a sub-tropical mountain. Suf- 

 ficient jungle had been cleared to meet the require- 

 ments of the sun-loving Butcher-Birds, and on a 

 vital morning of September two of them came into 

 a dawn symphony reminiscent of John Ford Pater- 

 son's picture in the Melbourne Art Gallery. Here, 

 however, was a living picture; nor was it the 

 less harmonious fpr the marks of man's pre- 

 sence. A massed array of white Watsonias 

 was flowering radiantly at the edge of the 

 jungle-hemmed paddock, and as the deliberate 

 notes of the pure-voiced birds rose and fell, how 

 perfectly the music seemed to harmonise with the 

 color of the white flowers! It is doubtful whether 

 any bird-voice can be out of symphony at sunrise on 

 a bright morning. There is always the lyric touch 

 then, be the voice ever so harsh. But the melody 



