May, 1946 The Queensland Naturalist 
11 
yellows and misty blues, and following another path, found 
growing on the lower side of the path only, a belt of white 
everlasting flowers six feet and more high, a sea of snow 
among the green which I followed for about half a mile 
until it became thinner and petered out into the green 
of tiie scrub again. 
Then there are orchids that cling to tree and rock, 
whose graceful beauty and fearful names seem ill-mated 
to a mere looker-on; huge trees of the forest whose enor 
mous root-buttresses seem very strange to people only 
used to trees which grow in the conventional tree shapes, 
and which support hosts of poor relations in the way of 
orchids, staghorns, elkhorns, ferns, fungi, and beetles and 
bugs of various kinds and shapes, not to forget various 
vines; strange fungi luminous at night; birds of so many 
species it is impossible to name many here. Always the 
whip bird is heard, and nearly every dusk the cat bird 
makes a weird sort of noise hardly to be put under the 
heading of “birdsong.” If you are very quiet and lucky 
you might see the lye bird and even see him dance; per- 
haps startle a scrub turkey and see it race along the path 
into some less accessible place in the forest. 
My springtime favourite is the rufous fantail, a 
friendly little fellow who, having decided you are harm- 
less, flies low along the path in front of you, a friendly 
and warm bit of colour against the dai’k earth and sombre 
shade of the big scrub. Every short while be comes to 
earth on the path ahead, flicking his tail and peering at 
you from very bright eyes and then when you are a few 
steps off, away he flies again to repeat the performance 
till he tires aiul with a last graceful tail-flick and flash of 
rufous colouring, lie’s away and the unrelieved greens and 
browns close round you again, cool and aloof. 
Our birds are very obliging with their vocal efforts 
but some are much more enjoyable than others. All birds 
do not sing — some make a dashed lot of noise, which it 
repeated long enough by a large enough chorus, is, to sav 
the least of it, a bit tedious. However, most of them are 
very tuneful and sometimes the forest seems a vast aviary. 
I find I have said nothing of other animals or rocks, 
but for those interested in these there is plenty of material 
to work on; enough to keep all types of naturalists busy 
for a very long time, so I will leave it at that, and now 
back at the beginning of our trail, we ean look down the 
valley and watch a crimson sun set, promising us a fine 
day for the morrow. 
