LEAVES FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF A NATURALIST. 



53 



The rosy frill adorns the adults of both sexes; 

 but the young male and female of the year have 

 it not. 



Another species, the great bower-bird,* was 

 probably the architect of the bowers found by 

 Captain Grey during his Australian rambles, and 

 which interested him greatly, in consequence of 

 the doubts entertained by him whether they were 

 the works of a bird or of a quadruped the incli- 

 nation of his mind being, that their construction 

 was due to the four-footed animal. They were 

 formed of dead grass and parts of bushes, sunk a 

 slight depth into two parallel furrows, in sandy 

 soil, and were nicely arched above ; they were 

 always full of broken sea-shells, large heaps of 

 which also protruded from the extremity of the 

 bower. In one of these bowers, the most remote 

 from the sea of those discovered by Captain Grey, 

 was a heap of the stones of some fruit that evi- 

 dently had been rolled therein. He never saw 

 any animal in or near these bowers ; but the 

 abundant droppings of a small species of kanga- 

 roo close to them, induced him to suppose them 

 to be the work of some quadruped. 



Here, then, we have a race of birds, whose 

 ingenuity is not merely directed to the usual ends 

 of existence self-preservation, and the continua- 

 tion of the species but to the elegancies and 

 amusements of life. Their bowers are their ball 

 and assembly rooms ; and we are very much mis- 

 taken if they are not like those places of meeting, 



For whispering lovers made. 



The male satin bower-bird, in the garden at 

 the Regent's Park, is indefatigable in his assiduity 

 towards the female ; and his winning ways to coax 

 her into the bower, conjure up the notion that the 

 soul of some Damon, in the course of its trans- 

 migration, has found its way into his elegant form. 

 He picks up a brilliant feather, flits about with ij 

 before her, and when he has caught her eye, adds 

 it to the decorations. 



Haste, my Nanette, my lovely maid, 

 Haste to the bower thy swain has made. 



No enchanted prince could act the deferential 

 lover with more delicate or graceful attention. 

 Poor fellow ; the pert, intruding sparrows plague 

 him abominably ; and really it becomes almost an 

 affair of police, that some measures should be 

 adopted for their exclusion. He is subject to fits, 

 too, and suddenly, without the least apparent 

 warning, falls senseless, like an epileptic patient ; 

 but presently recovers, and busies himself about 

 the bower. When he has induced the female to 

 enter it, he seems greatly pleased ; alters the dis- 

 position of a feather or a shell, as if hoping that 

 the change may meet her approbation ; and looks 

 at her as she sits coyly under the overarching 

 twigs, and then at the little arrangement which 

 he has made, and then at her again, till one could 

 almost fancy that one hears him breathe a sigh. 

 He is still in his transition dress, and has not yet 

 donned his full Venetian suit of black. 



* Chlamydera nucfialis. 



In their natural state, the satin bower-birds as- 

 sociate in autumn in small parties ; and Mr. Gould 

 states that they may then often be seen on the 

 ground near the sides of rivers, particularly where 

 the brush feathers the descending bank down to 

 the water's edge. The male has a loud, liquid 

 call ; and both sexes frequently utter a harsh 

 guttural note, expressive of surprise and dis- 

 pleasure. 



Geffrey Chaucer, in his argument to The As- 

 semblie of Foules, relates that " All foules are 

 gathered before Nature on St. Valentine's day, to 

 chuse their makes. A formell egle beyng beloved 

 of three tercels, requireth a yeeres respite to make 

 her choise ; upon this triall, Qui bien aime tard 

 oublie' He that loveth well is slow to forget.' " 

 The female saiin bower-bird in the Regent's Park 

 seems to have taken a leaf out of the " formell 

 egle's" book ; for I cannot discover that her hum- 

 ble and most obsequious swain has been rewarded 

 for his attentions, though they have been continued 

 through so many weary months ; but we shall 

 never be able entirely to solve these mysteries, till 

 we become possessed of the rare ring sent to the 

 King of Sarra by the King of Arabie, "by the 

 vertue whereof" his daughter understood "the 

 language of all foules," unless we can 



Call up him that left untold 



The story of Cambuscan bold, 



Of Camball and of Algersife, 



And who had Canace to wife, 



That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 



And of the wondrous horse of brass, 



On which the Tartar king did ride. 



Edmund Spenser, with due reverence for 

 Dan Chaucer, (well of English undefiled,) 



has, indeed, done his best to supply the defect,* 

 and has told us that 



Cambello's sister was fair Canacee, 



That was the learnedst lady in her days, 



Well seen in every science that mote be, 



And every_ secret work of nature's ways, 



In witty riddles and in wise soothsays, 



In power of herbs, and tunes of beasts and birds: 



but we learn from him no more of the ring than 

 " Dan Chaucer" tells us : 



The vertue of this ring, if ye woll here, 

 Is this ; that if she list it for to were 

 Upon her thombe, or in her purse it bere, 

 There is no foule that fleeth under heven 

 That she ne shall understand his stevenjt 

 And know his meaning openly and plaine, 

 And answer him in his language againe ; 



as Canace does in her conversation with the falcon 

 in The Squier's Tale. Nor is the " vertue" of 

 the ring confined to bird-intelligence, for the 

 knight who came on the " steed of brasse," adds- 

 And, every grasse that groweth upon root 

 She shall well know to whom it will do boot, 

 All be his wounds never so deep and wide. 



But we must return from these realms of fancy to 

 a country hardly less wonderful ; for Australia 

 presents, in the realities of its quadrupedal forms, 

 a scene that might well pass for one of enchant- 

 ment. 

 * Fairy Queen, book iv., cant. 2, et seq. t Sound. 



