Feb., 1922 
59 
The Queensland Naturalist. 
FROM A BUSH WINDOW. 
By Mrs. F. H. IIobler, “Kilrock,” Jandowae. 
Bird life ! Yes, we of the bush see it daily, and some 
of us — later all, I hope, as the love of Nature study grows 
stronger — watch it with wondering eyes. Now, as I sit by 
the open window, the small birds’ calls are pre-eminent. 
First a pair of Welcome Swallows ( Hirundo neoxena) 
flit to and fro,, both busy carrying insects to the two now 
fully Hedged babies who but yesterday left their secure 
mud nest, so beautifully lined with the softest of feathers 
collected from the fowl-yard, and built high up under the 
window-shade on the eastern side of the house. AYhat. 
worry it was to the parents when one babe, so full of con- 
fidence and thought to see the world, buttered almost help- 
less into the tiny wheat-patch near by! His life might 
have quickly ended but for the fact that the sixteen years 
of the cat rendered him indifferent to the little cries of 
distress. This morning both young birds have gained con- 
fidence, and are now perched on the highest point of the 
grape-vine trellis, while the devoted parents dart hither 
and thither in search of food. 
Now the call of the Pardalote (“chip-chip”) comes to 
me, and I see him busily hunting along the veranda eaves, 
probably for a hole in which to build — for creek-banks are 
scarce in this hat country. Last spring a pair of Parda- 
lotes ( Pardalotus melanocephalus) espied a large auger-hole 
in a stump in which grew a great cluster of mignonette, 
and at this they were busy for some days, then deserted. 
Seeking the reason, I found a green frog had taken posses- 
sion, and his bulky body quite filled the passage-way. I 
remember that once a Pardalote tried to enter an old nest 
of the Fairy Martin ( Petrockelidon arid), but was caught 
by its head, and, alas ! when found was cold and stiff. So 
even in the lesser life there is tragedy. 
I listen now to the ceaseless twitterings of the tiny 
Tufted Lark, of which I do not know the name.* It is 
under the shade of the lemon-tree. First there is a call not 
unlike that of the common Ground Lark (A nth us australis ) . 
Then it breaks into songs which might easily be mistaken 
for a Canary’s; indeed, it has several calls and apparently 
seldom tires, for T hear it constantly through the night. At 
daylight their numbers increase, but the notes are inter- 
mingled with those of many others of the feathered race. 
One tiny nest I found contained hve delicately marked 
eggs, the nest being, very similarly to that of the Pipit, 
Probably the Bush Lark. Mirafra. — Eds. 
