SEPTEMBER 13 



clearings, while among the tangles of turpentines and gum- 

 suckers two or three different wattles and a white-beard wafted 

 sweetness abroad. 



There were other sweets amongst those same small turpen- 

 tines. In one, quite close to the ground, T found the nest 

 of a white-cheeked honey-eater ; a cosy little home it was, care- 

 fully made of fibres, and lined warmly with the soft brown 

 velvet of the banksias. Resting on the rich lining were two 

 exquisite eggs of a delicate pinky cream, with a zone of red 

 spots a marking characteristic of honey-eaters' eggs. Quite 

 close, in another turpentine, I found a similar nest, but this 

 time in place of the eggs were two bare tiny chicks As soon 

 as I drew near the mother bird came up scolding and chattering 

 furiously, with her fine white tufts puffed out in fear and anger. 

 Evidently she was not able to recognise a friend, so I moved 

 away, and from a little distance watched her fly down to the 

 infants with a tender, anxious cry. 



Suddenly above her voice came a sharp bird note, the voice 

 of the spine-billed honey-eater. "Quick, quick, be quick," he 

 called as he flew past, his gun-blue back shining in the sun. 

 " Quick, quick, hurry up, hurry up, quick, quick, quick," called 

 his mate, and she too darted past with loud wing-beat. I 

 followed through the bushes, and after watching their move- 

 ments for a while saw one fly up with a fibre in his long sharp 

 beak. I crept nearer, and there, in the highest branch of a 

 turpentine sapling, hung an almost finished cradle. It was well 

 out of my reach, so I did not attempt to see closer. 



