BLACK-LORED THICKHEAD. 
McLennan, I was pleased to make the acquaintance of this loud-voiced 
songster. The note, of course, was new to us, and we all looked to our 
guide (Mr. McLennan), who informed us it belonged to P. gilberti. The call- 
note consists of five loud sweet notes, sharply uttered in a decrescendo tone. 
Another call very like that of P. 'pectoralis, only of greater volume, it was 
also heard to use. I put the female off a nest that was placed in a small 
pine and which held two fresh eggs. This species is very plentiful at Kow 
Plains, and their calls were mostly heard in the earlier part of the morning.” 
Chisholm’s notes are worth repetition : 4 4 This sweet- voiced bird I have 
met in Victoria and South Australia. It was found to be plentiful, as Capt. 
S. A. White points out, about the Murray River sandhills when the R.A.O.U. 
party visited that locality in November-December 1914. The birds were 
timid, but a specimen was procured through calling one up. No nests were 
found there, however, though probably the birds were breeding at the time. My 
acquaintance with the Gilbert Whistler 4 at home ’ dates back to 2nd October, 
1912. On that day, I was cycling slowly along an old bush road in the Mary- 
borough district, when I saw the large, bright eye of a bird peering over the 
rim of a nest placed on a bush-covered tree stump about 3 feet in height. It 
suggested the Grey Thrush ( Colluricincla harmonica), but a closer inspection 
showed that the bird’s bill was smaller than that of the Thrush. When it was 
flushed from the nest the identity of the stranger became apparent. The 
nest was finely built, chiefly of grass, most compactly and neatly matted into a 
round wall. The eggs suggested those of the Yellow-breasted Whistler, but were 
slightly larger. While I was examining the nest the male bird appeared, uttering 
a low, plaintive whistle somewhat resembling the alarm-note of Cinclosoma. 
For a little while the pair kept flitting anxiously about, each emitting an exceed- 
ingly sweet call, sounding as 4 Wee-e-e-woo,’ the last note lower. A number 
of other notes resembled some used by P. rufiventris, the whiplike crack being 
even stronger. It was preceded and followed, too, by a soft, sweet note that 
sounded like an echo of the crack coming from far aw'ay. On my next visit 
(7th October) the male bird was in charge of the eggs. (Is this division of duty 
a trait of the genus ?) Two days later the female sat on the nest, and was 
much bolder, the reason being that one young bird had just emerged from its 
shell. During the next three days the solitary chick — the second egg proved 
infertile — thrived ; but on the 15th October there was an empty nest and wailing 
parents. Ten days later the nest was wholly removed, presumably by the birds. 
After that I saw little of the Whistlers till September 1913. On the 14th of 
that month I heard a pair calling about the same locality, and on the 26th 
found the nest. It was built neatly on the top of an old Babbler’s nest, placed 
about 7 feet up in a bushy sapling. The female fluttered off as I approached, 
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