WILD LIFE IN TASMANIA. 
107 
the bushman, who calls him, erroneously, iguana — or “ goanner ” 
for short — he has not as much mischief in him as a kitten. And 
here, on the side of this huge fallen tree, poking out his head 
from a crevice in the bark, is another lizard, one of the little 
brown fellows so common everywhere in the summer, running 
about inside the house as well as out of doors, and abounding on 
every log and stump. He is much more wide awake than his 
big relation whom we have just left, and slips back his sharp 
little head directly he notices our approach. 
VVe remember, while digging in our garden patch one winter, 
unearthing one of this species with two distinct tails, a freak 
which we have never seen in one since. Another curiosity 
which rewarded our delving operations, was a specimen of the 
curious wireworm — not the larva of the click beetle, which is all 
too abundant, but a curious creature wound up like a watch- 
spring, fine as a horsehair, and feet long when uncoiled. They 
are generally found in wet ground, especially in the banks of 
rivers and creeks. And here let me explain to the uninitiated, 
that the word “ creek,” in colonial parlance, does not signify an 
arm of the sea, but a small running stream of fresh water, 
a rivulet or brook. This little island, the garden of the south, is 
well supplied with such perennial streams, and so does not 
suffer from the desolating droughts which afflict the larger 
colonies. 
Now here, upon the crinkled bark of this dead myrtle, is a 
curious-looking thing — a dark, roundish object, with numerous 
knobs and rugosities, looking very like a rough piece of bark 
itself. It is the so-called “ elephant ” — a large kind of weevil, 
with its long trunk and legs tucked under its odd-looking body, 
and still in the enjoyment of its winter sleep. We pick it from 
the tree and hold it in the hand, and after a minute or two the 
terminal joints of the legs begin to feebly move to and fro, but 
the head remains immovable, and as the legs are apparently in- 
capable of further exertions at present, we deposit the sleepy 
monster on the knob of another myrtle in the full blaze of the 
afternoon sun, to see if its beneficent rays will move the frozen 
limbs to action. This effect seems to follow more rapidly than 
we should have expected, for on returning in about ten minutes 
to have another look at our torpid friend, he is nowhere to be 
seen ; and as he would be rather a hard morsel for a small bird 
to tackle, we conclude that the lanky legs have again resumed 
work. This beetle, when in good working order, has a habit of 
“shamming dead” if touched, but he seemed too far gone when 
we found him to-day to play any tricks of that sort. 
Here is a huge stringy-bark, one of the giants of the forest, 
of colossal girth, and whose head seems to tower almost to the 
skies. One of the primeval trees we should imagine it, the 
building up of that huge frame being the work, certainly, of 
hundreds, perhaps of thousands, of years. His thick coating 
of tough, woolly bark has been blackened and charred by bush 
