VoI i 92 ? V '] FLETCHER, Birds of the Steppes 
113 
Erythrodryas rodinogaster. Pink Robin. I heard it calling in a 
tea-tree scrub on the way to Arthur Lakes. 
Amaurodryas vittata. Dusky Robin.—Locally known as “Wood 
Robin” and “Sad Robin,” this latter from the sad tone of its call. 
Not nearly so numerous as the other Robins. On Friday, 3rd Novem¬ 
ber, a heavy fall of snow occurred in the morning, but melted quickly. 
In the afternoon I was out with Miss Wilson, and as we were hurry¬ 
ing home through the forest in the midst of a snowstorm, I caught 
sight of a pair of brown eyes watching us from amidst a circle of 
shoots round a broken sapling. This was the only Duskie’s nest of 
that year’s building I found. There were two eggs of the beautiful 
bluish-green type in the nest. I think she must have been shielding 
them from the severe weather. Later I went along to take a photo¬ 
graph of the bird at her nest, but found it lying on the ground and 
the remains of three eggs near it. Early in December I came on a 
couple of broods on the wing. The above nest was closely padded 
with fur, and more warmly built than is the rule with this species. 
Pachycephala pectoralis. Golden Whistler.—I often heard them 
whistling from amongst the Banksia trees. The only nest I found 
was pulled to pieces. It was being built in a thick branch of a honey¬ 
suckle, and appeared ready for eggs. It was lined with the branch- 
lets of the sheoak. 
Pachycephala olivacea. Olive Whistler.—Also present in same 
locality as last named. I happened to see the female, carrying a 
strip of stringy bark, fly into a low branch of a broken-down Banksia. 
I watched her twisting this into position, and later found a partly- 
made nest. More work was done to it for a few days, then it was 
deserted. 
Rhipidura flabellifera. Grey Fantail.—Very numerous. From 
every description of country around the homestead their merry notes 
would be heard, even when snow was about. They commenced to 
nest in the third week of October. I found quite a number of their 
beautifully-made tiny cradles in situations from two feet above the 
ground to 20 feet up, on a thin twig beneath the boughs of a long 
lank Banksia. Another home was on a twig of a wattle tree in a 
cluster of yellow blossom. Still another was on a bare sloping piece 
of gum tree bough, beneath the trunk of a fallen tree, and screened 
from sight by a mat of dead gum branches. This nest had no tail; 
the slanting position of its support being sufficient for any drainage. 
I searched and searched before I discovered this home. I endeavoured 
to photograph it, but on account of the low, cramped situation and 
the conflicting lights, the picture was not a success. The tiny hen 
was very tame, and settled on her eggs while I was trying to focus. 
At last I had everything ready and was just pulling the slide, when 
a rabbit dashed right between the camera legs, closely followed by 
a couple of dogs. Result—collapse of everything! The rabbit 
escaped, but the dogs would not leave. 
In place of the hair from the tree-fern the Fantails about here use 
more shreds of rotten wood and the brown velvet from the Banksia 
cones in constructing their homes. I watched a pair choosing a site. 
Several likely places were inspected and tried—the latter by the little 
hen sitting in the spot and turning round. Finally both birds seemed 
to agree to one site on a twig by an upright Banksia knob. Away 
they flew. I thought they had gone, and was looking* at another 
bird, when I heard them come back. Each had a beakful of cobwebs, 
and in turn twisted it round the small stem and the knob as well. 
Passing by the same tree in the afternoon, I saw they had the nest a 
quarter of an inch high, so I decided to return and endeavour to 
secure some photographs of the building. But weather conditions of 
sleet and rain prevented me for a couple of days, then I found the 
nest with the side torn out. 
