36 CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER 



his reproof — " Get away from this. Don't crowd a fellow. 

 Go to a rock of your own. This is my place. You spoil 

 my sport." Then, remembering that domestic tiffs were 

 not edifying to strangers — and there was the sober brown 

 curlew looking on — the bird let his angry feathers subside, 

 and made way for his spouse on the best point of the 

 rock. Each on one leg, they stood shoulder to shoulder, 

 the very embodiment of connubial bliss. I noticed, too, 

 that the mistress was allowed to fish to her heart's content, 

 the master never raising a feather in remonstrance, though 

 she gobbled up all that came along. 



Low-lying Mung-um-gnackum, the abode of the varied 

 honey-eater, the tranquil dove, and the brooding-place 

 of the night-jar {Caprimulgus) and lovely Kumboola, lie 

 to the south-west, a bare half-mile away. 



Kumboola's sheltered aspect is thickly clad with jungle ; 

 a steep grassy ridge springs from the blue-grey rocks to 

 the south-east ; and on the precipitous weather side grow 

 low and open scrub and dwarf casuarina. Here is a 

 natural aviary. Pigeons and doves coo ; honey -eaters 

 whistle ; sun-birds whisper quaint, quick notes ; wood 

 swallows soar and twitter. Metallic starlings seek safe 

 sleeping-places among the mangroves, ere they repair 

 last year's villages, and join excitedly in the chorus ; while 

 the great osprey wheels overhead, and the grey falcon 

 sits on a bare branch, still as a sentinel, each waiting for 

 an opportunity to take toll of the nutmeg pigeons. The 

 channel-billed cuckoo shrieks her discordant warning of 

 the approaching wet season ; and the scrub fowl utters 

 those far-off imitations of the exclamation of civilised 

 hens. Sundown at Kumboola towards the end of Sep- 

 tember, when the sea laps and murmurs among the rocks, 

 and great white pigeons gather in thousands on the dark 

 foliage, or "coo-hooing" and flapping, disappear beneath 

 the thick leafy canopy, and all the other birds are saying 

 their good-nights, or asserting their rights, or protesting 

 against crowding or intrusion, is an ever-to-be-remembered 

 experience. Added to the cheerful presence of the noisy 



