INTRODUCTION. 
5 
ings ago 1 was charmed with an unaccustomed song coming 
from out a big pittosporum tree in my garden at Kew. I took 
careful note of the little warbler, and then consulted Mr. Leach's 
Descriptive List. Judge of my satisfaction when I lound that 
my little friend was "The Striated Field Wren or Stink Bird"! 
The Australian boy is responding splendidly cO the Nature- 
study movement. Bird observers tell me that shy native birds, 
Lormerly unknown near the haunts of men, are making their 
appearance, feeling safer now from molestation. Nest hunt- 
ing for the sake of egg spoliation is happily becoming rarer, 
although children are developing keener eyes for nests. To- 
day every country school has its nests under loving observa- 
tion for the purposes of bird-study and of bird-protection. 
Walt. Whitman might have been describing many a Victorian 
school boy when he wrote — 
"And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand, 
And every day the she-bird, crouched on her nest, silent, with bright eyes, 
And every day, 1, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them. 
Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating." 
This loving study must bear good fruit. If we believe the 
scientific men, Australia is, par excellence, the land of birds, 
song-birds, plumage-birds, and birds of wonderful interest, 
such as the Satin Bower Bird. The collection of Australian 
birds in our National Museum at Melbourne is certainly one of 
the finest sights of the city, and it should be studied by all who 
wish to know how favored this continent is in bird distribution. 
But we must get to know and to love our feathered friends. 
Mr. Leach in his lecture has dwelt sufficiently on the economic 
and scientific value of bird-study. Let me enter a plea for 
bird-study as a source of aesthetic pleasure. Before our Aus- 
tralian birds can be to us what the Thrush and the Blackbird and 
the Linnet and the Lark and the Nightingale are to the British 
boy, we must have a wealth of association around them from song 
and story. And this association must grow up with us from 
childhood if it is to make the strongest appeal to us. It can 
rarely be acquired in later life. British birds owe much to the 
poets for the charm that surrounds them. When I heard the 
Nightingale in England, although I had no association with it 
gathered from my boyhood's days, 1 heard more than the bird's 
song. I was listening to Keats and Wordsworth and Shakes- 
peare as well. There is something very fine in the thought 
that such bird songs go on for ever, that these immortal birds 
are "not made for death," that 
"The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
In ancient days by emperor and clown : 
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home. 
She stood in tears amid the alien corn." 
The Nightingale's song, as a bird song, I thought disappoint- 
ing. I remember having the same feeling with regard to the 
Thrush and Blackbird. The charm of their songs is largely 
in the associations they evoke. Our city children are now grow- 
ing up in familiarity with these two birds, which are becoming as 
