Vol. XXIV. 
1925 
Obituary 
311 
Plateau)” to the Emu, Vol. 22, page 39. She also contributed 
some shorter notes, and, if her life had been spared, would un- 
doubtedly have published more of her observations. 
The following extracts from the last letter received from her 
by the writer, dated October 27, 1924, seem worthy of permanent 
record in the Etna. 
“About three weeks ago 1 had quite an interesting afternoon in 
the country about 20 miles in a south-westerly dnection tu>m 
Tamworth. We spent our day on a hillside covered with Lag, 
old, dead timber with young vigorous sapling tiees gi owing up 
through it. There were numbers of birds about, nocks o 1 e 
Spotted-sided Finches, Tits and White-faces, Gaterpillar-eaters 
Pardalotes (that say ‘chip-chip’), Magpie-Larks, ked->ac\Cj 
Parrots, Rosellas, White-plumed and Lunulated Honeyeatei s—-a 
our ordinary birds, in fact. But what 1 was most mtei estec in 
were a pair of Hooded Robins and the Rufous Song- ,ai \s. 
There were, 1 am sure, dozens of the latter, Hying in then iatiel 
clumsy way from tree to tree and singing incessantly. wa^ 
able to study them better than I have ever been able to d° bctoie, 
and made the discovery that they have two entirely difteient 
songs—a ‘flying’ song and a ‘sitting’ song! They kept entire!} 
to the dead trees and almost altogether to the topmost branches. 
I did not see one descend to the ground, though once or twice 
they alighted on logs. They kept flying from one tree to anot ici , 
and whilst they flew invariably sang the ordinary, forced vin< 
of song that we know so well. But the very instant that the} 
lit on a bough that song ceased, as though cut oil by a knife, 
and the bird sat rather hunched up and clumsily (something like 
a cuckoo). If it sat for some time it would presently begin to 
quiver and shake all over (as if making a great effort) and to 
utter low trilling notes, then would break into a beautiful, iu , 
mellow, musical run of notes not in the least like the Hying 
song. I have often wondered why the Bird-book calls then 
song ‘one of the richest and sweetest of Australian bud-songs, 
do not call the ‘flying’ song either rich or sweet, but the sitting 
song could be so described. I am thinking of wilting a note to 
the Emu about it.’’ . . . “There was a curious rocky knob 
near where we were, and 1 climbed up it. 1 don t know what the 
rocks are, but they are bright red and piled up into a gi eat can n. 
It is covered all over with a thick low growth of some mimosa- 
like shrub, covered with clematis vines. I thought I might find 
some fresh birds there, but only saw some Geiygones^ and a 
family of ordinary Blue Wrens. I hesc w eie, howevei , interest¬ 
ing in that tzvo little blue males and one female weie bus} feed¬ 
ing three little babies in a low bush. 1 have heaid ot a bacheloi- 
uncle Wren (so to speak) lending a hand to bring up the children, 
but had not seen it before for myself. By squeaking, as I sat 
quietly tinder a big, red boulder, I brought both papa and uncle 
fussing round my feet within a foot or two.”- W.B.A. 
