DECEMBER 51 



spring are rarely heard now ; in their place comes the tender 

 mother song and baby talk of the fond and anxious parents ; 

 for mother birds have a special tone for their little ones just 

 as surely as have human mothers, and the voice of the baby 

 bird is as distinct from its parents' as is the wail of a little baby 

 from the voice of a woman. 



Amongst the leaves around me I knew quite well that some 

 young things were hiding, and judging from the fuss they were 

 making, were evidently regarding me with terror. It did not 

 take me long to find the first family two young yellow bobs, 

 huddling against the roots of a tree, where their baby dress of 

 brown merged into the surroundings, so that but for their cries 

 they would have been passed unnoticed. The anxious "cheep, 

 cheep" of their golden-breasted mother as she flew from tree 

 to tree showed that she also was aware of my presence. I 

 did not want to harrow their feelings unnecessarily, so I moved 

 away to where a young fantail cuckoo sat huddled on a dead 

 bush "peeking" fretfully, while two little brown tits worked 

 fussily to feed him. 



A little way further on a native canary passed me with food 

 in his bill, and I watched him enter a sapling, where I knew 

 there hung a cosy nest with two hungry chicks inside. But 

 almost every bird I saw was either carrying food or looking for 

 it, for little birds need their breakfasts just as much as any 

 other children. Two razor grinders flew hurriedly past to 

 their nest high up in a tall gum, each with a morsel in its beak ; 



