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Sydney Porter—Notes from Australia



The extraordinary thing about this bird is that it nests in the mid¬

winter, which in the mountain ranges is usually quite severe, sharp

frosts and deep snow are not of unusual occurrence. The birds then

leave the higher ranges and come down to the densely wooded gullies ;

but here it is still very cold, even in mid-summer we used to have

fires in the evenings. The nest is a huge affair, domed, with the entrance

at one side. It is composed of fine roots and dead leaves, and is large

enough inside for a dog the size of a small fox terrier to sleep in. The

nests I saw were empty, as the birds had gone higher up the ranges,

but they use the same nest when not disturbed year after year. Only

one egg is laid and the incubation lasts for six weeks. Although the

male neither helps in building the nest nor in feeding the young he is

usually in the vicinity of the nest. The young are supposed to keep

with the parents for three or four years, after that the eldest is driven

off to fend for itself. Each pair of birds have their own territory, but

they are said to pay visits to neighbouring couples.


The birds were quite plentiful in Big Tree Gully, so called

because of a giant Eucalyptus r eg nans, nearly 300 feet high and over

60 feet in circumference, an ideal spot for the birds, where the dense

forest covered the steeply sloping ground and tree ferns and other

forest undergrowth kept the place in perpetual twilight. The mould

was deep, rich, and damp, which is very necessary for the food supply

of the bird. Tiny streams trickled in all directions, often lost beneath

the thick humus of untold centuries. In such spots only can the Lyre¬

bird exist, for it is only here that it can obtain its food, which mainly

consists of a small crustacean which lives just below the surface of the

mould. Almost everywhere one finds evidences of the birds’ scratchings,

often they go quite deeply into the humus; also they dig into the rotten

tree trunks ; one also finds numerous feathers about. But in this part

of its range seldom does one ever get but the merest glimpse of this

elusive creature. After perhaps an hour or more of watching, we would

hear one treading its way through the forest, but fifty yards or more away

this wary creature invariably caught sight of us and in a second made

off. Sometimes we managed to get quite close up to a bird which was

singing in a dense clump of undergrowth ; I must have been within

three yards of one bird, but he must have seen me before I saw him,



