An Australian 
Wonder. 
( 66 ) 
THE BIRD WORLD. 
The gully becomes more enchanting as 
we near, its head. The banks are draw* 
ing close, long, graceful fern-fronds 
meeting overhead subdue the light, 
while the air is charged with delightful 
aroma from the blossoming sassafras. 
Along this secluded sylvan arcade I pro¬ 
ceed slowly, feeling sure that some Lyre 
Bird will have chosen such a romantic 
situation for its nest. As I crawl from 
under a large log I instinctively cast my 
eyes upon the right bank, and, to my 
delight, I espy the third and last nest 
backed against the butt of a sassafras 
tree, with the entrance just in my face. 
To let my companion know, I send out 
a “ coo-ee-e ” that makes the hills re¬ 
sound, and the unwonted noise frightens 
the poor hen bird off her nest. She 
gives one bound over a log, and in an 
instant is out of sight. 
The Meadow Pipit 
That little brown bird which looks 
something like a Skylark, and sings a 
shrill and not unmusical song as it 
rises in the air over the pasture or moor¬ 
land, is the Meadow-Pipit, a bird whose 
resemblances to the Skylark have also 
earned for it the name of Titlark, It 
does not soar to any great height (not 
higher than 50 ft. at the outside), and 
its little song is not long sustained; but 
it has a cheerful presence, and by reason 
of its abundance adds much to the in¬ 
terest of the wild, open places it specially 
favours, where it may be seen running 
over the ground, in search of insects, 
like a Wagtail. Its nest, built of dry 
grass in heather clumps or any tangle 
of herbage on the ground, is frequently 
made the nursery of a Cuckoo’s babies. 
Instances of the Meadow-Pipit’s foster- 
parentage of Cuckoos have been 
observed on the loneliest of treeless 
moorlands, which is rather surprising 
•considering that such places are the 
most unlikely Cuckoo haunts. The 
Meadow-Pipit remains with us all the 
year round. 
Upsetting Nature’s 
Balance. 
A prophecy uttered in conversation 
two years ago by a famous Hungarian 
naturalist is coming true. He said 
that in England the birds so assidu¬ 
ously protected would presently turn 
and rend us. There is no doubt, says 
a London paper, as many horticulturists 
and farmers are now beginning to com¬ 
plain, that the balance of Nature is 
being upset. The raid against 
Sparrows organised by Kent farmers is 
the opening of a wide campaign against 
several species. 
The Sparrow is the worst. He has 
learnt all the vices. He even lives in 
flats. He did not use to enjoy buds, 
but in a Hertfordshire parish a beauti¬ 
ful wistaria covering the whole side of 
a house has just been stripped by 
Sparrows, who attacked the buds as 
eagerly as they attack the crocus blooms 
in London. 
The Bullfinch is rarer, but much more 
destructive, except to corn. In some of 
the fruit-growing centres trees have 
been almost killed and entirely stripped 
of every leaf by tribes of Bullfinches, 
and from an examination of the birds 
and the completeness of the ruin, it is 
found that the bud itself, not the “ worm 
in the bud,” is the object. The farmer 
is beginning to regard the Rook as 
hardly less offensive than the Bullfinch, 
and a raid similar to the Kent farmers 
on the Sparrow is being meditated. The 
Rook is a natural friend of farmers, 
especially is he a sworn foe to that 
most pernicious of pests, the daddy¬ 
longlegs ; but as soon as his numbers 
increase beyond a proper measure, as 
in parts of England they have increased, 
hi loses all proper instincts, and serious 
damage from his depredations is re¬ 
ported. The same thing has happened 
recently in Hungary, where it has been 
decided by an association of farmers to 
keep the numbers down. Starlings 
have increased so rapidly as to upset 
the balance of Nature even more 
seriously. 
