3'SO Jackson, The Haunt of the Rufous Scrub-Bird. [ist^Aprii 



a very promising spot, as the broken and tangled mass of branches 

 and debris on the ground at the head of the tree would form a 

 safe and natural retreat for the Atrichornis. I worked all the 

 eastern patch first, which was much more extensive than that on 

 the western side of the log, and I began to lose hope regarding 

 success in this patch ; so at 10.30 a.m. I visited the growth on 

 the western side of the log, and in the centre of the third tuft I 

 examined — which was rather close to the log and much spread 

 out and open — I found a rounded mass of dead and thoroughly 

 bleached grass {Carex). This was really a dome-shaped nest, and 

 the material from which it was constructed was so old-looking 

 and thoroughly weather-worn that it had the appearance of 

 having been built a few seasons ago. At first glance I thought 

 it might belong to some small scrub marsupial or rodent, so I knelt 

 down, and, on examining it closely, found it had a neat, round 

 opening on the north-west side, and that the nest resembled that 

 of an Atrichornis. In order to view the interior of the structure 

 through the small round opening, I had to bend the tuft of grass 

 back a little, and was thus enabled to look in, finding, to my delight, 

 that it was undoubtedly the nest of Atrichornis rufescens, and 

 contained two eggs, typical of those I took 12 years ago. The 

 nest was situated down the slope, 65 yards westward from the 

 western side of the large heap of debris wherein I had first seen 

 and heard the male Atrichornis on Friday, 7th October. It did 

 not stand quite upright in the grass, and had a slight inclination 

 to lean westward. Possibly a scrub wallaby or other animal may 

 have walked over the tussock, thus causing it to be opened out 

 so much and the nest moved from the perpendicular. 



The nest was constructed of dead grass {Carex longi folia) and 

 leaves, and lined inside with the same hard, cardboard-like 

 material or dried wood-pulp as before, and the eggs rested in 

 this rounded and hardened receptacle, devoid of any other lining. 

 On close examination of this hard and remarkable lining, one 

 finds that it is dried pulp of soft and decayed wood and grass 

 that the bird had probably worked up and put together while in 

 a wet state. To remove the eggs I took the lid off a small round 

 matchbox and fastened it to the end of a large straightened 

 safety-pin, which acted admirably as a sort of ladle. They 

 were heavily zoned at one end with reddish-brown markings, and 

 were typical, but appeared somewhat incubated — probably about 

 seven days. The pair of eggs measure in inches — {a) 0.87 x 0.69, 

 {b) 0.87 X 0.70. 



My next most important endeavour was to capture the female, 

 so I returned to camp and got the lantern and butterfly net. 

 After a long, hot walk I arrived back at the scrub. I cut a 

 strong stick, about 10 feet long, and securely tied the green 

 butterfly net to it. I put both eggs back into the nest, and got 

 under cover to watch developments. It was now 12.30 p.m., 

 and at 1.15 I heard a gentle rustling in the grass and dead leaves 

 on the ground along the western side of the thick log of pine, near 



