114 
The Emu. 
prey ; but the " Gidgeeais " always have a scout on the look-out, 
who gives the alarm. 
Having proved that a woman can throw a stone with an 
accuracy denied her, and so cleared the scene of cats, once more 
sith, shish, shirring back come the " Gidgeeais," fearless as to me, 
quite seeming to know how strong a bond of sympathy exists 
between us by reason of our hatred of cats. Peck, peck again 
at the crumbs, peck at the sop soup ; a drink, and a tilt back of 
the head, for physiological, not psychical, reasons. Then off they 
go to perch themselves on the green-room rustic seats, where 
they nestle together, rearrange their own and each other's 
feathers, kiss one another " bye-bye," and seemingly doze off. 
In the meantime, with his head on one side, to the stage hops 
" Curreequinquin," the drab Butcher Bird. After an inquisitive 
look round, he pecks a few crumbs, takes a piece of bread, and 
flies to the ridge-pole of the porch, finishes his bread, lilts a 
few notes of his sweet lay, then sights some insect on the flower 
border. A sudden dart at it — if a worm it is swallowed holus 
bolus ; if a grasshopper, first dissected in a professional butcher 
fashion. Back to the ridge pole, where the interrupted song is 
continued until " Booboorboo," the black and white (Black- 
throated) Butcher Bird, comes to the cafe chantant. Curree- 
quinquin " eyes him as a rival, and has his glance returned in 
kind ; but, aggressive as such glances appear, they do not lead 
to combat, though down flies " Curreequinquin " — not to fight, 
but to feed again, and both peck away. 
These feathered songsters have evidently not to consider 
their diet before singing, for, almost directly after their mixed 
meal of insects and crumbs is over, a sort of Orpheus versus 
Marsyas contest begins. One flies on to a near bead tree, just 
budding into leaf; the other on to the ridge-pole of the porch, 
where the snail-flower used to twine, with the Gloire de Dijon, 
before the drought fiend claimed them, with so much else, till 
" All forget that this waste was garden ; 
But I, waste place, I do not forget 1 " 
There the two start singing, a few notes at a time, first singly, 
then a sort of canon, until in a rippling burst of melody Orpheus, 
the drab bird, improvises beyond the ken of Marsyas, who, 
feeling himself defeated, wings his way to the bush, to seek 
comfort, perhaps, from his mate at home. Orpheus never heeds 
his departure, but sings on with such a joie de vivre that it 
communicates itself to all who hear that bubbling stream of 
melody. 
Miau ! meow ! miau 1 What, a cat again } No, " Weedah," 
the Spotted Bower Bird, whose voice anyone might well mis- 
take for that of a cat, it is at times so exactly like, though not, 
I think, imitative, as I once fancied, but natural. " Weedah " 
jumps in a series of short jumps (all my birds have different 
