4 
visiting, or warned of your approach to get away from the nest, it 
took a very sharp eye to locate the spot, however sure you were that 
the knowing pair had been beside it only a moment before. So it 
was bird-cunning against boy-craft; and unless, like a blackfellow, 
you had unlimited time, the retreat of Mr. and Mrs. Willie Wagtail 
generally remained undiscovered. If, however, you surprised the 
hen when sitting on the nest, she generally laid low and made no 
sign, trusting that her projecting tail would pass muster, while her 
husband came bustling up, watching you out of the corner of his eye, 
chattering all the time, and aimless flights towards the nearest tree, 
evidently trying to explain to you that there was the proper place to 
look for the nest. If, however, you are not beguiled by his tricks, but 
find it, and he sees that discovery is inevitable, and you commence 
to climb the tree, back he comes in a great state, crying, in true bird 
language, in a note quite different from his morning greeting—a 
compound of sorrow and anger. Having found the nest, you will 
seldom have any difficulty in getting up to it, and as the frightened 
mother flies off she discloses three or four—the number is variable— 
dull, white eggs with a greenish tint, ringed towards the broadest 
end with a zone of dull, brown, and blackish spots and blotches, 
nestled in a soft bed of feathers and rootlets. 
Now, unless you are a very hard-hearted and thoughtless boy—and 
remember “ that more evil is wrought by want of thought than ever 
by want of heart ”—you will only have a peep and then climb down 
again. Don’t even touch the eggs, or the sensitive little mother may 
abandon her nest. You will get a great deal more pleasure in 
watching the upbringing of the family if you have time and 
opportunity to visit the neighbourhood every few days, and you will 
soon gain the confidence of the little feathered creatures, who will 
take no notice of your presence ; and the queer-looking little nestlings 
one morning will poke up their little bald heads, all eyes and mouth to 
enquire what you have brought them to eat, for at this stage they are 
very like other babies—have nothing to do but eat, sleep, and grow— 
and it takes Mr. and Mrs. Willie Wagtail all their time keeping these 
clamouring, squeaking, little bunties quiet when insects are scarce, 
but they manage it somehow. If the home is well chosen, and the 
babies escape the many ills and enemies that await every small life, 
the proud time comes when all the down is replaced with feathers 
and the boldest of them climb on to the edge of the nest and 
meditate about the art of flying, and it is probably a very proud 
moment in our little friends’ life when they start the fledglings on 
their first flight and launch the young folks out in the world on their 
own account. 
I am quite certain that any boy who has watched such a little 
family would never intentionally destroy a nest, and if the writing of 
this little paper saves the life of one of God’s little creatures it will 
not have been penned in vain. 
[One plate.] 
Sydney : William Applegate Gullick, Government Printer. —l'J04. 
