M(icd<rtvcdcly
 
 m 
 
 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 ■* V* >*. tVL' ' V^' 
 
 ^-z ^;.^>i^0
 
 GUM BOUGHS 
 
 AND 
 
 WATTLE BLOOM, 
 
 GATHERED ON 
 
 Australian IJxUs anb J^latns. 
 
 BY 
 
 DONALD MAC DONALD 
 
 CaSSELL & Company, Limited 
 london, paris, new york <t- miu. bourne.
 
 96/9^3 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 In Riverina . 
 From a Western Hill-'jop 
 A Melbourne Garden . 
 Gipps Land Wood Notes 
 Juvenile Poachers 
 Silver Gujnis . 
 Village and Farm 
 Kingfishers and Pigeons 
 The Home of the Blackfish 
 A Day in the Bush 
 Suburban Walks . 
 Something about Snak.es . 
 Along the South Coasi' 
 
 7 
 
 36 
 
 49 
 
 73 
 
 92 
 
 113 
 
 133 
 
 15S 
 
 173 
 
 193 
 
 208 
 
 227 
 
 241 
 
 1 61 72G'?
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 These sketches have appeared at intervals in the 
 Argus under my initials " D. M.," and in the Austra- 
 lasian under the noni de plinne oi " Gnuyang," the latter 
 being in part an expression used in one of the Western 
 native dialects to indicate a gossip. The notes are 
 rather those of an observer than a naturalist. 
 
 '' Whence gathered ? — The locusts' glad chirrup 
 
 May furnish a stave ; 
 The ring of a rowel and stirrup 
 
 The rush of a wave. 
 The chaunt of the marsh frog in rushes, 
 That chimes through the pauses and hushes 
 Of nightfall, the torrent that gushes, 
 
 The tempests that rave." 
 
 Written in moments of respite from the duties of 
 daily journalism, defects of hasty preparation must 
 be apparent, and the reader will kindly accept at 
 the outset an apology for occasional repetitions. A 
 botanist may consider the title faulty, since the Gurn
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 is more correctly a Eucalyptus, and the Wattle an 
 Acacia. Vox the title and throughout the book I 
 have, however, used popular names, which serve 
 quite as well as scientific terms for identification, 
 and are generally more expressive and appropriate. 
 I may further explain that sketches dealing with 
 kindred subjects have in several instances been 
 grouped under a single heading. Amongst many 
 who have been kind enough to encourage the con- 
 tinuance of this country chatter my thanks are 
 especially due to Mr. David Watterston of the 
 Australasian and Mr. Julian Thomas ("The Vaga- 
 bond "). If the book has any interest it will speak 
 for itself; if not, no amount of prefator\' remarks can 
 console the reader. 
 
 D. M. 
 
 TJie " Argus " Office, 
 Melbourne.
 
 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 There is no part of Australia claiming an individu- 
 ality more complete than Riverina ; and under this 
 title may be included the great plains stretching to 
 north and south from the Murray River. One may 
 wander in many parts of the continent and yet fail to 
 .discover anything that, with a greater dearth of mate- 
 rial to produce effect, leaves such a lasting picture 
 upon the memory. Some Australian bush scenes, 
 quite idyllic in their wild beauty, will be forgotten 
 when that long day's ride in the Riverina country is 
 still fresh in the memory. And who that has ridden 
 across the Old Man Plain, and wondered when the 
 placid sea of grass would curl into a billow, or the sail 
 of an inland ship — the hawker's white-ridged waggon 
 — break against the blue sk}'-line, needs any descrip- 
 tion of it? This waste land without limits, summer- 
 bleached and desolate, the monotonous chaos of these 
 endless plains leave impressions that can never be 
 effaced. What Nature gives she gives in plenty 
 here. The clumps of box-gums clinging together for 
 sympathy ; the desert acacias, the weeping myalls, 
 standing singly out on the plain ; these are c:vt 
 lavishly over hundreds of miles. The free open life
 
 S GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 in this lone land has a charm for many men, and 
 they stick to it as long as they can manage to climb 
 into a saddle. Only those who know the real con- 
 ditions of a boundary-rider's life can appreciate the 
 realism of one of the finest of Lyndsay Gordon's 
 poems, " The Sick Stockrider." A complete history 
 of the territory would be full of romance, and some 
 very hard realities. Stories of lost travellers dying of 
 thirst are much too common to be worthy of special 
 notice. I used to know an old Scotch shepherd who 
 for years had tramped across these plains with his 
 dogs — a pair of splendid collies that never by any 
 chance got a kind look or word from their crabbed 
 taskmaster. One day death met the patriarch on 
 one of his sun-beaten journeyings, and out in the 
 solitude of One Tree Plain the old shepherd sank 
 down and died. The dogs, unconscious disciples of 
 the soldierly rule "death before desertion,^' nestled 
 down beside the body and slowly starved to death 
 through the summer days. By-and-by a couple of 
 nomadic shearers, striking away towards the " back 
 blocks," found in their path this little heap of mor- 
 tality. 
 
 Nowhere in Australia will a shower of rain effect 
 a transformation more rapid and complete than in 
 Riverina. One week there is a barren waste stretching 
 league upon league, the next a thick green carpet of 
 succulent herbage. Where not even a withered wisp 
 of kangaroo grass appeared a io."^ days since there are 
 now beautiful plots of rare summer grass. If Riverina 
 bore such a crop everywhere the pastoral ists would 
 be rich, and saltbush would be a despised plant by 
 comparison. Along the banks of the watercourses,
 
 IN RIVER IN A. 9 
 
 that not long since were merely dry depressions in 
 the land, wild melons are springing and spreading so 
 rapidly as to give the place the appearance of a 
 garden. The taste for these melons is hard to acquire, 
 no doubt. Ancient shepherds and boundary-riders, 
 who have lived for a quarter of a century on the 
 plains, pretend to like the fruit, but their palates have 
 been ruined by an everlasting diet of mutton and 
 dyspeptic damper, and they have long since forgotten 
 the flavour of a genuine melon. Another fruit of 
 fraudulent type growing on the plains is the quan- 
 dong. Something in shape and colour like a small 
 crab-apple, it is fair enough to the eye, but in taste 
 thoroughly insipid. On some stations they are en- 
 thusiastically made into jam ; but this indicates a 
 plentiful lack of other fruits rather than any merit 
 in the quandong. The nuts are more valuable than 
 the fruit, and stockmen sitting round their camp fires 
 at night carve them into all sorts of quaint little orna- 
 ments. 
 
 These central plains are the home of the great 
 red kangaroo. " Great " to science, but not always 
 so in size ; for most of those that range in little 
 mobs along the retired bends of the Edwards, the 
 Murrumbidgee, and the Wakool, are not large. The 
 fur after death loses the beautiful red lustre which has 
 given a name to the species, and is the distinctive 
 colour of the males. A delicate pink flush in the 
 under neck is even more rapid in its decay. It seems 
 to be a dye issuing from the pores of the skin, rather 
 than a fixed tint in the fur capillaries. The docs 
 are of a delicate indefinable blue. So much fleeter 
 are they than the males that in summer, when the
 
 10 GUM nOVGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 ground is hard, the veteran kangaroo dog will pick 
 out the brighter-coloured males, although experience 
 tells him that the chances of a hard fight at the finish 
 of the run are thus increased. It is a matter of legs, 
 not of chivalry. Most dogs will chase a half-grown 
 rather than an adult kangaroo, and sometimes when 
 th-e flying doe throws her " joey " from its pouch the 
 dogs turn upon the little one. 
 
 In midsummer the kangaroo are either lolling in 
 the cool avenues of the thick box clumps that spot the 
 plain and stretch in streaks by the river side, or they 
 sit in the myall shadow, moving with it as it shrinks 
 at noon, and extends again when the sun is lov/ering 
 to the west. Seen thus for the first time at a distance, 
 and through the glare of a December heat, they look 
 like the statues of some strange dead gods. It is so 
 hot here that even these timid creatures will not leave 
 their wretched bit of shade, and only take flight as a 
 last extremit)- ; but the experienced kangaroo dog is 
 wise enough to leave them alone at such a period 
 unless he can come to very close quarters indeed. To 
 one who has coursed hares with a greyhound, or held 
 a straining staghound in leash with a deer in sight, 
 it seems incomprehensible that dogs should watch a 
 kangaroo bound away through the steaming heat, 
 and at the same time conquer a natural impulse to 
 follow. 
 
 Riverina plains are cruelly hard and bare in mid- 
 summer, and striding over them means blistered feet 
 and broken toes. It is amusing to watch an old dog 
 steal upon a kangaroo that is clinging as long as 
 possible to his favourite .shade-spot. When the 
 head of the kangaroo is turned from him the dog
 
 }N RIVERINA. II 
 
 advances quickly, but always in a crouching position, 
 like a pointer approaching quail. As the game looks 
 again in his direction the dog seems petrified, and 
 the slightest sign of movement or alarm has the same 
 result. Sometimes they remain thus for a minute — 
 kangaroo and dog motionless as carved stone. The 
 head of the squatted marsupial again turns listlessly 
 away, and again its enemy darts a few paces nearer, 
 until a final rush brings him alongside the quarry 
 almost before it is fairly in motion. 
 
 In winter, when the ground is soft after rains, 
 the kangaroo falls while attempting to turn sharply, 
 and it is then that the professional hunter and his 
 pack, whose purpose is scalps and extermination, kill 
 the red kangaroo in hundreds. In the evening you 
 find the hunter riding home, blood-bespattered from 
 head to foot, and with a long string of scalps to sell 
 to the vermin boards or the station owners. Skele- 
 tons of dead marsupials cover the plains. Could the 
 spirits of the generations of aboriginal hunters, who 
 lived and died here before squatter and selector, 
 sundowner and shearer came, revisit the plains, they 
 would find fit weapons for ghostly warriors in the 
 long white shank-bones gleaming through the grass 
 - — appropriate gnulla-gnullas and boomerangs. In 
 some places are bleached bones piled high beneath 
 the trees. They mark the site of a battue — a sacri- 
 fice offered after the old Pagan way to King Merino 
 of the Golden Fleece. 
 
 The everyday slaughter of kangaroo with dog 
 and club is not sport. These uneventful massacres* 
 are not worth remembering, but a burst on horseback 
 over the plain in the moonlight lives jn the memory.
 
 12 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 Of winter nights there is a crispness in the air 
 that gives extra zest even to the exhilaration of a ride 
 across the plains. No fear of danger here from low- 
 hanging limbs or rocks and boulders in the path. The 
 grass is thick and soft and green, so that the hoof- 
 beats hardly break the palpable, impressive silence. 
 No night fogs to afflict the lungs ; everywhere draughts 
 of purest ozone, which even the weakest may inhale. 
 In summer, when the sun invests the plain, and only 
 the skeleton of the spring verdure clings to the 
 crushed earth, one used to lie prostrate while the 
 blood-red moon climbed sluggishly up the curve of 
 the dead, saffron sky. Then one fancied the dome 
 of the sky oppressively close down, pressing on to 
 one, and the shafts of yellow light were thrown across 
 it solidly, like lamp shadows on the white ceiling of 
 a room. No sea breezes fan this parched land as on 
 summer nights near the coast. But in winter the 
 light is even and alike everywhere. There is life in 
 the night. The horse wants to gallop for his own 
 pleasure. Where the knees press the saddle you 
 can feel the sharp upward roll and forward lunge of 
 the bunched muscle which tells when the steed is 
 galloping high and with his heart in the work. The 
 air is really quite still, yet the sharp breath of motion 
 is humming through one's very hair in merry music 
 that seems to react upon the blood. It is an expe- 
 rience of a winter's night in Central Riverina, and of 
 nowhere else, and even the flying kangaroo, which we 
 race with rather than hunt, is the better for the run. 
 ^What delicacy in the shadows cast by that metallic 
 moonlight, which has more of silver in it than any other 
 li^ht, though the faintest burnishing of gold gleams
 
 /.V RIVERINA. 13 
 
 close up to every object. The spectre grass is faintly 
 outlined ; a silken hair held aloft in the moonlight 
 seems almost to cast its shadow. There are no bluff 
 edges anywhere ; the outline is soft, suggestively 
 faint. And in the prospect there is the same want of 
 limit. One might speed for leagues and find the 
 same dim horizon opening up before the same inde- 
 finable curves of distance on either hand, the same 
 succession of miles cast behind. A single red star on 
 the plain — the homestead light — is a beacon that 
 beckons rather than warns us away. Such a night 
 ride is the poetry of station life thrown into contrast 
 by many pages of dullest prose. 
 
 While the primeval " dog-leg" fence of the Victorian 
 bush, or the latter-day "chock and log," are no 
 impediments in the path of our foresters, the skeleton 
 wire fence of the plains, so fragile in appearance, yet 
 so terribly tough in fibre, has always been a mystery 
 to the red kangaroo. Every day he meets it upon 
 the plain, yet it remains unfamiliar as ever, and 
 almost impenetrable. In flight every other barrier 
 is taken in his bound, but this he rarely crosses. 
 Shirking the leap, he prefers to run down the line of 
 the fence, so that where kangaroo are thick there are 
 marks on either side of many toe-nails. Watch a 
 mob of red kangaroo moving awkwardly across the 
 plain. When moving slowly no animal is more un- 
 gainly in its gait, but at full speed all ungainliness 
 disappears. A flying doe bounding away at her 
 best pace is as graceful as a hare or deer in rapid 
 motion. Coming to the wire fence the flock halts, . 
 and the wings deflect either way in search of a 
 gap. Those that have become accustomed to one
 
 14 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 stretch of country know the gates and slip rails just 
 as a hare moves instinctively to a gap in a hedge, or 
 run-hole in a stone wall. Some of the kangaroo 
 feebly thrust their heads between the wires in a vain 
 effort to force a passage. The smaller ones perhaps 
 get through, but to the adults, unless they are much 
 alarmed, a well-strained wire fence is an effective 
 barrier. When a mob is thus cornered in the angle 
 of two wire fences they turn back in the face of the 
 danger, and break past in extending fan formation 
 until, as they speed across the plain, the wings are a 
 half-mile apart. The wire fences are, indeed, respon- 
 sible for the death of almost as many kangaroo as their 
 chief enemy — the professional hunter. The boundary- 
 rider, cantering along the limit of his run, finds the 
 wires broken, and knows that only the steel tendons 
 of an old man, as thick as the shank-bone itself, could 
 have done it. Sometimes there is a terrible struggle 
 before these iron bonds arc burst asunder, and the 
 triumphant veteran shambles away over the grass. 
 
 In the anatomy of the kangaroo simplicity of 
 joint is noticeable. The short upper leg-bone works 
 on the shank through the very slenderest of ridge 
 and socket connections, but is wonderfully braced and 
 clamped about with sinews. A joint pliant, but not 
 subject to dislocation. Yet with all this, escape from 
 the toils is the exception, not the rule. Generally the 
 unfortunate animal is found with both hind legs hope- 
 lessly twisted in the wires, and the shank-bones 
 broken. Perhaps it has hung thus for days, enduring 
 the concentrated miseries of thirst and hunger, with 
 an agony of pain — reduced to a mere skeleton, yet 
 still alive. As the horseman approaches, the poor
 
 /.V RIVER IN A. 15 
 
 animal, worn down by days and nights of struggling, 
 makes yet another feeble effort for that liberty which 
 would be useless even if obtained. The deer-like 
 eyes roll feebly, and the agony so mutely borne 
 touches even its worst enemy. With a pitying, " poor 
 devil,'" the stockman slips his stirrup, and a blow 
 between the ears ends at once the kangaroo's misery 
 and its life. Sometimes only a white skeleton, picked 
 clean by the crows, marks the spot where the flyer of 
 the plains took her last leap. Before the feeble life 
 was spent these scavengers of the northern rivers had 
 torn the eyes from their sockets and commenced a 
 meal. The eye is their bonne boiiche, and the carrion 
 birds devour this dainty morsel, whether of merino 
 or marsupial, first. 
 
 The fighting kangaroo is one in a hundred. The 
 old man's legs must have failed him in flight before he 
 trusts to their powers in battle. The fiercest fighter 
 I ever saw " stuck up " against a red gum tree in the 
 delta of the Edwards and Wakool. It was during 
 the rains of late winter, when the watercourses were 
 running full, and at some points the two rivers had 
 spread their waters over many miles of plain. The 
 dogs were not inclined to go to c|uarters with 
 this fine six-foot specimen, and while one of us 
 threatened him with a stick in front, the other 
 crept up behind the tree for a tail-hold. Once 
 get a tail-hold of the largest kangaroo, and he is 
 conquered. He may leap into the air, but a pull 
 brings him back to where he sprang, while at any 
 moment a sharp twitch to one side throw's him off 
 his legs. In an instant the dogs rush in, and, keeping 
 clear of the crescents cut in air by his sweeping hind
 
 1 6 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 legs, slowly worry the life out of the game. This one 
 warded off the blows with his nervous little fore arms 
 as cleverly as a champion pugilist, and at last, 
 springing clear over the dogs, made a dash for the 
 watercourse. As he plunged into the yellow waters 
 the dogs were once more by his side, and again the 
 " boomer " wheeled and backed against one of the big 
 trees that stud these hollows. While he touched the 
 bottom, and had his scarred fore arms clear, the dogs 
 were swimming. He had them almost at his mercy 
 now, and the usually soft eyes were blazing and the 
 nose twitching in a way that showed the old man 
 was more angry than afraid. As the dogs neared 
 him he bent forward and pushed them viciously 
 beneath the water. There was no flurry, no mistake. 
 Each dog, as he rose, was quietly patted down again 
 — now the brindle, now the fawn, with calm impar- 
 tiality. The latter had less of the bull-dog blood 
 in him, and soon tired, but the brindle kept up the 
 struggle. With only one dog to deal with the 
 kangaroo would have soon finished the fight. Clasp- 
 ing the brindle in his arms, he held him now beneath 
 the water. The owner of the dog must interfere, or 
 lose his favourite. Rushing in waist deep, he aimed 
 a swinging blow at the old man with a waddy oi 
 stunted gum. There were no arms to ward off the 
 blow, but it fell a few inches short ; on the crown 
 of the skull it would have killed him instantly, but 
 it struck the kangaroo just above the nose, crushing 
 in the bone, and sprinkling the muddy water with a 
 rush of blood. A spasmodic leap, one last lunge 
 forward at his enemy, and kangaroo and dog went 
 down together. They rose apart out in the current,
 
 /N RIVERINA. 17 
 
 but neither wanted fighting now. For nearly a 
 quarter of a mile they were whirled along towards 
 the Edwards, then they swung round in an eddy to 
 the farther bank, among floating leaves and rushes, 
 and, side by side, crept ashore ; there they lay, within 
 a few feet of each other, both badly injured, both 
 beyond the reach of interference. The dog crept 
 home next day with his side frightfully gashed ; and 
 the kangaroo had also disappeared. In that last 
 lunge the old man had struck his enemy just below 
 the ribs, and the long dagger-claw had cut like steel 
 through the flesh ; the wound was stitched, and in 
 a week or so the dog, whose sides were seamed with 
 black scars, was winning new laurels, and multiplying 
 his wounds. 
 
 Shooting kangaroo with a bullet on the plains 
 requires nice calculation, for all the plain is a dead 
 level, and the monotonous stretch of grass deceives 
 the eye. Perhaps you have scared him from the 
 timber, and when you reach the edge of it there he 
 stands out on the open plain 500 yards away. You 
 get a rest for a careful shot, take a sight just under 
 the shoulder, and then find the lead cutting up the 
 turf 100 yards short of the mark as you fancy, but 
 double that distance out in reality, and going, per- 
 haps, pretty close to the head of the game on the 
 ricochet. This miscalculation of distance in Riverina 
 is the experience of the novice who has been accus- 
 tomed to the downs and broken country of Southern 
 Victoria. Here, as elsewhere, one soon learns to 
 estimate distance correctly, and the man who can 
 bowl over kangaroo with a rifle is likely to be a 
 dangerous sharpshooter in the sterner game of war. 
 B
 
 1 8 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 Between timber clumps there is generally a clear, 
 narrow vista where the moon's rays fall without in- 
 terruption, and this is a favourite spot for shooting 
 kangaroo and wallaby on bright nights, as they 
 come up to gain the open, and en route pass across 
 this lighted avenue, from a broad, scrubby bend in 
 the river that gave shelter by day to hundreds of 
 them. One night, as we waited, something moved 
 out from the timber into the marginal shadow that 
 was all the blacker by contrast with the illuminated 
 band. " My shot," whispered one of the party, as he 
 sighted the shadow, and waited for it to become a kan- 
 garoo in the moonlight. It developed into a man, and 
 as he stepped from beneath the trees his foot trod 
 nearer the brink of the hereafter than it had ever trod- 
 den before. How that rifle dropped, and how our hearts 
 throbbed ! He who had claimed the shot was re- 
 markably quiet and silent for the rest of the night. 
 
 In the flocks of red and blue kangaroo that throng 
 the plains northward of the Murray a white one now 
 and again appears, but rarely reaches maturity. There 
 is a white doe in the Royal Park zoological gardens, 
 with an interesting infant of the same colour, that 
 puts out its head and fore-arms from the pouch in a 
 quaint way, and plucks the grass while mamma feeds. 
 The red old man in the kangaroo paddock is not a 
 bad type of his kind. Imagine a courtly Moslem 
 gentleman bending forward for an impressive salaam, 
 his curved scimitar sticking out behind, and you have a 
 fairly correct outline of a kangaroo in easy motion. The 
 red kangaroo has not sole possession of the central 
 plains. Away in the west, towards the Darling 
 River, the sooty kangaroo, with a dull coat of light
 
 IN RIVERINA. 19 
 
 brown, a lesser tail, smaller head, and handsome 
 brown eye, varies the monotony of red and blue fur. 
 
 My first kangaroo was shot at rather closer range 
 than I wished. I had been blazing away for an 
 hour, in the moonlight, at an occasional boomer, and 
 at what was apparently easy range; the wire cartridges 
 seemed, however, to make no impression. Finally, I 
 went down to the sheep tank, and lying in the shadow 
 of the great mound of earth raised by the excavation, 
 concluded to wait for the game as they came down to 
 drink. 
 
 But the animals seemed to be suspicious that 
 night, for they all bounded up to the further corner of 
 the tank, at which range I knew that the cartridges, 
 even if placed with the nicest judgment, would only 
 have served to frighten them. I had almost despaired 
 of getting a shot, when suddenly there came the sound 
 of approaching thumps, and before I could turn round, 
 one of the finest specimens hopped gracefully over the 
 mound, and stopped as though petrified within a few 
 feet of me. It was hard to say which of the two was 
 most astonished at that instant ; but the kangaroo 
 certainly was in the next, for, without any attempt at 
 aiming, I raised the muzzle quickly, and judging a 
 line for beneath the shoulder, fired. The poor old 
 man made one nervous, agonised leap high into the 
 air, and coming down almost on top of me, stretched 
 himself in a spasm or two and was dead. 
 
 Emu hunting is a test of endurance between horse 
 and bird, and with the former fairly fast and in good 
 condition the bird is almost invariably run down. At 
 full speed the emu drops its tail, throws back its head, 
 and seems to run almost erect, the long slender tail 
 B 2
 
 20 GL^J/ nouons axd wattle bloom. 
 
 feathers rustling like hay tossed about by the forks of 
 the harvesters, and in a way that alarms a horse new 
 to the work. When tiring, its legs straddle wider and 
 wider apart, so, struggling on to the very last gasp, 
 it falls heart-broken. 
 
 The emu is run down for the sake of its skin, but 
 with so inoffensive a bird the sport is a cruel one, and 
 few genuine sportsmen care to gallop a second emu. 
 Emus will eat anything. In captivity, especially, 
 they are a study in this respect. While all that 
 glitters may not be gold, in their eyes it is generally 
 hall-marked as something good to eat. After being 
 limited for a time to a diet of broken bottle and bits 
 of iron, there is nothing with which the average emu so 
 loves to amuse his palate as an eighteen carat watch- 
 chain, with nicely-assorted seal and pendants. His 
 gastric juices are equal to any metallic fragment, 
 and the bird was perhaps the original "snapper-up 
 of unconsidered trifles." The hen bird shows much 
 concern for her downy little ones, and often takes 
 them away to some solitary river bend, so that the 
 male may not kill them. 
 
 The wild turkey, or bustard, is perhaps the finest 
 game bird in all Australia. It gives the best sport 
 on the Riverina plains. As it stands statue-like 
 in the open^ it is almost impossible while on foot 
 to get within gunshot range ; but in a vehicle, or with 
 a horse trained to stand fire, the bird is an easy 
 victim. The man is suspected only when on foot, 
 for if mounted he may come within range, riding 
 round the bird in gradually narrowing circles. In 
 the summer the turkey likes the shade of trees lining 
 the watercourses, and may sometimes be stalked.
 
 AV RIl'ERINA. 21 
 
 During the winter it keeps to the open plains, 
 becomes fat, and is a splendid table bird. Sometimes 
 on a frosty morning — and frosts are very keen in this 
 region — you may see the birds in scores, standing on 
 one leg, erect and motionless, in the centre of a wide 
 open space, as though they had been frozen hard 
 during the night, and were waiting for the sunlight to 
 thaw them again. 
 
 The most extraordinary of Riverina birds is the 
 native companion, and those who have been privi- 
 leged to see perhaps a hundred of these birds in one of 
 their grotesque quadrilles will not soon forget the 
 spectacle. It is a ballet where the fairies are all clad 
 in slate-grey, with just the merest bit of scarlet about 
 the ear-lobes. While other birds are always frivolous 
 and ripe for fun, the native companion has long 
 periods of sanity, when his dignity augments enor- 
 mously. You see him to perfection only on those 
 plains where whitened turf and blue sky touch all 
 round the horizon and make a region of phantasy 
 of their own. This mirage when first seen in all its 
 beauty is one of the most absorbing of Nature's 
 illusions, and its effects in the strange enlargement 
 of natural objects is weird enough. Through a 
 break in this summer sea of the imagination a 
 stately native companion stalks along the horizon, 
 and, though far away in the distance, seems larger 
 than an emu. A second bird, standing not more 
 than a mile distant, is a mere crane by comparison 
 with the strange giant thus created by the sun- 
 light and the distance. The dancing fit comes 
 upon the native companion suddenly. There is no 
 gradual quickening of the pulse. The bird is cither
 
 22 CAIM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 a clown or a stoic, but has no intermediate stage. 
 At one instant you would as soon expect to see 
 this unimpressible long-legged bird dance as to see 
 a kangaroo turn a handspring, but in the next 
 instant it is in the throes of the queerest, maddest 
 series of capers that ever bird attempted. The relapse 
 from gravity is contagious. There may be twenty or 
 fifty companions in the flock, and instantly every bird 
 is dancing as though it were his perpetual occupa- 
 tion. Sometimes they break into groups. Were they 
 gifted wuth the same imitative faculties as the lyre 
 bird you would feel assured that this quadrille was 
 the result of the birds having watched some settler's 
 outdoor dance. One can fancy the melancholy crow 
 on the myall tree close by, acting as the black-garbed 
 dancing-master, and hear him call, " Down the middle 
 — heads across — wings all round-flap." No command 
 would seem too preposterous for these long-limbed 
 sprites. There are many points of resemblance be- 
 tween the bird gambols and that dying institution, 
 the corroborae of the natives, and, no doubt, many 
 of the " steps" of that wild night-dance of the tribes 
 weie borrowed from the "native companions." The 
 birds are determined mischief makers, and if driven 
 from one side of a large newly-sown field, promptly 
 alight at the other end, and continue operations. 
 
 The plains of Riverina seem to form a sort of 
 intermediate zone between the tropical forests of 
 Queensland and the colder and more humid timbered 
 tracts along the Victorian sea-board. Thus, birds 
 which are familiar also to the southern colony here 
 show the first approach to the brighter plumage seen 
 in northern forests. Not that rich colours are often
 
 IN RIVER IN A. 23 
 
 noticeable, but the russet-brown and dun-grey tints of 
 the birds of southern woods are more rich and vivid. 
 A few leagues farther north this gloss of feather will 
 change to so many rainbow hues. 
 
 The laughing jackass, as known about Mel- 
 bourne, has no more reputation for beauty than for 
 melody. The browns in his plumage mix in one 
 uninteresting patch of dulness. Along the Edward 
 River, however, the markings are more distinct, and in 
 general appearance "the jackass" is an improved bird. 
 If we met him in the blaze of one of those tropical 
 forests about Cape York, we should find him an 
 exquisite, brilliant in plumage, and harmonising with 
 his surroundings — no longer a foolish laughing jackass, 
 but in very truth a great gaudy kingfisher. 
 
 This is no exceptional development, for with smaller 
 birds the same peculiarity is noticeable. Where the 
 plumage is already rich other distinctions are in 
 reserve. Nothing could be more brilliant than the 
 kingfisher of the south as it skims over the surface of 
 a quiet stream, its swiftly vibrating wings leaving 
 two distinct lines upon the water, from which its pre- 
 vailing colours of azure and deep orange are reflected. 
 Farther north, about Torres Straits, we find him 
 adorned with two long tail-feathers, like a humming- 
 bird. One of the Riverina pigeons, as a first step 
 towards brevet rank and a finer uniform, has put 
 up a little black plume, showing that it stands at 
 least one grade higher than its plain, quaker-like 
 relation of the south. The arrangement is quite 
 seemly ; for in the glory of a tropical forest a 
 modestly-attired bird would be a dull blot in the 
 picture, and quite as conspicuous, by reason of his
 
 24 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 plain clothes, as the Queensland bird would be 
 if turned loose with his fine raiment on these 
 plains. 
 
 Another remarkable feature in the bird life of 
 Riverina is the way in which the magpie, crow, and 
 jay have confused their identity. Developing evid- 
 ently from a common source, the species have been 
 so multiplied that by a complete cycle in evolution 
 they threaten to work back again to the old position. 
 Some of the representatives of different orders seem to 
 have inter-married, and the issue are as mixed in the 
 matter of colour as the human families of the great 
 sheep-stations hereabout. Some are distinct, and very 
 black crows. There is no mistaking them ; you find 
 them perched in long rows on the red gum trees that 
 overhang the ana-branches of the rivers, waiting for 
 stock that may perish near the water, or the carcases 
 brought down by the floods. There they sit, the em- 
 bodiment of woe, and breaking now and again into a 
 croaking chorus. Then there is the genuine magpie, 
 always volatile and happy in spite of his garb of half 
 mourning. There can be no confusion about his two 
 extremes of ebonite black and snowy white. In be- 
 tween these two species come the black and grey 
 magpies as they are popularly known, together with 
 a couple of nondescript birds having some of the 
 peculiarities of each with the identity of none of 
 them in particular. There are altogether too many 
 of the jays in this favoured region, and family relations 
 have become frightfully confused. 
 
 Notwithstanding an abundance of food the hawk 
 tribe do not seem to prosper in Riverina, and they 
 have degenerated from the hawk of the southern
 
 /.'V RIVER /N A. 25 
 
 coast, or the cold forests of Gipps Land. The 
 goshawk, with his beautifully-mottled plumage, is 
 not so handsome as the specimens seen about the 
 Keilor Plains. It would seem that birds of prey thrive 
 better in a cold climate, and reverse the rule as 
 regards colour just mentioned as a characteristic of 
 other birds. They are the destroyers, however, and 
 not the victims, so there is no special reason why they 
 should bring themselves into harmony with the in- 
 animate objects about them. With the nocturnal 
 birds of prey in this locality the same peculiarity is 
 further noticeable. The powerful owl is about the 
 mildest type of his kind one could expect to meet, and 
 there is nothing of the startling apparition about him 
 here. If you can only get the big staring eyes out 
 of sight for an instant, you have a very fair models 
 both in shape and plumage, of a hen capercailzie or 
 Norwegian grouse in its grey summer coat. Another 
 Riverina bird of the same type, the spotted nightjar, 
 is something of an enigma. It seems to be a sort of 
 cross between the hawk, as far as fierce appearance is 
 concerned, and the owl, as regards nocturnal flitting. 
 The bird has a pair of puny legs, however, out of all 
 proportion to its size and appearance, and a bill that 
 would be considered weak even in a little honey-eater. 
 Altogether, the nightjar is one of the ornithological 
 puzzles of this locality. 
 
 What a number of sv/allows skim about the 
 " billabongs " along the rivers in this semi-tropical 
 region ! The warm sunshine, and the equally warm 
 nights, when the air is not affected by the cool 
 sea breezes of the south, seem to suit these birds 
 especially. Yonder is a welcome swallow, with a
 
 26 GUM DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 line of snow-white spots across its barred fan-tail, 
 and here too is the still prettier wood swallow. The nests 
 of these birds indicate their habits. Although both are 
 migratory they ramble according to different methods. 
 The welcome swallow builds a substantial mud nest 
 in the hollow of some decayed box tree, and if used 
 only for a single season this would be labour lost. But 
 the little wanderer will return next summer to its 
 home amongst the myalls, and use the same nest 
 season after season. The wood swallow, on the other 
 hand, has a lack of method in his roaming, and as it 
 may never return to this particular locality it throws 
 together a rude nest of twigs barely sufficient for 
 present requirements. 
 
 The cockatoos and parrots of Riverina exhibit 
 a remarkable variety of species, but there are cer- 
 tain traits of form and plumage which link them 
 all together as a common family. Leadbeater's 
 cockatoo, with its plume of crimson and gold, is 
 only a very slight remove from the gillar. The big 
 white cockatoo, with its orange crown and beautiful 
 shading of yellow under the strong white wings, 
 has its variations, and if the pedigrees of the parrots 
 could be traced back they would all merge in a 
 common stock. The black-tailed parakeet with its 
 Hibernian mixture of orange and green, the green 
 leek with hues much more pronounced than the one 
 from which it takes its name, and the pretty little 
 plumed coquette that falls such an easy victim to the 
 bird-catchers in the season, all have their intermediate 
 family connexions. Although the cockatoos seem to 
 live in perfect amity amongst the tree-tops and round 
 about the edges of the swamps^ they fight each other
 
 IN RIVERINA. 2y 
 
 with blindest fury when placed together in captivity 
 for the first time. 
 
 Amongst Riverina birds rarely seen elsewhere 
 is the painted snipe, a small and very beautiful 
 specimen of the tribe of wading birds. Like the 
 Argus pheasant, all its glory lies in the plumage on 
 its back, which glistens in the sunlight, and with- 
 out the aid of any very bold colours makes quite a 
 superb display. I have never seen a snipe yet that 
 had not an air of settled melancholy about it, and 
 this one is no exception to the rule. 
 
 Here also we find the beautiful white heron, with 
 superb feathers, much more attractive, although a 
 plain pure white, than the plumage of any other bird 
 that frequents the plains. The black and white ibis 
 is held in some esteem, for when the graziers find 
 flocks of these birds coming down towards the south 
 they accept it as an infallible sign of an approaching 
 rainy season. 
 
 The lowan and the spotted bower bird — two of 
 the most interesting of Australian birds — are also 
 found in the scrub-lands of Western Riverina, though 
 one must have lived long in solitude and spent many 
 days in the wilds to learn much of their habits. The 
 lowan, or malice hen, is a shy bird of the pheasant 
 type, and as large as a hen-turkey. It keeps almost 
 constantly under cover of the scrub, and its brown 
 plumage, dabbled with white, shelters it effectually 
 here. The bird may have been the shepherd's near 
 neighbour for months without forming an acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 The presence of the lowan is indicated generally 
 by its egg-oven in some open space. Instead of
 
 28 . GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 hatching, as most other birds do, the lowan, which 
 lays in warm summer weather, forms a mound of 
 sand some eight feet in diameter, and on the summit 
 lays from six to a dozen eggs, which are lightly 
 covered with sand. The heat of the sun acts as an 
 alfresco incubator. 
 
 As the time draws near for the lowan chicks to 
 break the shell the mother attends the mound con- 
 stantly, and when the chirping of the little ones is 
 heard beneath she scratches away the layer of sand, 
 and in some slight way helps them into the world. 
 The eggs are moved about in the nest occasionally, 
 so that all may get an equal share of warmth from 
 the sun and sand. They are large in proportion to 
 the size of the bird, almost all yolk, and when freshly 
 laid and exposed to the sunlight, have a flush of dull 
 red, but are afterwards tinged with the sand-stains, 
 and finally present very much in colour and smooth- 
 ness the general appearance of old ivory. Placed 
 in layers in the mound, they are so turned by the 
 hen that the one earliest laid rests finally on top. 
 A friend of the writer, living on one of the western 
 sheep-stations, took some of the lowan eggs to the 
 homestead, and placed them under a hen. As the 
 shell is exceptionally thin, they hatched rapidly, but 
 like most wild birds, seemed to recognise in their 
 foster-mother an alien, and deserted her at the very 
 earliest opportunity. 
 
 The bower bird is entitled to notice, if for nothing 
 else, for its strange architectural tastes. Something 
 of the size of a pigeon, its mottled browm plumage is 
 only relieved by a necklet of rose-pink feathers. The 
 nest of the spotted bower bird is hidden away in the
 
 IN RIVERINA. ■ 29 
 
 heart of a dense busli, and the egg is perhaps the 
 handsomest in colouring laid by any Australian bird. 
 The shell — smooth like the egg of the lowan — is of 
 pale green beneath, ringed with wavy bands of rich 
 amber. Apart from the nest, however, the bird builds 
 a bower of grass and sticks as a sort of special play- 
 ground. It is an arched avenue, some three feet in 
 length, with the floor-way paved with matted twigs, 
 and strewn with fragments of bleached bones and 
 freshwater shells. Any shred of glass or metal which 
 arrests the eye or reflects the rays of the sun is a gem 
 in the bower bird's collection, which seems in a sense 
 to parody the art decorations of a modern home. 
 Scraps of this kind lost on the plains are certain to find 
 their way sooner or later to the home of the bower 
 bird, and here in skipping along its avenue, hiding 
 under the thatch, or decorating the walls, the bird 
 spends the gayest hours of its existence. Stockmen 
 are so pleased with its aesthetic planning that they 
 rarely destroy the bower. 
 
 In the southern part of Victoria May generally 
 brings with it indications of coming winter, but along 
 the Murray banks the signs are still of midsummer. 
 The white baked clay rings beneath the hoof-strokes 
 of a horse as though it were a bed of ironstone, and 
 on the crust of the sun-burnt earth only stray tufts 
 of whitened grass remain. In amongst the timber 
 the ground is thickly littered with dead leaves, and 
 the white rugged carpet adds no beauty to the plain- 
 ness of the parched land. There is a monotony in 
 the whiteness here that is not a characteristic of all 
 Australian plains. Southwards towards the coast and 
 the ranges we find always a russet tinge in the fading
 
 30 . GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 pastures, and stray vernal tints that defy the fiercest 
 rays of a Christmas sun. The plain also may be veined 
 by green hollows with thickly clustering tufts of dark 
 rushes, under the lea of which hares will crouch for 
 shelter on a windy winter's morning. But if it were 
 not for their lining of stunted gum trees these water- 
 courses that drain the table-lands about the Murray 
 would be as desolate in summer as the plains them- 
 selves. Far out on the level a selector's waggon 
 moves along, and a cloud of white dust curling up be- 
 hind it shows that everywhere the land is bare and 
 cheerless. Now the only bits of colour in the land- 
 scape are a few of the imperishable sunflowers or 
 immortelles. Hardly could they have been more 
 appropriately placed. In this earth-oven no sap- 
 flower could long exist. These dry yellow gems, 
 which would be quite lost in the glory of one of the 
 heathy mounds about Mordialloc, are as conspicuous 
 on the plains as the finest garden flowers elsewhere. 
 We can imagine the splendid prospect presented 
 here in the days before nibbling sheep killed the 
 majority of the wild flowers. Inside the railway 
 fences some protection has been given, and the view 
 from a train passing across the Rochester Plains in 
 spring is something to be remembered. On either 
 hand there is an endless strip of colour with pre- 
 dominating patches of white, crimson, yellow, and 
 purple, while the plains beyond in vestments of finest 
 green look as though they would presently be as 
 beautiful. In summer every flower is gone, and the 
 grass blades shrivel to white dust. 
 
 Were it not for the trees this land would be in- 
 deed a desert. The older pine trees on the sand ridges
 
 IN RIVERINA. 3[ 
 
 are partly decayed, and the dead brown wood mixes 
 strangely with the living boughs. The young pines are 
 beautifully green. In these arid regions they have a 
 less massive aspect than the imported pine usually has. 
 Contesting with them the possession of the sand 
 mounds is a variety of light-leaved acacia, the Murray 
 willow, just now littering the earth beneath with its 
 lemon-coloured blossoms. Down where the Cam- 
 paspe pours its slight summer contribution of j^ellow 
 waters into the purer blue of the Murray some of the 
 red gums are curiously warped and stunted. Nature, 
 or some of her agents, would seem to have " topped " 
 the trees in their youth, so that they might bear 
 thicker foliage. These fine old red gums, with their 
 grotesque curving limbs, give the variety that Austra- 
 lian forests, more than any others, require. Their want 
 of symmetry has kept them alive ; for when the pioneer 
 tree-fellers and saw-millers passed down here, leaving 
 behind a train of Gladstonised red gums, these gnarled 
 veterans escaped the axe as being unfit for timber. 
 And the tourist by the river to-day is thankful for 
 that as a small mercy. On some of the skeleton 
 trunks of dead trees hereabout you find the outlines 
 of native canoes still, as sharply carved and well 
 defined as on the day — perhaps a hundred years 
 ago — when the black navigator hacked his shallop 
 from the living tree. The portion of trunk "thus 
 exposed withers, while the rest of the tree thrives 
 and thickens, so that year after year the outline of the 
 canoe is more indelibly impressed. At the base of 
 the trunk, where the aborigine could work more 
 freely, the canoe is nicely rounded, and the outlines 
 converge to a sharp point as they go upward. You
 
 32 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 cannot miss these traces of the olden time ; they exist 
 everywhere along the Murray banks. There is a 
 good deal of picturesque variety in the form and 
 colouring of the young gum and wattle shoots that 
 sprout from the earth in hundreds all along the river. 
 The young red gums are pliant and willowy, with 
 leaves thin, long, and hard, and a dull chestnut stem ; 
 but the large oval leaves of the peppermint are of a 
 tender green, and the fibres come out faintly when 
 the leaf is seen against the sunlight. Where the 
 shoots strike up from the base of a larger tree they 
 are frosted white. Some of the gum leaves hang in 
 massive clusters ; others are thinly and evenly dis- 
 tributed. In one variety of wattle the shoots on the 
 upper side are of a dull ruby colour, lightly sprinkled 
 with a silver bloom, but others, growing close down to 
 the water, are of a universal pale green, while the 
 tender top shoots, in either case, are of a light saffron 
 colour. The tan wattle, planted thickly along some 
 of the southern railway lines, grows naturally here, 
 and the clusters of yellow bloom, although not thickly 
 spread, are, for size, colour, and perfume, the finest of 
 all the wattles. 
 
 Occasionally, in a quiet hollow, one comes upon 
 the grey, weather-beaten tent of some Bedouin of the 
 bush, or perhaps the dwelling is merely a few branches 
 thrown up against the prevailing wind in rude imita- 
 tion of the native mia-mia. You cannot mistake 
 the habitation for the summer camping-place of a 
 tourist. The canvas house of the latter is, as a rule, 
 quite new, and his camp fittings almost luxurious. 
 His plate and cup are nicely enamelled and embossed 
 with his name, but when the real " sundowner "
 
 /.V RrVERINA. 33 
 
 haunts these banks for a season, he is content with a 
 black pannikin, a clasp knife, and a platter " whittled " 
 out of primeval bark. The broad patches of reflected 
 light on the surface of the water play strange tricks 
 with one's eyesight Away down in a bend of the 
 river one sees a swan floating quietly, and an instant 
 later the stately bird is absorbed and hidden in the 
 shifting, sparkling patch of quicksilver, to be revealed 
 again in a minute floating serenely as before. One is 
 apt to linger for awhile watching the weir-builders 
 at work on the Campaspc. The flakes of sappy red 
 gum fly before adze and chisel, and the planks are 
 bound and clamped everywhere with iron in a way 
 that should defy effectually all the accumulated might 
 that can be brought against it in flood-time from the 
 w^ater-shed away south near the Dividing Range. 
 
 All the timber country hereabout is an aviary. 
 There is so little wood and so much plain that the 
 birds cluster by the river, and the trees are laden 
 thickly with their houses. Australian birds love the 
 open and the sunshine. The high, storm-swept moun- 
 tain top may be the favoured home of the black cock- 
 atoo, and the dark, lonesome hollow the congenial rest- 
 ing place of the lyre bird, but our denser forests are, as 
 a rule, deserted by song birds. In the chorus of this 
 region, few notes are more frequent or less musical 
 than the petulant, highly-strung treble of the black 
 and white Grallina. All day long his complaining 
 call breaks in upon the sweeter music of the tree tops. 
 The mud nest is a v-ery durable dwelling, for the little 
 builder has kneaded the clay well, and the winter 
 rains make scarcely an impression upon the smooth 
 outside casing of the cup. Another mud nest built 
 C
 
 34 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 very much in the same way is that of the black jay, 
 occasionally seen amongst the gum trees. In the 
 season it generally carries three white eggs, lightly 
 blotched with black and brown. About the trunks 
 of the trees there are scores of busy little woodpeckers 
 ever searching for food, but the many dancing 
 leaf-shadows hide these tiny birds. Beneath the 
 ragged flakes of bark insects cluster, and, like the 
 oft-dunned debtor, are vexed by the presentation of a 
 little bill. In this case, however, the brown-plumaged 
 bailiff seeks not to enter, but merely raises an alarm 
 by tapping on the outside. In the grooves and hollows 
 of the rough peppermint bark the woodpeckers find 
 much that interests them. A stray stick sent whirling 
 amongst the tree-tops tells you how many birds are 
 living there. One of the jays has a note not unlike 
 the lower call of the laughing jackass. This old 
 friend appears to spend its time here chiefly in cross- 
 ing and recrossing the river ; seemingly a colonist of 
 strong federal inclinations, asserting a claim to vote 
 either in the Murray electorate or in Mandurang. 
 The facility for changing domiciles brings with it 
 occasionally strange complications, sometimes humor- 
 ous, sometimes tragic. I have known men drowned 
 in a desperate swim for liberty, while the police on 
 the bank were compelled to stand by passively because 
 the fugitive had gained mid-stream. Lighter incid- 
 ents are happily the more frequent. Not long since 
 the dog tax collector rode down to a snagging party 
 moored on the Victorian side of the river, and de- 
 manded fees for a score of dogs owned by the crew. 
 There was no protest — no inclination to shirk the 
 payment ; but would the collector come on Saturday
 
 /N RIVERINA. 35 
 
 when the men were paid ? He did come, but only 
 to be received with derisive pantomime from the New 
 South Wales bank of the stream. 
 
 At certain periods of the year the Murray is 
 covered with flocks of beautiful wood duck — or more 
 correctly geese, since the bill and the plump shape 
 undoubtedly belong to the goose. Sometimes a 
 bronze-wing pigeon shows amongst the leaves ; but 
 a few years ago these handsome birds were as plen- 
 tiful here as they are to-day amongst the thickets of 
 the Upper Murray. Both the bronze-wing and the 
 Wonga Wonga pigeon are hunted so keenly that in a 
 few years they will have become extinct in Victoria. 
 It is unfortunate, indeed, that to so many the only 
 interest in birds is the pleasure of killing them. The 
 very best proof of the extent of bird life along the 
 Murray is the variety and number of the hawks, 
 ranging in size from the eagle hawk down to the 
 kestrel. On the New South Wales side of the river 
 the eagle hawk is sometimes so great a pest amongst 
 the lambs that the settlers periodically burn him out 
 by climbing close enough to the nest to put a fire- 
 stick in contact with it. Most of the hawks here 
 build in the deserted nests of other birds — generally a 
 crow or a magpie; but last season on the Murray one of 
 them, a black hawk, actually took possession of an 
 eagle hawk's nest, some five sizes too large. The kes- 
 trels build in the hollow of a limb, and on a warm 
 day in summer, when the young birds are being 
 fledged, you find them sitting in a row at the edge of 
 the nest gaining a first acquaintance with the outside 
 world. The eggs of nearly all the birds of prey are 
 distinguishable by their rich red colouring and round 
 C 2
 
 36 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 shape, as a contrast to the sharp points of the eggs of 
 the spur-wing, or golden plover, both plentiful enough 
 about the plains here. Another Murray bird too lazy 
 to build for itself except when absolutely compelled 
 to do so is the sluggish mopoke. Through its own 
 sparse arrangements of sticks its three white eggs are 
 visible. Ultimately, from lack of architectural skill 
 or industry it turns pirate, and thus unconsciously 
 ensures increased comfort for its young. One of the 
 most peculiar of birds' eggs found about the Murray 
 is that of the locally-termed " cat-bird," the shell of 
 which is veined thickly with dark thin threads as 
 though covered with a spider's web. 
 
 One evening early in spring from a Western hill-top 
 I looked down upon perhaps the fairest picture to be 
 seen in all Australia. Bits of the Snowy country 
 are grander, and some of the southern forests are 
 more sublime, but to my mind there is nothing 
 in the land to equal this. Nature and civilisation^ 
 each rich in her own beauty, have clasped hands, and 
 conscious of the power of their association, watch 
 without fear the years flitting by into the treasury of 
 recorded time ; and yet even as Rasselas in his happy 
 valley was discontented, so, possibly, many dwellers 
 here may sigh for a change from their surfeit of
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL-TOP. 37 
 
 rural perfection. If there be any such, let them live 
 for a period on the great white plains of the north — 
 
 " Where with fire and fierce drought on her tresses, 
 Insatiable summer oppresses 
 Sere woodlands and sad wildernesses, 
 And faint flocks and herds." 
 
 They will return like that other prodigal — all 
 repentance. 
 
 When for the first time one is favoured with a 
 glimpse of the Lake Country he is apt, in the enjoy- 
 ment of the magnificent prospect, to say, "Surely this 
 is the Australian Eden!" To English ears the " Lake 
 Country " possibly brings reminiscences of Keswick 
 and Grasmere, as well as other scenes that will ever re- 
 main associated with that trinity of genius — the Lake 
 Poets. My " Lake Country " — the Victorian land of 
 promise — is made up of those broad western acres 
 on which some of the most fortunate of Australian 
 pioneers have pitched their tents. It is the Camper- 
 down country — the land of extensive freeholds, where 
 the rabbits alone have dared to test the question of 
 ownership with the " first families." 
 
 From the summit of Mount Leura the long 
 stretches of grazing country dotted with shining 
 lakes make up a landscape, the beauty of which 
 is not cramped by want of space. Centuries ago 
 this hill was crowned with volcanic flame, but 
 Mount Leura is now a cold and quiet sentinel 
 over the peace and plenty of the west. The tears 
 of adamant that trickled down its scorched and 
 throbbing sides still lie about the base of the moun- 
 tain, giving just a suggestion of the turmoil that
 
 3 8 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 raged here when the aborigines cowered in terror be- 
 fore the manifestations of the fire-spirit. The moun- 
 tain has lost its terrors, but, instead, the seal of beauty 
 has been set deep upon it. The base is thickly draped 
 with bright green bracken, and the summit tinged a 
 russet red, with sorrel and agrimony. The sides are 
 clothed with fragrant banksias, and on the plains be- 
 neath the lightwoods, wisely left when other timber 
 was destroyed, dot the green pastures like beech trees 
 in English meadows. Away in the farther west there 
 is a long line of volcanic hills — the frame of the broad 
 picture on that side. To the south the timber thickens 
 and rises into the Otway range, with its primeval 
 forest and deep calm fern-glades. The storms that 
 sweep across the mountain tops barely stir the fern- 
 fronds, the white satin-wood leaves, or the heavy 
 foliage of the musk trees down in these beautiful 
 dells. The rush of the waves from the Southern 
 Ocean in against the sandstone cliffs comes to one 
 faintly. Out towards the margin of the forest the 
 sounds of life creep in :t— 
 
 " Hark ! the bells on the distant cattle 
 Waft across the range, 
 Through the golden-tinted wattle. 
 Music low and strange." 
 
 From this mountain summit nearly a dozen great 
 lakes are in sight, their waters glistening in the light 
 as the sun sinks. Within a radius of twenty miles 
 there are thirty lakes, ranging from broad Corangamite 
 with its erratic belt lOO miles long, down to a tiny 
 salt-pool that had a name only in the dead dialect of 
 a dead tribe. But the euphonious native titles that
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL-TOP. 39 
 
 always have a special significance are well preserved 
 in the West. The pity is that they are not more uni- 
 versal. There are flowers about the crown of this 
 mountain, altogether distinct from those flecking the 
 plain beneath. I am especially pleased with a tiny 
 mountain orchid like the opened bill of a bird, the 
 throat of dark crimson, deepening down almost to 
 purple, and the tongue a bright yellow, burnished 
 like a buttercup. The broad green plains stretching 
 away on every side are indeed a fair picture. They 
 have been furrowed with a ploughshare only, and no 
 roaring cannon shot has ever burst the glebe. The 
 song the rain sings here is, " I come to wash away no 
 stain upon your wasted lea." May that hymn of peace 
 never alter. And yet, if the need ever comes, Austra- 
 lians will fight as valiantly and fall as worthily as ever 
 the old-world soldiers did in defending home. Should 
 Australia have her hour of trial, it is out here in the 
 West that her stoutest defenders will, I fancy, be 
 found. Those who first mooted country rifle clubs, 
 whether aware of it or not, gauged the national 
 sentiment. There is a patriotism here that cannot, 
 one thinks, live quite so well in cities — a patriotism 
 born of Nature's grandeur, let us say. It was here that 
 Lyndsay Gordon found the inspiration for his poems. 
 He caught the spirit of the place, and, voiced 
 by his genius, it has found a refrain in every hamlet 
 and cattle camp of the West. Even the white iron 
 roofs of the township, nestling amongst the gardens 
 at the foot of the mount, make a prettier rural picture 
 than one ever imagined could grow out of such 
 material. As I sit on the mountain top a pair of 
 rose-plumed cockatoos are wheeling in short circles
 
 40 GUM BOUGHS A.XD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 overhead, shrieking petulantly. It is their protest 
 against intrusion. In the hollow limb of one of the 
 skeleton gum trees on the inner side of the mountain 
 there is an interesting family, the cause of all this 
 concern. On one of the banksias a young magpie 
 that has just achieved its first flight is curiously 
 perched, with its head pointing stolidly skyward. 
 It takes a momentary interest in the surroundings 
 only when the parent birds bring a choice morsel. 
 In all the trees about scores of httle yellow-tailed, 
 satin-breasted wrens, each intent with its own home 
 mission, make a twittering chorus. What cunning 
 little homes they weave in the pendent branches. On 
 the top of the little round bail there is a cup-like nest 
 never occupied. It is built as a ruse to deceive the 
 predatory shrike, or the native cat, who, finding an 
 apparently empty nest on top, trouble themselves 
 no further, and overlook the little round entrance 
 covered with a piece of hanging fringe that leads to 
 the snug retreat inside. 
 
 I have passed many winter nights at the fireside, 
 listening to stories of Colonial life in this region. 
 What perils and privations were borne by the pioneer 
 settlers who came over forests and plains to lay the 
 nation's corner-stone out here in the fair West! Like 
 Gellibrand — who, confident in his own judgment, 
 handed over his share of food and water to his com- 
 panions before starting out on that long journey the 
 end of which is still a mystery — each one took the 
 risk of fatal failure. Sometimes, in the heat of 
 noonday, and when water was scarce, they quenched 
 their thirst with the acid cones from the sheoak 
 trees. Women, too, had to face the hardships of
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL- TOP. 4! 
 
 pioneer life. One of them, with her great-grand- 
 children growing up around her, to-day tells stories 
 of those early days — when Melbourne was a hamlet 
 and Geelong a couple of tents. Sometimes, while the 
 bullock-teams were away to the sea-port for fresh 
 loading, the women were left for weeks alone — aliens 
 in the midst of savages, and at their mercy. These 
 were women fit to be the mothers of a new nation. 
 For a time the whites lived on sufferance among 
 the blacks ; by-and-by the position was reversed- 
 The blacks, it is said, have fallen before civilisa- 
 tion. The degraded remnants of savagery who pick 
 up a living about bush townships are surely our 
 handiwork } They have been civilised with rum. 
 Whatever knowledge we lack of other aboriginal cus- 
 toms, with their burial rites we should be familiar. 
 We are, indeed, a civilising race. When we came 
 here the aborigines covered these wide plains in 
 thousands. Where are they to-day } We have 
 civilised them — they are dead. Their marriage 
 laws were as strict as ours, their morality stricter, 
 their lives healthier, and their sports purer, but we 
 have reformed all this. As a unit amongst these 
 reformers I cannot say that I am particularly proud 
 of the work, but modesty is one of our national traits. 
 The reason we know so little about these aborigines 
 is, that instead of studying we shot them. Old 
 colonists say that some reformers of the old days 
 were rather less ceremonious in shooting an 
 aborigine than a wild dog. Indeed, the latter 
 incident was the more rare — the dingoes had not 
 the same confidence in our good intentions. Buckley, 
 the wild white man, was never so badly disposed
 
 42 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLUOM. 
 
 towards those of his own colour as when he heard of 
 fresh outrages on the blacks, and news of that kind 
 was seldom scarce. He knew the black people as 
 no one else did, and was their advocate and 
 defender to the last. Some of us Australians to-day 
 know — from those whose word we cannot doubt — 
 that, viewed in the light of their own customs 
 and traditions, the blacks arc not naturally the thiev- 
 ing, deceitful, drunken vagabonds of popular fancy. 
 When mothers did not hesitate to give their infants 
 in charge to the native women to carry away through 
 the bush amongst the trees and the wild flowers, and 
 keep them all day long, they must have had no qualms 
 about their being trustworthy. And they were more 
 tender with the little oneSj and cared for them more 
 faithfully, than the modern nursegirl inspired by 
 thoughts of her policeman. One can almost believe 
 that these people in their religion blended the most 
 revered of Christian truths with the principles of 
 advanced thought — the orthodox doctrine of an 
 eternal heaven above the clouds with the Dar- 
 winian theory of descent from the lower animals 
 — two latter-day extremes thus meeting in the 
 old-time philosophy of a nation of savages. When 
 the white men, by way of sport or to preserve 
 their pastures, destroyed the kangaroos and emus that 
 from time immemorial had been the native hunters' 
 best game in the West, it was not a startling act of 
 retaliation when the black man killed a stray sheep at 
 times. Yet in such cases the old Jewish ordinance of 
 a life for a life was rigorously enforced. Once upon a 
 time, long ago, a native was caught red-handed 
 at sheep killing, and taken to the station so that he
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL-TOP. 43 
 
 might be handed over to the authorities. There had 
 been a wholesale case of poisoning on a run close by, 
 or even this formality would not have been observed. 
 Some " dampers " were baked specially for the local 
 tribe; but the act of Christian charity was marred 
 through the cook using arsenic instead of salt for 
 seasoning. Nasty rumours had got about, and the 
 authorities scores of miles away talked of an in- 
 quiry. Instead therefore of putting a bullet through 
 this wretched sheep-killing savage without cere- 
 mony, they fastened him to a dead tree trunk 
 with a bullock-chain. One day he knocked the 
 staple from the log, and gathering up the chain 
 got away into the bush ; but dogs were laid on 
 to his track and he was run down and brought to 
 bay on a log in the middle of the river with the pon- 
 derous bullock-chain still hanging on his arm. When 
 the station people reached the bank the poor hunted 
 vagrant philosophically wound the chain about his 
 neck and drowned himself. The men took some trouble 
 to recover the bod}', not because the black Spartan 
 deserved at least a grave, but because bullock-chains 
 were valuable. Had this savage been partly, civilised 
 he would have stood his trial and proved an alibi. 
 
 The power of imitation amongst the blacks is 
 so pronounced as to be almost a special natural 
 gift. I have an old sketch-book, in which an abo- 
 riginal at my request attempted some pen-and-ink 
 etchings. His figures of both men and animals — 
 and more especially men of his own race — arc very 
 correct. They arc drawn in solid, with no attempt 
 at shading, but in some fifty figures of native hunters 
 and fighting men the features are all unquestionably
 
 44 ^'-'-'^^ BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 aboriginal, while the characteristics of white men are 
 happily hit off. In the sketches representing his own 
 people as they once were, the artist works from 
 memory, and it is interesting to note the distin- 
 guishing tribal marks. The Lachlan blacks have 
 a small plume with a long shank fixed to the hair 
 above the forehead, and not unlike the small tuft worn 
 by some of the English hussar regiments. On their 
 bodies there are different symbols painted, some of 
 them having an old-w^orld significance. The rule 
 and square of freemasonry, the trident allotted to 
 the sea-god Neptune, and the crescent, against 
 which the Crusaders once hurled their power, are 
 a few of them. The Goulburn blacks have an 
 anklet of twigs tied just above the feet ; the foliage 
 points upward ; but the Western tribes, who in a 
 corroborae wear the same ornament, have the leaves 
 pendent. " Buckeen " blacks, from Queensland, are 
 wrapped in opossum-skin robes. Another sketch 
 shows a group of Murray blacks holding a corro- 
 borae. The striking point here is that the artist's 
 fellow tribesmen are altogether a finer lot of fel- 
 lows physically than the others. It is more 
 than probable that this trait is merely the outcrop- 
 ping of the artist's chauvinism. Like] the French 
 artist who painted the day of judgment, he has 
 made his own people the best looking among the 
 crowd. Should any one think that a savage has no 
 perception of humour or sense of the ridiculous, a 
 glance at two of the sketches would convince him to 
 the contrary. One of them shows a black fellow 
 chasing a Chinaman, the latter appearing fully alive 
 to the peril of the position. For the patient, toiling
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL-TOP. 45 
 
 Mongolian the blacks have a serene contempt. In 
 another sketch there is a group of white men of the 
 up-country dandy type. They have reached an ex- 
 ceedingly after-dinner stage of elevation, and the atti- 
 tude of each is that of the swaggering rustic " 'Arry." 
 A swan's nest is so drawn that you have a full 
 view of the inside of the nest filled with eggs. 
 From an aboriginal point of view the inside of the 
 nest is the only interesting part of it. Iguana and 
 emu hunters are shown, the latter either behind a 
 tree, with a spear poised, or approaching the bird 
 under shelter of a bush-screen. A native woman 
 carrying her infant in an opossum robe fastened 
 to the shoulder is another subject, and the outlines 
 of the head and neck of a white and black woman 
 respectively have the true characteristic of the two 
 races. This black had had no tuition whatever in 
 the use of pen or pencil, and his sketches were 
 simply the result of natural aptitude for imitation. 
 
 Could any of us have occupied this flint seat on 
 the mountain top half a century ago we might hav^e 
 witnessed one of those great tribal gatherings so 
 often held in the plain below. Let us imagine that 
 to-day we are looking through that long avenue of 
 years as well as from the mountain. The wild spec- 
 tacle before us will be of this kind. 
 
 Tall columns of smoke have shot up from the 
 swamps by day, and at night signal fires have 
 blazed from dead tree trunks. The message stick, 
 covered with barbaric signs, has been sent amongst the 
 tribes as the fiery cross was of old through the Cale- 
 donian clans, summoning them to meet together. 
 And this summons, like the red beacon that called
 
 4.6 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the Gael to repel some fresh invader, was never 
 disregarded. As the shadow of the mountain projects 
 further into the plain the tribes come in to the tryst- 
 ing place, until a thousand souls are gathered to- 
 gether. Camp-fires twinkle in the darkness like 
 the lights of a city. The tribes are to hold a grand 
 corroborae. The chiefs have daubed their faces with 
 red clay ; as an insignia of rank the tail of a dingo 
 is fastened in the hair, and swings about the 
 shoulders. In front they have a dark swan's-wing 
 plume, in contradistinction to the white feathers worn 
 by their subjects. Shining white kangaroo teeth^ 
 taken from the big foresters that were once so plenti- 
 ful about the forest margin, gleam in their dark mat- 
 ted hair, as conspicuously as diamonds about the neck 
 of a ball-room belle. The women wear necklaces of 
 porcupine quills. The ordinary warriors and hunting 
 men have a strip of red stringy bark bound about 
 their temples, and a hundred long kangaroo teeth 
 strung about the neck clash together as they move. 
 A great central fire has been built up, and round 
 about this the dancers assemble after sunset, all 
 dressed for revelry. On their dark skins, broad white 
 lines have been drawn with anatomical accuracy ; 
 and as they move from the shadows into the light it 
 seems as though so many human skeletons, bleached 
 white under sun and rain, were preparing for 
 a Walpurgis-dance out upon the green plain. 
 Through the pierced cartilage of the nostrils the 
 dancers have thrust fragments of a white reed to 
 add to the effect of the grim pantomime. Fastened to 
 their waist-band is a tuft of the long rustling tail 
 feathers of the emu. Then the metallic ring of the
 
 FROM A WESTERN HILL-TOP. 47 
 
 music-sticks is heard through the clear air, and 
 the corroborae begins. A dancer rushes from the 
 outer darkness into the circle of firelight, and 
 stands for an instant as if petrified. Every nerve 
 and muscle and limb vibrates, and as the swish 
 and rattle of twigs, emu feathers, and kangaroo teeth 
 reaches a climax, the dancer falls back into the 
 gloom. Then a pair, and next several dancers 
 spring out from the shadows, until a whole tribe 
 is represented in the illumined space. Thus the 
 dancing goes on, each tribe taking its turn. In 
 approved royal fashion, each chief has his jester, a 
 sort of automatic humorist, with a special capacity 
 for mimicry, doubtless. The jester^s feelings at the 
 time may be of a morbid or mournful cast, but he 
 must be funny for the night. 
 
 The black court jester finishes his parody of 
 the dancing of a " native companion " or the move- 
 ments of a kangaroo, and then gives the audience 
 one of his best jokes, specially reserved for the 
 finish, and his jokes have one merit — they are his 
 own. A score of lighted boomerangs are thrown 
 into the air, and for a minute they shoot about like 
 great fireflies in the darkness. In mimic warfare, two 
 bands of warriors hurl toy boomerangs and blunt 
 spears at each other ; but the weapons are turned 
 aside by the deftly-handled wooden shields or gnulla 
 gnullas. Next, a band of picked wrestlers meet in 
 the open to contend — for honour only. The victor 
 carries off no opossum-skin rug or stone axe as the 
 reward of his skill. 
 
 Although strength of arm and limb are the saving 
 tribal '' virtues," the bravest warrior and most skilful
 
 4'S GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 huntsman )'et ranks beneath the seer who told the 
 names of the stars, and read from the broad scroll 
 above the story of a coming season of storm or sun- 
 shine. As in the classic sports a wreath of laurel was 
 the visible emblem of victory, so here the best hunter 
 of game takes a single feather only as a symbol of 
 success. The modern " black fellow " reciting a 
 parody of one of his native songs in the hope of a 
 shilling at the finish is only the degraded simiilacrinn 
 of the old-time savage. 
 
 As the night deepens the wild music dies away, 
 each tribe retires to its own limits, and the revelry is 
 over. To-morrow a grand hunt will perhaps be 
 organised, disputes that have arisen since the last 
 great meeting will be settled, wrong-doers will meet 
 their challengers in open combat, and he who has 
 taken a life otherwise than in fair fight must defend 
 his own. Then each tribe will retire to its own 
 hunting-ground, until summoned to another great 
 inter-colonial conference. 
 
 Such were the ceremonies — as antique, let us say, 
 as some of our most respectable Ar}'an folk rites — 
 that have died out with the annihilation of an ancient 
 people in half a century. The sable warriors have, 
 according to a tenet of their creed, passed out along 
 the spirit path to a lone island, where, holding com- 
 munion only with the seals and sea birds, they wait 
 until the day breaks and the shadows depart.
 
 .-/ MELBOURNE GARDEX. 49 
 
 91 iWelljounte #ailifn. 
 
 " And the spring arose on the garden fair, 
 Like the spirit of love felt everywhere ; 
 And each flower and herb on earth's dark breast 
 Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest." 
 
 Shellev\s poetic reference to the former home of 
 his sensitive plant applies very happily to this garden 
 in which you and I in common with every Victorian 
 have a joint interest. A garden of the best kind, 
 with lawns and upland, groves and ferneries, lakes 
 and rockeries. Upon the lawns the sward is green and 
 close shaven, and beneath ivy-clothed trees are rustic 
 seats " for talking age and whispering lovers " made. 
 The ferneries might have been picked from one of 
 those dark silent gullies in the heart of the Otway 
 Range, and the ponds are peopled with a feathered 
 community as comfortable as cosmopolitan. Regal 
 white swans float in company with dusky awkward 
 musk ducks and diminutive teal, the contrast being as 
 marked as between the tall white trumpet lilies and 
 the little yellow marsh buttons that fleck the margin 
 of the water. From the clefts in the rockeries spring 
 strange varieties of the skeleton cacti that give an air 
 of sterility and decay to their arid native eminences. 
 In the flower-beds the last triumph of modern flori- 
 culture, which largely affects variegated foliage, grows 
 in company with some antique plant, the subject of 
 traditions even in the days of Linn;eus. 
 
 From the highest point of the garden the view is 
 D
 
 50 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTI.Ii BLOOM. 
 
 charming. Across the pool at the bottom of the slope 
 and through a break in the trees one catches the tiles 
 and gables of Richmond, a grey stone church stand- 
 ing out in relief on the summit of the rise, and all 
 the architectural defects of the suburb lost in the 
 distance. A few steps in the opposite direction, and 
 between the trees in the domain you look down 
 upon the beach at St. Kilda. In the peculiar light 
 the horizon seems as near as the coast line, and rises 
 directly above it, so that the appearance is conveyed 
 of an immense tidal wave, even and massive, without 
 foam or motion, just about to topple over upon 
 the dark dots that represent loungers on the pier 
 and esplanade. On the left a line of pendulous 
 willows, fringing the river bank, make up a wall of 
 tender green. On the upland some tame doves are 
 cooing in a grove, and round about their haunt 
 azaleas in perfect bloom — a glorious show in the 
 sunshine — make up a homely idyll in sound and 
 colour. Jasmine, yellow and white, clambers along 
 the western wall, the paler flowers (less plentiful than 
 the others) starring the background like tiny snow- 
 flakes on a carpet of gold and green. A long, trailing 
 spray of ivy has fallen a^-ay from the wall into 
 close companionship with a stunted holly bush, and 
 the association is apt to remind one of the holly and 
 ivy girl, dear to Irish hearts as having given a theme 
 to their peasant poet. Here, amongst a little colony 
 of medicinal plants, are names which appeal to the 
 memory like some revered, half-forgotten theme in 
 music — meadow rue, wood sorrel, summer savory, 
 sweet fennel, friar's cowl, wild basil, and wake robin — 
 all the old names so thoroughly, unmistakably English
 
 . [ MELBOURXE GARDEN. 5 I 
 
 — the remnants of a homely botanical lore which, 
 with its quaint legends and antique superstitions, is 
 passing away. With these ingredients the fairies of 
 old worked their witchery. Down by the lake-side a 
 supple twining spray of native clematis, bearing light 
 lemon-coloured blossoms, its tendrils clasped about 
 the bole of a gum tree, reminds one of bush gullies. 
 This climbing plant, with its hot, pungent wood and 
 almost perpetual bloom, is an important feature in 
 the Christmas decorations of the country. In one 
 corner of the lawn we have a picture in miniature. 
 It is a single English daisy — a bright speck of gold 
 encircled by the purest white, a little gem placed in 
 a broad setting of unbroken green. The esteem in 
 which the tiny flower is held is something more than a 
 sentiment, for the practical gardener, when mowing 
 and weeding the lawns, is careful that no harm shall 
 come to his daisy. 
 
 In the flower-beds there is occasional evidence 
 of wild caprice on the part of a gardening expert. 
 Pink petunias are disfigured with blotches of white, 
 and other flowers the originals of which were, perhaps, 
 a plain crimson or purple, are now a curious com- 
 pound of even more than two garden hues. One can 
 admire these hybrids as proofs of human industry or 
 as evidence in support of the theory of a natural 
 diff"usion of species, but very often the crossing of 
 kinds has been so carried out as to be almost an 
 offence against good taste and beauty. Addison 
 sedately observes : " Variations in flowers are like 
 variations in music — often beautiful as such, but 
 almost always inferior to the theme on which they 
 are founded — the original air." A lover of old airs
 
 52 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 will probably be an admirer of old flowers also. 
 Their beauty is mixed with so many tender asso- 
 ciations that they " speak to the heart like the voice 
 of a long-forgotten friend." A bright marigold or 
 the perfume of a wall-flower will bring many buried 
 incidents thronging upon the memor}'. Down at 
 Laverton last spring I walked through one of those 
 thoroughly old-time gardens, where all was beauti- 
 ful but nothing modern, and the company of these 
 homely favourites pleased me more than the very 
 finest of modern exotics grown in the heated air 
 of a conservatory. Sturdy plants of that sort are 
 a type of the British pioneer — rugged, honest, and 
 independent, while the pampered flowers that follow 
 in their train may represent the genteel lounger in 
 the haunts of fashion. 
 
 The poets' flowers have ever been the common 
 flowers. Of the sundews and pitcher plants that prey 
 upon bright-winged insects, and tempt the butterfly 
 flitting past in the sunlight to destruction, the poet 
 cannot sing. And if only for the sake of the many 
 rhymes we love, we are slow to renounce the old floral 
 faith. Tennyson confesses his ignorance of the new 
 botanical creed, for in his apostrophe to a flower in 
 a crannied wall he says — 
 
 " If I could understand what you are, root and all, and all in all, 
 I should know what God and man is." 
 
 Fortunate, perhaps, has it been — for our children at 
 all events — that our poets knew the flowers more as 
 wood fairies than as competitors in the struggle for 
 life. 
 
 In Tennyson's references to the flower world there
 
 .1 MELBOUKXE GARDEN. 53 
 
 is much of rich fancy and imagination, but more of 
 the poet's homely observation. He is not one of 
 those who beheve that only the unattainable and the 
 unseen are beautiful. Too many of the poets have 
 sought in mythological fields for the beauties that 
 Nature, even in their own woodlands, had supplied. 
 Their flowers are praised not so much for a distinctive 
 beauty of their own as for being beautiful by com- 
 parison. They are, perhaps, "fair as the fabulous 
 asphodel." If these poets have an ideal in fruits it 
 may be the golden apple, guarded by the Hesperides ; 
 but Tennyson tells us that : — 
 
 " Lo, sweeten'd with the summer light, 
 
 The full-juiced apple waxing over mellow. 
 Drops in a silent autumn night." 
 
 Thomson, throughout the " Season," as might be 
 expected, speaks much of flowers, but his "feet" are 
 often better than his botany. He has whole pages 
 where anemones, auriculas, and ranunculus cluster 
 about each other. Reading his poems is like walking 
 down a broad garden path, with flower-beds stretching 
 away upon either hand. Shelley's garden is a more 
 artistic and delicate conception, for in imagery he is a 
 millionaire among poets. Most of Shelley's flowers 
 come to us as creations. Tennyson's are more of 
 a remembrance. With Tennyson a verse, or some- 
 times a single line, is of itself a complete little vignette 
 from an English landscape. His woodland etchings 
 are at once poems and pictures. 
 
 With " In Memoriam " he struck a deeper note. 
 The man whose memory inspired this finest of latter- 
 day psalms must, like the poet himself, have been
 
 54 ''^-1/ BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 much above the average of modern men. The poem 
 is a garden filled with flowers as beautiful as the 
 thoughts of which they are an allegory. A garden 
 for all the seasons. In the autumn scenes there are 
 leaves, sapless and yellow, fluttering down to the earth 
 like a fading hope or a dying cause, and the bright 
 chestnuts patter to the ground " through leaves that 
 redden to the fall." Poplar and primrose, witch elms 
 and woodbine, rose and reed, haw and hazel, '*all 
 cluster in this ample garden, which is at once garden 
 and " God's acre." 
 
 Many of the poets are accustomed to associate the 
 lily and the rose, but in Tennyson's poetry we more 
 frequently find the rose with the jasmine as a com- 
 panion. So it is in several instances, and notably 
 in " The Princess." The anemone is another of the 
 poet's favourite flowers. In one of those queer verses 
 in dialect, "The Northern Farmer," the old man tells 
 the story of the murdered keeper being found on his 
 face, " doon in the woild enemies." 
 
 One of the poet^s favourite flower fancies is to 
 speak of them as standing out from the surroundings 
 as a light in the darkness. In " The Two Voices " 
 there is the following example : — 
 
 " Nol less the bees would rariL^e her cells, 
 The furzy prickle fire the dells, 
 The foxglove cluster dappled bells." 
 
 The idea is frequently repeated. In the poem 
 where CEnone,the daughter of the river god, appeals so 
 despairingly to her mountain mother, Ida, there is a 
 versification of the mythological story of the three 
 goddesses Here, Aphrodite, and Athena coming to the
 
 ./ Af/U.DOrh'XF. (^r.iRDEN. 55 
 
 bower of Paris, to ask the shepherd which shall claim 
 the golden apple inscribed "to the fairest." In this 
 incident Tennyson deals with the flowers of fancy as 
 well as of fact — • 
 
 "At their feet the crocus brake Hke fire, 
 Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, 
 Lotos and lilies ; and a wind arose. 
 And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, 
 This way and that, in many a wild festoon 
 Run riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs 
 With brush and berry and flower through and through." 
 
 Again, in the " Dream of Fair Women," 
 
 " Growths of jasmine turned 
 Their humid arms festooning tree to tree, 
 And at the root through lush green grasses burned 
 The red anemone." 
 
 The quotation, while illustrating the idea already 
 mentioned, is a fair specimen of Tennyson's woodland 
 fragments. 
 
 The " Idylls of the King," rich as they are in 
 chivalric fancies, have few flower scenes. There is 
 the tumult of the tournament, the clang of steel 
 armour, and the ring of jewelled swords, but the pomp 
 is all of man's creation. The flowers are generally 
 typified in the fair women of these mediaeval times. 
 The only lily is " the lily maid of Astolat," the only 
 Ma)' blossom that on Lynette's brow, companion to 
 the apple blossom of her cheek. Enid was 
 
 " . . . Like a blossom vernal white, 
 That lightly breaks a faded flower sheath." 
 
 Gawain sang of a rose that was " wondrous fair " — but 
 the rose was a woman.
 
 56 Gin/ nouGHs and wattle ni.otnr. 
 
 The subject of " Aylmer's Field " is a war of rose?, 
 but in this case the flowers typify two factions in the 
 nation battHng for the right to lead — 
 
 " When the red rose was redder than itself, 
 And York's white rose as red as Lancaster's." 
 
 The poem is not all a inclce of blood-splashed 
 roses. There is a bit of rural felicity in a land of hops 
 and " poppy-mingled corn," while the lines that follow 
 convey a picture of rustic peace. 
 
 To realise more clearly the character and effect of 
 Tennyson's flower poems and rural verses, let us 
 imagine a man tired of the world wishing for some 
 picturesque haunt, such as the happy valley of Ras- 
 selas without the discontent. In the works of the 
 standard poets he may find the material to build up 
 an idyllic home to compare with the finest saintly 
 picture of the Christian heaven. But it is as unreal as 
 beautiful. In Tennyson's verse, however, he may 
 find bits of rustic mosaic for a material paradise — a 
 paradise of which others would say, " I have seen just 
 such a scrap of woodland, just such a bit of meadow, 
 just such an association of familiar flowers, some- 
 where in the world." 
 
 I have wandered away into other floral paths, 
 fancying that those who can appreciate the charms 
 of this Melbourne garden will also enjoy the Lau- 
 reate's garden scenes. Coming back to my fern 
 gullies, here we perceive that the ferns themselves 
 are not arranged with the same exactness as in the 
 gardens of those sententious experts whose first prin- 
 ciples are a rule and compass, who do ever mix 
 up floriculture with geometry. Their gardens re-
 
 A MRLnOURXE CARD EX. 57 
 
 mind one of a prim old maid — everything regular and 
 neat, but nothing natural or pretty. In my Mel- 
 bourne garden ferns are strewn about lavishly as 
 with Nature's hand, and such confusion is good. 
 The collection is very complete, ranging from our 
 own giant tree fern down past the parasitical elk- 
 horn to the pretty little maidenhair which we find 
 growing in native luxuriance on the nooks and cran- 
 nies of a precipice. In the heart of one of the fern 
 glades I have a glimpse of an English thrush with a 
 snail in his bill hopping towards the darker shadows. 
 Down by the edge of the lake another thrush has 
 taken refuge under the spreading lower branches of a 
 small cedar, his mottled breast flecked with the sun- 
 shine that peeps through the spines. His mate, cling- 
 ing to a spray of ivy on a gum tree close at hand, 
 is busy amongst the insects. A fourth, forgetting his 
 native modesty, has hopped out upon the open lawn. 
 Seemingly the emigrants have prospered quite as 
 readily here as in English hazel thickets ; but the 
 gardeners tell another story. After many years of 
 the experiment there were only a dozen thrushes in 
 the garden last nesting season, and this year there 
 are not more than a score. On the hill in the old 
 garden they built low down, and were at the mercy 
 of every mischievous schoolboy. One day the nests 
 would be full of speckled eggs, and the next they 
 were empty and deserted. Now the birds build in the 
 taller trees about the fern-glades, but here also they 
 have many enemies. In the drains and rockeries 
 there are native cats that make the trees their hunt- 
 ing-ground by night, and destroy both eggs and 
 young birds. Shells of broken eggs beneath a
 
 58 GILM BOUGf/S AXD WATTr./-. BLOOM. 
 
 tree are a sign that the native cats have been 
 abroad, and although many are taken in snares set 
 for rabbits it is difficult to reduce their numbers. I 
 more than suspect that the pair of laughing jack- 
 asses perched upon a tree near the crest of the hill do 
 much unsuspected damage amongst their feathered 
 mates. As they fly about they are followed by the 
 smaller birds piping shrilly and raising a general 
 alarm — the very surest sign that they look upon " the 
 jackass" as a common enemy. 
 
 At the edge of the lake I am agreeably surprised 
 to find well-grown saltbush flourishing more luxuri- 
 antly than upon the plains of Riverina. There the 
 saltbush country is little more than a thicket of dry 
 denuded brambles, for as soon as the sweet young 
 shoots appear they are greedily nibbled away. What 
 would a few thousand acres of these masses of silver}^ 
 foliage be worth up near the tropics now that the suns 
 are parching the pastures } 
 
 Amongst the trees the conifers make perhaps the 
 finest show in the gardens. Some of the cedars arc 
 frosted with silver, as you may have seen Australian 
 trees before sunrise on a morning of early spring, but 
 never in the glare of noonday. Upon the uplands the 
 trees of many countries are grouped — as an illustra- 
 tion of universal good fellowship. The Irish juniper 
 mingles its foliage with Crimean and Corsican pines, 
 and the American golden yew, with a tinge of bright 
 yellow lighting up its branches, compares strikingly 
 with the dark massive aspect of the English yew tree. 
 An arbutus, which in May and June will be covered 
 with pearly blossoms, is partly hidden in the shade of 
 one of those peculiar ti-trees whose white trunks have
 
 A MFJ.BOURXE GARDEN. 59 
 
 a skeleton appearance when seen in the moonhght. 
 A Victorian will probabl}' have made his first 
 acquaintance with them while rushing through the 
 Sydney suburbs in the southern express. Here, too, 
 in a semi-tropical garden, are the characteristics of 
 arctic vegetation. The branches, instead of spring- 
 ing outward and upward from the tree trunks, all 
 droop in the spiritless fashion that gives such an 
 aspect of settled melancholy to northern forests. For 
 generations they have been borne down by the snows, 
 and the tree has finally adapted itself to its surround- 
 ings by inclining its boughs downward, so that the 
 feathery snowflakes, instead of accumulating, fall upon 
 the white waste beneath. If it were possible to trans- 
 plant one of our mightiest tropical trees to the frigid 
 zones, what a wreck would remain after one of these 
 long, dark northern winters. Amongst colonial 
 conifers the Norfolk Island pine is perhaps the most 
 striking. It is unfortunate that the name should have 
 been associated with such dark epochs of colonial 
 history as are described in Marcus Clarke's powerful 
 work, " His Natural Life." The blot has been wiped 
 away, but the name of Norfolk Island seems destined 
 to be indelibly associated with cruelty and crime. 
 Some of the trees are at least as antique as the Scrip- 
 tures. Here is a scion of the pre-historic locust tree 
 which, according to some, furnished food for the 
 Baptist in the wilderness. On the same bank there 
 is a "Judas " tree. 
 
 On a suitable mound there is a beautiful group 
 made up of the native heath and its affinities, all 
 in full bloom. The cultured gardener pauses in 
 his crusade against the weeds, and with the easy
 
 6o GUM nOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 volubility of a professor of the dead languages hurls 
 a series of botanical names at one of the handsomest 
 heaths in the collection. Having no grudge against 
 the plant, however, I forget what he told me. All the 
 flower-beds are, in a sense, disfigured by the white 
 labels on which the pedigrees of plants are recorded, 
 but in this garden the educational has, I know, to be 
 combined with the picturesque. Sometimes, after 
 much Latin, the English name appears in parentheses 
 thus : — " Viola Coerulea (Common Violet)." In 
 noticing the grouping of the trees here it is easy to 
 understand that landscape gardening is no simple art. 
 The altitude of the trees and the blending of the 
 foliage for broad general effects have both to be 
 considered. The tallest tree is placed in the centre 
 of the bed, and the height declines as the clump 
 extends, until the tiny shrub at the extreme edge 
 mingles its foliage with the grass-blades on the lawn. 
 I have alwa}-s been surprised to find so few bees 
 amongst the flowers here. In the country such a 
 garden would be invaded by hordes of busy little 
 workers, drawing the staple wealth of bee colonies 
 from the sweet white clover that lights up the lawn, 
 the broad sunflowers, or the pretty blue forget-me- 
 nots. The bees are quite aesthetic in their love for 
 the sunflower, only their regard is based more on 
 material than sentimental grounds. They seem, also, 
 to catch the delicate odour of clover-fields on the 
 breeze, and will travel miles for the wealth of these 
 pastures. The dwellers on the heights around sadly 
 neglect their opportunities in the way of bee-keeping. 
 They need only provide a suitable apiary, and here 
 in the gardens all through the summer the bees will
 
 A MELBOURNE GARDEN. 6 1 
 
 find the food that suits them. There can be no charge 
 for agistment, no impounding for trespass, and the 
 flowers would benefit by the visits of their best friends 
 amongst the order of fertihsing insects. The glass 
 conservatories on the hill are not open to-day, for even 
 this spring weather is too keen for the sickly-consti- 
 tutioned exotics. Through the steamy tears that 
 trickle down the inner side of the glass doors one has 
 an indistinct view of the tropical plants, but, com- 
 pared with the flower-beds outside, there is very little 
 colour in the collection. 
 
 This garden, besides being typically Australian, 
 is something more. People of all nations find some- 
 thing in it to admire. If the English thrush could 
 speak as clearly as he sings we might imagine him 
 telling this story. 
 
 " Two years ago I believed honestly that the whole 
 of the habitable globe was contained in a little corner 
 of the county of Hampshire. Then I fell into the 
 hands of the bird-catchers, and crossed more leagues 
 of sea than I had ever even dreamed of when hopping 
 about in the copses at home. I shall be a year-old 
 colonist this spring, and qualified to write, as even 
 younger colonists do, both the past and future 
 history of the land. I have but a simple object in 
 piping to-day — merely to describe the past winter 
 experiences of an English thrush in a city garden. It 
 is none too soon to write either, for the night of winter 
 is passing away, and amongst the flowers there is the 
 dawn of spring. The balm of opening buds is in the 
 fresh air, and the green of the springing leaves lights 
 up the foliage as though it were the season of flowers. 
 The box brush is putting out its lin\' pca-grccn bells,
 
 62 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM, 
 
 and I hear them tinkling fairy tunes when the breeze 
 comes brushing through the trees. Soon the oaks 
 will be * at home ' again. Even now you may see 
 the illustration of the poet's fancy of a thousand 
 emeralds breaking from ruby buds. The rows of 
 elms that border the broad walks are still asleep. The 
 lattice is closed, the blinds are down, the doors yet 
 barred ; but after a few such sunny days as this even 
 the sluggard elms will be astir. A young friend of 
 mine, a honey-eater, whom you may recognise some 
 day in her green gown and white earrings, has just 
 come from the country. She tells me that the wattles 
 and white sassafras are blooming by every creek, and 
 that the yellow winter waters are becoming clear and 
 yet more clear with each succeeding spring day. 
 Some of our vain friends in the bush will almost live 
 now in the branches that overhang the stream, so that 
 they may see the brighter hues come out in their 
 summer vestments, and like Narcissus admire their 
 beauty as mirrored in the pool, 
 
 "■ One misses some of the things that give a charm 
 to the English spring. Poor goldenbill, my rival in 
 the hedgerows, is no longer a trouble, and even the 
 Indian minahs, with their quaint, sociable wa\\s, are a 
 poor substitute for an English blackbird. When bird- 
 fanciers pass by I hear sometimes of a caged starling, 
 and remember Sterne's stor}- that the schoolmaster 
 read to the boys one afternoon as they passed down 
 the lane. My heart bleeds when I think of the same 
 melancholy plaint from my poor caged countryman 
 in the city. 
 
 "The winter here was so dififerent from those 
 English winters over the sea, when nature, wrapped
 
 A Mf.LBOURXE GARDEN. 63 
 
 closely in her white mantle, goes to sleep for a season. 
 There was a darker green in the trees, a deeper shadow 
 in the glades, a keener wind sporting down the path- 
 ways, but otherwise little change. Everywhere there 
 were bits of colour lighting up the garden plots. 
 Late in the season came the white flakes of laurustina, 
 with their nutty fragrance. Berries — scarlet, ruby, 
 white, pink, and golden — sparkled in the shrubs upon 
 which no snowflakes had ever fallen. The pink- 
 berries, I hear the gardener say, are Tasmanian. This 
 is not a land of nuts. One looks in vain for hazels 
 and chestnuts, but the brown nuts of the pittosporum 
 grew in plenty about the paths. They have given 
 way now to very fragrant pale flowers. In the early 
 winter there was lavender and heliotrope, and another 
 shrub with buff, trumpet-shaped, waxen bowers 
 that made a brave show in spite of the winter 
 winds. Then came the Eugenia with its slender, 
 plum-coloured drupes. The coprosma, radiant in a 
 dress of gold and green, made a glorious centre-piece 
 for the flower-beds, and no blossom could have en- 
 hanced its beauty. The wormwood, silvered nearly 
 white, reminded me with other things of home. 
 
 "Every morning the clerks in Government offices 
 came trooping down the pathways, and although I 
 sang them my sweetest songs they never seemed to 
 hear. It was very disheartening. They talked alwaxs 
 of some grim confraternity of tyrants — members of 
 the Legislature, I suspect. Day after day they came 
 and went along the asphalt, not even noticing that 
 the moss grew on one side onl}-, and that the banks 
 with a northern aspect were bare and cheerless. The}' 
 stop sometimes, now to look at the long willow tresses
 
 64 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 or the forget-me-nots sparkling in the flower beds. 
 Once a grey-headed old man, moving slowly along 
 the path, as he heard me sing, lifted his eyes and 
 exclaimed, ' Surely it must be a thrush. How it 
 reminds me of the stile and that old wheatfield down 
 in Sussex. Poor Minnie ! ' Then he went away, 
 mumbling to himself — 
 
 " ' Many a summer the grass has grown green, 
 Withered and faded our faces between.' 
 
 He passed out into the noise and smoke of the city, 
 and I never saw^ him again, but his words set me 
 thinking. I remembered English fields just as 
 beautiful as his, and thought how in the autumn I 
 should miss the corn-cockles in the wheat, the 
 poppies, the red campion, the wake robin, and all 
 the pretty corn-flowers. Sometimes one almost 
 wishes to forget these things, as the volatile sparrow 
 tumbling about in the dust does. How daring the 
 sparrows are, and how ver}^ much at home ! They 
 almost brush against the children playing beneath 
 the trees. Their confidence sometimes verges on 
 presumption. But even they have one trace of home 
 affection left, and they show it in their inclination to 
 seek the ivy that clambers about the church yonder 
 for a resting-place at night. 
 
 " Sometimes ladies pass b)-, carrying upon their 
 bonnets beautiful birds embowered in a perfect para- 
 dise of flowers. But how solemn and silent the birds 
 seem. Their staring e}-es never blink in the sunlight 
 or sparkle in the shadow. They are not as happy 
 as they should be. I am not generall}- superstitious, 
 but things happen so strangely sometimes that they
 
 A MELBOURXE GARDEN. 65 
 
 set even a thrush to wondering. One night I was 
 asleep on a pine-bough, when a cricket on the turf 
 just beneath me burst out with its loud chirrup, and 
 I woke. On the same bough, within a few feet of 
 me, was a native cat, and but for that cricket's night 
 song I should not have told this story. 
 
 " My friends say that at first wild cats were a 
 great trouble to them, but we have found out that 
 they cannot climb the smooth bark of the straight 
 young gum trees, and for the future we shall build 
 there in safety. How happy we should be in the 
 gardens but for these native cats. They are as bad 
 as the weasels and stoats of tne hedgerows at home. 
 There are few owls' here to come in the night 
 breaking our rest with their rustling wings, but the 
 laughing jackass is almost as merciless. In England 
 our gaitered friend the gamekeeper- would have shot 
 all these tyrants mercilessly, but here no one attempts 
 to do justice upon them. 
 
 " You will think it must have been lonesome 
 sometimes in the winter^ and so it was. But most 
 of us here — and especially the trees — are aliens, and 
 we tell each other stories of our own homes. The 
 Indian hawthorn there — with haws that are more like 
 olives than the purple bunches I remember in the 
 hedge — is very eloquent. The weeping pine speaks 
 sometimes of venerable Buddhist temples, and some- 
 times of dark jungles in Southern India. One of its 
 robust cousins boasts of how his ancestors first raised 
 their heads away up in the solitudes of the Hima- 
 layas. That melancholy tree in the corner, beautiful 
 as it is to-day in the sunlight, has cruel stories to tell 
 of Siberian i)risoncrs. The Japanese cedar, that 
 1-:
 
 66 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 shades out to silvery brown, has legends old as the 
 world itself, and yet less familiar to Christian ears 
 than the wonderful tales of that other Cedar of 
 Lebanon. That hemlock on the left complains that 
 lie misses the ring of the snow-shoes and the tinkle of 
 the sledge bells in the Canadian moonlight. The 
 ungrateful tree is not even thankful that his branches 
 are no longer torn down with the weight of a thousand 
 snowflakes. The Irish yew down in the corner is 
 a charming talker, but never satisfied. One cold 
 morning I remarked how the frosts were browning 
 the prairie grass, but he insisted that the correct title 
 was Tipperary grass. 
 
 " Latterly I have had more company. Some 
 brown doves have come from the domain on the 
 southern bank of the river to make a home in this 
 garden. You perhaps may only feel their presence 
 in the soft coo-coo that gurgles from out of the 
 thickest pine ; but I know their haunts, and have 
 called to see them more than once. We are more 
 often heard than seen ; but if you come on a windy 
 da)', when the trees are tossed about, or after a 
 shower, you will find us on the grassy lawns. Come 
 while the spring is yet young, and our best notes 
 are fresh from a winter's rest, and we will give 
 you such a chorus as was never heard before out of 
 England." 
 
 It may at first seem a rash thing to assert that 
 city people have the same chance of studying the 
 habits of birds as the residents in those country 
 districts where the town sportsman goes to shoot 
 away his holiday, and not infrequently his arm or 
 leg. " Dead game" has been the subject of many a
 
 A MELBOURNE GARDEN. 6/ 
 
 picture, although the artists may never in their lives 
 have flushed a flock of wild duck from a pool, or been 
 startled by the hum of quail in their country home. 
 The big gun has brought all sorts and conditions of 
 game birds to the city market, and there, no doubt, 
 most of the game studies have been made. But it is 
 not in the market-place alone, nor yet cooped up in 
 the cages at the Zoo, that Melbourne birds are to be 
 seen. The use of a field-glass from one of the city 
 towers will probably discover such flocks of game as 
 in most country districts would bring every rusty 
 fowling-piece from its cobwebbed corner, and send 
 every second resident off on a wild hunt after the 
 birds. At certain periods of the year the rushy water- 
 pools near the boat-sheds in the domain, and the lake 
 in the Botanical Gardens, literally swarm with water 
 birds, and all the year round some are to be found 
 there. They show a wonderful intelligence in dating 
 their arrival here conjointly with the opening of the 
 shooting season, for they know that on these weedy, 
 stagnant pools — the " billabongs " of northern rivers 
 — no one dare use either fowling-piece or swivel gun. 
 To-day, perhaps, the Melbourne birds are spread from 
 the Murray to the coast, but in a few weeks we shall 
 have them back again, and teal, black duck, and 
 spoon-bill will ornament the city lakes as well as city 
 tables. The pools near Prince's Bridge are more 
 suggestive of the natural haunts of the birds. No 
 doubt they were the home of many water birds before 
 the city was founded. Red-legged porphyry coots 
 arc either splashing about amongst the reeds at the 
 lake margin, as they do in those greater waterpools 
 of Gipps Land, or feeding upon the green grass of the 
 
 E 2
 
 68 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 open, as tame almost as barn-yard fowls. Out near 
 the St. Kilda railway station I have seen landrails 
 and spur-winged plover amongst the reeds and 
 swamps near the line, and no doubt both birds come 
 here occasionally, but they are not often seen. There 
 are few of the big coots at present, but they generally 
 come in numbers towards the close of summer, and 
 thus observe the fashionable and certainly rational 
 practice of spending their summer in the country 
 and their winter in town. The little black coot, the 
 water-hen of Gipps Land, where it is seen in vast 
 flocks, is another city visitor. Flocks of forty or fifty 
 birds occasionally settle down in the night and stay, 
 perhaps, for months. In the Botanic Gardens one 
 family remains in possession all the year round, and 
 their nests, not unlike the warm home of the wild 
 duck, have occasionally been found in the island 
 thicket. These are the birds that venture amongst 
 the feet of the children as they play about the lake. 
 If they hatch at all very few of the young ones survive, 
 for the white-tailed water-rat has his home in these 
 pools also, and destroys both eggs and }'oung birds. 
 Standing here sometimes in the moonlight, one hears 
 a splash in the water, and just has a glimpse of the 
 watcr-pest before he sinks beneath the surface again. 
 To-day a matronly wild duck is out with her little 
 downy brood, and in less than a week she is childless, 
 for the whole family have fallen victims to the water- 
 rat. Even the swans, splendid as is their defence 
 of home, come to loathe this imp of the v/ater and 
 darkness, whose destructive efforts are not checked by 
 a single repulse, or even half a score of failures. As 
 he burrows from beneath the warcr, like the platypus,
 
 A MF.LBOURXE GARDEN'. 69 
 
 his home is seldom found, and the chances of exter- 
 mination are lessened. 
 
 The history of the wild ducks who visit here would 
 no doubt be interesting. Those presented to the 
 director of the gardens have been pinioned, and enjoy 
 a sort of limited imprisonment for life. Amongst 
 them are some of the richly-plumaged mountain duck 
 found in every part of xA.ustralia, but more naturally 
 associated with the woodlands and waters of Lake 
 George, in New South Wales. There are some 
 curious hybrids between the Japanese black duck and 
 the English mallard, showing how bird species are 
 multiplied throughout the world. They are hand- 
 somely coloured, and a distinct ornament on the 
 water. The successful cross here indicates, I suppose, 
 that away back in the family histories of the black 
 duck and the mallard there is some connecting link. 
 Like the little water-hens, these half-domesticated 
 birds are always on the look-out for crumbs and 
 biscuits. While the English and Japanese ducks 
 thus live in perfect sympathy, neither will associate 
 with the Australian ducks. The antipathy is mutual 
 too. 
 
 The history of the swans in the garden lake is a 
 repetition in results of the struggles of the black and 
 white races all the world over. Some twenty years 
 ago the first of the snowy-plumaged English birds 
 were turned out here, and for a time their reign was 
 undisputed. 
 
 One night a black swan sailing over caught 
 a glimpse of water which had, perhaps, been his 
 ancestral home half a century ago, and dropped down 
 amongst the islands. Everything was changed, but
 
 70 GUM nOUGffS A.VD U'.ITTLE BLOOM. 
 
 not for the worse. He liked the place, and sta}'ed. 
 Other swans came in the same way, and so two 
 rival groups of black and white were formed. But 
 the pond was not large enough for both to live in 
 amity, and soon there were royal battles between the 
 male birds. The whites, although the more powerful 
 in appearance, were beaten all along the line, and 
 thus history showed us another Hayti, a black 
 conquest on a small scale. 
 
 For a time the British bird scarcely dared to show 
 his plumes upon the water ; but as he was the 
 greater attraction of the two, besides being more rare 
 and valuable, the Great Powers came to his rescue. 
 The one way to make the immigrant happy again 
 was the old scriptural plan of destroying his enemies 
 off the face of the earth. 
 
 It was noticed that in the battles which took place 
 every two or three weeks one of the black swans 
 always acted as leader. When the first of these 
 fighting chieftains was killed it was hoped that the 
 trouble was over, but another took his place, for 
 every man in the black army carried, apparently, 
 a marshal's baton in his knapsack. By-and-by, how- 
 ever, only their widows remained, and once again 
 Britain ruled the waves. As an Australian, my 
 sympathy is with the colonial bird. It shocks one's 
 sense of fair play to find good hard fighting so 
 rewarded. To-day there is but one black male on 
 the lake, and upon him the spirit of philosophic 
 opportunism seems to have fallen. He declines to 
 take any part in the game of " Heads you win, tails 
 I lose," and lives at peace with all birds. Indeed, 
 some visitors to the gardens, concerned for the
 
 A MELBOURNE CrARDEN. 7 I 
 
 national honour, have suggested the addition of a 
 white tie to his black garb, in order that this spiritles 
 bird might be named " the parson." The subsequent 
 history of the first family of imported white swans is a 
 sad one. One morning the four white swans were 
 found floating dead in a little arm of the lake. Some 
 ruffian had thrown poisoned food to them as he 
 passed, for analysis showed arsenic in the stomachs 
 of all. During thirteen years the white swans pro- 
 duced only two clutches of cygnets. 
 
 The lake is also associated with a dark page in the 
 history of another group of water birds. Once the 
 big black cormorants and the smaller white-breasted 
 divers came here in hundreds to feed upon the golden 
 carp and eels. All day they splashed, dived, and 
 feasted, and at night perched in the ti-tree scrub, at 
 the lower end of the lake. In the dusk the thicket 
 looked like some strange, dark orchard, where the 
 trees bore at the same time large white flowers and 
 fruit. Either the lake with its fish had to be given up 
 to the cormorants, or their raid stopped. 
 
 One evening a party of crack shots drew a cordon 
 about the place, and at a signal the slaughter com- 
 menced. Dead and dying birds rained upon the 
 water until eighty had thus fallen. The story of the 
 massacre seems to have been handed down through 
 successive generations, for ever since they have 
 shunned the place. Tempted by the goldfish, half 
 sheltered in the reeds, one occasionally drops down, 
 but never remains over night. Down in the pools 
 near the boat-sheds they muster in scores, and remain 
 there through the year, except in the nesting season, 
 when they go out to build with the pelican upon the
 
 Jl GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 rocky islands of Bass's Strait. Other fisher birds 
 have had an unfortunate experience here. 
 
 One morning a big grey pelican was found in pos- 
 session, no doubt congratulating himself upon having 
 at last discovered the fisherman's Eden. When shot, 
 sixteen large goldfish were found in his pouch. 
 
 Outside the aquatic birds, all the more conspicuous 
 songsters here are foreigners. A notable exception, 
 however, is the reed warbler, a modest, sweet-voiced 
 little native, who has found a suitable asylum amongst 
 the reeds that line the lesser pools. In the dedication 
 to his " Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes " Lyndsay 
 Gordon speaks of a land 
 
 " Where bright blossoms are scentless, 
 And songless bright birds." 
 
 But all Australian bright birds are not songless, 
 and some of her homely ones have a chant of sur- 
 passing sweetness. This little brown warbler of the 
 lake has a thrush-like trill and variety in his note 
 that is very charming. Now and again one gets 
 a rare glimpse of an English blackbird. There are 
 only two on the south side of the Yarra, and, un- 
 fortunately, both are male birds. The speckled grey 
 doves, that came in the first instance probably from 
 Ceylon, have found a home, in which they prosper 
 and multiply. These birds are spreading over all the 
 city gardens. A lot of English ring-doves were 
 turned out a few years ago, but seemed to have died 
 away altogether. Canaries were equally unfortunate. 
 Their colour seemed to have excited the deadly 
 enmity of other birds. The Indian minah is as 
 much at home and almost as presumptuous as the
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. J ^ 
 
 sparrow. He came with the reputation of an insect- 
 ivorous bird, but has, as is alleged, developed a strong 
 partiality for fruit. Last year a bird supposed to be 
 a nightingale was seen in one of the shrubberies. It 
 is an interesting fact that during the last few years 
 many native birds that had almost abandoned the 
 place have returned in numbers to their old haunts by 
 the river side, thus indicating the success of the 
 measures taken for their protection. A keen 
 naturalist would probably find at least fifty species of 
 Australian birds within the limits of the Melbourne 
 Gardens. 
 
 6ipps 3laulr OTootr i^otesi* 
 
 A TRIP through the Gipps Land lake countr}' com- 
 mences, by rights, at the point where the Glengarry 
 and Thompson rivers lose their identity in the broader 
 bosom of the Latrobe. Anglers from the city have 
 spent many pleasant hours upon the banks of the latter, 
 for perch, ignoring the traditions of their kind all the 
 world over, rise at an artificial fly like trout or salmon 
 in British waters. The lowlands of Glencoe — a 
 most contradictory designation — on the one side, and 
 the long flats of the Heart estate on the other, although 
 both famed grazing grounds, arc not rich in picturesque 
 elements. Down towards the river mouth there are 
 long miles of moving reeds, that look like stretches of 
 giant corn over-ripened in the summer sun and still 
 waiting for the reapers. From the shelter of these
 
 74 <^f^^l/ nOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 reeds, in the old days, the wild blacks dashed out to 
 spear the cattle introduced with enormous trouble by 
 the white pioneers of Gipps Land. But here as else- 
 where superior human intelligence devised a remedy 
 and a retaliation. Look-out trees from which one of 
 the settlers, by means of a primitive system of flag 
 signalling, guided his armed companions to where the 
 Warrigals were crouching in the reed beds are still 
 pointed out upon the uplands ; and in these collisions 
 between the two races there was always the same 
 ending. On the banks of the Latrobe the grazier is 
 yet supreme ; but away across the lakes, upon the 
 picturesque flats of the Mitchell, hops and maize fight 
 for possession. In the fields there are tall hedges of 
 hawthorn crowned with bunches of crimson haws, 
 that to English eyes may give 'a Kentish winter 
 aspect to the valley. Perhaps it is the character of 
 these respective pursuits that has given to each of the 
 Gipps Land towns a distinctive individuality — 
 Bairnsdale, young, lusty, and energetic ; Sale sitting 
 quietly prosperous on the margin of its green plain, 
 but wanting perhaps an Atlas to hoist the place upon 
 his shoulders and keep it in the front rank of progress. 
 One local edict, which must please a lover of nature, 
 forbids the use of a fowling-piece within the precincts 
 of the borough. As a consequence, water- fowl are 
 thick about the weedy pools, and hundreds of red- 
 legged coots patter along the margins of the lagoons 
 within a few paces of the cottage doors. 
 
 Gipps Land might be called new Scotland, for 
 names that are sacred to the Gael are met in every 
 corner of this " land of the mountain and the 
 flood." The adventurous Highlanders who pushed
 
 GIPPS T.AND WOOD NOTES. 75 
 
 down here from the Manaro country exercised their 
 pioneer rights to the full, although many parts of 
 the district now bear titles given at a subsequent 
 and more formal christening. And in this land of 
 many streams there is no river trip more pleasant 
 than to steam up the Tambo in the early summer. 
 The palisade of yellow reeds that line the banks, 
 drawn inward by the movement of the steamer, 
 bends forward in a stately graceful courtesy, and 
 is then tossed rudely back in rustling resentment by 
 the wash of the sturdy little boat. Farther up the 
 white cliffs rise high on either side, flecked with 
 patches of yellow wattle bloom, and stringy barks 
 wave their long pendent branches from niches in the 
 white walls. There is, perhaps, one stream in 
 Australia more beautiful. The Gellibrand, whether 
 leaping down from its hundred fountain homes away 
 up in the solitudes of the Otway range, or flov/ing 
 under its green arches to the sea, has no rival 
 amongst Australian rivers, but at last it rolls slug- 
 gishly through dark marshes as uninteresting as the 
 clumps of ti-treethat cluster about the mouth of the 
 Tambo. The Gipps Land rivers have peculiar interest 
 for the geologist, and for any one who will note how 
 natural forces have been here excavating and there 
 building up, century after century. The mouth of 
 the stream would naturally be sought for at some 
 spot in the lake's rim where a break in the distant 
 range seemed to indicate the point of convergence 
 for a water-shed. But with the Gipps Land rivers, 
 year after year, the flood waters brought down the 
 surface soil from the ranges, and as this was cast 
 on cither side the river gradually crept out into
 
 76 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the lake, still rolling between its low banks of mud. 
 And as these banks were raised by the never-ending 
 succession of floods, the lower vegetation first estab- 
 lished itself, and then the eternal gums. Thus two 
 narrow lines of green pushed out" into the middle 
 of this inland sea, with the river still confined be- 
 tween them.. The Mitchell, which first entered at 
 Eagle Point, has been thus embanked out into the 
 lake for miles. Steaming up the stream, one may 
 toss a cinder over the tree-tojas on this strange jetty 
 into the lake on either side. When the first boating 
 party skirting the lakes in search of a river mouth 
 found themselves cut off by a band of green turf 
 jutting out for miles, their astonishment must have 
 been great indeed. This invasion of lake territory 
 has not been rapid. An old inland navigator may 
 remember w4ien that dead tree-trunk, now almost 
 buried in silt, was brought down b}' the yellow 
 waters and cast up high and dry at the river's mouth. 
 The intrusive ti-tree has crept down very near the 
 point, and the gums are treading closely upon its 
 heels. Those for whom anti-Mosaic calculations 
 have a fascination may roughly estimate the thou- 
 sands of years during which the Mitchell River has 
 been building up the green walls that stretch down- 
 ward from Eagle Point. 
 
 In crossing Lake Wellington a fine amphitheatre 
 opens to the northward. The dark line of ti-tree 
 in the foreground yields to a pleasant green, which 
 in turn fades away to hazy blue when the prospect 
 closes in the long semi-circular sweep of mountain. 
 Every cone and peak in the blue crescent wall has 
 its own name, but the symmetry of these Gipps Land
 
 GJFPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 77 
 
 mountains is, if an)-thing, too faultless. Neither 
 earthquake nor volcano has played its ponderous 
 pranks amongst the hills. To identify the spirit of 
 upheaval in his Australian haunts one must visit the 
 Grampians of the Western District, where the ranges, 
 all rising gradually on one side, seem to have been 
 abruptly broken off, so sharp is the opposite slope. 
 
 Gipps Land has become such a popular " summer 
 outing" place that its features are familiar to Austra- 
 lian tourists. The narrow strip of country running 
 between the ranges and the sea, from the Lakes' 
 Entrance down towards the Snowy River, is, perhaps, 
 least known. It was a favourite haunt of the abo- 
 rigines in prc-settlement days. Now a black patriarch, 
 coming back to his old home under the range, might 
 say — 
 
 " A change we have found there, and many a change, 
 Faces and footsteps and all things strange," 
 
 though to the eye, weary of bricks and mortar, it yet 
 retains its savage charm. Of a winter's morning 
 amongst these southern woods, the frosty air brings 
 out a rare perfume from tree and shrub which we 
 never find on those scentless summer mornings when 
 the sky above the range is yellow with the flush of 
 the sun-streamers. The tender shoots of one of the 
 shrubs is sticky with a sweet-smelling gum, the rich 
 aroma of which fills the glades. Surely the pharmacy 
 of the future will include many drugs and perfumes 
 distilled from these fragrant bushes. 
 
 In the valley there are many indications of native 
 camping grounds. Indeed, the skeletons of huts 
 that have been recently used )'et remain — fragile
 
 78 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 illustrations of primitive house-building. In one of 
 them, pyramid-shaped, the crcss-piece rests on forked 
 saplings, while in a circular hut, the uprights, inclining 
 to a common centre, complete the figure of a cone. 
 Only the ribs are left, for a fire-stick — the great 
 native scavenger and disinfectant — was thrust amongst 
 the thatch when the huts were abandoned. Indeed, 
 there are traces of fire all along the slope that suggest 
 a line from " Bush Ballads " — 
 
 " All fire-flushed when forest trees redden on slopes of the 
 range." 
 
 In amongst the ti-tree there are occasional pools 
 holding a few gallons of sweet, clear water ; and some 
 of them almost hidden in marsh-weeds. These were, 
 no doubt, scooped out by the natives long ago, but 
 to-day they serve as drinking fountains for the 
 wallaby and wombat only. There is no mistaking 
 the beaten track leading to the pool for a sheep or 
 cattle track. Just above the trail the space is clear, 
 but at a certain height the bindweeds and tangle 
 bend over and entwine, so that instead of an avenue 
 there is a rustic colonnade. Up in the north the 
 natives had to store water in the hollow of tree trunks, 
 and sweeten it with the blossoms of the banksia and 
 wattle, but nothing of the kind was needed here. 
 Upon the trunks of fallen ti-tree there are masses of 
 scarlet fungi looking very bright in the gloom, and 
 about the bases of the growing trees long brown 
 mosses are creeping. Tree trunks, that have the out- 
 ward appearance of being sound, crumble away under 
 foot. The springy soil itself is the dust and ashes of 
 dead tree giants. These light straight saplings
 
 GIPFS LAND WOOD NOTES. 79 
 
 furnished spear-shafts for the blacks. Here along the 
 coast they were accustomed to adorn the " spear- 
 thrower " in barbaric fashion with pieces of bright 
 shell glued on with acacia gum. The patches of dead 
 brown on the boles of the gum trees show where the 
 natives cut their bark canoes. The form of the canoe 
 is indicated, and a convenient bend in the tree to suit 
 the shape of the canoe was generally selected. 
 Where settlers remove the bark for roofing it is cut 
 in formal squares from straight trees. 
 
 Tribes moving up the lakes started from this 
 point, and one can picture to oneself how many thou- 
 sands of bark canoes have been propelled against the 
 swift current of Reeves's River up into the broader 
 waters. The blacks, instead of crossing, always 
 coasted round the lakes. These fine old conservatives 
 changed never. Their bark canoe, designed by some 
 black Abraham, was handed down without alteration, 
 and its build will die out with the race. They were 
 landsmen pure and simple, and by comparison the 
 Maori, t\\t Fijian, and the Papuan are very Vikings. 
 If sea-kings were few% there were many forest kings 
 about the lakes, although the monarchies have all 
 commingled into the fragment we now see. 
 
 A look-out from the summit of one of yonder 
 ranges commands a long stretch of the Southern 
 Ocean. It may have been from this point that the 
 great white seabird, towering as high as the gums, 
 was first seen ploughing through the waves. On the 
 summit of the knoll there is a cairn built for the 
 purposes of a geodetic survey. Sitting under this 
 beacon in the moonlight, one may, on this mag- 
 nificent winter night, people the glade between the
 
 80 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 white line of surf and the band of shadow at the 
 foot of the slope with the generations that are buried 
 down among the trees ; but in summer the strains of 
 modern music and the beat of dancing feet are carried 
 faintly up from the point with every whiff of sea- 
 breeze. It was little wonder that the blacks loved 
 the quiet valley, and made it their summer home. 
 In addition to the spoils of sea and lake, hundreds 
 of kangaroo in the dry seasons flocked down from 
 the range. The native hunters had that variety of 
 fish, flesh, and fowl that the city sportsman with his 
 patent choke-bore and jointed fishing-rod finds to-day. 
 The trees from which the natives got the white grubs 
 — to them as great a delicacy as our oysters — have all 
 been killed in the interests of trade. But the blacks of 
 this country had once their oysters too, for beds of 
 large shells, beside which the Sydney rock oysters 
 and Stewart Islanders are puny dwarfs, have been 
 found on the banks of one of the Gipps Land rivers. 
 The wild dogs of Gipps Land are as fine specimens 
 as could be wished for — big, prosperous fellows^ with 
 the square, stolid-looking heads of their kind. The 
 dingoes, even in captivity, never lose their wild native 
 look. Their sharp, black, restless eyes are not those 
 of an animal easily tamed. Even their one-time 
 masters, the aborigines, soon discarded them in favour 
 of the more afl"ectionate domestic dog. And although 
 when taken young they live in peace, if not altogether 
 in friendship, with the blacks, no amount of taming 
 will reconcile them to a white man. Perhaps the 
 finest specimens of the native dog in Australia are 
 found in the ranges running parallel with our southern 
 cuabl line. Those who ha\c camped in amongst
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 8 1 
 
 these hills at night have heard their wild howl 
 waking up a hundred melancholy echoes in the 
 deep-wooded valleys. 
 
 Down the coast there are tall cliffs, about which 
 the sea shrubs creep like juniper bushes, not daring 
 to raise their heads in the face of that ninety miles 
 of storm and surf. In the damp niches of the cliff 
 there are patches of young moss that shine like 
 emeralds set in a shield of bronze, only the moss 
 is brighter than the brightest jewel ever shaped 
 by lapidary's wheel. In the underwood black wal- 
 labies are darting about, and their footprints 
 are plentiful about the sand hummocks. Here 
 and there a larger track, with the great central 
 toe sunk deep in the sand, shows that a kangaroo 
 has been down from the timber in the night. The 
 headlands are interesting to a naturalist. The bank 
 is thickly studded with coloured pebbles, representing 
 many varieties of rock, and these have been washed 
 out and rounded by the tides until, lying here on 
 the beach, they form the material for as handsome 
 a garden walk in rough mosaic as could well be 
 imagined. Similar pebbles, some of them very beau- 
 tiful, are found on the coast near Moonlight Head. 
 
 The lakes have an additional charm in the fact 
 that much of the wild faima yet survives. At every 
 stride in the valley parrots go screaming away 
 amongst the trees, and as they cross the sunny 
 spaces there is a flash of dazzling green, with sug- 
 gestions of orange and crimson. Under the ferns 
 at the foot of the slope the bank is honeycombed 
 with wombat holes, but most of the dwellings have 
 long been vacant. The wombat is very powerful, 
 F
 
 82 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 and can turn a boulder almost as large as itself out of 
 the way when it bars the road. At some of the state 
 plantations on the ranges large stones are often 
 placed in a gap in the fence, but these were generally- 
 found thrown on one side by the wombats in the 
 morning. Their natural inability to defend them- 
 selves either by flight or fight has compelled a noc- 
 turnal life, so they are more often heard than seen. 
 At night, when fishing in some of our mountain 
 streams, I have heard them fossicking and burrow- 
 ing in the scrub about, but have never caught 
 sight of one. Wombats are plentiful amongst the 
 Otway Mountains and along the Dividing Range. 
 On the farther side of Mount Disappointment there 
 is a spur of the range literally honeycombed with 
 their long winding tunnels. 
 
 From one of the wooded headlands a sea eagle 
 has sighted a flock of black coots out on the lake. 
 As he " quarters " above them the coots rush 
 here and there, beating their wings upon the 
 water ; the sound comes as though a hundred 
 swans were taking wing. The eagle winds down 
 and down, and the coots scream and huddle help- 
 lessly together. But scream, and dive, and cluster 
 as they may, one of them must die. The master 
 bird is within a few feet of them, and still he sails 
 leisurely about, prolonging the agony of the victim 
 beneath. Then he strikes — never swooping like the 
 black hawk, but lazily — and flies away to the head- 
 land with a screaming, struggling coot in his claws. 
 To-morrow the function will be repeated, but the con- 
 stant slaughter has no apparent effect in thinning the 
 ranks of the water birds. In a single flock, stretching
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 83 
 
 for a mile across the lake, there are countless thousands 
 of coots. Sometimes the lake harrier carries away a 
 sea salmon or a fat perch, and in their capture his 
 wing power is shown to better effect. You find the 
 skeletons of the fish lying on the high points of the 
 different promontories. Up in the rivers the water- 
 hen, or porphyry coot, with bright red legs and bill, 
 paddles about among the rushes or flaps lazily upward 
 nto one of the bushes that fringe the stream. Passing 
 through the straits that connect the lakes, broad 
 stagnant pools speckled with yellow marsh flowers 
 open out, and here hundreds of coots and swans, 
 with occasional blue and white cranes, make up a 
 highly interesting bird community. Far out on the 
 water the big pelican sails in solemn single state. 
 They were safer years ago, for the blacks neither 
 destroyed the bird nor its eggs. Not through any 
 veneration, however, but simply because a pelican diet 
 was too rank even for the aboriginal palate. These 
 big birds take wing in a singular way, not patting the 
 water one foot after another, like the swan, but by a 
 succession of leaps, striking the water with both feet 
 at the same instant. The heights above the entrance 
 are a naturalist's paradise. From the denser thickets 
 wonga wonga and bronze-wing pigeons — shy as a 
 nightingale — flutter out, and are gone in an instant. 
 The native thrushes have a plumage as bright as the 
 bronze-wing, and with their white throats and fantail 
 — a characteristic feature in tropical birds — are alto- 
 gether more gay than the modest, sweet- voiced immi- 
 grant thrush hiding beneath the laurustinas in our city 
 gardens. Down in the grassy hollows one is startled 
 with the sudden hum of beating wings, and a little 
 F 2
 
 84 Gf/.l/ DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 king quail, not much larger than a pipit, whirrs away 
 into the distance. Some of the little islands out in 
 the lakes are a nursery for quail. The birds let loose 
 there never take the long flight to the mainland, and 
 multiply amazingly. These islands are as strictly 
 guarded as a Highland deer forest or an English game 
 preserve. Amongst the most beautiful of Gipps Land 
 birds is the white crane, with its curved neck, small 
 serpent head, and snowy plumes flowing out airily 
 from back, breast, and head. The bittern, with its 
 wealth of brown breast feathers, drums in the starlight, 
 and about the lake timber the sooty owl, in appearance 
 an undoubted nightjar, but with talons almost as 
 terrible as an eagle, makes his home. When the 
 rustle of his softly-beating wings was heard in the 
 darkness above the aboriginal camps the natives 
 whispered to each other that a bad spirit was abroad. 
 Seabirds are thick about the shore. Pacific gulls 
 — dull grey, of black and white — wheel about in 
 hundreds, and when a dead fish is cast up by the 
 waves these sea scavengers, with their strange razor- 
 bills, soon dispose of it. 
 
 On the Gipps Land Lakes feeding the sea-gulls 
 is a popular amusement. The birds wait for the 
 Bairnsdale boat at the entrance to one of the pas- 
 sages connecting the lakes. Long before the steamer 
 is in the straits the flock of silver gulls, with perhaps 
 a pelican amongst them, can be seen waiting on one 
 of the sandy points. It is the hour for luncheon, and 
 the gulls know it. Almost before reaching the water 
 tasty morsels are caught up by some of the long^train 
 of birds flitting in the wake of the steamer. The 
 passengers spend a few pence in bread, so that the
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 85 
 
 innocent pleasure may be prolonged. To-day a bishop 
 is casting his bread upon the waters. The birds, be- 
 coming more confident in the competition, venture 
 within a few feet of the hands feeding them. Some- 
 times the bread is cleverly caught in mid-air, and if 
 there are cricketers present the bird is applauded. 
 Each as it secures a prize falls out of the rank, and, 
 flying away to one side, finishes its meal alone. 
 Otherwise the pleasurable proceeding would be short- 
 ened to a scramble, for in this democracy possession 
 carries with it no state guarantee. The birds accom- 
 pany the steamer right through the lakes, and meet- 
 ing the twin boat on the down trip, sagaciously turn 
 and become her escort. 
 
 In steaming down the Gipps Land rivers, funeral 
 cockatoos pass constantly overhead — the spots of 
 flame in their broad tails lighting up their black 
 plumage. The woods are noisy on either hand with 
 the shrill call of cockatoos and parrots. Some natu- 
 ralists separate the family, thus, one might say, 
 giving patient, dignified Nature a rebuff by inventing 
 divisional lines for her. The bushman who studies 
 Nature in its own solitudes classes them all as 
 cousins, and names the connecting link a cockatoo 
 parrot. There are four commonly known varieties 
 here : the big white cockatoo, with its handsome 
 saffron plume ; the corella, or as some country people 
 libel it " gorilla ; " the rosy cockatoo, resplendent in 
 deep pink and ashen grey ; and the creamy-white 
 cockatoo, with a faint flush of crimson showing 
 through its plumage like the Aurora Australis in a 
 clear sky. After the late summer rains, when the 
 [)lains of Riverina are covered with broad, shallow
 
 86 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 swamps^ the cockatoos congregate in the rushes about 
 the margin of the water, and then the bird-catchers 
 with their decoys and white-tilted waggons push out 
 from the border towns to thin down the bird clouds. 
 White cockatoos are nowhere seen to such advantage 
 as amongst the red gums, where a large flock with its 
 beating wings convey the idea of a living snowstorm. 
 Although big cockatoos are such sociable fellows when 
 raiding the wheat-stacks in company at daybreak, they 
 fight desperately when for the first time imprisoned in 
 the bird-catcher's cage — each bird apparently putting 
 the blame for their common misfortune upon its fellows. 
 Sometimes the bird-catchers are themselves trapped. 
 One of them camped in a sheltered hollow on a stormy 
 night found the water pouring into his waggon, and 
 was driven first to the roof and then to the branches 
 of a myall by the rapidly rising flood. The Wakool 
 had burst its banks in the night, and the yellow watei's 
 had stolen quietly out in the water-courses — as you 
 may have seen the fog creep down from the hills in 
 the early morning — and invested the plain. The 
 bird-trapper remained for twenty-four hours in the 
 tree-tops. The parrots range from the big King 
 Lory — a corruption, of course, of the Spanish word 
 loro — that wakes up the echoes in our mountain- 
 tops to the little yellow and green shell-parrot, delv- 
 ing like a honey-bee down amongst the petals of 
 the waxen gum-blossoms for the nectar distilled there. 
 The screech of the rosella, even if heard in the smoky 
 city, suggests box boughs and musk trees. Those 
 who have seen the rich primal colours of the Lory 
 thrown with relief against the dead gold of wattle 
 blossoms never wish to see the same bird in a cage.
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 87 
 
 The Green Leek should never be kept in a cage ; it 
 has the tongue of a honey-sucking bird, and is quite 
 unfitted by Nature to Hve on a diet of cracked maize 
 and flattery. The eagle hawk is found in Gipps Land 
 as in every other part of Victoria. The qualifying 
 name is misleading, for the bird is as daring and 
 rapacious as most of the recognised eagles. I know 
 one instance of a pair having killed fourteen full- 
 grown turkeys from a flock out in the western dis- 
 trict. They once lived largely on opossums, but the 
 pretty little ring-tails have been much thinned out 
 by these fierce hunters. Even in its neat round nest 
 the opossum is by no means safe, for the eagle with 
 its strong claws tears away the covering and flies off 
 with its struggling victim. The curlews or stone 
 plovers, inoffensive as they look when daintily step- 
 ping about some retired glade where for years their 
 home has been established, destroy many young game 
 birds. In the season you rarely find the nest of a 
 quail or a pipit in the same piece of ground that the 
 curlews have " pegged out." They build year after year 
 in the same patch of grass, and send their young abroad 
 into the world to seek fresh fields. They are very 
 vigilant, and are seldom sighted until they have first 
 taken alarm, and are running rapidly through the long 
 grass with head and neck bent low to escape notice. 
 If not too closely followed so as to force them into 
 flight they are easily " driven," and thus the birds are 
 shot down. The eggs are seldom found of exactly 
 the same shade, and the colour is generally in strict 
 harmony with the grass tufts about the nest. You 
 may step within a few inches of the nest and fail, 
 except by the merest chance, to notice it.
 
 88 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 A flock of a hundred native companions in one 
 of their grotesque quadrilles is a strange sight, but 
 the moonlight minuet of the lyre bird is more inter- 
 esting still, and far more rarely seen. Along the 
 Gipps Land hills that stretch from the Tambo west- 
 ward to Lake Tyers, and overlook the sea, the lyre 
 bird has his haunts. In other parts of Victoria you 
 find this interesting bird, but in few places more 
 plentifully than amongst these lonely peaks. Up in 
 the Dividing Range, where the mountains are tapped 
 by the white stone aqueducts that bring water to 
 Melbourne, the birds are seen rushing across the 
 narrow bridle track, but very rarely. The lyre bird 
 is at his best when seen at home, and, like many 
 other reserved people, only exhibits his most 
 agreeable social qualities there. It was on the 
 occasion of an outbreak of one of those periodical 
 gold fevers that so agitate Gipps Land, and when 
 the discovery of a bit of water-worn gold in some 
 wooded gully is accepted as an unerring fingerpost 
 pointing the way to other " Long Tunnels " up in the 
 range, that I had the privilege of an introduction to 
 the lyre bird. 
 
 A streamlet, as it trickled century after century 
 to the sea, had cut a deep chasm in the range. 
 From both banks hills rose in sharp slopes covered 
 to the summit with scrub, but on the western side 
 there was a little open glade, which had been pointed 
 out as a night playground of the lyre birds. Here, 
 in anticipation of such a gathering, we sat under the 
 shade of the trees on the eastern slope waiting for 
 the moon. Away out on the ocean there was a broad 
 band of shifting moonlight, but from our recess the
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 89 
 
 first rays were alone visible through the dark trellis- 
 work of trees on the crown of the range. Then the 
 western slope was gradually illumined, and the light 
 crept down until we uninvited guests in the shadow 
 could almost count the grass blades that carpeted the 
 lyre birds' hall, and could see the beautiful liquid glow 
 of dewdrops on the turf. In the bush noises that 
 quickened with the growing moonlight my fellow- 
 watcher — a practised bushman — fancied he detected 
 the mimicry of the lyre bird. Its own cry is a peculiar 
 liquid gurgle that suggested the native name of 
 " Bullan Bullan," but the bird is an admirable mimic^ 
 and perhaps the strange whistling crack of the whip 
 bird, or the melodious metallic tinkling of the bell- 
 birds, are the only sounds he cannot imitate. On 
 these bright nights the croaking of a marsh frog, the 
 grunt of a wombat, or the screech of an opossum, may 
 all come from the versatile throat of the lyre bird. In 
 watching for rabbits at night you rarely see them 
 hop out of the burrow, but find on the dusty mound 
 in front of the home a little sentinel sitting rigidly 
 on his haunches, as though he had relieved guard 
 two hours before. So with the lyre birds. Our 
 eyes had been cast for a moment up to the western 
 mountain-top to note the eft"ectof that brilliant moon- 
 light amongst the leaves, and when we looked next 
 towards the little glade it was no longer vacant. Out 
 in the open was a beautiful male bird with droop- 
 ing wings and tail thrown forward so that the head 
 was entirely hidden. He stood for a little while 
 stooping slightly forward as a man might when listen- 
 ing intently for the coming of a friend or a foe. In the 
 light the successive black and white bars of the classical
 
 90 GUM DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 tail were distinct, and in fine contrast with the dull 
 grey body. The bird was not long inactive. First 
 he drummed on his mound, and then he waltzed round 
 in a sort of ambling canter, as though controlled by 
 some magnet in that little hillock. He seemed to 
 have practised every pirouette of a modern ballroom, 
 and had some ballet dancer of repute watched this 
 vivacious bird at play she might have found some 
 new notions for an opera bouffe or a pantomime. To 
 describe his shifting movements in detail would be 
 impossible. Some were graceful, some grotesque) 
 but every action was that of a bird keenly conscious 
 of the delights of life and motion. A second bird 
 soon joined — a pair of right joyous fellows dancing 
 there in the moonlight. 
 
 Sometimes the lyre birds are shot while thus 
 absorbed in their dance, but the man who would fire 
 upon a little family party of this kind deserves, as a 
 mere matter of poetical justice, to have an accident 
 with the second barrel. At the close of last winter 
 a couple of young bushmen, while out shooting lyre 
 birds, were lost for days in the ranges. It is to be 
 hoped that they reflected on their enormities. 
 
 We have our bush lizards too. The iguana, 
 startled from its haunt in the grass, rushes for the 
 nearest tree and spins up it merrily. Once on the 
 tree-trunk it is impossible to shoot the iguana while 
 in motion, for however rapidly you may move round 
 it the bole, somehow, always intervenes. Even the 
 youngest iguana is found to descend the tree on the 
 opposite side to the intruder who has startled it. 
 Curiosity is its failing, and sometimes, at the very 
 threshold of its home, it stops to have one more look
 
 GIPPS LAND WOOD NOTES. 9 1 
 
 at its enemy. When the iguana is dissected, two large 
 masses of yellow fat like butter are founds and this, 
 reduced to lard, is a popular healing ointment with 
 some bushmen. They are great destroyers of vermin, 
 and a comparatively slight nuisance in other respects, 
 so that the authorities would act wisely by giving them 
 a perpetual protection with the lyre bird. The blue- 
 tongued lizard is not by any means rare, and may be 
 found in scores wherever there is a bit of rocky 
 country. When out sunning themselves they have an 
 awkward habit of lying quietly until you get between 
 them and their retreat, and then making a sudden 
 dash for home almost between your feet. With any 
 one who has had a few snake scares this always in- 
 duces a momentary gymnastic display. The coast 
 lizard is a dark-coloured reptile, almost as large as an 
 iguana, and ten times as ugly. Some of its progeni- 
 tors seem to have suffered an internal dislocation, and 
 the catastrophe has been faithfully handed down. It 
 presents the strangest collection of acute angles ever 
 put together in one animal. There is no harmony in 
 its outline, every joint clashing with its neighbour. It 
 is quite harmless, and if only a bit more handsome 
 would be as well worth preservation as the iguana. 
 
 One cannot look upon this Gipps Land country 
 without feeling how different are the conditions of 
 life here and on the sunnier plains of the Wimmera 
 in the north, where the toil of thousands is that 
 heart-aching toil that knows no reward but debt and 
 disappointment. When will these northern farmers 
 grow weary of so much thankless tillage, so little 
 harvest t Will the homesteads that dot the plains 
 be one day deserted like the eagle hawks' nests one
 
 92 GUA^ BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 sees in the dead gum trees. To further the com- 
 parison, it may be said that the vegetation of these 
 two corners of the colony is typical of the measure of 
 success that in each has attended man's enterprise. 
 The stunted oak groves of the Wimmera, in appear-* 
 ance something between southern sheoaks and 
 northern pines, are sadly suggestive of universal 
 poverty ; while the stability, the variety, and the 
 grandeur of Gipps Land forests typify her many 
 and lasting resources. May the anthem of peace and 
 plenty that the Gipps Land settlers sing to-day last 
 always ! 
 
 Kubenile ^oarf^rsi. 
 
 Poaching in Australia is but a mild imitation of 
 what in England was once a heinous crime. In the old 
 world the game laws have been productive of enter- 
 tainment for some, but bitter misery for the great 
 majority. And Australia perhaps has profited more 
 than any other country by the rigorous provisions 
 that amongst the hazel thickets of England, the 
 waving heather of the Scottish mountains, or upon 
 breezy Irish hills, made "wealth accumulate and men 
 decay." In the philosophy of the new world no social 
 stigma rested upon the man whose only sin was the 
 snaring of a hare or pheasant at night, in some grand 
 demesne, as a resource against the poor-house. After 
 all the old-fashioned poacher was very much the 
 sort of man required to fight the hard pioneer battles
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. 93 
 
 of a new country, and many successful Australians 
 of to-day, who under the Southern Cross have worked 
 their way to honourable wealth and position, were 
 looked upon and treated as criminals in England 
 thirty years ago. Sympathy with the love of for- 
 bidden fruit in the way of preserved game is probably 
 the out-cropping, in very pronounced form, of an in- 
 herited love for hunting and field sports, which (in 
 my own case, I suspect) had its origin ever so many 
 generations ago in the chasing of red stag and roe 
 up amongst the crags of Glengarry or about the 
 rugged shores of Loch Nevis, far away in the High- 
 lands of Scotland. 
 
 When hares and rabbits, with a few lesser evils in 
 the same line, were turned loose upon civilisation 
 here, they spread very rapidly along the valley of the 
 Deep Creek. Many of the landholders, pleased with 
 such reminiscences of rural life in the old country, 
 preserved game strictly. Had they been familiar 
 with rodential natural history, the effects of such 
 fostering care — in a land where there were no heavy 
 snowfalls nor any Malthusian checks to rabbit popu- 
 lation — to check the poachers would have been en- 
 couraged in Gipps Land. As it was, however, both 
 poacher and game survived, and in after years, when 
 the latter became a much worse nuisance than the 
 former had ever been, invitations were issued freely 
 to shoot all and sundry. 
 
 On slopes where on moonlight nights I have 
 nestled in the grass waiting for the solitary hares that 
 came cantering down from the white plains above to 
 feed on the sweet young grass in the river bottoms, 
 everything is changed. Crack shots from the metro-
 
 94 (^'UM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 polls with improved breech-loading choke-bores, in 
 company with those unfortunate casualty sportsmen, 
 armed with relics of the Queen Anne period, now 
 wander in broad daylight, and shoot as they please. 
 
 There was a charm in those night expeditions, out- 
 side the excitement of the sport or the risk attached 
 to the trespass. A charm in the beautiful Australian 
 night, then almost unconsciously felt, but realised 
 more fully in later years. It was not strictly con- 
 ducive to success in night-shooting to sit in the shadow 
 of the stone wall with a bright gun-barrel glistening 
 in the moonlight in a way to make every hare in the 
 district give it a wide circuit, while one worked up 
 shadowy fancies about the stars, and watched for the 
 new twinkling points that came out in multitudes 
 between the brighter orbs as the night deepened. 
 Neither was it "business" to give oneself impromptu 
 problems as to how often the stone plover would call 
 in his next shrill piping from the wattle scrub, or to 
 guess the number of cormorants in the next wedge- 
 shaped flock that came sailing across through the 
 gloaming on their way to northern waters. 
 
 Yet all these were pleasant features in the sport. 
 My armament was more antique than effective — a 
 long-barrelled shot gun, the present of an old farmer, 
 who had himself learned to use it somewhere on the 
 Weald of Kent. The original trigger had disappeared, 
 but a roughly-forged horseshoe nail, that jagged one's 
 finger terribly, had been substituted; and in some way 
 had increased the pull fivefold. It was a moot point 
 amongst a select circle of juvenile "sports" whether 
 the killing powers of this weapon were equal to those 
 of " Old Anthony " — a sort of modified long-range
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. 95 
 
 cannon held in general veneration throughout the 
 district. The weapon in question was an Enfield 
 rifle, which its former owner boasted had done service 
 in India for the Queen, by shooting rebellious sepoys. 
 On account of the rifled barrel, it never by any 
 chance threw a charge of shot twice in the same 
 direction, but was frightfully destructive when 
 emptied 'amongst a flight of golden plover or wood- 
 duck. 
 
 There was also a family relic in the shape of a 
 six-chambered revolver of obsolete pattern — a sort of 
 reminiscence of the firs and hemlocks of Upper 
 Canada, from whence it came. This was kept largely 
 for show, on account of a difficulty in inducing it to 
 explode with ordinary gun caps. At rare intervals, 
 and during casual spasms of industry, these weapons 
 were burnished until they shone like a newly-minted 
 florin, but after a season they always relapsed into a 
 chronic condition of rustiness. Indeed, it became a 
 tenet that the rusty barrel was best, for the chalk 
 mark which served as a substitute for the sight was 
 more easily discernible thereon either in the darkness 
 or in the moonlight. 
 
 Juvenile poachers generally worked in pairs, for 
 the sake of companionship. Sometimes it was terribly 
 lonesome on the plains, and one was apt to get 
 pondering on all sorts of possibilities, and, as a con- 
 sequence, go home sooner than necessary. There 
 was a world of pleasure in the recital of our prowess 
 to the schoolmaster on the following day, for he was 
 as keen a sportsman as ever grasped a gun-stock or 
 a bamboo fishing rod. In these cases, however, prud- 
 ence always suggested a slight change of locality, in
 
 96 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 order to give the excursion an air of legality. Let 
 me recall one of these night trips. 
 
 We stroll out of the village in any direction 
 except the one we wish to reach, and once under 
 the shadow of the encircling hills wheel away to the 
 right and towards the upper end of the valley, where 
 the young crops are just springing from the red soil. 
 We must keep below the level of the sky-line, for 
 against the red glow of the sunset in the background 
 our figures would be clearly outlined and visible to 
 every soul in the village below. At the stackyard 
 near the foot of the hill a brown-backed, yellow-legged 
 kestrel is industriously beating the bushes for sparrows 
 and mice, and creating quite a sensation amongst 
 these small game. In the paddocks of English grass 
 on the opposite bank of the river a long line of well- 
 conditioned shorthorns, of the Booth strain, with most 
 ancient pedigrees, " winds slowly o'er the lea.'^ 
 There is a heavy dew upon the ground to-night which 
 will have hardened into a frost before morning, but 
 the damp grass is only a minor inconvenience. Now 
 we are between the young crops fringing the river side 
 and the uplands, the two connected by a gently-falling 
 slope, at the bottom of which the " station " buildings 
 lie. 
 
 At the very bottom of the slope there is a 
 still more abrupt fall, and on the summit of this 
 the hare must be shot, hence we select our post 
 at a range of from twenty to forty yards. Then 
 we sit down and wait patiently for the game. After 
 a few minutes the spot that had seemed entirely 
 deserted when we first came shows signs of life. 
 A spotted native cat, out poaching on his own
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. 97 
 
 account, after a quail or a ground-lark, stops suddenly 
 within a few feet of us, and begins to study, in a half- 
 comical, puzzled way, this new feature in the landscape. 
 The suspicion of a movement, however, makes him 
 scamper away with a rattle amongst the closed Cape- 
 weed flowers. A magpie perching in a sheoak close 
 by wakes up for an instant, and mistaking the twi- 
 light for the dawn, breaks into a hesitating carol. 
 Then he realises the position, and tucking his head 
 in humiliation under his wing, goes off to sleep again. 
 Now a dark object comes into the field of vision, 
 moving swiftly towards us down the slope, and halting 
 at intervals to reconnoitre. 
 
 This is the game for which we are watching. 
 Those long sensitive ears catch the very slightest 
 noise, and every sound is invested with suspicion. 
 The hare reaches the little horizon that we have 
 ourselves arranged, and for an instant its form is 
 distinctly outlined against the glow that lingers in the 
 west. 
 
 " Hist ! " The hare has caught the sound, slight 
 as it was, and stands upon its hind legs, rigid and 
 erect against the sky-line. Aiming for the upper 
 edge of the broad patch of white, you fire. A 
 half-human cry wakes up the echoes in the gullies, 
 and one feels terribly guilty just for an instant, as 
 the poor victim kicks out its life amongst the folded 
 buttercups and pink-streaked field daisies. 
 
 There was an element of moderation in our sport, 
 and after shooting one hare we seldom waited for a 
 second. Remembering the greyhounds at home, we 
 perhaps potted a couple of the opossums which all 
 night long were holding noisy festival amongst the gum 
 (;
 
 98 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 trees down by the river side, or perhaps strolled up to 
 the horse paddock to see if the curlews were on the 
 move, and tried for a chance shot. Often, when the 
 night was young, we had an hour at the white sand- 
 bank, where enterprising colonies of rabbits had 
 formed their burrows, until the face of the lime- 
 stone cliff looked like a great piece of empty 
 honeycomb. 
 
 It was strange that, watch as closely as we would, 
 we seldom saw the rabbits in the act of popping out, 
 At one instant the cliff was all an uninteresting 
 white blank, and in the next a big brown rabbit 
 was sitting in front of one of the burrows as rigidly as 
 though he had been on sentry there all night. In yet 
 another instant he was turning somersaults down the 
 bank, and the report of the gun was being repeated 
 for miles up the gorge. 
 
 The zeal of the landholders for the preservation 
 of game vexed anglers also. Gun and rod were 
 jointly forbidden, and thus long stretches of water, 
 some of it favourite fishing ground, had to be worked 
 in secret. Discovery here merely meant, however, a 
 request to prospect in other waters, coupled with a 
 warning about coming back again. 
 
 After the spring floods black fish and eels were 
 busy all through the day, and then those in whom 
 angling inclinations were strongly developed found a 
 double delight in dropping a line into shady corners 
 of forbidden pools, and bringing up big sluggish 
 blackfish that had prospered under protection. 
 
 The size of these fish varies with the locality. 
 Where the stained trunks of trees that have been 
 submerged for perhaps a century were thickest, there
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. 99 
 
 were the black fish in the midst of them. Away in 
 the crevices between the logs, where a line was cast 
 only with a deft hand, and by the most delicate 
 manipulation alone kept clear of innumerable snags, 
 families of black fish had lodged for ever so many 
 successive seasons. 
 
 Down amongst the aquatic plants at the bottom 
 of the deeper pools silver eels glided in and out 
 amongst the weeds, " fossicking " for choice morsels in 
 the rubbish brought down by the stream. In these 
 surroundings there was everything to please the 
 senses, and an amateur naturalist could wish for no 
 finer field for study. 
 
 Black wattles drooped down from the high banks 
 on cither side. Half-way up the crags, on the 
 opposite bank, a great mass of sarsaparilla plant, its 
 blue blossoms looking quite radiant in the sunlight, 
 clung to the rocks, a tempting sight for a botanist. 
 This flower, however, fades even more rapidly than 
 the majority of wild flowers, and ten minutes after a 
 spray is plucked its glory is gone. 
 
 There are two species of the sarsaparilla here — the 
 one medicinal, the other merely beautiful. It has 
 been said that the former is found only on the north 
 of the Murray, but here it is flourishing considerably 
 to the south of the Dividing Range. Nature seems to 
 be holding her spring flower show. The wild con- 
 volvuli, pink and blue, wind about the reeds, and 
 down at the water's edge there is a perfect carpet of 
 little white and yellow marsh-buttons. In the centre 
 of the pool a couple of pink and white water-lilies, 
 with their delicate waxen petals showing to full 
 advantage in the light, help to break the monotony of 
 G 2
 
 100 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 yellow, the prevailing colour among the wild flowers 
 here about. 
 
 Under the shadow of the broad green leaves, the 
 trout that at our approach shot like a gleam of silver 
 from the sandy shallows, has taken shelter. You can 
 just fix his position by the gentle sweep of the broad 
 tail, or the oscillation of the fins as he waits patiently 
 for the insects that may come tumbling downAvith the 
 current, and float towards him. 
 
 A yellow grasshopper is drifting about in the back 
 water at the upper end of the pool, sometimes partly 
 caught by the current, and then wheeled back again 
 under the banks. Now it comes fairly into the stream 
 and floats towards the water-lilies. The trout rises 
 quickly, there is a swirl on the' surface, and when the 
 ripple clears away he is back in the old spot under the 
 lilies, the grasshopper inside him. 
 
 It is rather unfortunate that from one point of 
 view the " tastiest " will not " survive " here. Nothing 
 is better eating than a properly-cooked blackfish. The 
 English trout are annihilating them, however. 
 
 Sometimes, after running all sorts of risks to 
 gain a favourable spot on the creek, fish wouldn't 
 rise a bit. Perhaps there had been a flight of 
 beetles, or grasshoppers, on the previous day, and 
 appetite was stalled for the time being. There was 
 always something, however, to look at. At one time 
 it was a blue heron fishing in the shallow water 
 with more success than had attended our efforts in 
 the same line, or a blue coot with its bright red bill 
 and legs pattering along amongst the sedge and 
 rushes on the opposite brink, and now and again 
 dashing for a dainty morsel stranded in the shallows.
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. lOI 
 
 On the top of the ridge that rara avis, a black cocka- 
 too, is hard at work drilling the soft bark of a " mess- 
 mate" tree for insects. If ever a bird earned its living 
 surely this one does. The bark hangs in shreds all the 
 way up the trunk, and sometimes even the hard wood 
 is chipped and splintered. An American, on inspect- 
 ing the job, would conclude that the woodpecker, 
 who has whittled away whole pine forests in his own 
 state of Maine, had been trying his skill on the 
 tougher timber of an Australian forest, and would be 
 surprised to learn that it was all the work of a pair of 
 sable cockatoos. If one of these industrious artisans 
 was placed in a wooden cage at night he w^ould have 
 eaten his way to liberty before morning. If he had no 
 opportunity to thus use that destructive beak it would 
 in a very little time grow so rapidly as to give him 
 lockjaw. The rain-bird is calling in the thickets to- 
 day, a very sure sign that the beautiful spring weather 
 will not last much longer. An interesting little 
 brown fellow, with a modest preference for hopping 
 about in a retiring way amongst the denser bushes, 
 his note is a better indication of the coming rain 
 than the barometer. How the little weather-prophet 
 gleans his information on coming events is past 
 comprehension, for to the weather-wise there is no 
 sign of storm or tempest in the quiet serenity of 
 this spring day. Then attention is turned to a 
 pretty bronze-wing pigeon which has fluttered out 
 from the scrub on to the bark of a giant gum 
 tree, and appears to be admiring the prospect. 
 Similarity in form, but distinction in colour, marks 
 the different varieties of the pigeon tribe. Few 
 birds are clothed in more conspicuous or varied
 
 I02 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 lines than the several domestic varieties, and in the 
 country none fall easier victims to their destructive 
 enemy — the fast-flying black hawk. On the other 
 hand, no birds have their markings so evenly dis- 
 tributed, or show less variation in plumage, than the 
 several varieties of our beautiful southern wood- 
 pigeons. The habits of both wild and tame birds 
 are somewhat similar, yet while the former, with its 
 bronze coat assimilating so closely with the hue of 
 nearly all our forest trees and shrubs, continues to 
 prosper, its civilised compeer could not, under the 
 same conditions, escape annihilation. A pigeon- 
 fancier would in time develop some remarkable 
 colours with the pretty bronze-wing sunning himself 
 on the tree-trunk yonder, but if the " improved " bird 
 regained its liberty it would be just as attractive to 
 the eye of that other pigeon -fancier — the black hawk 
 — and with results much less satisfactory to the 
 pigeon. 
 
 There, on the trailing wild raspberry, is " a 
 character " amongst Australian birds — a cuckoo in 
 miniature and manners. No domestic anxieties dis- 
 turb its peace of mind during the nesting season, for 
 after the fashion of its British prototype, it has left 
 one of its chocolate eggs in each of the nests of its 
 neighbours the wrens, who twitter and flit amongst 
 the bushes as though they esteemed it a high honour 
 to provide for the wants of this alien. Are wrens 
 colour-blind and unable to discriminate between the 
 dark-chocolate Q.g^ of the cuckoo wren and their own 
 snow-white shells, or is the foster-parentage a matter 
 of mutual agreement founded on treaty .'' Once, as a 
 boyish freak of mischief rather than an experiment, I
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. lOj 
 
 changed the eggs of a black-and-white wagtail and a 
 brown groundlark, but the parents accepted the 
 position with the utmost good faith, and reared each 
 other's families cheerfully, though they must have 
 often been sadly troubled in striving to discover that 
 likeness between themselves and their offspring which, 
 it is said, all parents are so anxious to trace. The 
 substitution of one Q'g^ for another in the nests of a 
 magpie and "crow was also received with perfect con- 
 fidence, probably as a freak of Nature. 
 
 Only one experiment of this kind turned out a 
 disastrous failure. Hunting one day in the thistles 
 we flushed a fine mountain duck from her nest, and 
 found about a dozen eggs all snugly placed in that 
 warm bed of down. We carried away half the clutch, 
 and gave them to a hen, who, after a season's secret 
 laying in a bunch of wild chamomile down near the 
 pond, was then engaged in the barren task of trying 
 to hatch chickens from an india-rubber ball and the 
 bowl of a ruined egg-cup. After due time had been 
 allowed for incubation we looked at the nest again. 
 The egg-shells had just been pushed aside when the 
 little mountain ducks burst their way out, but the 
 interesting strangers themselves had vanished for 
 ever. 
 
 Having given a few incidents in the career of a 
 juvenile poacher, a short sketch of his two chief com- 
 panions may not be out of place. Few dogs have 
 shown more complete sympathy with the tastes of 
 their master. Like him, they knew every corner of 
 the valley and every wooded bend of the creek for 
 miles, and they were more familiar with the rabbit- 
 burrows of the district than with their own kennel.
 
 104 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 In addition, they were as hopelessly vagabond and 
 thoroughly useless a pair of curs as ever evaded the 
 dog tax. The sight of a gun was a greater pleasure 
 to them than the choicest canine dainty, and at a 
 very early age they learned to arrange private hunt- 
 ing parties. It was no surprise to meet the pair 
 miles away from home in some lonely gully, where 
 the rabbits had prospered in solitude, and the hares 
 had grown fat and lazy, through too much food and 
 too little exercise. What greatly endeared them to 
 us was the fact that with all their love of sport they 
 declined to work for a stranger. It was in vain that 
 kindred sportsmen, knowing them by repute, borrowed 
 the dogs for a day's shooting ; when turned loose, 
 even in the heart of the rabbit country, they either 
 went straight home or went hunting on their own 
 account. I often think longingly of the old days and 
 the old dogs, and these lines, from the American old 
 maid's address to her mamma — 
 
 " Backward, roll backward, 
 O Time, in your flight ; 
 Make me a child again 
 Just for to-night," 
 
 have occurred to me, and I have been illogical and 
 sentimental enough to wish that it were possible to 
 see again those vagabond dogs, whose bones have for 
 years bleached white in the gullies where they died. 
 
 The best of them, " Tichborne," was a sort of 
 nondescript red terrier of various breeds, who seemed 
 to have inherited all the merits of his numerous 
 ancestors. He was named after the Claimant because 
 it was impossible to trace him to any particular family.
 
 JUVENILR POACHERS. IO5 
 
 His conceit was out of all proportion to his stature, 
 but seldom has more vitality and resolute canine pluck 
 been put together in so small a parcel. Yet he was 
 withal cautious. A long apprenticeship to vagabond- 
 age had taught him that in dealing with some of his 
 enemies courage ought to be associated with dis- 
 cretion. With snakes, his mode of action — or inaction 
 — was peculiar, and led to our riddling many a big 
 barred " tiger " or venomous-looking brown snake 
 that would otherwise have .escaped our notice and 
 the charge of duck-shot which we always parted with 
 so cheerfully. Tichborne was never known to tackle 
 a snake, even when it was writhing from the effects 
 of a charge of shot — a time when most dogs lose 
 their caution, and sooner or later their lives. If the 
 snake was coiled upon the grass in the open he 
 moved gently around it in regular circles just beyond 
 striking distance ; or if partly concealed by a bush or 
 tuft of bracken he stood in position watching it 
 intently as a pointer would a quail. If the snake 
 was travelling, Tichborne moved slowly backward a 
 few feet in advance of it, always keeping the same 
 distance ahead, and with his eyes fixed steadily upon 
 the snake. At first we attributed this conduct to a 
 possible power of fascination, about which a good 
 deal has been written on rather slight foundation, but 
 finally agreed that although Tichborne was too 
 cautious to come to close quarters with what his in- 
 stinct seemed to tell him was his most dangerous 
 enemy, his nature would not permit him to pass on 
 and leave the snake in peace. Most dogs either 
 rush in as soon as the snake moves, and shake the life 
 out of it — setting bitten in the viilee — or circle
 
 lOO GUM DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 round it barking, and emboldened by the apparent 
 apathy of the reptile, get within striking range, 
 only to meet the same fate. I once saw a young dog 
 come upon a big brown snake coiled amongst the 
 rushes near the edge of a pond. After barking for 
 some time, and making repeated feints of attacking, 
 the dog's curiosity seemed to be excited by the fact 
 that the snake, with head raised slightly, and its neck 
 curved in a sinuous arch, was in no way alarmed by 
 this hostile demonstration. The dog moved up a 
 little closer, and then like lightning the snake struck 
 him on the very point of the nose. In twenty 
 minutes doggie was dead. This one had always been 
 reckless in his curiosity, however, and only a few days 
 before his death got too close to an emu which was 
 feeding with her young ones in a quiet clump of 
 timber, only to be kicked some yards away for his 
 intrusion. 
 
 Tichborne's caution stood him in good stead — 
 say when he found an opossum almost as large as 
 himself stowed away amongst the gum-tree roots, or 
 in the snug corner of a hollow log, so that it could 
 only be approached in one direction. In defending 
 themselves the opossum and native cat each take a 
 firm hold with their teeth, and keep it as long as life 
 remains in them. When cornered in one of the open 
 spaces of a stone wall, or in a decaying log, they turn 
 their face to the enemy, and with open mouth and 
 formidable mien await an attack. Most dogs at once 
 rush in for what wrestlers would call a " catch-as- 
 catch-can " hold, but Tichborne had been in too many 
 affairs of this kind, and was much too familiar with 
 the punishment received from these sharp teeth,
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. lO/ 
 
 Bringing his head as close down to the enemy 
 as experience told him was safe, he stood rigid 
 and motionless, with every nerve and muscle strung, 
 every coarse red stubble of hair erect and independent, 
 and a pair of baleful little yellow eyes blazing out a 
 whole broadside of enmity upon the foe. The 
 cat or opossum was always the first to tire of that 
 deadly suspense, and to turn its eyes ever so slightly 
 to one side, on the look-out for some loophole of 
 escape. In that fragment of a second Tichborne 
 went like lightning to quarters, and not even the dart 
 of a tiger-snake could be quicker than his seizure 
 upon the enemy's neck. He seldom missed, and just 
 as rarely lost his hold when once gained, although 
 often obliged to pause for breath. One of his smart- 
 est feats, however, was to climb sheoak trees after the 
 native cats which take refuge in the branches when 
 alarmed by night. When the tree leaned in the 
 slightest degree to one side he went up without 
 difficulty, the coarse bark giving a firm foothold. 
 In this way he killed many a wild cat. 
 
 " Tichborne " was intelligent enough to become 
 a very useful retriever. He would retrieve rabbits 
 from water, but it was quite beneath his dignity 
 to meddle with a bird. In many places the creek 
 had cut its bed deep into the red loam at the foot 
 of the hills, and on one side there was a high 
 bank, spotted with occasional grass tufts. Here in 
 midsummer, when all the river bottoms were dry and 
 bare, and the fields about were yellow with stubble, 
 the rabbits found tufts of sweet young grass. Some- 
 times they made their noonday forms in the bunches 
 half-way up the bank, and slept through the sunshine
 
 I08 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 and heat of a warm summer's day. A footfall above 
 them, or a moving reflection in the clear water 
 beneath, was sufficient to send them scampering 
 along one of the narrow pathways to the shelter of 
 a large patch of roses at the end of the cliff, where a 
 whole colony of rabbits had long ago been established. 
 In this race for the rose bushes there was always an 
 opportunity for a fair shot, and many a one we 
 sent toppling head over heels into the water beneath, 
 where, unless their lungs had been pierced by the 
 shot, they floated slowly along with the current. 
 The splash in the water was always sufficient to tell 
 Tichborne that his services were required. He always 
 caught the rabbit by the head, and allowed it to trail 
 over his shoulder — as a fox would a fowl — when 
 bringing it in to shore. Once only I saw him beguiled 
 into swimming for a coot which I had sent scrambling 
 into the water with the greater part of a charge of 
 heavy shot, as the police say, " concealed about his 
 person." Tichborne heard the splash, and knowing 
 that there were rabbits in the locality, swam out to 
 investigate, but on coming to the fluttering coot he 
 turned sharply round again with a very expressive 
 movement, as though mentally remarking, " It's only 
 an uninteresting bird after all." 
 
 His disgust at a miss was palpable, and not to be 
 misunderstood ; but when himself guilty of negligence 
 it was impossible to imagine a dog more dissatisfied 
 with himself. One Sunday morning we had been for 
 a long early walk, and Tichborne had dallied by the 
 way to interview a native cat in a stone wall. In 
 order to catch up he took a short cut down through 
 the lucerne field, where a sea of bright purple
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. lOQ 
 
 blossoms, loaded with dew, were glistening in the 
 light of the rising sun. Suddenly Tichborne stopped 
 dead, and stood rigid and motionless, looking straight 
 into the centre of a tuft of lucerne, just as you have 
 seen a Gordon setter watch a quail nestling in a burr 
 clump. Then he bounced forward, pinned a hare 
 larger than himself which was lying in its form, and 
 after being ingloriously dragged forty feet down the 
 slope, was left with his mouth full of fur, while the 
 hare, frightened " clean through," went bowling out to 
 the plains faster perhaps than it had ever gone in its 
 life before. I nev-er saw a dog take a mistake so 
 much to heart. As we sat on the fence laughing at 
 his discomfiture he went up at least a half-dozen 
 times to have one more look at that form, and after 
 inspecting it from every point of view, returned each 
 time whining in sheer mortification, and using as bad 
 language as an illiterate dog could be expected to use. 
 Had the hare been squatted head towards him he 
 might have got his pet hold, and would then have 
 been harder to shake off than an octopus. 
 
 Tichborne's courage was proved beyond question 
 on one Christmas Eve which I remember very dis- 
 tinctly, because on that day I got very close to the 
 first pair of living foxes I had ever seen. A week be- 
 fore, some one had noticed a very large fox carrying 
 a crippled fore-paw in this ravine, and a couple of 
 days later a dead vixen, which had evidently come to 
 grief over a poisoned bait, was found in the avenue 
 close by. In a rocky gorge at the very end of the 
 defile was a little basin thinly covered with a growth 
 of tall variegated thistle, and here as I was picking 
 my way carefully, for it was genuine Christmas
 
 no GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 weather, and snakes were plenty hereabout, some- 
 thing red rose from a Httle bare plot a few yards 
 in front of me and sat upon its haunches, looking 
 inquiringly around. Then a second animal sat up 
 just alongside, the pair sunning themselves after 
 their doze in the heat of noon-day. As I stood 
 perfectly still, anxious not to alarm them further 
 until I had quite gratified my curiosity, Tichborne 
 trotted down the bank and jumped on to a large 
 rock within a few feet of the foxes, whose attention 
 was at once drawn to the new comer. He caught 
 sight of them at almost the same instant, but while 
 the foxes were alarmed the dog was merely curious. 
 The mutual inspection lasted for about a quarter of 
 a minute, and then, although each of the foxes was 
 about four times his size and weight, Tichborne 
 dashed straight at them. They fled incontinentl}', 
 and my gallant hound, knowing his own special 
 weakness, for he never chased anything by sight that 
 ran faster than an opossum or native cat, bustled 
 round to pick up the scent and see these new 
 acquaintances out of the locality. 
 
 On a Christmas Eve, three years afterwards, when 
 coming home for the holidays, after a sojourn in River- 
 tna, I found poor Tichborne lying dead on the very 
 spot where we had startled those foxes. I fancied that 
 the rabbits hopped about more boldly amongst the 
 rocks and bushes, as though aware that an enemy 
 that had given them many a scare was lying in the 
 little basin below decaying in the December sun. 
 This little fellow, although a thorough vagabond in 
 his habits, was more affectionate than most dogs, and 
 was never so well pleased as when allotted a scat
 
 JUVENILE POACHERS. Ill 
 
 on one of our shoulders, where he balanced himself 
 cleverly, and looked about with a dignified " I'm- 
 monarch-of-all-I-survey " sort of air. Even at a fast 
 walking pace he seldom toppled from his perch. Yet 
 he was not a trick dog in the ordinary sense of the 
 term, and scorned the education in various clever 
 feats that we through a keen appreciation of his in- 
 telligence wished to bestow. 
 
 His and our companion in vagabondage was a 
 mongrel black retriever which inherited the curly silken 
 coat of that breed, with a good deal of the shape and 
 stature of a dwarf Newfoundland. He was named 
 after a politician and Minister of the Crown of some 
 celebrity both then and now. Their characters and 
 dispositions were very much alike, so that the con- 
 temporary political history of the colony would tell 
 all about this dog. In a secluded corner of one of the 
 river bottoms we could always depend on starting one 
 particular hare, that had its form there amongst the 
 thistles. On account of its peculiarly light colour and 
 remarkable fleetness this hare had been named Tim 
 Whiffler, in honour of a turf celebrity, and it had run 
 before many a crack pair of greyhounds without 
 coming to grief. It was even recorded that on one 
 occasion a pot-hunter from the city had turned a pack 
 of seven greyhounds on to it without effect. When 
 started " Tim " always went straight for the plains in 
 the first instance, but after a few turns he, like all 
 other hares coursed in that locality, took refuge in 
 a deep ravine cut into the tableland, and over- 
 grown with stunted scrub and coarse kangaroo 
 grass, giving excellent cover. When the course com- 
 menced the politician was generally bustling about
 
 112 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 amongst the thistles, starting the rabbits from covert, 
 and reveUing in a series of short but entirely futile 
 courses always ending in the coneys whisking their 
 white tails in his face as they dived into their burrows. 
 
 As soon as a hare was afoot, the politician, instead 
 of joining in what he knew to be a thoroughly hopeless 
 affair as far as he was concerned, started off in a 
 hurry in the opposite direction, and straight for the 
 head of the ravine. Here he took his station, knowing 
 that if the hare was not picked up by the greyhounds 
 in the open it would certainly return to cover. 
 When it did come the politician's share in the hunt 
 was of the most meagre character. As the hare ap- 
 proached wrenching before the greyhounds to baffle 
 their rushes, he made one dash at the game, but never 
 in all our experience was that dash known to succeed. 
 Indeed, it was of advantage to the hare, for the 
 politician in his eagerness often got in the way of the 
 leading greyhound, and both dogs were overturned. 
 Melbourne coursing men, after coming miles for a 
 private trial, were more amused by the politician's 
 strategy in getting to that r<i\ine before the hare 
 than interested in the result of the course. The dog 
 was a wonderfully systematic hunter, but after a day's 
 beating it was necessary to place him under the shears, 
 for his long silky hair caught and retained the burr 
 seeds in such a way that he soon became in a 
 sense armour-plated. 
 
 Both dogs met their death in the same way. In the 
 lambing season flock-owners were troubled with the 
 ravages of a horde of starved dogs, generally 
 stray half-bred greyhounds. For these lamb de- 
 stroyers poisoned baits of the most alluring kind
 
 SILVER GUMS. I 13 
 
 were freely laid. It was not possible to make a distinc- 
 tion, and so our two dogs, whose only mission in life 
 was that of destroying the rabbits fast becoming 
 a plague to the landowner, were included in the 
 common slaughter. 
 
 When so many of our Australian trees were named 
 " gums," a distinguishing prefix for each variety was 
 clearly necessary, and so the words red, blue, yellow, 
 white, and scarlet, as marking some particular trait 
 in the tree^ have come into everyday use. Had the 
 pioneer bush botanist seen at least one of those trees 
 at a certain stage in its growth, the term " silver gum" 
 would have found expression. 
 
 In the gullies along the southern fall of the Otway 
 Range, opening towards the ocean,- grow tall blue 
 gums, which were once believed to be peculiar to Tas- 
 mania. About the mouth of the Cumberland River, 
 near Lome, forests are young compared with the 
 splendid tracts of matured timber farther westward 
 on the watersheds of the Aire, the Barrum, and the 
 Elliott Rivers, where the Apollo Bay Timber Company 
 are at work. Upon these young trees the combined 
 ravages of bush fires and a wood-drilling insect have 
 left a singularly picturesque imprint. Some of the 
 tree trunks are stained with the bright, carbuncle 
 red gum itself, others are blackened and scorched 
 H
 
 114 GUM BOUGHS AMD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 by contact with the flame, still the natural vigour 
 of the young trees asserts itself. In place of 
 the dark green sickle-shaped leaves, which are the 
 distinguishing botanical trait of the^blue gum, a mass of 
 young foliage glistening white in the sunlight has 
 appeared, and when the sea-breezes pass over the 
 valley hill-sides are a mass of waving silver. The 
 colour fades out as the valleys deepen, and the other 
 gums intrude their leafage until the predominant tint 
 is once more deep green. Beside the blotched trunks 
 of blue gums, clad in ragged bark garments, the white 
 gums are an effective contrast. In the daylight they 
 show a rich creamy yellow, with something of the ten- 
 derest green, rather suggested than defined. It seems 
 more the reflection of that lusty green glowing in the 
 foliage above than an absolute unit in the blend of 
 colours. But how cold and white and regular these 
 tree lines are in the moonlight when thrown out in 
 sharp relief against the sombre background of cliff 
 and hill — 
 
 " Oh, moon ! the oldest shades 'mong oldest trees 
 Feel palpitations when thou lookest in." 
 
 Messmate and stringy-bark trees introduce a variety 
 of forest tones. On the most robust boughs there are 
 spots of yellow, giving a stray touch of old-world 
 autumn colouringto what were else a perpetual spring. 
 These dying leaves flash here and there like acorns 
 that ripen yellow while the oak leaf is yet dark green. 
 After a fire the messmates are so many scorched 
 stakes. The coir bark is so soft and inflammable that 
 the flames dart quickly up the trunks, and for a time 
 they stand gloomy forest monuments to all the bush
 
 SILVER GUMS. 115 
 
 loveliness that perished in the flames. Then, from 
 root to topmost bough, green branches shoot out again, 
 and the trunks are once more pillars of vivid green. 
 The renewal of foliage, which in other lands is the 
 work of the varying seasons, is here the mission of 
 the bush fire combined with other elements. 
 
 When lightning strikes a full-sapped gum the tree 
 is much shattered, and every vein in trunk, and root, 
 and branch has become a channel for the diffusion of 
 electricity. The result is a peculiar softening of the 
 fibre, axe and saw sinking easily into what was be- 
 fore a tough wood. With the hard-grained, wiry, 
 lightwood acacia cjuite another effect is produced. 
 The trunk is splintered along the grain of the wood, 
 and where the fluid passed the bark has been stripped 
 off in shreds and strewn upon the ground beneath. 
 The rents in the trunk are margined with greenish- 
 grey stains where the sap flowed from the wounds. 
 You may trace the course of the lightning upward to 
 its first contact with an outer bough, but a keen per- 
 ception would be required to find the point of contact 
 in a red gum. 
 
 What a pall the bush fire casts over the ranges ? 
 It may be miles away, but the white vapour filters 
 through the forest trees, hanging low over the sea 
 horizon in long black clouds, and reddening sun and 
 moon as they appear in turn above the forest edge. 
 Even on the opposite range the trees arc seen as in 
 dim moonlight or through a veil. Nature puts on a 
 robe of mystery and magnificence. These gullies seem 
 the fitting home of legend and fairy story. When 
 after the fire, the fronds of tree-ferns begin once more 
 to break and unroll in the ravines, it seems as though 
 H 2
 
 Il6 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 a long bare wall was being brightened with pictures. 
 There will always be silver gums ; for large forest 
 reserves surely imply forest fires, and such fires are 
 fiercest where, as along these mountain slopes, there 
 is a predominance of acacia in the underwood. The 
 greener it is the more resinous and inflammable. 
 Anyone who has seen a furze hedge on fire will 
 understand how acacia bushes feed the flames. 
 
 The silver gum country is, during the later summer 
 at least, somewhat destitute of flowers. On the crests 
 of the hills one finds a few yellow immortelles, with 
 a claret-coloured orchid now and then in the fern 
 patches. On the declines a stray twig of heath shines 
 in the brown dulness between the trees, and at the 
 foot of the hills are tufts of wild geranium. And 
 yet without any apparent design in Nature, there is 
 no lack of colour in the prospect. That which the 
 flowers deny is supplied by the leaves and in clusters 
 of wild berries, luminous blue, pink, and white, and 
 the fading leaves of one of the wild geraniums 
 lend a decisive tinge of scarlet in places. The 
 birds that frequent the gullies are as few in number 
 as opposite in character. From the thicket, where a 
 couple of funereal cockatoos sweep, their long bodies 
 aptly borne by a long, peculiar beat of wing — the hard 
 horn bill and splashes of yellow plumage showing in 
 contrast to the uniform black — the only other bird 
 song is the twitter of blue wrens. Down among the 
 roots of a peppermint bush, sheltered by creeping 
 plants, is the wren's home — snuggest and neatest of all 
 the pear-shaped nests. The little ones inside may 
 just hear the impressive roar of the far-off sea, barely 
 loud enough to drown the twitter of the old birds
 
 SILVER GUMS. \\J 
 
 as they come glancing along from an insect hunt 
 amongst the wild briars, their long shaft tails 
 catching the sun rays as they dart amongst the 
 brambles. Even the habits of Otway cockatoos vary 
 strikingly. Along the coast the black ones fly in 
 pairs ; but on the northern verge, where lightwoods 
 take the place of the silver gums, the white sulphur- 
 crests are in hundreds. They are loyal birds, very 
 constant in their affection for a particular stretch of 
 forest, and have held joint possession here with 
 white men for nearly half a century. As they fly 
 across the road in the strong light of noon, that deli- 
 cate flush of saffron which burns in the under- 
 wing shows very beautifully in the semi-transparent 
 feathers. Although few birds are seen amongst the 
 blue gums, large red and black butterflies, and others 
 whose black wings are barred with white spots, 
 frequent the sides of the ridges, their eccentric move- 
 ments making kaleidoscopic effects in colour. 
 
 On the boughs one finds, too, a rare type of mantis — 
 green like the ordinary insect when young, but with 
 its colour fading in old age, so that, when fully grown, 
 it resembles closely a dry twig. The body is irregular 
 in shape, just as a small branch is uneven in out- 
 line. The legs join the body, not in uniform pairs, 
 but singly, as leaves connect with the bough. 
 Although the insect when full grown is some four 
 inches in length, it cannot, under ordinary observation, 
 be distinguished from the bough except when in 
 motion — a striking illustration of Nature's method of 
 preservation based on the law of harmony. 
 
 The scarcity of pasture grasses and of edible wild 
 plants or vegetables is a noticeable feature in the
 
 Il8 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 blue gum gullies. The root of the ordinary bracken 
 fern, or the white juicy heart of a tuft of grass tree — 
 which is full of a starchy sweetness — may both in 
 serious straits be baked and eaten, but neither is quite 
 so good as the yam or sweet potato of the South Sea 
 islander. 
 
 A variety of mustard growing along some of the 
 mountain creeks is the one salad amongst the marsh 
 plants. How the myriads of kangaroo, which the 
 early Otway pioneers found everywhere along the 
 coast, picked a living from these sparse grasses is a 
 matter for wonder. Few of the native tribes ever 
 came so far south unless coasting from either wing of 
 the forest, and hence the marsupials multiplied with- 
 out check as the rabbits do to-day. Black wallaby 
 are thick enough, even now, amongst the coast scrub. 
 The name varied with the aboriginal dialects of this 
 portion of the continent, being " kuriin " in two of the 
 native tongues, and " kurras " in the third. 
 
 According to the traditions of the bush — not always 
 reliable — the name of kangaroo was given under a 
 misconception. An aborigine being asked by one of 
 the early discoverers the name of the animal, replied, 
 " Kangaroo " (" I don't know "), and in this confession 
 of ignorance or misapprehension the name originated. 
 It seems absurd to suppose that any black hunter was 
 really ignorant of the name of an animal which once 
 represented the national wealth of Australians as the 
 merino does to-day. The skin of the big kangaroo was 
 the coarser robe which the western native, like the 
 Russian, wore with the fur inward. The skin of the 
 black wallaby made a water-bag, used very much in 
 the same fashion as the goat-skin of the Eastern water
 
 SILVER GUMS. 1 10) 
 
 carrier. The pouch served as a water-bucket too, and 
 the strong sinews were the natives' thread. The long 
 shank-bone, when pointed and spun between the hands 
 in a wooden slot, was their fire maker. 
 
 The animal had no place in native superstitions. 
 Their evil spirits were generally such living things as 
 are unfit for food. The native heaven was a hunting- 
 ground so thickly stocked with kangaroo that not 
 even a bush screen was required to stalk them. 
 
 At present the largest game in the South Otway 
 forests are the wild cattle. The herds had their origin 
 in the strays from the old cattle runs beyond Apollo 
 Bay. The cattle were driven through the forest to the 
 Geelong markets years ago, and as the tracks were 
 narrow and scrub-bordered, a large percentage were 
 lost. The moose and elk in Canadian pine forests, or 
 the stag amongst the Highland corries, is not harder 
 to approach and bring down than these " clear skins " 
 or unbranded wild cattle. You may ride for days 
 through the scrub without finding their tracks, and 
 then, unless the approach is warily made, the herd 
 is certain to take alarm. Rushing from their feeding 
 grounds to some well-known trail, they trot away for 
 miles, and finally cluster together in the heart of the 
 densest scrub. 
 
 In order to understand the cunning with which 
 wild cattle hide one must have sought for the calf a 
 few days old that an ordinary station cow plants away 
 so carefully. How faithfully the little fellow obeys 
 the instructions, given in some way or other, to keep 
 to his hiding-place. You may almost step over him 
 in his tuft of grass, but he stirs not. Pull him from 
 his nest, and he bellows so lustily for help that the
 
 120 GbM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 old COW comes tearing in from the plains, ready to 
 annihilate all intruders. 
 
 In-breeding makes most of the wild cattle thin and 
 ragged. Some of the cows are, however, square- 
 framed, and the old bulls are magnificent, deep- 
 chested fellows, shaggy as buffaloes. 
 
 These wild cattle are thickly covered with long 
 dark hair, something like the coat of the West High- 
 landers. You may trace in some of them the points 
 of the old-fashioned breeds ; but their wintry life in 
 the ranges and gullies has developed, or revived, 
 distinct characteristics. In moving through the scrub 
 or along their trails, which wind about the bases of 
 the hills in true cattle fashion, the older bulls take the 
 lead. From the habit of using their heads as a 
 battering ram their horns are almost cut through 
 to the forehead. 
 
 The tough cord-weed, found everywhere amongst 
 the tangle of the Otway Forest, is barbed like a fret- 
 work saw, and this is the chief cause of the havoc 
 wrought on the wild bulls' horns. Sometimes hunting 
 parties are out for a week before getting a glimpse of 
 a herd, though they may have passed within a hundred 
 yards of scores of wild cattle. Unless the country is 
 thinly timbered the hunter,- as soon as he sights his 
 game, leaves his horse and follows on foot, being able 
 thus to move faster than the cattle, unless they strike 
 a favourite trail. 
 
 Wherever the Australian coast line is particularly 
 bold a faint likeness to familiar objects may be found 
 either in obtruding masses of rock or the indentations 
 between. Such are Lady Macquarie's Chair, over- 
 looking Sydney harbour, the organ pipes and the
 
 SILVER GUMS. 121 
 
 head of the Iron Duke upon Mount WelHngton ; while 
 many landmarks familiar to mariners bear some 
 resemblance to ordinary animate forms. The 
 strange-looking Sentinel Rock, a recent one of many 
 quaint designs wrought in chance fashion by the 
 sculptor Sea along the southern coast of Victoria, 
 is a wild-looking head that peers out and above 
 the Artillery Rocks, some eight miles westward from 
 Lome, and, fortunately, rather beyond the tourist's 
 range. From the ground to the crown of the head the 
 height is twenty-four feet, and the bunch of coast scrub, 
 which has found sufficient sterile soil in a cleft of the 
 rock to give it a dwarfed existence, looks like the last 
 ragged tufts of hair clinging to the weather-beaten 
 scalp of this coast wizard. The guns underneath are 
 strangely realistic too ; and, curiously enough, the same 
 rocky table that carries these stone cannons shows, 
 partly embedded, spherical blocks of sandstone that 
 might almost serve in case of emergency as projectiles 
 for the old regulation smooth-bore artillery. What 
 traditions of the Armada and of threatened invasions 
 would have been associated with that weird head had 
 it looked sea-ward from England's cliffs instead of 
 being on sentry here by the peaceful southern ocean ! 
 It might have typified the natural island spirit, 
 watching jealously, untiringly, for the foes that the 
 political convulsions of the continent close by per- 
 petually threatened to hurl against it. 
 
 The Otway Ranges rest upon a great bed of sand- 
 stone. Following up the creeks, which trickle down 
 between each mountain ridge, the sandstone shows in 
 beautiful natural stairways. Near the mouth of the 
 Cumberland some convulsion of under earth has
 
 122 GUM DOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM, 
 
 tossed it into towering pillars and rugged cliffs. 
 Round about sea eagles wheel and scream. From 
 these high points the telegraph line to the Otway 
 takes a long drooping fall to the hill-slope beyond. 
 Some bands of the sandstone are softer than others, 
 and here the sea cuts out quaint fissures and caverns 
 in the cliffs. Within a couple of miles of the Sentinel 
 Rock the Cumberland Cave, though small as com- 
 pared with some of the mysterious sea chambers 
 farther down the coast, is yet an object of interest. 
 The stalactites which adorn the roof and walls have 
 been broken away by desecrating tourists, who w^ould 
 not pillage a church or a shrine, but rob nature's 
 sanctuaries without a single twinge of conscience. 
 The floor of the cave, only reached at low tide, is 
 loosely paved with small water-polished pebbles. One 
 of the few pendants yet remaining in the cave is of 
 oval shape, and not unlike a large soda-water bottle. 
 Beyond Cape Otway the ravages of the sea are more 
 startling in their nature, and sea caverns penetrate far 
 under land. One of these was the tomb of some 
 seventy unfortunates, who sank with the ship Loch 
 Ard. Out to sea, where the cliff once stretched, 
 limestone columns stand up like sea monuments to 
 the memory of those whom the ocean destroyed. 
 The ship's yards rasped warningly against one of 
 those outposts before she struck that wedge-shaped 
 island rock and sank in its shadow. Here, hard flakes 
 in the cliff jut out, and stand isolated when the softer 
 stone has been scrubbed away. Under these ledges 
 swallows build. Upon the balconies the older birds 
 watch the long seas rolling in to them, and yet the 
 wildest wave cannot fling its foam high enough to
 
 SILVER GUMS. 121 
 
 damp the brown mud nest or wet the downy backs of 
 the fledghngs clustering together. The homely and 
 the impressive, the beautiful and terrible are neigh- 
 bours here. Between the headlands are bits of 
 shingle strewn with white shells. On calm nights I 
 have sat upon the ledges, and, as the billows curled 
 over and broke, watched the phosphorescence roll upon 
 the sand in long curves of yellow light. The fairy 
 laboratory of geology is amongst the minute and 
 beautiful forms of carbonate of lime which we find 
 imprisoned in snow-white cells in the heart of a block 
 of bluestone, but for giant's handiwork one must seek 
 in that studio where the toiling, persistent sea has 
 been busy for ages. 
 
 Although for the last ten years Lome has been 
 one of the most popular of Victorian holiday re- 
 sorts, it keeps its freshness wonderfully. The 
 range of mountains that curve round like a shep- 
 herd's crook, and cling about the little sea town, are 
 so impenetrable that one need only break away a few 
 paces from one of the blazed bush tracks to feel that 
 he is wandering in a virgin forest, as silent and wild 
 as the first explorers of these coast mountains found 
 it twenty years ago. One may even experience that 
 novel sensation of being utterly lost, while he can yet 
 hear the perpetual " break, break, break " of the surf 
 upon the yellow sands, and can see dimly through 
 the green curtain about him the blending of sky and 
 sea. It is tliis happy association of ocean and forest 
 that gives the place its charm. The odour of the sea 
 is tossed in from the south, the scents of the woods 
 fall softly down from the hills. To-day you may 
 wander about the shore studying marine life in those
 
 124 '^^'UM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 crystal miniature aquariums left by the receding tide 
 amongst the rocks, or may watch the amber billows 
 curl over until the patches of broken water stretch 
 out into one white wall that in a second dashes 
 upon the shore, and fritters away at your feet in 
 flounces of snowy foam. To-morrow you are up in 
 the ranges, picking out natural vignettes among the 
 gullies, and wishing in a patriotic way that some 
 capable artist could see and reproduce these specimens 
 of Australian scenery. 
 
 Lome is a land of waterfalls. It may be truly 
 said of it — • 
 
 " Day and night to the billow the fountain calls ; 
 Down shower the gambolling waterfalls 
 
 From wandering over the lea. 
 Out of the live green heart of the dells 
 They freshen the silvery crimson shells, 
 And thick with white bells the clover hill swells 
 High over the full-toned sea." 
 
 The finest of the cascades along this southern 
 mountain slope is the Erskine Fall, which rolls 
 gently over the crags, and falls its 130 feet in a 
 varied shower rather than leaping out in a volume 
 to the pool beneath. Tennyson wrote of the 
 " waving tapes of waterfall." Looking at this fall 
 one realises the absolute perfection of the comparison, 
 for the Erskine is a mass of silvery tapes and 
 streamers created by the jutting points of the broken 
 wall down which it filters. The Horseshoe Fall, 
 the most remote and rarely visited, was so named 
 because of the reversed arch of granite through "which 
 it pours. The view to the southward from the cHfif 
 takes in a wide and charming landscape, for the
 
 SILVER GUMS. 12$ 
 
 valley opens out towards the sea. At the edge of the 
 pool, drenched with the spray of the cascade and 
 falling down with the valley, is a ragged fringe of 
 mossy carpet covering the floor of a very hall of ferns. 
 The wide-spreading crowns of the tree ferns make a 
 roof through Avhich only quivering scraps of sunlight 
 fall, and the tall trunks, clothed on one side with a 
 red rusty moss that gives an extra tint to the colour- 
 ing of the glen, are the supporting columns that 
 complete the natural architecture of the place. At 
 the Phantom Falls the water comes down in a double 
 leap, first to a little stone platform midway, and then 
 with a final spring into the pool beneath. The white 
 foamy water is set off with a background of dark 
 green moss covering thickly the bank behind, and 
 flaunting in long tresses, so that if the water suddenly 
 dried up, the appearance of a cascade in green would 
 still remain. Where the water strikes the stone ledge 
 beneath hundreds of little sparkling fountains arise 
 like heavy rain-drops splashing up from the pave- 
 ment in the lamplight of our streets. Long ago 
 some pioneer tourist announced the discovery of this 
 new waterfall, but as nobody else could find the 
 place it gained the name of Phantom ImII. At the 
 foot of every cascade one finds the same picturesque- 
 looking pool, darker than usual, when the waters 
 have filtered from the uplands, where forest fires have 
 left nothing but blackness and desolation. The burned 
 forest is popularly, but wrongly, depicted as the dead 
 forest. In the fire country the leaves have whitened after 
 the flames passed, and they cling to the branches for a 
 season until superseded by a fresh growth. The big 
 forest trees are only wounded, not destroyed, l^ut the
 
 126 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 forest " bark ringed," or killed, in the interests of 
 husbandry is an assemblage of whitened skeletons. 
 Most artists either cannot or will not paint live 
 gum trees — common as they are in every bit of 
 Australian bush. But fewer still attempt to repro- 
 duce for us the weird look of the dead gums. Upon 
 the mountain-top they come out hard and sharp 
 against the blue, with no softening of the edges, no 
 blending of colours. 
 
 In speaking of the list of show places it would be 
 unpardonable to omit mention of the beauties of 
 Paradise and Cora Lynn ; the latter, in an irregular 
 way, a repetition of some of the buried New Zealand 
 terraces, done in brown sandstone. From step to step 
 of a giant staircase the water leaps in a succession of 
 cascades, and the music of these forest fountains 
 tinkles in the faintest of liquid whispers up the sides 
 of the quiet glens. This Paradise, over which the 
 grand old gums stand sentinel, has gates of flint — 
 not of jasper — and the "narrow road" by which the 
 mountain pilgrims come is festooned with ferns and 
 aromatic shrubs, and blocked and broken with dead 
 tree trunks and rugged boulders. The conventional 
 heaven has been built out of [old-world materials, 
 as the paradise that Mirza saw in his vision was 
 Oriental. A paradise to satisfy Australians must 
 have some of the elements of beauty that throw 
 a charm over this wooded glen of the Otway 
 Mountains. The heaven of city people is per- 
 haps an architectural dream — a vision of towers, 
 faint and far away like Camelot ; but to those who 
 love the country — their own country — and its tra- 
 ditions their heaven to order must have some of the
 
 SILVER GUMS. 127 
 
 sylvan charms of this neighbourhood which I am de- 
 scribing. It irritates our conceit to think that scrip- 
 tural imagery in this matter was limited so closely 
 to that little bit of Palestine, and that in biblical 
 dreams there was no vision of the " glorious m.arvcls 
 of the years to be " — no suggestion of continents 
 washed by western and southern seas. 
 
 To those who have good legs, and for whom 
 loneliness has charms, one of the chief attrac- 
 tions of a Lome holiday is the long walk up the 
 valley of the Erskine River — over the piled boul- 
 ders and tree trunks, through avenues of fern 
 trees, and into secluded bits of forest where for 
 half a century the sunlight has never penetrated. 
 The thousands of trees hurled by winter tempests 
 from the heights above lie about, wrapped in mossy 
 vestments of pallid green and bronze. Where the 
 rocks are bare hundreds of pretty brown lizards are 
 basking, and the larger, but less handsome, blue- 
 tongued lizard rustles through the scrub near the 
 edge of the stream. It is interesting to watch one 
 of those graceful creatures catching insects. Oc- 
 casionally a flying ant pitches upon a neighbour- 
 ing rock, and the lizard seems to mark him down 
 just as a sportsman would his game. Slipping 
 quietly from his look-out, the lizard glides about 
 the base of the rocks, and in a few minutes his 
 little snake-like head, with a pliant black tongue in 
 active anticipatory motion, comes stealthily over the 
 ledge close to the musing ant. As a rule, the insect 
 seems to have expected such a visitation, and leaves 
 at once in search of a safer resting-place. In lizard 
 logic it seems to be an accepted fact that where one
 
 128 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 fly has perched another may come, so the little hunter 
 in his suit of shining bronze settles down in the new 
 position. 
 
 On the stone terraces, where the water comes 
 rushing down in miniature rapids, it is interesting 
 to watch the tiny stream trout when surprised 
 in the sunny shallow pools rush up in the very teeth 
 of the current for perhaps a dozen feet, to gain the 
 shelter of the home pool above. A wavy line in the 
 water marks his course^ and in turning the little 
 fellow throws himself to one side, where he is held 
 by the streaming moss until ready for a fresh effort. 
 It is a marvellous feat for these little atoms of silver 
 and green to accomplish, and, looking at it, one under- 
 stands the salmon's progress up the mill weirs on 
 English rivers. The appearance of an intruder close 
 to the edge of the large pools startles scores of the 
 larger brown stream trout, who flounder lazily away 
 into the darker water or the shadows of the boulders, 
 but soon return again to the current to wait for any 
 food that may come floating down with the stream. In 
 the dusk of evening the surface is in commotion as 
 they rise to feed, and if these Erskine fish are not the 
 descendants of English trout their habits very closely 
 resemble those of our fine freckled friends of RiddelTs 
 Creek and the Watts. One of these dusky-skinned 
 fish flaps awkwardly on his side in the current as 
 though injured, but shoots away as gracefully as his 
 fellows when alarmed. It subsequently transpires 
 that he has lost the sight of the left eye, and is very 
 shrewdly making the most of the remaining one. 
 This fish has adapted himself to altered circumstances. 
 There is v^ery little bird life along the stream, but
 
 SILVER GUMS. 129 
 
 now and then a bit of gay plumage flashes out for 
 an instant. Here it is a pair of lory parrots in a 
 silver wattle, and tree and birds combine to make 
 a little picture not easily forgotten. Lories are 
 of the deepest crimson, two patches of dull azure 
 marking the wings, and the white beak contrasting 
 with their gay costumes. The silver wattles are 
 worthy of the name, the young saplings, veritable 
 rods of silver, being spangled more beautifully even 
 than the cedars in early spring, and as never holly 
 or laurustinas were decked by Avinter frost. The 
 little redbreast seems to find a congenial summer 
 home in this retreat, but his plumage is less 
 ruddy than when we saw him about the city fields 
 last winter. Now it is something of a rich orange, 
 and more nearly approaches the bright buff of the 
 English robin. The deep silence of the gully is 
 broken now and again by the scream of the black 
 cockatoo, the most untamable of Australian birds. 
 Near the pathway leading to Cora Lynn two fine 
 trees have been barked to a height of 150 feet, and 
 are conspicuous items in the landscape. Here the 
 boulders are dark and curiously water-worn, but a 
 few paces farther on in the shadow they are rocks 
 no longer, but huge masses of something wrapped 
 in the soft mosses of centuries. All is fern A\'orl(l, 
 and one cannot tell where the ferns end and the 
 mosses begin. There are really no breaks in the 
 vegetable chain. The links of relationship arc about 
 somewhere if we but take the trouble to seek them 
 out. The great tree fern is the king of these gullies 
 and the giant of his race, and it is a long gradation 
 down [)ast the batswing with its tassellcd drapery 
 I
 
 130 GUM DOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 to the glen fairy — the little delicate maidenhair, 
 hiding modestly in some sylvan bower. It loves the 
 secluded cleft of a bank or the shelter of a gum bough 
 that has been wrenched from the trees above, and 
 has whitened for a season down in the shadows. 
 The damp logs are ferneries of themselves, and one 
 can pick many tiny specimens, some with beautifully- 
 marked fronds, from the lawn of moss. 
 
 The close atmosphere of these lone gullies is 
 suffused with the scent of musk, intermingled occa- 
 sionally with just a suggestion of fragrance from 
 the white-flowering gums, which, when fully clothed 
 with blossoms, are beautiful landmarks along the 
 slope of distant ranges. It is very pleasant to rest 
 after one's climbing in such arbours. The dingoes, 
 stronger and fiercer here than in any other portion 
 of the continent, are dying out, and in their haunts 
 English foxes establish themselves. The old order 
 changeth, giving place to the new. 
 
 The first glimpse of blue sea through a forest 
 trellis of green and yellow is worth the whole journc}', 
 and from this altitude it looks vividly blue. In differ- 
 ent places along this ocean slope we find large patches 
 of young wattle scrub springing luxuriantly, and may 
 conclude from this that within the last (giw years a 
 bush fire has swept across this part of the country. 
 Wattle scrub is brought into existence by influences 
 just the opposite of those that induce the growth 
 of other j'oung trees. The seeds of most of our forest 
 trees germinate when a sufficiency of moisture is j^ro- 
 vided ; but the black seeds of the wattle, which retain 
 their power for }'ears, arc preserved in the mould 
 without being in any way affected by moisture. The
 
 SILVER GUMS. 13 1 
 
 fierce heat of a bush fire cracks their hard outer 
 casing, however, and in the following spring young trees 
 cover the land thickly, where, perhaps, for half a 
 century the air has never been sweetened with the 
 fragrance of a wattle blossom. 
 
 A night in these haunts of Nature is singularly im- 
 pressive, whether it be in the intense quiet, when the 
 solemn chant of the mopoke alternates with the 
 eternal inward rush of the surf, or when a storm 
 is raging amongst the hills. A storm up among the 
 ranges is a majestic function of Nature ; but to realise 
 it one must have stood upon one of these high Otway 
 peaks at night, and discovered himself an intruder in 
 the haunts of the lightning. Down in the valley elec- 
 tric streaks shoot along above the trees, burnishing the 
 stream, and searching out every detail in the forest. 
 Then everything is blackness. In the morning a white 
 cloud of mist fills the valley, and as a gust of wind 
 breaks round a corner of the hills the shroud is lifted 
 for an instant, and one has a glimpse, far away clown, 
 of a settler's hut, with the smoke clinging about the 
 chimney. Then the white ghostly curtain settles 
 down once more, and all is loneliness and gloom. 
 These storms, when succeeded by instant sunshine, are 
 the distilleries of Nature, and, by the power of a 
 chemistry that we can only vaguely comprehend, per- 
 fumes come out of the drying woods that arc the real 
 elixir of life. Under their subtle influence even the 
 most languid and morbid of mortals is forced to the 
 realisation of the intense happiness of existence. 
 
 The sunsets seen across these mountain tops are 
 some of them very beautiful. The peak behind which 
 the sun is dipping seems wrapped about with a 
 I 2
 
 132 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 yellow haze, and as the sun disappears a mystic 
 avalanche of light rolls into the valley at your feet 
 and fades away. In one instant you have the finest 
 possible illustration of the splendour of sunlight, 
 and in the next, from mountain top to mountain 
 top is nothing but shadow. 
 
 The coach ride across the mountains is an agree- 
 able incident in a Lome holiday. The winding track 
 leads over the highest points of the ranges, and some 
 fine distances open out on either side, though from 
 foreground to horizon the eye finds no resting-place 
 in the wide area of tree-tops. The harvest is here 
 ripe, and waiting only for the splinter and the loco- 
 motive. Ere long the axe will ring and the whistle 
 echo amongst the hills ; but it is comforting to know 
 that for a century to come these sounds will not break 
 the solitude of the gullies on the ocean side of the 
 range. Down in the foothills the lightwoods give a 
 park-like aspect to the country, and some of the rushy 
 pools by the road-side are beautifully starred with 
 water-lilies. 
 
 V\\\ii%t antr jfarm* 
 
 Mv village is set deep in a hollow of the plain, 
 so that you almost stumble into it over the hill-tops 
 capped with grey basalt. These hills seem like a 
 barrier shutting it in from the rest of the world. 
 From the table-land above )-ou can see the black
 
 VILLAGE AXD FARM. 133 
 
 clouds of smoke rising above the city, and the masts 
 of shipying in port, each offering its suggestions of 
 busy commerce. You may fancy that you hear the 
 din of the Babylonian chorus — or that you feel the 
 throb of a thousand engines and the vibration of a 
 thousand cranks, where the tall factory chimney 
 stacks throw off their contributions to the dark 
 canopy. But down in the valley beneath there is 
 no re-echo from the city. It is a peaceful place. 
 
 The houses are not glaringly new as in those 
 mushroom towns of the north, but they are homel}' 
 and comfortable. The white paint, long ago faded 
 to dull drab, and half hidden beneath creeping ivy, 
 clinging honeysuckle, and sprays of intrusive passion 
 flower — is a pleasant contrast to the glare of new pine 
 boards. In every corner and hollow of the valley trees 
 have long since been planted — here an English oak, 
 there a cedar of Lebanon, next a Scotch fir, and farther 
 on a black Austrian pine — a vegetable community 
 as cosmopolitan as the people of the village, who 
 are made up of many nations — Englishmen, with an 
 abiding belief in their own land, and a faculty for 
 copying its traditions and institutions; Irishmen, with 
 that keen love of country that has wrought so many 
 misunderstandings abroad and heartburnings at home ; 
 Scotchmen, thrifty and rugged, like the shelties and 
 black cattle of their Highland hills, gloomily prophe- 
 sying a future of sorrow and disaster for this new land 
 because the village boys play at cricket on Sabbatii 
 afternoons in one of the bends by the river side. This 
 British composite is leavened by units of other lands, 
 who have almost forgotten their nationality. 
 
 There are strange colonial experiences here. Some
 
 134 '''^'■'/ BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 of the villagers were the gold diggers of thirty years 
 ago^men who burrowed for wealth beneath the white 
 hills of old Bendigo, when the city was of canvas, with 
 no bright green elms lining its quartz roadways — men 
 who tell tales of these old-deserted claims along the 
 scrub mounds, as dramatic and as inexact as Joaquin 
 Miller's stories of the rugged Californian gold-seekers 
 of " '49." 
 
 In the centre of the valley there is a large pond, 
 with an island in the centre, and all along the margin 
 a wealth of pendent pale-green willows. Years ago 
 the pond was a little lake, the home of flocks of water 
 birds, and girt about with stately gum trees. But 
 when the settlers came and tore vip the green slopes 
 with plough and harrow, the storm water from the 
 hills brought down the surface mould, and so the lake 
 was silted up. Less than a half-century ago sedate 
 emus trooped in stately columns over this hill-top, 
 upon which the figure of a hare on its way to the 
 orchards is now outlined in relief against the flush 
 of dying twilight in the west. Kangaroo came out 
 into the moonlight from the hollows. Now the white 
 tails of many rabbits twinkle in the dusk. Where 
 the highly civilised geese are nesting under the willow 
 fringe, swans laid their long white eggs. In the 
 little cottage gardens everything is old-fashioned. 
 The borders are of thrift or rosemary, and the 
 fences are hidden in thickets of golden broom or 
 pink-flecked sweet brier, filling the little garden with 
 its fragrance. Chrysanthemums of all shades spread 
 their glory over the flower-beds in the autumn. A 
 w^hite trumpet-lily has taken absolute possession of 
 one corner, and close by there is a huge lilac bush
 
 TILLAGE AND FAR.U. I 35 
 
 crowned with blossoms. Out in the fields the ugliness 
 of post and rail is sometimes hidden in a dark green 
 covering of furze, or a square-cut hedge of hawthorn, 
 along which the children run on Sunday afternoons, 
 searching for a rare spray of pink in the ridge of 
 snowy almond-scented blossoms. In the kitchen 
 gardens huge elderberry bushes hang their flakes of 
 white flowers. Before the sparrows came, bunches of 
 dull, claret-coloured fruit followed the blossoms, but 
 now they never appear. 
 
 Can anything be old in this new country .'' From 
 an antiquary's point of view, perhaps not. But a life- 
 time is a long time. No memories can be older, and 
 it is memory that makes this little old-fashioned village 
 the dearest in the land to many who have gone out 
 beyond its limits but not its influence. In that little 
 circular cemetery, for instance, down beneath the 
 long brown grass that waves in the summer wind, 
 there are memories as dear as life-blood. Every 
 thought here is a gem precious beyond price, and 
 memory, like a rich and thrifty matron, pours out 
 before us all the wealth of the vanished years — nothing 
 squandered, nothing lost. No Lethean draught to 
 drown such sweet company, rather the fruit of the en- 
 chanted lotus stem, that we may 
 
 " Muse and brood, and live again in memoiy 
 With those old faces of our infancy, 
 Heaped over with a mound of grass, 
 Two handfuls of white dust shut in an urn of brass." 
 
 And when several generations have lived beneath 
 the same roof-tree, and some have died beneath it, 
 every shingle is sacred. Every old-fashioned flower
 
 13^) CUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 in the garden has associations to cherish, whether the 
 blush roses cHmbing about the windows or the tufts of 
 white and golden guelder rose nodding in the breeze. 
 
 If the village gossips in their hours of idleness are 
 sometimes busy with other reputations than their own, 
 there is gold down beneath the plain earth. The 
 little community has a noble heart that throbs with a 
 misfortune made universal, or is rent by a common 
 sorrow. Some morning there is a hush in the wide 
 grassy streets, and the children no longer clatter and 
 laugh along the gravelled pathways. Death has come 
 in the night, and although sympathetic sentinels 
 are on guard, has taken one spirit away. The 
 seal of sleep eternal is on a Avhite face that will 
 never brown again in the healthful sunshine. The 
 darkened room — a symbol of abiding grief within, 
 and without a sincere sorrow— is sweetened with 
 flowers. No floral gem is a gift too rare for that 
 cold white casement of a soul. So the neighbours 
 gather their heartsease with the dew-tears fresh upon 
 it, and white double stocks, and wallflowers and blue 
 forget-me-nots to send as a last offering. Perhaps 
 one of the grey fathers of the hamlet has passed to 
 his rest. Then the village clergyman leaves for a 
 time the tiny human speculations on Infinity that pass 
 for sermons, and preaches the gospel of condolence 
 and affection in words that soothe heart-sickness, like 
 the sympathetic whisper of woods and waterfalls. 
 
 The political centre of the village is the black- 
 smith's bench. If there is a chance idler, he comes 
 here to pore over the newspaper that by noonday is al- 
 ways black with the smoke and cinders from the forge, 
 and marked with the thumb-prints of many readers.
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. I 37 
 
 Farm hands with horses to be shod, the crank of a 
 mowing-machine to weld, or a ploughshare to be 
 "set and steeled," drop in, and having exhausted 
 topics of local interest, such as the price of hay, the 
 qualities of a certain strain of draught stock, or the 
 probable harvest yields, they relapse into politics. 
 Broad questions, such as protection, free trade, or 
 secular education, are the subject-matter for argument. 
 As there is not an acre unalienated for fifty miles 
 around land acts have only an antiquarian interest. 
 The subtleties of lobby politics or corner compli- 
 cations that so interest the journalist, and are gossip 
 for the city man, rarely penetrate to Arcadia. 
 
 The older people are conservative both in habit 
 and opinion, while the younger, like most colonials, 
 are deeply imbued with the spirit of a new democracy. 
 They have no traditions to cherish, no institutions 
 beyond those of State and Church to maintain. Self- 
 interest is the secret of their concern for one, and they 
 are loyal to the other from mere force of habit. Their 
 fathers made the Church an important institution in 
 the land by the power of prejudice and party feeling. 
 It was woven into their politics, so that the two could 
 not be dissociated. But the old spirit of intolerance 
 and bigotry that built up mountains of rancour washed 
 about with seas of blood is a sentiment with no 
 meaning for their children. Without emotion or re- 
 grets they see the old denominational differences dead 
 or dying about them, hard and forbidding to the last. 
 They only say as Dickens said with such a different 
 meaning, " Dead, right reverends and wrong reverends 
 of every order, and dying thus around us every day.'" 
 
 The social pleasures of the village are few. In
 
 138 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 music the concertina was once a potent power for 
 melody or torture just as the tastes of the Hsteners 
 incHned. Then there was a real Irish fiddler who tore 
 madly through " The Blackberry Blossom," a quick 
 step that the operator spoke of endearingly as " a 
 horrible fine chune." One of the Scotch villagers, too, 
 was the owner of a well-worn pibroch, and sometimes 
 at night the echoes of the hills were busy with the 
 quaint Gaelic music. 
 
 There is little variation in the method of farming. 
 When the fields are weary with the giving of their 
 strength to so many harvests, they can rest for a 
 season. There is no mortgage on the farm, no lien 
 on next year's crop to draw every possible corn blade 
 from the soil, and exhaust both home and husband- 
 man. There may be little wealth, but there is no 
 poverty. No home-sick Ruth has to glean in the 
 cornfields. Indeed, the Australian Ruth either drives 
 a pony phaeton, or is at least the charming autocrat 
 alike of parlour and dairy. And on a hot day in 
 midsummer what sitting-room in the land is so 
 pleasant and wholesome as a clean, cool country 
 dairy .'' 
 
 Of course the village possesses a tragedy. On a 
 Christmas Eve, years ago, two farm-labourers were at 
 work in an out-of-the-way field, and the old tragedy 
 of murder^ with avarice as the motive, was re-enacted. 
 An old man was chopped down by an ex-soldier with 
 a hoe, as one would fell a thistle in the corn, and the 
 body was sunk in a narrow bend of the brook under 
 a shelving bank, where it was hidden from the day- 
 light. Boys came as usual and lounged on the green 
 bank, while they whipped the pool for minnow, but
 
 VILLAGE AND I- ARM. I 39 
 
 never suspected that such a ghastly remnant of mor- 
 tahtywas lying beneath the ledge. The village police- 
 man was something of a philosopher, and believed in 
 the sensitiveness of even a murderer's conscience. 
 He had his own theory about the mystery of the 
 old man's disapi^earance. Pretending to believe that 
 the missing man was drowned while drinking at the 
 stream, he asked the suspected man to point him out 
 all deep pools in the brook. The first one that he 
 showed any inclination to avoid was the only one 
 searched. Then, when the body was found, and the 
 fact of a murder proved by a score of cuts and bruises, 
 evidence poured from every quarter. Those strange 
 impulses that repeatedly misdirect erring humanity 
 had prompted this criminal to do a score of things 
 that brought about his own conviction and execution. 
 
 The village has a periodical awakening at harvest 
 time. For a few days scythes have been busy mowing 
 roads through the fields of oats, the tops of which 
 show just a faint tinge of yellow — the first sign of 
 ripening. Then the din of mowing-machines is heard 
 from every field, and the rattle of hay-rakes, as the 
 curved iron teeth collect every scattered blade, make 
 a true harvest chorus. In the orchard the cherries 
 redden and ripen ; but the glowing clusters must 
 nestle undisturbed amongst the dark burnished leaves, 
 until the fields above show nothing but stretches of 
 short stubble. Then the fruits are gathered for 
 market. 
 
 The hay harvest anticipates the grain, and hun- 
 dreds of the drifting population of the land — men 
 who work in cycles — move a stage farther up towards 
 the tropics to assist at the garnering in the great
 
 I40 CUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 northern wheat fields. In the early summer they arc 
 still farther north, shearing the sheep in a Riverina 
 wool-shed. Then lower down, where the season and 
 the clip are more tardy, until a southern midsummer 
 finds them back again in the hay fields. They move 
 on a ceaseless labour circuit, and with the ebb and 
 flow of this tide of humanity a new feature in the life 
 of the village is annually born, and just as surely 
 fades out again with the dying year. 
 
 Once the wide plains to the south and west were 
 one vast common, or grazing ground, the pride of the 
 farmers and householders, and the envy of the large 
 grazier, who had no privileges of pasture there. 
 Every morning mobs of milking cows, followed by 
 shouting boys and laughing girls, came trooping down 
 over the hills to the milking-yards. All the grassy 
 stretches of upland were deeply seamed with a hun- 
 dred home paths made by the cattle tramping in 
 each other's tracks year after year. When cattle 
 travel continually on a narrow road they cut it into 
 regular steps or ridges crossing the line of march, and 
 resembling the furrows in a ploughed field. But on 
 the open plain they form parallel lines, and follow the 
 beaten tracks. 
 
 The old cattle trails can still be traced through 
 the scores of paddocks that were once the plains. 
 Some were like the railway lines running out from a 
 capital. At first the main trunks, broad and distinct ; 
 then the branch tracks striking off, until finally lost in 
 some favourite stretch of pasture land. The trails 
 told the habits of the cattle. They shirked the high 
 ground until the last, winding away around the cliffs 
 and the bases of the hills. In the valley the trail was
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. I4I 
 
 broad and brown, but on the hill-side it spread out 
 into a great fan pattern. 
 
 The herdsman had a double duty — to prevent his 
 own stock from wandering-, and to see that the flocks 
 of sheep and the mobs of cattle market-bound did not 
 linger on the plains longer than the law permitted. 
 There was the annual branding time, when thousands 
 of cattle were mustered, and as they rushed through a 
 crush passage, a big tar brand — the initial letter of 
 the shire — was pressed on their glossy, throbbing 
 flanks. It brought a part of the coat away, and the 
 new patch was always of another colour, so that a 
 white cow had a large red letter on her flank, a brindle 
 came out black, and red hides were initialled in dark 
 plum colour. Once a year the cattle cast their coats, 
 and the branding was repeated. In time a wave of 
 " selection " swept across the plains, and the common 
 was reduced to a iQ\yf square miles on the verge of the 
 village. Farmers were shut out, and the grazing pri- 
 vileges limited to householders with no acres of their 
 own ; and as the reserve grew smaller the contest for 
 possession was more keen. Every form of mean 
 piracy was tried. Dealers from the Melbourne cattle- 
 yards, with surplus flocks on their hands, sent them 
 out over the open country on the pretext of " travel- 
 ling." They even rented paddocks on either side of 
 the plain, and fed backward and forward across it. 
 Finally it came to a declaration of war between the 
 villagers on one side and a few stock dealers with a 
 long retinue of cattle-yard loafers on the other. 
 
 Hostilities commenced one Sunday afternoon. A 
 group of village youths were on sentry in the hills 
 when a force of men drove up, each arm-id with a
 
 142 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE DLGOM. 
 
 pick Iiandle or a loaded whip, and the sheep were 
 turned out as a direct invitation to battle. The ac- 
 ceptance of the challenge was prompt and decisive, 
 The boys, who have ever been noted as fast bowlers 
 in the cricket field, would not come to quarters, but 
 engaged at long range. There were round cobble 
 stones like cricket balls all about the hills, and with 
 these they swept down upon the invaders in a hail- 
 storm of round-arm bowling. It was a band of wiry, 
 active Cossacks, pestering a regiment of heavy cuiras- 
 siers, and the biggest were beaten. Next the sheep- 
 owners and shepherds came each armed with a gun, 
 and sat beside their flocks ; but the defenders, making 
 a demonstration in force, dismayed and disarmed 
 them. 
 
 A white track winding up amongst white-trunked 
 trees to where the old farm sits in the saddle of the 
 range. The slope was once a length of bush high- 
 land, but is now a park. The gum trees, thinned in 
 numbers, have broadened in shape, each throwing its 
 arms outwards, as though seeking always for that 
 touch of companionship lost nearly fifty years ago, 
 when the saw-millers passed through and cut away 
 the straight trees for timber. The denser thickets, 
 once the home of the wild pigeon and the l}Te-bird, 
 have been cleared away, and only a strong lightwood 
 or a wattle nestles here and there between the taller 
 forest trees. On the opposite slope a long garden 
 stretches down to the creek — a garden with poplars 
 towering in the corners, and broad paths margined 
 with red currant bushes and miniature hedges of 
 thorned gooseberries. In the large beds the nectar- 
 ines, blossoming like the magnolia without sign of
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. 1 43 
 
 leaf, are robed in rose pink. A breath of wallflower 
 breaks from the old-fashioned garden-haunt of peace 
 and ease, and carries its perfumed memories to the 
 swagman tramping along the dusty country road. 
 At the foot of the garden there is a pool where 
 clumps of lance-leaved lilies droop over the water, 
 looking beautifully white and distinct when seen in 
 the moonlight. Sometimes under the shadow of the 
 leaves an eel curls the water into an eddy with its tail, 
 but unlike those of the Botanic Garden ponds, which 
 come to the surface in broad daylight and break 
 bread with the civilised goldfish, the rustic eels are shy. 
 Even to them the universal peace of the land should 
 be some assurance of safety. In the darkness the 
 one sound from the pool is the regular metallic clank, 
 clank of a night-frog, the note resembling, more than 
 any other sound of the bush, the distant beat of a 
 bullock-bell. Along the bank a handful of brown 
 mould trodden fine as flour trickles down amongst the 
 lilies, showing that a rabbit or a water-rat has passed 
 along. In the cool of summer nights the workers of 
 the farm come down here, and, lolling on the green 
 bank, fish for eels, with wattle rods strong enough 
 almost to stop the rush of a white porpoise. Some 
 of these toiling Ishmaels have fished in many waters. 
 They have tethered their spare codfish on the banks 
 of the Murrumbidgee while waiting for the shearing; 
 have caught sea salmon in the Gipps Land lakes while 
 returning from some false alarm of gold on a far-away 
 tributary of the Snowy River, or drawn fat and yellow 
 perch from an ana-branch of the Murray, while the 
 wheat was ripening. 
 
 Away out amongst the wattles a herd of white-
 
 144 <^^-J^ DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 faced cattle are grazing, the rich red of their flanks 
 curling into little ripples of hair. In a new bush 
 country the cattle have their necks blackened by- 
 friction with the burned stumps, but here they are 
 spotless. Scattered about among the trees are fawn 
 and silver-grey dairy cattle, with sharp black chines 
 and ebonite horns curling up towards each other in 
 perfect crescent form, and tipped with a tinge of 
 luminous soapy yellow. One of the mothers of the 
 herd is dreamily chewing a bleached bone she. has 
 found in the grass, and in this simple act telling an 
 observant pastoralist just as surely as any chemical 
 analysis could that there is a want of natural salts in 
 his pastures and of lime in the waters of the stream 
 trickling at the foot of the hill. These browsing 
 cattle are as ornamental as deer in an English park. 
 Some miles away there is a little circular hill where, 
 years ago, some imported deer were set at liberty ; 
 perhaps once a year a glimpse of their red flanks is 
 caught as they dart away amongst the sheoaks. From 
 the topmost pinnacle of this wooded hill there is a long 
 view, extending in summer over a sea of whitened grass, 
 with an arm of timber curling round in the distance, 
 like the outline of some new continent. It is a per- 
 fectly placid sea — a contrast to those billowy Wim- 
 mera plains, known for so many years as the " Bay of 
 Biscay,'^ and where, according to popular theory, the 
 burrowing swamp cricket has for league upon league 
 broken a naturally level plain into mounds and ridges. 
 Everywhere about this farm are suggestions of the old 
 world which one never sees in the "selection" areas of 
 the wheat country to the north. On the banks of the 
 creek the blackberries have .grown into a great tangle
 
 VILLAGE AND FAR.-\L 145 
 
 of brambles. I low many centuries would be required 
 to gain this luxuriance in their native woods ? Still 
 more pleasant will be the reminiscences of mother- 
 land when the thrush, the blackbird, and starling are 
 quite at home in this long garden. They are coming 
 surely if slowly. In a single week I have seen two 
 blackbirds not so many miles from here, and the 
 thrushes are thick beneath the trees. These home 
 birds are a pleasant surprise to most of us when seen 
 for the first time. We feel much as a long-absent 
 Australian would feel if, in Hyde Park or the Bois de 
 Boulogne, he heard in the gloaming the clear rolling 
 note of a laughing jackass amongst the trees. The 
 first blackbird brought me to " attention " in an in- 
 stant as he darted across the path from a stone pine 
 speckled with little honeycomb plumes. There could 
 be no mistake as to his identity when he flashed in 
 the sunlight, chased away by a brown thrush, jealous, 
 perhaps, of the presence of so interesting a rival- 
 The yellow bill shone beautifully clear in contrast to 
 the velvet-black plumage. A starling's bill would 
 have been fainter in colour, and the green spangles 
 in his coat would have shone more brilliantly, but less 
 blue-black, than in the case of the blackbird. A 
 momentary glimpse of the starling suggests the green 
 in the neck of a mallard drake, while the two colours 
 of the blackbird remind us of one of the satin bower 
 birds. In the study of both there is a fascination for 
 which either the link of relationship or Richard 
 Jefiferies may be responsible. Whichever it be, most 
 of us will say, " Prosper, thrush, blackbird, and star- 
 ling ; knit the links of sentiment closer still with your 
 sweet song and sunny presence."
 
 14^ GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 In this farm garden as yet only lory parrots show 
 their crimson in the trees, and yellow-legged minahs, 
 tamest of all Australian birds, fly into the big farm 
 kitchen — where even the chickens dare not venture, 
 and pick crumbs from the earthen floor. Looking 
 abroad through the pastures it is noticeable that while 
 the wattles and gum scrub spring freely on every patch 
 of unmolested land, neither the deciduous English 
 trees nor the pleasant-tasting sheoaks spread beyond 
 the limits of the plantation. The cattle see to it that 
 none of these attain maturity without protection, but 
 they touch very few of the native trees. Wherever an 
 Australian forest has been cut away it will renew it- 
 self in time if the surface is unbroken and the paddock 
 not overstocked. All about the bases of the dead 
 stumps the crust of earth is forced upwards, as though 
 mushrooms were breaking through. This is caused 
 by the catacombs of the sugar ants. In these wind- 
 ing tunnels are stored the sweet white bread gathered 
 beneath the manna gums, and one may inspect the 
 storehouse without fear, for the sugar ants are a 
 peaceable community. 
 
 Old farms are always rich in picturesque elements. 
 In the marginal bands of the field — that unploughed 
 space between the fence and the nearest furrow — 
 there is a self-established community of flowers as 
 cosmopolitan almost as the occupants of a modern 
 garden. Year after year they have come here with 
 the seed of successive crops, and being out of reach of 
 the reaper, have ripened and multiplied. Here they 
 spring and wither in retirement, no one caring 
 whether they are dicotyledons or cryptogams. The 
 marigold, the sunflower, and white clover are mixed
 
 Village and FAR^L 14^ 
 
 up with such native flowers as the wild violet, the 
 shepherd's purse, or the blue-flowered "diggers' de- 
 hght." This latter has come, perhaps, with the seeds 
 from some miner's holding amongst the ironbarks in 
 the gold country, and was once supposed to grow 
 only on auriferous soils. While no one would think 
 of digging for gold in this field, the presence of the 
 flower is, perhaps, as reliable an indication of a gol- 
 conda underneath as the reports and information on 
 the strength of which many mining companies are 
 floated. 
 
 If there had been less gold in Australia, the love 
 of the land would be more the traditional affection of 
 the British yeoman for the soil than what it is. Gold, 
 the greatest of all magicians, is wonderful in its work- 
 ings, but of purpose most infirm. To-day the pro- 
 spector's wand is waved above a lonely gully ; 
 to-morrow it is peopled ; in a week deserted. And 
 this spirit of change has become almost a national 
 trait ; not so much in those old settled districts, 
 where homesteads carry the traditions of more than 
 one generation, as in the newly-settled areas, where 
 men sell and pawn their homes. Although Crabbe 
 — a village poet — saw in the occupation of Suffolk 
 reapers only the emblem, of the inheritance of toil 
 resting upon the children of Adam, and thanked God 
 that he had been saved from so cruel a destiny, few 
 rustic poets have been so ungrateful to their birth- 
 place. 
 
 With all the vicissitudes of bad and indifferent 
 harvests, still the farmer's is a happy life. And 
 though perhaps the struggle of the early days when 
 he first took the land under his control wari)cd his
 
 148 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 temper, it only ripened his philosophy. In the 
 heated competition of the city the lucky ones hardly 
 even glance back at the friends they have left strug- 
 gling in gloom. But in the country he who has 
 fought fairly and honestly, and through no fault of 
 his own has fallen, will find hands — hard, perhaps, 
 but steadfast — held out to help him on his way. 
 Though the fields have little poetry in the days of 
 toil, in the after time they arc a most enchanting 
 memory. Looking back, with the failures forgotten 
 in the years of plenty, the troubles smoothed by dis- 
 tance, they say, not with Tennyson's cynic, but 
 lovingly — 
 
 '"Tis the place, and all about it, 
 As of old, the curlews call." 
 
 Almost without knowing it they love the land. Even 
 the very toil that lasted out the daylight had within it 
 some song of promise. There was music in the gritty 
 rumble of the plough through the brown mould, the 
 rustle of the scythe in the rye, or the throb of the 
 primitive flail upon the canvas of the barn -floor. 
 P^ew melodies are sweeter to the farmer's ear than 
 the thresher-drums at the different stackyards 
 amongst the hills, their humming chorus softened to 
 a mere murmur in the distance. In the slack 
 season of the year there was the garnering of wild 
 honey. Perhaps for years the bees had been seen 
 passing in and out through an orifice of the tree. At 
 different seasons they had different lines of flight. 
 Sometimes it was to the garden, where forget-me- 
 nots were in bloom ; sometimes far away to the 
 grass-tree patches on the hill, while the long spikes
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. 149 
 
 had yet broken on one side into a white, frost-Hke 
 bloom, and on the other the young blossoms re- 
 sembled white beads set in a background of greenish 
 lawn. Some day, when there is little else to do, it is 
 proposed to cut it down. The old tree cracks once or 
 twice ere the thunder of its fall rolls away through 
 the bush, and the air is thick with the pleasant per- 
 fume of the sap- — ^the very heart's blood of this 
 wrecked gum trickling down over its sadly-shattered 
 limbs. The dogs, dashing in amongst the boughs, are 
 stung by the bees, and scamper away. Standing 
 far off, they are moved alternately by opposing im- 
 pulses — one, the consciousness that there are opossums 
 in the fallen tree ; the other, a tingling conviction that 
 angry bees are plenty also. The hollow branches 
 which were the storehouse of the bees are cut open, 
 and the honeycomb carved out in cubes and piled 
 in milk-dishes. Some of it is white and clear — the 
 harvest of the past season ; the rest has, perhaps, 
 been stored for years, is browned with age, but full 
 of a rich honey that, like wine, has mellowed with 
 time. 
 
 The opinions of the farmer arc less liable to 
 change than the city man's opinions. Yet the farmer 
 is in most things practical and considerate. Though 
 he knows that a preacher of old spoke his parables 
 upon the hill-sides of Palestine, he would not insult 
 the lay reader from the city by asking him to preach 
 under the gums. Even before a congregation gath- 
 ered a church was built. Then the farmer felt that 
 he had done his spiritual duty, and, following the 
 example set by Eutychus, slept placidly through the 
 sermons. The farm hands look at life from quite
 
 150 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE Bl.OO.^f. 
 
 another point of view. The vagabond Hfe led by 
 most of them rubs all traces of conservatism away. 
 There is too much of smug respectability about m.ost 
 modern religions to suit the farm hand's Bohemian 
 tastes. He reads and thinks generally in one di- 
 rection. The theory of evolution is rather popular 
 with him, because, as he looks at it, blue blood 
 means only a more direct descent from the blue-nosed 
 ape, and he has no liking for titles or pedigree. 
 Science and religion are with him opposite terms ; 
 either one or the other is a fallacy. The orthodox 
 preacher who puts a dash of science into his Sunday 
 sermon is merely seeking credit for breadth of mind 
 under false pretences. But of all sentiments that have 
 existence on the farm the national or patriotic feeling 
 is deepest rooted amongst the men of to-day. The 
 farmer is proud of the kinship between Great and 
 " Greater" Britain, and "the contraction of England" 
 school, who talk of an Australian empire of peace, 
 with separation as the logical sequence, find no 
 encouragement from him. The humanitarian's dream 
 may be a good one, but it must be realised without 
 surrendering those things which his fathers honoured, 
 and for which they fought. Some of them must for- 
 get their own names ere they forget that those of 
 their race died for the traditions they are asked to 
 cast away. What matter though the rulers of the old 
 land are out of harmony with them to-day } To- 
 morrow those rulers are gone, but Britain is Britain 
 still. Some of the more prosperous, who have ample 
 leisure to think about these things, go farther still, and 
 reflect upon the price they must pay for a mythical 
 independence. There are ties of sympathy deep and
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. I5I 
 
 dear. Will they sacrifice the right to bend as rever- 
 ent children over the grave of Shakespeare, the right 
 to feel proud and fond of the memory of the man who 
 played upon the nation's very heart-strings an accom- 
 paniment to his " Christmas Carol ? " Nature's better 
 part is often hidden in remote corners, her gems in 
 almost inaccessible places. The most beautiful heaths 
 in Australia grow on steepest ridges of the Grampians. 
 So about farms healthy sentiments cling, I think. 
 
 There is an illustration in miniature of the birth, 
 progress, and destruction of a world every summer in 
 the wheat-fields. Planting, growth, and the reaping are 
 a cycle in natural life. Where either plants or animals 
 run wild and multiply they die at length of their own 
 exuberance. When some particular weed becomes a 
 pest the farmer finds it best to let it thrive and take 
 possession of the 'field, for finally will come a spring 
 when it disappears entirely from the face of the earth. 
 It may be possible that, as with in-breeding, the race 
 deteriorates. If the weed has taken entire possession 
 of the field, the bees and honey-seeking insects move 
 only from one flower to another of its kindred, and so 
 cross-fertilisation with the dust of other flowerets 
 is denied. The republic of the wheat-field is rarely 
 over-crowded, however. The animals, birds, and 
 insects gather and accumulate, and their enemies 
 follow. But before the struggle has developed man 
 steps in with his reaper, and in a few days the com- 
 munity is destroyed or dispersed. 
 
 The hares are about the first to establish them- 
 selves. Perhaps on some windy night towards the 
 close of winter they come down from the plains to 
 feed, and not caring to face the bitter cold of the
 
 152 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 plateau again, lodge in the young wheat as well as 
 feeding there. Hares and rabbits attack the young 
 crop in somewhat different fashion. If it borders a 
 river bank the rabbits nibble it down on that side, 
 leaving their traces in a hundred little burrows 
 scratched in the soft mould. But the hares commence 
 on the side next the pastures or the open plain, and 
 cut the blades down evenly. They are less prone to 
 play and run about at meals than the rabbits. They 
 feed round about them, and having taken off every- 
 thing within reach, move with one long lope forward 
 to higher pasture. Hares seem to have a strong sense 
 of safety in what scientists call " uniformity of en- 
 vironment." 
 
 Where fields of red soil have been ploughed 
 hares take up their residence quickly, and are slow to 
 leave their forms when alarmed. It is an interesting 
 study to come within a few feet of a hare thus 
 squatted. It is so flat in the form that nothing 
 breaks the evenness of the surface, but just before the 
 field is harrowed a practised eye may sometimes note 
 a slight unevenness in one of the lines formed by the 
 nicely-packed sods, which induces a second look and 
 a discovery. The chestnut eyes, so closely in harmony 
 with the yellow tip of the fur, stand out on cither side, 
 so that front or rear they see }'OU as plainly as you 
 see them ! 
 
 The pliant ears are flat along the neck, and to 
 accommodate the higher hind-quarters the form is 
 hollowed out a little more at that end. Indecision 
 is the characteristic failing of the hare. It is rarely 
 satisfied with its first form, but after settling down 
 cosily for a minute moves away to another part of
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM, I 53 
 
 the field. So when in motion the cars are back for an 
 instant, and a few strides are taken in real earnest. 
 Then the black-tipped signals, which seem to say 
 " stop her," go up, the hare eases her pace, has, 
 perhaps, one curious look at the enemy while standing 
 on her hind legs, then away again at full speed and 
 out of sight before another halt is made. Living in 
 the young crop, and finding it grow up and shelter 
 her, the hare breeds there ; and, just as the season is 
 late or early, the young, becoming venturesome and 
 independent, leave the field when the reaping begins, 
 or lying close as very young hares do, are cut to pieces 
 with the knives of the machine. 
 
 If the field border a river with scrubby banks most 
 of the live things which people it in its later growth 
 come in gradually from that side. When the young 
 blades begin to thicken and creep about the ground, 
 as young wheat in contrast to oats always does, there 
 is a perpetual spring dampness underneath. Grubs 
 and slugs are generated, and big green frogs from the 
 river reeds follow in natural sequence, as well as land- 
 rails, which feed variously on water insects or the soft- 
 fleshed caterpillars clambering on the young wheat. 
 The wheat springs higher, and the lower blades dying 
 away leave space between the stalks. Then the field 
 mice begin to congregate, and wherever mice and 
 frogs are gathered together there will the snakes 
 come also. As the summer advances the grass is 
 burned away out on the pastures, and the quail of 
 different kinds which live on the open plains are 
 attracted to the crops, and remain there for the 
 nesting season. What with the quail and young 
 hares and water-hens, a pair of the larger hawks
 
 154 ^'f^-1'^ BOUGHS AXn WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 soon discover that the field is a splendid hunting- 
 ground, and as they like to camp near their game 
 they at once start to carry things to the most 
 advanced patch — generally a tuft of wild oats — and 
 to weave a bulky and not ver}' comfortable nest. If 
 there are large trees in the field, with a hollow bough 
 broken off, the chances are largely in favour of finding 
 a couple of buff kestrels established there, with their 
 round, rich-brown eggs almost lost in the soft decayed 
 wood of exactly the same tone. The birds hover 
 about the margin of the field, or beat along the 
 furrows, and in the open are a worse enemy to the 
 field-mouse than even the snake. When the field 
 is reaped and the corn stored the mice are taken 
 away with the sheaves, and the kestrels follow them 
 to the stack-yards, and live there through the winter, 
 nipping up every mouse that ventures into the open, 
 and making life eventful and uncertain for the sparrows 
 also. 
 
 The snake seems to have a love for some geo- 
 graphical feature about his home. If there is a 
 quarry, a stone-covered ridge, a gully, or a bank 
 about the margin of a field that has been constantly 
 cultivated for hay or grain, a snake will find a home 
 there. When the paddock is bordered on one side 
 by a dusty lane you can approximately fix the 
 residence by so often noticing the curving trail in 
 the same locality where the snake has crawled across 
 into the wheat and back home again. They hunt 
 largely about the borders of the field, and this is 
 why the mice are always more plentiful towards the 
 centre. The snake is unquestionably "mousey's" worst 
 enemy. The kestrel is quicker in seizing a mouse
 
 VILLAGE AXD FARM. 155 
 
 when abroad in the day, but they are not very fond 
 of dayh'ght. The snake follows the mouse home, 
 thrusts his small sinewy head and neck into the 
 burrow, and drags out the owners. The frogs and 
 toads when they get away from the water are a very 
 easy prey also. When there is but one cultivated 
 field by the river the snakes travel to it along the 
 banks, and as they have very much the same archi- 
 tectural tastes, it is not unusual to find more than 
 one in the same home. Once at the corner of a 
 wheat-field in harvest time, I saw no less than five 
 dug from beneath the same dry stump, and two of 
 these were tiger and the other three brown snakes. 
 
 The bird above all others closely associated with 
 the wheat-field is the quail, and of the three kinds 
 once plentiful within a few "miles of Melbourne two 
 build largely in the v/heat, while the other, true to its 
 earlier traditions, clings to the grass lands, even if 
 bare, although sometimes found in stubble. As the 
 reaper comes clown the field, felling another swathe 
 in the square of standing corn, you see the quail leave 
 the wheat and run like Guinea chicks down the line 
 of the log fence. The binders following in train find 
 the homely nests filled with a handful of eggs, some- 
 times slightly under, sometimes over a dozen. These 
 belong to the partridge quail, whose eggs are always 
 of one colour — a bluish white lightly speckled with 
 yellow,*and sharply pointed at one end. The young 
 are rarely seen, for, like most of the plain wanderers, 
 they have a wonderful knack of hiding where there is 
 no apparent shelter. The colour of the partridge 
 quail is brown lined with dull white, and its yellow 
 legs, as well as the freckled eggs, are very much in
 
 156 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 harmony with the stubble. The pectoral quail lays 
 occasionally, but not so often as the partridge quail, in 
 the wheat-fields. Its eggs vary most remarkably in 
 colour, so much so that anyone taking them as a 
 guide to species would be led to believe that at least 
 a dozen varieties of quail were native to the same 
 locality. From a cream ground heavily blotched with 
 chocolate-brown the colours range through a score 
 of tints, principally greys and browns, down to that 
 universal dusting of colours which in tweeds is 
 popularly known as "pepper and salt." The third 
 species of quail, more often found on the plains than 
 in the corn-fields, lays four large eggs — the under- 
 ground buff, thickly dotted with ashen-brown. The 
 nest is a mere hole scratched in the earth, and how- 
 ever often one may have startled the quail from the 
 grass, and been startled by them in return, as they 
 sprang with a burr of wings from almost under foot, 
 the birds were yet rarely found near home. To-day, 
 as you walk along, your eye rests by chance upon 
 the single tg^ lying in the little hollow. To-morrow, 
 as you pass, there is a second egg, and finally the cus- 
 tomary four, but come as often and as carefully as 
 you may, you never find the mother bird there. Often 
 the eggs are warm, showing that she has just left them, 
 but the quail seems to have the gift of lying flat as a 
 flounder upon sand, and must be constantly on the 
 alert. She probably runs from the nest as soon as a 
 footfall is heard in the distance or an object is seen 
 upon the plain. Sometimes the nest of eggs is the 
 only evidence that there are quail in the locality. 
 The rarest and most interesting of the grass quail is 
 the plain wanderer, more timid of aspect, longer in
 
 VILLAGE AND FARM. I 57 
 
 neck and leg, while generally more awkward also 
 than the other species. Its egg differs from the 
 others in being less sharply pointed, and the bird 
 takes flight so reluctantly that an adult quail is often 
 mistaken for a fledgling. Unfortunately the two 
 most prolific breeders among them build so often in 
 the hay-fields, nests deserted and eggs addled year 
 after year must thin them down greatly. They fared 
 best in the wheat, for where the stubble was long 
 they were not disturbed. When fields are planted 
 for hay the land is rolled in the spring until not a clod 
 remains, so that at harvest time the mower may shave 
 close down to the ground where the cornstalk is thick 
 and weighs best. What the mower spares the hay- 
 rake is certain to destroy. The landrails suffer con- 
 siderably also by building in the fields. Their large 
 white eggs with flesh-coloured spots are much more 
 easily seen when exposed to the daylight, and are 
 taken by the first predatory bird flying over freshly- 
 cut stubble on the look-out for these tasty morsels. 
 The landrail, with its black-barred breast, beautifully 
 marked wings and back, tilted tail, and bright red 
 eyes, is the smallest and certainly the handsomest of 
 Australian coots. The name "water-hen " is given in 
 the country to all the coots, Out in the West the 
 porphyry coot is the water-hen, but down about the 
 Gipps Land lakes the water-hen is the little black 
 coot, while amongst the hayfields round about the 
 Werribee and Keilor plains the landrail is rarely 
 called by any other name. 
 
 Even in Australia we have had three eras in the 
 harvesting of wheat — first, the days of the sickle, the 
 cradle, and the flail ; then the reaping-machine, the
 
 15^ OUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 " sheaver " with his rake, and the train of binders, 
 expert in the mysteries of the " gooseneck " and lock- 
 band, following the reaper round about the field. Last 
 of all came the stripper and the reaper and binder, 
 overturning all the old ideas, and taking all the poetry 
 out of field labour and harvest time. At this period 
 of the year in the country, when even the brightest 
 noonday is followed by a chill, grey evening, and the 
 wreckage of the dahlias and chrysanthemums yet 
 clinging to their stalks along the garden-paths are the 
 only mementoes of past glory, one looks pleasurably 
 forward to spring and summer, to seed-time and 
 harvest. Anyone who has once seen Australian 
 plains in the early summer — the flowers lying in belts 
 of orange, blue, and pink, the patches of sorrel in the 
 fields, and the tufts of bronzed summer grass waving 
 silkily as a child's tresses in the breeze, must long to 
 see them again. The early almond trees just break- 
 ing into blossom show that Nature's panorama is 
 about to open out again, and a new community to be 
 gathered together, fostered, encouraged, and then, in 
 the very prime of its existence, cut down and gathered 
 with the wheat. 
 
 The best known and most thoroughly Australian of 
 all the race of kingfishers is our sober brown friend the 
 laughing jackass. The name of kingfisher is hardly 
 applicable, for he is no fisher bird, and his plumage.
 
 KINGFISHERS AND PIGEOJVS. 159 
 
 naturally dull in colour — and about the city blackened, 
 like the sparrow's garb, with floating smoke and dust 
 — is much too homely to be in any sense the raiment 
 of royalty. The laughing jackass is a stay-at-home 
 bird. All through the winter I watched a pair of 
 them in a small clump of willows in the Fitzroy 
 Gardens until the trees were draped by that magical 
 milliner, Spring, with streamers of tender green. 
 When the birds first took possession it uas a pleasant 
 summer arbour, but although the curtains browned 
 and fell slowly away in the autumn, leaving nothing 
 but skeleton boughs, they were too loyal to forsake it. 
 Here they stayed in all weathers, when the rain 
 streamed down upon their shelterless home and the 
 lightning lit up the bareness of the avenues of elms 
 and planes. Sometimes they were fossicking on the 
 ground amongst the dead leaves, their dull coat lost 
 in the harmony of brown. The damp leaves were a 
 harbour for worms and snails, so that food was always 
 plentiful. In the nesting season they will leave tem- 
 porarily for some hollow gum tree, where, like the 
 sparrow hawk, they lay their eggs in a nest of soft, de- 
 caying wood, but this triangular enclosure of willow 
 trees is yet their empire. Watch one of the birds 
 perched upon his bough in broad daylight. He 
 seems to be either asleep or lost in deepest medi- 
 tation. A worm crawling beneath the leaves shows 
 just the merest speck of its glistening skin through 
 a rent in the rustic carpet. Suddenly as a falling 
 meteor the laughing jackass drops upon it, and, 
 flipping aside a bronzed leaf, throws up his bill 
 with the wriggling prize. Should a frog, alarmed 
 by the intrusion of a thrush or minah, leap from
 
 l6o Gf/.1/ nOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 its shrubbery retreat into the dayhght, the dart of 
 the sedate sentinel on the willow is equally quick 
 and quiet. His tail tilts victoriously as he pinions 
 the unlucky frog, and in this sprightliness, compared 
 with the seeming stupor of a few moments ago, a sort 
 of malicious glee finds expression. His low chuckle 
 seems to say, " You thought I was asleep. But not 
 much." One night at the entrance to the gardens 
 something flapped away on soft wings overhead, and 
 I thought I had caught my friends of the willow 
 clump on a night raid. Passing the favourite haunt, 
 I was able, by bending low to the walk, to " moon" 
 the pair sitting reflectively as ever on the familiar 
 perch. The night hunter was no doubt an owl. The 
 call of the laughing jackass is less the laugh that so 
 many have been pleased to fancy it than a varying 
 owl-hoot. There is nothing fiendish, nothing maniacal 
 in the rolling note rising and falling and echoing be- 
 tween the trees at sunrise and sunset. To the bush- 
 man, if not to city people, it is even musical. None 
 of Marcus Clarke's fine fancies were more unreal than 
 when he spoke of that bush chorus as " horrible peals 
 of semi-human laughter." 
 
 The nearest relative of our southern laughing 
 jackass is the bird known to naturalists as Leach's 
 kingfisher — a sort of improved jackass. In shape 
 and size the two are much alike, but residence under 
 the brighter sunshine of North Australia has much 
 improved the plumage of Leach's kingfisher. The 
 main ground of his costume is lighter than that of 
 the southern jackass, and while in the latter the neck 
 feathers are just tipped with a darker shade of brown, 
 the other has a distinctive hackle streaked with black.
 
 h'/XCF/SHF.RS AXf) PICF.OA'S. l6l 
 
 and not unlike that of a light Brahma fowl. Through 
 Queensland and in New Guinea his markings are very 
 beautiful. Above the tail and on the shoulders of 
 the wings are patches of the most delicate of lustrous 
 light blues. The silky tint is more nearly akin to the 
 lighter blue of the precious opal — found with the bird 
 itself along the banks of the Barcoo — than any other 
 colour in nature. The association of this blue with a 
 rich chestnut brown, while in effect not comparing with 
 the brilliancy of the parrots or some of the smaller 
 tropical kingfishers, makes yet a tasteful and striking 
 costume. The jackass found along the Murray is a 
 connecting link between the two kinds, just as the 
 halcyon of the same river fills the gap between the 
 azure kingfisher and the halcyon of the " back blocks." 
 A few pale blue feathers appear in the wings of the 
 Murray jackass, and the brown in his coat is more 
 brilliant than with the dweller by the Yarra. 
 
 The true Australian kingfisher — for although 
 several of them are strictly water birds, this one is 
 the more universal — is the azure kingfisher. Who 
 has not admired that streak of azure — brief as a 
 lightning flash — thrown for an instant across a yellow 
 winter pool, or the shades of deep orange and fawn red 
 reflected by the clear waters in midsummer as the 
 bird darts across .'' Often on the shaded side of river 
 groves, angling for stream trout, I have been startled 
 by his sudden dart past, or have espied him in some 
 quiet corner, sitting patiently on his perch above the 
 stream, just as our garden jackass sits on his willow 
 bough .-• Suddenly he, too, darts down beneath the 
 water, and scattering the liquid diamonds from his 
 wings as he rises, is back with a silver atom of a 
 K
 
 l62 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 fish flapping feebly in his long black bill. If after 
 a dive the birds fly off" with the fish, you may con- 
 clude that there is a young family not far away, 
 but the nest, generally in a bank, is not easily found. 
 Though as a boy I knew several localities where it 
 was almost a matter of certainty that a pair of 
 kingfishers had their home, I only chanced to find 
 one. Climbing one day along the limb of a fallen 
 tree that overhung the stream and inclined gradually 
 upward from it, I bent over to peer into a hollow at 
 the extreme point, where it had been broken sharply 
 off. It was tenanted, for a grey mopoke within a few 
 inches of my face suddenly opened his wings, eyes, 
 and mouth all together. This apparition with the 
 gaping yellow mouth was so startling that without 
 delay I dropped into the water and swam ashore. 
 Climbing the bank, a blue kingfisher darted out, and 
 the interesting nest was revealed. The mouth of the 
 hole was partly hidden by long strands of grass that 
 from a tuft above hung down and screened it. At 
 the end of the tunnel were three delicate white eggs, 
 the yolk shining through the shell with a faint reddish 
 tinge, as it does in the fragile eggs of the yellow-tailed 
 wren. 
 
 However they may differ in plumage, the king- 
 fishers are alike in one respect. They all build in a 
 hole, either of tree or bank, and lay white eggs, rounder 
 than those of any other Australian bird. The parrots, 
 which also build in the cleft of a tree, have distinctive 
 white eggs, but the shape is a perfect oval. The floor- 
 way of the nest of this azure kingfisher was paved deep 
 with broken fish-bones, and the hole must have been 
 an eligible family residence for years. How many
 
 K/NGF/SHERS AND PIGEONS. 1 63 
 
 fishes had contributed their skeletons to complete 
 this avenue ? On top the bones were snow-white. 
 None but a water bird could have kept its walks so 
 clean. 
 
 There is a distinction, subtle, perhaps, but always 
 discernible, between the true water kingfisher and 
 those birds of the race that are often found far from 
 the streams and living almost without water. Take 
 the azure kingfisher as a type of the true water-gnome 
 — the bird holding the place amongst his kind that the 
 water-lily does amongst flowers. His bill is longer, 
 darker, less conspicuous, and more elegant than that 
 of the bush kingfisher. Between head, neck, and body 
 there is no distinctive break. They glide impercept- 
 ibly into each other, snake fashion, as in the bittern 
 and some of the cormorants. The snake-bird of the 
 Murray, with its long sinuous neck, illustrates to per- 
 fection this peculiarity. 
 
 With all deadly reptiles, however, the eye is long 
 and narrow, while the eye of the kingfisher is round, jet 
 black,"and bright, as befitting a bird which depends for 
 its living on the power of out-seeing and out-swimming 
 the fish in their own element. As the azure king- 
 fisher drops to the stream his bill, head, neck, and 
 body form a straight line, and he shoots through 
 the water like an arrow, leaving scarcely a ripple 
 on the surface. It is the flap of his wings as he 
 rises again which attracts our notice. He has no 
 tail worth mentioning, while his cousin of the bush has 
 a few terminal feathers which droop despondently or 
 are gaily tilted just as the bird may be sleepy or very 
 wide awake. 
 
 The kingfisher at home is always an object of 
 K 2
 
 164 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 interest^ but how much more so in the far interior, where 
 his whistHng note is often the only bird-sound that 
 breaks the impressive silence, his bright plumage the 
 one speck of colour in the waste of withered nature. 
 
 The bush halcyon is to be found amongst the 
 Central Australian myalls all through the summer. 
 The streams and tanks may disappear, the flocks perish, 
 the wild birds and beasts seek haunts where Nature is 
 less harsh, but when, after a rescuing shower of rain, the 
 boundary-rider revisits the " White Plain Paddock," 
 he finds that where all else has yielded to the sun and 
 the drought the halcyon survives. Like the shepherd 
 himself, it endures this lonely life. There is a link of 
 sympathy between the halcyon and the shepherd. 
 The man dreaming, as that other shepherd Endymion 
 dreamed upon the hills of Latmos, may see some 
 homely face, some fair divinity of years ago, mirrored 
 in the splendour of the moon, but his companion by 
 day is the little halcyon. It is as conspicuous here as 
 a sundew in the grass at noonday. 
 
 The kingfisher of the plains is like the sacred hal- 
 cyon in some respects, but its colour is much richer. 
 The red on its back is a deep chestnut, with the glow 
 of polished jasper, but with a warmth and softness 
 never seen in any colour of stone. 
 
 The sacred halcyon is more often met with. I 
 have found him all through the north of Victoria, and, 
 although not a water bird, he has a special liking 
 for the tortuous banks of the Broken River and other 
 streams on that side of the Dividing Range. Again, 
 where the Parramatta narrows from an arm of the 
 bay into a river the halcyon may be seen darting 
 about the margin of the mangroves, following down
 
 KINGFISHERS AXD PIGEONS. 1 65 
 
 the receding tide, and feeding upon the marine hfe 
 left stranded on the sandpits. The distinctive trait 
 in South Asian varieties is a sprinkhng of many- 
 colours, while broader patches of a single hue charac- 
 terise most of the tropical kingfishers of Australia. 
 The kingfishers of North Australia and New Guinea 
 are a wonderful collection, and they have imposing 
 scientific titles. The popular names of the South are 
 much too homely to fit these splendid birds. One 
 of the halcyons has a snow-white breast, with a rich 
 mantle of indigo thrown over its back, head, and wings, 
 and the merest suggestion of gold trimming where the 
 blue and white unite. Another has a pure white 
 head, neck, and breast, but elsewhere a radiant green 
 — merely two colours, yet how complete the costume ! 
 It is not, however, in the glory of colour alone that 
 Nature has been indulgent to the northern kingfishers. 
 One of them has a coronet like a peacock. Another, 
 impelled to ambition, perhaps, by jealousy of the birds 
 of paradise, has thrown out from its tail two long 
 splint feathers. Should North Queensland ever get 
 separation, the state museum might contain such a 
 mass of sparkling colour as no other colony ever 
 gathered from the life of its own forests. But the 
 Queensland bush is, after all, its best museum. 
 Many a man who has fossicked in Nature's byeways 
 has at one time or another believed that the chief 
 pleasure in life was to shoot the rarest birds, stuff 
 them with cotton-wool, pierce them through with 
 pliant wires, and twist the fading skin into a crude 
 imitation of life. Suffering from such enthusiasm 
 I once fired at a kingfisher as he lit upon a broad 
 stump, where the waters foamed over a bank of
 
 l66 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 gravel. When the shot struck him he just spread 
 his wings in a dying spasm. As I left him lying 
 for a time so that the plumage might not be dabbled 
 with the blood, than which it was not less bright, 
 a first sense of the cruelty of the whole thing dawned 
 upon me. How I should miss the familiar flash 
 across the waters in the evening as I strolled along 
 on the look-out for a hare or a family of wood-duck 
 on their favourite gravel-banks. It is, indeed, better 
 to leave the gems of the forest in their natural setting. 
 
 Amongst the kingfishers that range westward 
 from Cape York two are absolutely the smallest of 
 their race. One of them has clearly-defined waves 
 of light along the neck, like the watery sparkle in the 
 plumage of the English kingfisher. The little king- 
 fisher, not larger than a red-backed finch, and more 
 shapely, is another of the brilliants of the bush. Its 
 breast is flaked with white, and the back a pure 
 indigo, while the sharp black bill and tiny white 
 legs are the tribal marks of the true water king- 
 fisher. 
 
 The wild pigeons of Australasia have a range 
 in variety as wide almost as the fancy birds that 
 breeders have brought from all corners of the earth. 
 One can't help thinking that they are misnamed. What 
 affinity can exist between the great crowned pigeon 
 of New Guinea, in its garb of slate-grey, white, and 
 bronze, topped with an airy, fragile crest, in size almost 
 a bustard, and the puny wren-pigeon of the torrid 
 " northern territory " } 
 
 Yet greatly as the pigeons vary in general ap- 
 pearance, they are alike in that peculiar smoothness 
 of plumage, that roundness of outline, and that soft-
 
 A'/NGF/SHERS AXD PIGEONS. 1 67 
 
 ness and simplicity of expression which have made 
 the dove a type of affection, fidelity, and innocence. 
 Some of our wild pigeons may tend towards the 
 toucan tribe, others show some of the characteristics 
 of wading birds, and still another section verge 
 very closely indeed upon the quail family ; yet in 
 character there is everywhere a communion amongst 
 pigeons not easily mistaken. The most beautiful of 
 all the Oceanian pigeons are the doves of Fiji. Those 
 islands are themselves amongst the beauty-spots of the 
 Pacific, and their doves are the gems of the luxuriant 
 woods, for, though less elegant in shape than most of 
 the mainland birds, their colour is very striking. 
 
 The orange dove has its name from the depth 
 of that particular colour in its plumage. Indeed, the 
 tone is too rich almost for the title to be strictly ap- 
 propriate. The redness is rather that of a marigold, 
 and one of these birds amongst banana and palm 
 trees is as conspicuous as these old-fashioned flowers 
 against a bank of ivy. The plumage of the golden 
 dove has a main-ground of olive-green, striated with 
 gold, and its luminous pale pink eyes are expressive 
 of great tenderness. The nutmeg dove of the same 
 island — one of the fruit pigeons — is worthy of rank 
 with those two other stars of the pigeon world. 
 
 The fruit pigeons of the north-eastern corner of 
 the continent are among its most interesting zoologi- 
 cal studies. They harmonise with the rich inflores- 
 cence of these summer forests, and yet in their 
 plumage are ^e\v primary hues. The pigeon-green 
 is not the emerald tint of spring meadows, nor the 
 darker gum-tree green of southern forests, but rather 
 resembles such indistinct shades as myrtle, sage, and
 
 1 68 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 o'ive. The fruit pigeons' beauty of form and colour 
 is impressive, and their eyes of ruby and yellow are 
 indicative of a depth of colour, rather than of the 
 sparkle of the jewel. Standing at the head of its 
 order is the magnificent fruit pigeon, its head pale 
 grey, breast shaded in rich plum-colour, and sparkling 
 on its back iridescent tinges of gold and bronze-green. 
 
 As it clings with long, pliant claws amongst the 
 pendent sprays that in the upper strata of Queensland 
 forests sway about like the feathery plumes of the 
 white birch, it is a rare gem among brilliant birds. 
 
 From this bird to the Torres Straits pigeon (nearly 
 white, and with just the suggestion of an Arctic hard- 
 ness of aspect), there are many notable varieties. In 
 the home of the Torres Straits pigeon — a nest of a 
 few cross sticks and a single white eg,g — there is a 
 reminder of desolation. Nearly all the fruit pigeons 
 have a characteristic head-piece — in the majority rose- 
 pink, though it varies through different shades of 
 crimson, pale-pink, and grey, ending finally in pure 
 white. The gradations are so faint, that though two 
 birds chosen at random are unlike, intervening species 
 will be found bringing them gradually into close 
 affinity. All the Queensland woods are the home of 
 some one or other of the fruit pigeons, and there 
 alone they are seen to full advantage. Whether 
 feeding on the Moretcn Bay figs or the score of 
 other native berries, brighter in colour than them- 
 selves ; whether on the fronds of some lofty forest 
 fern, flapping against the white-flaked leaf of a 
 caladium, clinging to the tendrils of a flowering 
 Tecoma or a Wonga vine, or wafting the perfume of 
 musk plants through the still forest with the beat of
 
 KINGFISHERS AND PIGEONS. 1 69 
 
 its wings, the raiment of the fruit pigeon is ever 
 in harmony with the radiance of the scene. 
 
 None of the Victorian wild pigeons at all compare 
 in beauty of plumage with the sub-tropical birds of 
 the same order, yet they have an interest of their own, 
 and a very wide range of distribution. Diverting 
 little wood nymphs are the peaceful dove and the 
 ground dove, both of so mild and confiding a nature 
 that they seem in time to enjoy man's companionship, 
 and are both so easily tamed that they become rare 
 toy pigeons. 
 
 The crested pigeon likes the far north-western 
 corner of the colony, where the Murray curves slowly 
 northward for its final run to the sea. There they 
 cluster in sociable hundreds, and become an easy 
 mark for the stockmen and river voyageurs. 
 
 But the two varieties of wood pigeon best known 
 all over Victoria are the Wonga and the bronzewing. 
 Both are darker down here than in northern areas, 
 and nowhere are they found to such perfection as in 
 North Gipps Land, where the sportsman has not yet 
 thinned them down. 
 
 Among the great stringy- bark forests to the north 
 of the Lakes' Entrance they were common until quite 
 lately. They have been followed as far as the rich 
 maize flats on the banks of the Snowy River, but 
 beyond that, and away up to the Manaro, Wonga and 
 bronzewing enjoy an unbroken rustic peace. 
 
 It is a misfortune to both that they arc estimable 
 table birds, and so neither their love of solitude 
 nor the density of their native thickets save them from 
 destruction. Once idling away a week in farther 
 Gipps Land I had an opportunity of noting some-
 
 I/O GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 thing of the habits of these birds of the shade. On 
 the long slope of a sterile range they kept company 
 during the day with the lyre-bird and the wallaby, but 
 at evening the bronzewings came flitting down to the 
 one creek that drained this long stretch of woodland. 
 This stream, idyllic in its summer clearness and 
 beauty, is a wild torrent in winter-time. Its bed is 
 filled with dead trees, their trunks up stream and the 
 branches downward, just as they swung in the water 
 when the winter flood water receded and left them 
 stranded. Along the bank of the little stream the 
 sunshine comes in rare patches, and even the heavy 
 rains only filter through the thatch of forest leaves. 
 Here and there where flakes of yellow light fall they 
 are broken by the shadow outline of fern leaves upon 
 the bank. The sandy sides of the little neck seem 
 more yellow by contrast with the dulness, and out 
 where the forest opens a touch of whiteness is given 
 by the flake blossoms of the native elder. A bird by the 
 stream has a sweet rolling note, like the song of a 
 thrush. On one of the pools a number of raft water- 
 lily leaves, with the edges turned upward, rock like 
 shallops in the wind that strikes this corner of the 
 pond. A few wild convolvuli, bearing pale pink 
 flowers, striped with wdiite, cling about the brambles, 
 and seem to have been designed as dew-cups for 
 the birds. Down to this stream, after sunset, the 
 bronzewings come to drink, the click of their wings 
 in the stillness of the deep valley announcing their 
 approach. They pitch about the outer pools, and 
 sit for an instant on logs and pinnacles of rock as 
 though cast in bronze. Excepting, perhaps, the 
 crested pigeon of the interior, the bronzewing is
 
 KINGFISHERS AND PIGEONS. I/I 
 
 the fastest flier — the carrier amongst Australian 
 pigeons. A fast-flying pigeon may ahvays be iden- 
 tified by the rig of its wings — the shoulder thick and 
 clean, and standing out loosely from the body. 
 It must have some of the length of pinion that 
 marks the wonderful passenger pigeon of North 
 America, feathers sharp and well set together, with- 
 out any of the ragged softness of the laughing jackass 
 or the mopoke, whose flight, as becomes night-birds, 
 is slow and soft. The quill of the feather is thin, 
 clean, and with the hardness almost of ivory. 
 
 The pigeons of Australia are of two distinct types 
 — the exotics or fruit pigeons, and the brushwood 
 birds, the latter, in some respect or other, generally 
 allied to our bronzewing. The brush bronzewing is 
 hardly a variation of our pretty bird, its appearance, 
 nest, and habits being almost the same. The South 
 Australian bronzewing is plumper, but hardly so 
 bright, and away amongst the beautiful scarlet- 
 flowered gums of the western coast of the continent 
 they build their nests in the heart of radiating spines of 
 the grass tree. Up north the overlanders find them 
 with well-defined tints of shining yellow and green in 
 the wing feathers. In the thickets where the bronze- 
 wing lays its two snow-white eggs the bird may con- 
 gregate in flocks, but they are not easily picked out 
 of the general darkness of the scrub. When food is 
 most plentiful the bronzewing becomes the plumpest 
 and, in appearance, the most tempting of Australian 
 table birds. Excepting a young curlew, and, perhaps, 
 snipe and quail cooked by an expert, there is no bird 
 of finer flavour than the bronzewing. An old 
 swan is literally a rank failure at table, but the
 
 1/2 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 young bird, just before the pin feathers sprout, is 
 " a dainty dish to set before a king." Another 
 splendid table pigeon is the Tasmanian brush bronze- 
 wing, found in the sterile north-eastern corner of the 
 beautiful island. At dark its peculiar call is heard 
 echoing amongst the blue gums, giving an added 
 melancholy to these lonely forests. The hum of the 
 pigeon's wings when it takes flight is as sudden and 
 almost as startling as the rise of a quail underfoot. 
 Another of the table pigeons is the partridge bronze- 
 wing of the interior, the cooked flesh of the bird being 
 very white and of splendid flavour. It combines the 
 peculiarities of two distinct types of birds. It is a 
 ground bird like the quail, feeding amongst the 
 white summer grass and dead wood. It builds on the 
 ground, lays eggs which are not altogether a pure 
 white, a most distinct departure from pigeon traditions 
 all the world over, and when its young are hatched 
 they immediately leave the nest and run about like 
 chickens. It is hard to decide at first glance whether 
 the partridge bronzewing is really a partridge or a 
 pigeon, and hence the vague combination of title. 
 The white willow grouse of Norway has a head 
 not at all unlike some of the short-faced fancy 
 pigeons. 
 
 Some of the little round doves of North Australia 
 are as distinctive in their markings as the bleeding 
 heart pigeon. These pigeon midgets are marvellously 
 tame and easy to approach. One has an erect pliant tail, 
 which, when a glimpse of it is caught bobbing amongst 
 the bushes, will remind one of the tiny blue wren, or the 
 black and white wagtail sporting by southern stream- 
 lets. Unique amongst Australian pigeons are the
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACK FISH. I 73 
 
 flocks of harlequins that feed on the plains of Central 
 Australia, in the plumage of which patches of bronze, 
 red, slate-grey, and black are peculiarly commingled, 
 and the pheasant pigeon, which has some of the 
 striking characteristics of the Argus pheasant. 
 Pigeons may vary in colour and form, but their 
 eggs are always pure white. The eggs of the different 
 variety of hawks are generally a rich brown tint — no 
 two kinds are alike ; in the eggs of the quail the same 
 variety in colour is noticeable, but with pigeons it 
 is always a pure white ; and as the birds nearly all 
 build exposed nests, one particular theory as to the 
 origin of the colouring of birds' eggs is somewhat 
 shaken. 
 
 Cfte Some of X\)t ^Slarhfisl^ 
 
 Many bits of winding creek, haunts of the wood-duck 
 and kingfisher, might be explored under this title. 
 The blackfish has his home amongst some of the most 
 idyllic forest scenes of Southern Victoria. What a 
 rush of bush harmony the very name invokes ! The 
 brushing of leaves, the echoing call of mountain birds, 
 the mimic thunder of winter streams, or the pleasant 
 tinkle of summer fountains. I have found this truly 
 Australian fish in Otway valleys, where one realised 
 for the first time the meaning of solitude, and 
 was oppressed with the consciousness of being 
 utterly alone. In pools where a hundred ferns
 
 1/4 '^'UM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 stooped to drink, and across which a hundred ghostly 
 white-trunked gums threw shadowy outlines darker 
 and denser than themselves. In Gipps Land, when 
 the waters were ruddy brown with the healthy tinge 
 of rich forest loams, or black with the filtered essence 
 of mountain fires. In quiet pools by Pastoria, where 
 every scented breath of summer brought down a 
 hail of wattle blossoms falling without sound or 
 even the suggestion of a ripple upon the smooth 
 water. Yet farther north, where the rivers that 
 crept lazily over the plains were marked in their 
 course only by stiff avenues' of red gums, and the 
 banks were without the rich robes that partial 
 Nature gives bounteously to the rivers of the 
 south. I write to-day of a creek half rural, where 
 English cresses mingle with the water celery, and 
 alien willows jut up between the lightwoods. 
 Here in the evening the chuckle of the laughing 
 jackass is echoed by the bleat of sheep winding 
 up in long lines over the hills, and at night the 
 challenge of a farm watch-dog is answered by the 
 melancholy stone plover, whose pipes sound shrilly 
 up the river valley. This is the home not of the 
 blackfish alone, but of those children of the bush — 
 feathered, furred, and foliaged — which, all holding 
 power to charm human senses, are not alarmed at 
 the human presence. The day we spend upon the 
 stream may be that on which the fish are coy and 
 hard to please — all fish have such days — but it rarely 
 happens that fish and flower, animals and birds all 
 seek retirement at the same instant. Indeed, the 
 contrary is always the case, for the eye of the angler, 
 no longer chained by duty on the pool, takes in the
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACKFISH. 1/5 
 
 wider range of opposite bank, notes every glint of a 
 wing, every whisk of a tail, every leaf that falls rocking 
 to earth, and every scrap of flower colour in the long 
 stretch of brown and green woodland. 
 
 The orchard grounds slope towards the river until 
 the limit is reached in a long row of spreading apple 
 trees. There the bank drops more abruptly to the 
 water, and between the apple trees and the stream 
 is willow land. Long ago the willow slips were 
 planted here, and — like the apple trees — being 
 neither cut nor curbed, they grew as Nature 
 wished. The gnarled arms of the apple trees, 
 like those of a forest oak, are flung abroad and 
 aloft, and the branches cross each other and inter- 
 twine so as to make quaint patterns against the sky. 
 Even from the hill-top the contrast between the 
 broad bright willow ribbon and the dark-green line 
 of apples is sharp and distinct. There is no blending 
 of the two colours. But underneath the willows 
 there is variety enough. On the lower side, next the 
 stream, the branches by some magnetic attraction are 
 all drawn down to the water, where they send out a 
 hundred bright pink suckers, just as the branches of 
 the banyan on drooping to earth send out fresh roots. 
 Drawing sustenance thus through both root and 
 branch, it is little wonder that the willows are tall 
 and thick and green. The sunlight comes through 
 in fragments only, working a pattern on the turf or 
 the bronze carpet of fallen leaves, like the stains and 
 blotches in a slab of marble, but always changing. 
 Now, in the autumn, the apple boughs are thinning, 
 and the willow leaves are floating away in yellow 
 fleets upon the bosom of —
 
 lyG CfC/.]/ BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOO.]/. 
 
 " the brook that loves 
 
 To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed sand, 
 Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves, 
 
 Drawing into its narrow earthen urn, 
 
 In every elbow and turn, 
 The filtered tribute of the rough woodland." 
 
 The long green arbour is always full of life. 
 Even the hares come down from the hot plains to 
 make their forms amongst the cool green grass by the 
 waterside. The banks are everywhere drilled with 
 rabbit-holes. Watching the little ones skipping about, 
 one would never imagine them capable of becoming 
 a national scourge. I have passed many an hour 
 lying on a grassy bank or a moss-grown tree-trunk 
 within a few feet of the burrow, in order to see the 
 little rabbits at play. To-day they were probably 
 out before we came, but the sound of a footfall on 
 the turf, or the rustle of the prairie grass as the sharp- 
 sounding seed sheaths were brushed together, sent 
 them scampering home. Although the young rabbits 
 have an hereditary dread of man as an enemy, they 
 have not yet learned to pick out his figure from 
 amongst the other objects about, so that it is safe 
 to lie quite close to the burrow as long as we remain 
 perfectly still. One rarely sees the first rabbit appear. 
 Perhaps for an instant I had been watching the 
 water-hen wading in the rushes, and when my eyes 
 turned to the burrow again there was a little head just 
 showing, and a shining black eye which seems to see 
 all over and through one. 
 
 The long ears and bright dark eyes of the 
 rabbit are very conspicuous. They repeatedly 
 betray him when his brown body would otherwise
 
 THE HOME OF THE DLACKFISH. 1 7/ 
 
 have escaped notice amongst the rocks or dry- 
 grass. If hiding, both rabbits and hares have 
 their ears lying flat, but their eyes must remain 
 open, and the large brown orbs of the hare are not 
 nearly so noticeable as the black eyes of a rabbit. 
 Indeed, the eye, although so small in proportion to the 
 rest of the body, is remarkably conspicuous. Many 
 reptiles which lie in wait for insects on the sloping 
 trunk of trees trust to escape observation because 
 their rough skin is exactly the same colour as the 
 bark. They lie with their eyes almost closed. There 
 is just a faint bright line perceptible between the 
 lids, but the eyes open and flame up viciously A\'hen 
 danger threatens. Were they always wide open the 
 hawks would find foraging a much easier occupation. 
 Birds that hunt at night, such as mopokes and night- 
 jars, have the same peculiarity. Were their eyes as 
 wide open in da.ylight as those of other birds they 
 would less frequently be mistaken for a piece of 
 dead wood left in the bushes by the last fresh in 
 the river. Before this another rabbit has joined the 
 little fellow we left on guard, and the pair hop out to 
 their playground — the well-beaten mound of earth 
 a few feet from the burrow's mouth. Here they are 
 joined by the rest of the family, and the fun com- 
 mences. Perhaps one of them is so venturesome as 
 to stray quite ten feet away to one side, but the rustle 
 of a falling leaf or the flutter of a wing in the bushes 
 brings him back again. " Birds in their little nests " 
 must, for obvious reasons, agree, but young rabbits, 
 inoffensive as the race generally are, do nothing of 
 the kind. It rarely happens that the assembly breaks 
 up without a fight. Perhaps the bully of the family 
 L
 
 lyS GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 attacks a weaker brother, and their nervous little 
 fore paws are used with a will for a moment. One 
 of the family is always ambitious to climb the bank 
 above the burrow — a feat attended with many failures. 
 Another perhaps finds a patch of sunlight falling 
 through a break in the willows, and stretched 
 there at full length, with his ears lying back, 
 he looks very sage and comical. If you are 
 anxious to see how young rabbits act on a sudden 
 alarm you have only to raise your hand sharply. 
 For an instant every little fellow falls flat upon 
 the earth, as many puffs of dust are kicked into 
 the air, there is a twinkle of white tails in the portal 
 of the burrow, and you are alone. In less than 
 half an hour you may depend upon again seeing 
 the little bullet head and bright eyes of the pioneer 
 at the entrance. 
 
 The song of birds is not the only music heard 
 under the willows. On a bright day in early sum- 
 mer the tree locusts make their presence felt. In 
 the choir there is variety of sound as well as species. 
 On the branches of the taller trees the black locusts 
 with ruby eyes and semi-transparent wings are the 
 baritones. They have a varying call — at first a regular 
 bagpipe, then two distinct notes frequently repeated. 
 The volume of sound is perhaps greater than from 
 any other insect of the same size, and seems to be 
 assisted by a drum in the lower part of the head. 
 The tenors range in colour from bright green to 
 pale buff. The former predominate, but very few 
 specimens are found of exactly the same colour and 
 with similar markings, although hybrids between 
 black, yellow, and green are common.
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACKFISH. 1 79 
 
 One great merit in the willows was that they 
 permitted some of us to enjoy a couple of hours' 
 quiet fishing on Sunday afternoons without offending 
 those who choose to take more gloomy views 
 on the question of Sabbath observance. Not that 
 the rustic Puritan is as rigidly respectful of these 
 obligations as he pretends to be. He certainly does 
 no manual labour, but, under pretence of a Sabbath 
 walk, he strolls amongst his cattle, and his crops, and 
 his fruit trees, and plans out the labour of the follow- 
 ing week while gaining credit for serious meditation. 
 But if you have no cattle and crops to inspect, and 
 prefer to spend Sunday by the river-side, listening to 
 and admiring Nature, the great heart of the Puritan 
 is wrung with concern for your hereafter. Here in 
 Willow Land you hurt no feelings save those of 
 the fishes, and it is the deed and not the day to 
 which they object. 
 
 The blackfish is of stay-at-home habits. You 
 cannot easily tempt him from his favourite river 
 cavern into the broader stretches of water. He 
 must be sought in shaded nooks and retired crannies 
 of the stream, and at those points difficult of access 
 where, it may be presumed, none but the most ener- 
 getic angler has ever cast a line. In trying for black- 
 fish the fisherman's art is not so much a choice of 
 baits, the delicate manipulation of rod and line, or the 
 hundred and one well-planned deceits that in the more 
 spirited quest of trout and salmon show the relative 
 value of the human intellect as compared with the 
 instinct of the fish. The first essential to success in 
 the pursuit of the sluggish Victorian fish is the power 
 of estimating the arrangement of logs near the river 
 L 2
 
 l8o GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 bottom and the curl of the undercurrents from what 
 may be seen upon the surface. This faculty comes 
 only as the result of long experience, so that while 
 the skilled angler drops his bait within a few inches 
 of the reposeful iish the lure of the novice is lost 
 in a Sahara of open water. The haunts of the black- 
 fish are more easily found than described. Perhaps 
 the important topographical feature is the huge 
 black bole of a long-dead gum tree lying parallel 
 with the bank, and one end just cutting into the 
 current and diverting some of its filtered tribute 
 into this little bay. If the trees — not willows or 
 others destitute of winter leaf, but native ever- 
 greens — droop over and shelter this tiny cove so 
 that only a single hand's breadth of break in the 
 foliage remains, so much the better. If there is no 
 such opening you may snap off a bough to-day 
 and drop a line there a week hence when the fish 
 have become accustomed to the changed light. They 
 are especially active during that quiet and too-brief 
 time between sunset and darkness, and so it happens 
 that the angler's skill in finding the home of blackfish 
 determines his success. If a cover is drawn blank 
 once or twice in the evening, that magic time, the 
 dinner-hour of the fish, is wasted. As the darkness 
 falls the float lies motionless for a time, and the angler 
 awaits the coming out of the eels. They are late in 
 leaving their nests in hollow logs, amongst reed-beds, 
 and underneath boulders, but they feed far into the 
 night. 
 
 In that stillness between the retirement of the 
 one fish and the coming of the other, night voices, 
 unheeded in the anxiety of sport, force themselves
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACK FISH. l8r 
 
 upon the notice. As the angler sits in the darkness 
 behind the shaded fire or lantern he is himself 
 invisible, but the light throws a broad, illuminated 
 band across the water, just reaching to the boughs that 
 dip to the stream from the opposite bank. A 
 platypus paddling gently with his webbed fin-claws 
 drops quietly down with the current into the band of 
 light, and if a hand is moved dives sharply — the 
 splash very different from the ripple left by a 
 stealthy water-rat. The water-rat is something of a 
 traveller. An artificial lake was sunk in the centre of 
 a village near here, and though half a mile distant from 
 the river, the water-rats soon made it their home. The 
 opossum has an odour of his own ; an accented 
 flavour of the gum leaves, amongst which he lives and 
 feeds, which also taints the cooked flesh, otherwise 
 white as a chicken and pleasant to the taste. You 
 know that the opossum is abroad long ere he goes 
 leaping up the gums, dry bark shreds rustling behind 
 him, and before his indescribable throaty call breaks 
 in upon the silence. The opossum likes the river trees 
 because there is always a variety of food there. In 
 the bends, where young crops such as maize and 
 wheat are growing, or immediately beneath the 
 orchard, the gums are always scarred with the tracks 
 of many opossums. Amongst fruit trees at night 
 you find them taking a share of apples, pears, peaches, 
 and cherries. His sharp nails enable him to go 
 leaping in his peculiar way — head and fore-quarters 
 well down — up the straightest, smoothest gum tree. 
 The native cat — which is not a cat but a swiftsure — 
 has blunt claws without a sheath, and can only climb 
 a gum tree when it slopes considerably, but is very
 
 l82 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 much at home in the rough-barked sheoak, its favourite 
 night haunt. '* Mooning " opossums is a speciahty 
 with country boys. The juvenile hunter utiHses the 
 moon as a cavahy patrol would his field-glass for 
 every suspected point. And when finally located in 
 the full centre of the moon, the hairs on the back 
 of the opossum seem to stand up separately, so 
 distinctly is every minute object brought out by the 
 luminous background. Against the moon at night 
 I have made out a wicker-work bird's nest which 
 would have escaped notice altogether, from the simi- 
 larity of the surroundings, in daylight. Sitting thus 
 in the " field " of the full moon you see the opossum 
 in his slow, impressive way, and with those large, 
 bright black eyes, making a placid inspection of the 
 invaders of his home, yet fearing no danger in his 
 lofty perch. The monkey bear cries pitifully when 
 the axe strokes ring out at the base of the trees in 
 which he is perched, and his terror increases while the 
 red chips fly about, but the opossum is less apprehen- 
 sive of harm. 
 
 Happy that opossum whose home tree is so 
 chosen that the enemy cannot bring its branches 
 fairly between his eye and the moon. The moon is 
 really the opossum's worst enem}'. It assists not 
 alone in finding but in shooting him. With a 
 fragment of white paper or chalk-mark on the sight — 
 or, better still, with the new " diamond-tipped " sights 
 which science has suggested to our modern gun-makers 
 — one can hit a dark object at night provided it can 
 be separated ever so slightly from the surrounding 
 blackness ; but with the silvery moonlight pouring 
 down over opossum and gun-barrel alike a miss is
 
 77//.' HOMJ-: OF THE BLACKFISII. I 83 
 
 hardly possible. A novice may fail through the 
 mistake of looking down upon the light-flooded barrel 
 rather than along it, and so send the charge humming 
 over the back of his game, just close enough to drive 
 it scampering home. Opossum shooting is sport 
 for boys only. When bushmen shoot or snare them 
 in the frosty nights of midwinter it is for profit rather 
 than amusement. The fur is then thick and tipped 
 with silver — a beautiful contrast to the dull, patchy, 
 brown coat of midsummer — and works up into very 
 handsome rugs. 
 
 The angler has time to study all this night life, 
 and much more, before his white float (it should al- 
 ways be white for night fishing), which has long 
 rested motionless, like the sails of a becalmed ship, 
 sinks suddenly, without a tremor, into the water, and 
 he knows the eels have come. Blackfish and eels take 
 the bait differently. The former carries the float along 
 the surface of the water in a succession of runs to- 
 wards home, and you may get much nearer the heart 
 of his family circle in the next cast by noting the 
 direction. The eel, on finding an imaginary morsel, 
 goes straight for shelter to the river bottom. 
 
 One often wishes that he could have spent his 
 youth in a dozen different places, so that he might 
 have become familiar with the wood magic of all. But 
 even when confined for observation to one bit of 
 bush land, we fail to realise how many traditions of 
 Nature are stowed away in the store-house of the 
 mind until, by some chance touch, the key turns and 
 the door swings open. Here in the treasure-box are 
 the old-time incidents scattered before us fresh and 
 unhallowed by dust or decay, forming of themselves
 
 184 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE DLGOM. 
 
 a picture in which youth, vitaHty, and pleasure are 
 limned in tints indelible. Surely some good magician 
 controls what Tennyson calls " the dewy dawn of 
 memory." Seen in the faint light of this dawn our 
 fishing failures are the excursions best remembered. 
 When the blackfish ignored us altogether we gave 
 attention to Nature with better reward. It was 
 annoying, perhaps, to bend down over the logs, and 
 with our eyes accustomed to the water to find dark 
 objects swimming sluggishly in the depths below, 
 and yet resisting every overture in the way of 
 tempting baits. Spring is the angler's time of 
 pleasure. Then the knowledge that in the yellow 
 murky waters of the lingering winter freshets the 
 blackfish and eels are abroad all day tempts him as a 
 constant challenge, even while the paths leading river- 
 ward invite him to linger. The meadows on either 
 hand are covered far and wide with a yellow mantle 
 of cape weed. The flowers rattle against our feet as 
 w^e stroll, and shed over us, as upon the companion 
 scarlet pea, the burnished ranunculus, and the lady's 
 cap orchid, a lustrous dust. Lie down upon this velvet 
 couch, and under all the voices of the fields and hills 
 there is a low monotone, a whispering music, that can 
 be mistaken for nothing else than what it is — the hum- 
 ming chorus of bees. It is fainter, more musical, less 
 melancholy than the murmur of sheoak plumes in the 
 breeze. In the growing summer, the time of flowers, 
 the bees are all abroad, each working out its little des- 
 tiny. These are Ligurian bees, emigrants like ourselves, 
 and not the long-bodied natives one finds buried waist 
 deep in the floral mausoleum of the yellow box. Bees 
 have always loved the sunflower, and the Cape weed
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACKPISH. 1 85 
 
 blossom is a miniature sunflower both in appearance 
 and habit. There is the same tiara of yellow rays, 
 the same bright black-tipped central florets, the same 
 wealth of beautiful dust blown about the hill-sides, 
 clothing the honey harvesters also in the universal 
 raiment of yellow, and realising Shelley's poetical star- 
 fancy of " a swarm of golden bees." To be appre- 
 ciated the life of the bush must be seen in association. 
 A flock of cockatoos is nowhere viewed with such 
 effect as against a background of red gums, with the 
 glow of sunrise showing faintly through. The beating 
 wings suggest a living snowstorm. From the river 
 bends thousands of sparrows take flight together with 
 a whirr of wings and a sounding rustle of thistle 
 leaves like a hailstorm in dry reed-beds. With all 
 his mischievous pertinacity one can hardly help ad- 
 miring the sparrow. He is a type of the race — an 
 energetic venturesome pioneer. Where other birds 
 barely find a living he adapts himself to local circum- 
 stances and thrives. He has the old colonists' habit, 
 too, of not caring much whose nest he seizes provided 
 he is strong enough to hold possession against the 
 original owner. Cornfield, vineyard, orchard, and 
 thistle-brake are all his storehouse. He knows why 
 the finest grapes are shrouded in white gauze, the 
 largest cherries covered with cord netting. Perhaps 
 the sparrow is never really out of place except when 
 he masquerades at a city banquet as " lark in aspic 
 jelly," and no doubt he feels it as much as we do. 
 
 The homing waters of the blackfish are generally 
 along the outer curve of a bank. In these horse-shoe 
 bends the dead wood lodges, the water-weeds grow, 
 and the bank is more thickly clad with scrub. Since
 
 1 86 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the forests have been cleared and the rains come to 
 the sea with an unimpeded rush, the floods are made 
 sharp and violent, and water-lilies have almost disap- 
 peared. Years ago the crystal pools were covered 
 thickly in summer with floating oval leaves of light- 
 green and white flowers, but now the water is seldom 
 perfectly clear except in midsummer, and the water- 
 queen rarely appears. The sharp points of land that 
 from inner curves cut into the stream have outposts of 
 thick rushes pushed as far as possible into the territory 
 claimed by the other element, where they sway back- 
 ward and forward in the current, always on the point 
 of being overborne and drowned, yet always sur- 
 viving the danger. Across this cape the wind drives 
 sharply as the stream around its point, and just as 
 there are no water plants where the current is strongest, 
 so the scrub plant, the snow-bush, the Christmas tree, 
 the acacia, and prickly box, cluster, bound together 
 with twining acacia, in the sheltered bends, and rarely 
 venture out to select a home on this wind-swept bank. 
 The Christmas tree is in a sense the counterpart of 
 the holly of the home countries. As the scarlet 
 berry gives its ruddy colour to Christmas decorations 
 in " the old country," so here the creamy blossoms of 
 the Christmas tree are the only shrub flowers that 
 survive the blaze of midsummer. The river light- 
 wood is king of his kind. In Gipps Land his long, 
 spare trunk is crowned with strange mosses and 
 lichens which find a dwelling-place in his rough bark, 
 and food in the perpetual damp of sun-deserted dales. 
 Here the lightwood is rich in colour, robust in form, 
 and in every leaf an acacia king. The clematis here 
 is the small-leaved virgin's bower, with a larkspur-
 
 THE HOMF. OF THE BT.ACKFISH. 1 8/ 
 
 shaped blossom of the dehcate tint of crude silk. 
 Though its fragile tendrils cling lovably about com- 
 panion shrubs, its embrace is selfish and fatal rather 
 than affectionate. When the clematis annexes a bush 
 that bush, sturdy as it is by comparison, must surely 
 die. Yet its death gives new beauty to the forest, for 
 the fratricidal clematis is, for the greater part of the 
 year, a pillar of blossom, and a pleasant spot of colour 
 in the gullies. 
 
 The number of plants along this river bank not 
 native to Australia is somewhat surprising, but the 
 near presence of certain long-established farms and 
 artificial pastures no doubt accounts for their exist- 
 ence. Years ago the Indian castor-oil plant, with 
 lilac trumpet-shaped flowers, and a prickly seed-case 
 more formidable even than the husk of the chestnut, 
 grew thickly along the banks, but now scarcely a plant 
 is seen. All these strangers seem to come and go in 
 cycles. They multiply too rapidly, and dying finally 
 of their own exuberance, make room for something 
 else. One year the banks are red with sorrel, next 
 season the wild camomile struggles with it for posses- 
 sion, then the dock joins issue, and finally the spotted 
 thistle, with its beautiful variegation of silver flake, 
 overwhelms them all. 
 
 There are stray plants of fennel in the moist bends, 
 but they are poor colonists, and make slow progress- 
 Of course our own silver wattle, always beautiful as 
 universal, lines the stream, and as the flame tree of 
 New South Wales gives its ruddy blaze to northern 
 landscapes, this tree marks out a continuous floral 
 line for the river. Few trees have evoked more genuine 
 admiration than the wattle in bloom, and few are
 
 1 88 GUM BOUGHS AND IVATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 more deserving of it. Outside the tropical Queens- 
 land forests, the scarlet flowering gum of Western 
 Australia, and the Waratah, of Blue Mountains fame, 
 are its only rivals. 
 
 If the river be low during a dry summer, the 
 little native fish, locally known as trout, may be seen 
 in shoals everywhere. In their pretty coat of white 
 and green, they are quite unlike the home trout, but 
 one rare variety of native fish, known as the spotted 
 trout, resembles it more closely both in appearance 
 and habits. Its form is very much that of the 
 English trout, and its markings are similar, save in 
 colour — black spots in relief against ashy brown. 
 These fish lie under a shelving rock or in the 
 hollow of a log, and rush out when an insect floats 
 by or a bait is drawn past them through the water. 
 When the yellow-flood waters were creeping up into 
 bends and by-channels it was curious to note how 
 the colours of the fish changed with the water. 
 Several other fish beside the trout had their dwarfed 
 prototype in the stream. There was an exact 
 facsimile in form of the ocean flathead. Then 
 a beautiful little perch, with bright crimson fins, 
 seldom grew much longer than the shrimps, with whom 
 in the weed-beds they were found in company. There 
 was also a Tom Thumb herring, with shining scales — 
 a perfect copy of the sea-fish. 
 
 Of late, the many freshets in the stream I write of 
 have prevented the growth of water-lilies and weed- 
 plots, and the tiny fish scarcely survive. Many years 
 ago strangers, supposed for a time to be herring, ap- 
 peared for a season in the stream, but their peculiar 
 smell when taken out of the water — that of a freshly-cut
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACKFISH. 1 89 
 
 cucumber — betrayed them to experts as members of 
 the EngHsh grayhng family. The platypus makes its 
 home in every reach and bend of this stream. 
 
 The other day one of the finest specimens of this 
 strange creature I have ever seen was caught under 
 the willows at night while trying to remove the bait 
 from a fishing-line, and after living a fortnight 
 fastened to a log, died for want of proper care. It 
 fought hard before it was landed, grasping the water- 
 weeds and snags with its webbed feet. It spent its 
 period of captivity principally in burrowing, and 
 with proper attention would certainly have lived. 
 The spurs, like bits of polished amber, proved 
 this platypus a veteran. It is said that the wounds 
 made by these weapons are no more injurious than 
 the spurs of a game fowl or spur-wing plover. It may 
 be so, but there is a little tube running from the base 
 close up to the point for whose raison d'etre there 
 seems to be no explanation if not intended to secrete 
 some poisonous fluid. When the water is clear the 
 platypus is rarely seen except about dusk. Then it 
 comes from his burrow beneath the bank, and floats 
 quietly about on the surface of the water. When there 
 is a freshet in the stream it floats about all day. 
 
 Just opposite the willows there is a high red bai?k, 
 along which hundreds of the little white-breasted fairy 
 martins build their nests. When there is a heavy 
 flood in the stream, the water flowing swiftly along 
 the bank cuts its way into the soil, leaving the 
 high-water mark clearly defined. Under this ledge, 
 which forms a roof for their homes, the swallows build. 
 On a warm day, and in the nesting season, when the 
 clay dries quickly, the birds, flying backward and
 
 190 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 forward, mark out an almost continuous line from the 
 bank to a point at one end of the willows where there 
 is a low muddy piece of shore. Here the birds con- 
 gregate in scores, kneading up their mortar, and carry- 
 ing it away in little lumps to the bank. They make 
 remarkable progress, and the day's work is always 
 perceptible, through the mortar being still damp and 
 darker than the other portions of the nest. The pear- 
 shaped nests with the little circular entrance at the 
 smaller end are sometimes built in a long line, and 
 sometimes in a cluster. 
 
 The swallow is an intelligent little architect, and 
 always shapes his nest to suit the position. Before the 
 introduction of the sparrows no bird was so safe as the 
 white-breasted swallow in his little castle. His position 
 midway up the bank defied approach either from above 
 or beneath. No native bird able to pass through that 
 tiny doorwayever interfered with him ; but the sparrow, 
 a thorough vagrant by instinct, converts the comfort- 
 able nest to his own use, and is strong enough to 
 hold the fort against the original owner. As the 
 swallow is wise enough to choose the highest flood- 
 mark for his building lot, it is only once in several 
 years that the rising waters reach his home, and then 
 at a time when the nest is not in use. 
 
 At the foot of the bank, amongst the rustling reeds, 
 there is a shy warbler, often heard but rarely seen, 
 whose eggs, resembling in size and colour those of the 
 sparrow, are often addled by the flood-waters ; but 
 still the bird keeps to the same plot of reeds. The 
 effect of its obstinacy is shown in the rarity of the 
 species. 
 
 The wagtail builds a little cup-nest of spider's web
 
 THE HOME OF THE BLACK FISH. I9I 
 
 and grass woven together and fastened firmly on 
 a bough. The sticky spider's web worked through 
 the whole makes an excellent cement ; the nests 
 hang together for years after the birds have de- 
 serted them, and when four fully-fledged young 
 birds, each almost as large as the nest itself, are 
 packed together inside, it is well that the sides of 
 the home should be able to bear some strain. A 
 tumble would be fatal here, for the nests are generally 
 built on a bough stretching over the water. When the 
 spot is approached the parent birds show their alarm 
 by constant cries and flutterings. If the intruder 
 remain quiet for a moment, the female — the lighter 
 of the two — after fluttering over and about the nest for 
 a few minutes, settles upon it. Other birds are more 
 suspicious. You never seem by any chance to catch 
 one of the honey-eaters at home, although scores of 
 them are twittering about up amongst the blossoms 
 of the gum trees. The pendent nests, like wicker- 
 work baskets, are so thin that, even a few )'ards off, 
 they scarcely show amongst the branches. 
 
 Some years Willow Land is thronged with a 
 species of migratory bush-martin. They come in 
 large flights, and on a fine day their arrival is made 
 known by a sharp, twittering chorus when the birds 
 themselves are so high in air as to be barely visible. 
 Their habits are those of birds that merely loiter by 
 the way. A few twigs thrown together on a bough 
 form the nest, the three large eggs are rapidly laid and 
 just as rapidly hatched, and the young birds grow at 
 a marvellous rate. Then one day both old and young 
 disappear, and )-ou sec nothing of them, perhaps, for 
 years. In the following }-ear, as the seasons var)-,
 
 192 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 they may nest farther north. With a score of the 
 tiny birds that build in the bushes by the stream 
 there is never any lack of music under the willows, 
 and they sing as cheerfully on Sunday as during the 
 rest of the week. 
 
 The willows grow as freely here as though to 
 the manner born, and no one can tell from whence 
 the first slip came. Those that line the Upper 
 Yarra are said to have sprung from a twig 
 brought by a former governor or military official 
 from the willow growing over the grave of Na- 
 poleon at St. Helena. The weeds of one country 
 are the flowers of another ; the hyacinth that we 
 treasure in our gardens covers the English meadows 
 so thickly that Tennyson speaks of " sheets of 
 hyacinths." And this same sweet-smelling hyacinth 
 is the cammas flower that Joachim Miller tells us 
 " covers the valleys of Oregon in spring-time as 
 with a blue mantle." Where the banks are steep 
 tufts of native geranium grow in the niches left by 
 the roots of giant trees that flourished and faded cen- 
 turies ago. The pink flowers blotched with crimson 
 are sweet-smelling, but the soft, velvet leaves of the 
 plant are even more fragrant. Above the bank, in the 
 ridges of barley stretching between the orchard trees 
 close down to the willows, there are tares and yellow 
 mustard plants, and pink vetches to lighten up the 
 bands of green as poppies do the English cornfields,
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. I93 
 
 To those who first experience the freshness and 
 rare elasticity of the country atmosphere in the 
 early morning it comes as a revelation. If we care 
 to imitate Nature, and reject the artificial habits that 
 have grown upon us, a fine example is offered to us 
 by every bird and animal in the bush. They all an- 
 ticipate the sun, work through the dawn, and wisely 
 sleep through the trying periods of a sultry summer's 
 day. 
 
 The hare has spent the night in feasting on tender 
 barley shoots in the fields near the river, and now saun- 
 ters away up to the table-land, where its form is hidden 
 by the long brown kangaroo grass. In the cultivated 
 lands farm labourers will keep moving about during 
 the day, and here pussy's rest would be disturbed, but 
 up on the plains only the patter of an occasional sheep 
 nibbling the neighbouring tussocks breaks her light 
 sleep. The hare has a weakness for following a beaten 
 track, and in that respect resembles slightly some 
 especially orthodox divine. The difference is that 
 in the one case the beaten track is supposed to 
 lead one clear of all the snares that Satan has set 
 for erring humanity, while in the other it leads 
 straight into the snare set by the poaching schoolboy. 
 Hares and rabbits, although resembling each other so 
 closely, show two distinct and very clear types of 
 animal development. Living at one time evidently 
 under the same conditions, they both, when comjDellcd 
 M
 
 194 <^UM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 to seek shelter from their enemies, choose natural 
 depressions in the ground, and when these were not 
 deep enough they were hollowed out to suit the pro- 
 portions of its body. From this starting-point the 
 two types seem to have diverged — the one going 
 deeper into the ground, its organisation adapted itself 
 to new conditions, while the hare, still trusting to flight, 
 developed opposite characteristics. What can be 
 more suggestive of speed than the lithe, graceful limbs 
 of the hare, and its long body, offering so little resist- 
 ance to the atmosphere ? While, on the other hand, 
 what can be more indicative of industry and ability 
 than the muscular little fore legs of the rabbit when the 
 animal is at work on one of its long tunnels .-' 
 
 Of all the forest noises that salute the morning 
 none are so pleasant or melodious as the carol of the 
 magpie. To speak by the book it should be called 
 the " piping crow shrike," but few save technical natu- 
 ralists are unkind enough to overburden a very so- 
 ciable bird with such a pedantic name. The early 
 colonists gave the name to the bird because it was 
 like the magpie they used to see about the fields of 
 the old country; if it wasn't exactly alike they 
 couldn't help that, and a magpie it will remain in 
 popular nomenclature until we become more learned 
 and less indulgent. Up on the topmost spray of a 
 gum tree, or with his black-and-white coat outshow- 
 ing distinctly against the great yellow bloom-laden 
 wattle boughs, he watches for the sun and breaks 
 the vigil with occasional long-continued bursts of 
 melody. With his breast thrown forward, head, 
 back, and bill pointing aloft in disdain of everything 
 earthly, he throws bursts of pipe music into the clear
 
 A DAY LV THE BUSH. 195 
 
 morning air, and the note being taken up by one bird 
 after another, the solo finishes in a grand chorus. 
 The bird is protected and respected by everyone 
 except the Vandal schoolboy, who will shoot any- 
 thing that moves, and has besides a grudge against 
 the magpie on account of the sturdy way it defends 
 its home in the nesting season. 
 
 A forest walk to be thoroughly enjoyable must be 
 taken on a spring morning after a night of gentle 
 showers. Then the woods seem to give out all their 
 balsamic odours^ and the atmosphere is full of life and 
 vitality. The perfume of the forest flowers tones 
 down the resinous exhalations of the towering trees, 
 and intermittent zephyrs laden with the delicate 
 odour of native musk, all combine to charm and 
 elevate the senses. Many parts of the Otway forest, 
 running parallel with the southern coast, are, as I 
 have said before, almost untravelled. Their summits 
 are as dense as when they first caught the eye of 
 early Dutch navigators first ploughing the Southern 
 Ocean. The wealth of vegetation is bewildering, and 
 the novelty-hunter discovers rich stores. Down in 
 some of the dark silent dells, where a gleam of sun- 
 light has not entered for perhaps a century, there 
 are strange vegetable forms. On the boles of some 
 of the great tree ferns a dozen parasitical ferns of 
 smaller growth are sometimes found. When the 
 stream that now gurgles beneath the shadow of the 
 water-plants was swollen by a winter storm into a 
 torrent, the fern spores from the higher lands were 
 borne down until caught by the rough trunk of one 
 of the giants of their race. Here, undisturbed by any 
 other agency for a season, they have sprung into life, 
 M 2
 
 196 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 and have established a miniature fernery on a fern. 
 Some very beautiful native flowers are found amongst 
 those timbered heights. Orchids, less striking than 
 the gaudy butterfly imitations of a tropical forest, but 
 always pretty and attractive, spring up in the bare 
 spaces between the trees, looking like many-coloured 
 stars in a sky of green. All the native flowers fade 
 quickly. Once severed from the parent stem, no arti- 
 ficial means can prolong their life. They are born 
 of the forest and of Nature, are an essential part of 
 the wild system of the ranges, and repel civilising 
 influences. 
 
 The well-meaning enthusiasts who ofl'er prizes at 
 horticultural shows for bouquets of wild flowers merely 
 force unfair comparisons by placing a bouquet of wild 
 flowers, from which the glory has all departed, along- 
 side a collection of comparatively hardy and long- 
 lived exotics. The beauty of native flowers can never 
 be appreciated until we find them blooming like the 
 splendid and striking desert pea amid the whiteness 
 and desolation of a northern tropical plain, or giving a 
 welcome relief to a monotony of green in the wooded 
 wildernesses of the south. 
 
 The diffusion of plants is no new topic. Grant 
 Allen and other English writers upon botany in its 
 modern phases have long since laid down the general 
 tenets of an advanced botanic creed. I only propose 
 to mention a few of the peculiarities of Australian 
 vegetable forms, together with some of the agencies 
 that on this side of the globe assist in the spreading 
 of plant life. 
 
 A great many of the wild plants of Australia are 
 of the same order as the common thistle, the seeds
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. 1 97 
 
 being attached to the downy, inanimate wings, which 
 without vibration convey them wherever the winds 
 ordain. You may see them borne on the gentlest of 
 zephyrs, the seed downward Hke the car of a balloon, 
 and in the same way acting as ballast to secure even- 
 ness of flight for those long delicate wings. Anyone 
 who has been in the country must have noticed how 
 rapidly, and with what ugly results, the Scotch thistle 
 has spread through the colony. As the name implies, 
 it is not native to the soil, and the origin of all the 
 vast thistle-fields is said to be a little packet of down 
 brought here by a male Pandora in the guise of a 
 patriotic Scotchman, to remind him of the national 
 emblem and his own heather hills. 
 
 The Cape weed, another invader, also illustrates 
 the remarkable efficacy of this special contrivance in 
 Nature. In the spring-time some of the country lanes 
 within a few miles of Melbourne are on a sunny day 
 all ablaze with these golden flowers. When the crown 
 of the bloom fades, the lower parts of the pistils change 
 to a light velvety down, and on these soft wings the 
 seeds are borne to adjoining fields. So effective is the 
 method, that in favourable soils whole pastures are in 
 a couple of seasons covered with the weeds. 
 
 The seeds of the familiar "milk thistle," some of 
 the common marsh weeds, and the majority of wild, 
 soft-wooded plants are furnished with the same appli- 
 ance, and the more the winds blow during the seeding 
 time the more complete and general is the distri- 
 bution. Prevailing winds carry the seeds in a par- 
 ticular direction, and in this way many vegetable 
 zones are accounted for, altogether apart from cli- 
 mate influences.
 
 198 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 Very important distributing agents in Australia 
 are the flocks of sheep which travel from one locality 
 to another. This was especially noticeable along the 
 main roads leading to the Melbourne markets before 
 the railway system gave such complete and general 
 means of transit as it does at present. Then large 
 flocks of sheep travelled along every country road, 
 and camped on every open pasture and common, and 
 in these places strange vegetable forms were continu- 
 ally springing into existence. A like phenomenon 
 was observed in France after the Franco-German war. 
 The German cavalry brought strange varieties of seed 
 in their forage sacks, and new plants sprang up where 
 they had camped on French soil. In many cases in 
 Australia, the natural conditions not being favourable, 
 the strange plants have died away again just as 
 suddenly. 
 
 Years ago, in some parts of the Keilor plains, I 
 have seen solitary plants which I afterwards found 
 were native to the greater plains of Riverina, and in 
 some cases these lone pioneers have gained a sound 
 footing in the new country. The seeds of many 
 native grasses seemed to have been specially designed 
 to assist such a method of distribution. Anyone who 
 has walked over a plain in summer-time when the 
 grasses have ripened, and are withering white under 
 the scorching sun, must have noticed how easily the 
 seeds, when ready for shedding, adhere to anything 
 with which they come in contact. In taking almost 
 any section of the wooded banks of the Deep Creek 
 at least a score of such plants may be found. The 
 casing of the seed is covered with small, intrusive 
 barbs that penetrate any suitable substance quickly
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. I99 
 
 enough, but are not so easily withdrawn. After such 
 a walk you will find attached to your clothes perhaps 
 a dozen varieties of grass seed, thus illustrating in a 
 small way the perfection of minor methods of seed 
 distribution. 
 
 When the wild life of Australia was more common 
 on these plains than it is now, the kangaroo and other 
 furred animals all played their little part in per- 
 fecting the scheme. Now the domestic animals, 
 hunting dogs included, which have supplanted and 
 outnumbered them a hundred-fold, have unconsciously 
 taken up the mission, and what could do better service 
 in this way than the fleece of a merino or long-wooled 
 sheep ? The grass seeds penetrate it easily, and the 
 roughly-coated seeds, such as the trefoil, and a number 
 of burrs, all catch hold of it in their tenacious way, 
 and keep possession for a long time. 
 
 In one plant especially the method of trans- 
 ferring the seeds is very perfect. The crown of the 
 flower when faded resembles somewhat the down of a 
 thistle, being even on top. Each separate hair is, 
 however, barbed at the summit, and should anything 
 brush against it the whole of the down, with the seeds 
 outward, clings to the new object. 
 
 Berries such as the wild raspberry and others, 
 that grow so thickly along the banks of most of our 
 Australian streams, when not eaten by birds and so 
 distributed by what is known as the best and most 
 universal of Nature's methods, do not all fall upon 
 the soil beneath, to give birth to a horde of young 
 brambles that may engage in a struggle for existence 
 with the parent plant. These brambles favour the 
 banks of small creeks, and are seldom found in arid
 
 200 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 situations. When the fruit — or, to speak more cor- 
 rectly, the bunch, for there are a score or so of inde- 
 pendent little berries, each with its own seed, com- 
 posing these pretty scarlet fruits — wither, and are 
 shaken from the stem by a gust of wind, they fall 
 upon the waters beneath, and float miles away before 
 they drift ashore, and in time give birth to a new 
 raspberry bed. One day last summer, when strolling 
 along the banks of the George's River, near Lome, 
 I came upon one of these wild raspberry thickets. 
 Towards the head of the stream the brambles were 
 stouter and more plentiful, not from any difference in 
 the soil, but because they were probably much older 
 than the others. Those up-stream were evidently the 
 pioneers of the species in that particular spot, and the 
 others farther down-stream were " their children and 
 children's children." Sometimes these brambles, as 
 well as many other wild plants, are found in depres- 
 sions bordering on the river banks, or about the old 
 channel of a stream that has slightly changed its 
 course. The seeds have been deposited here by the 
 waters at flood-time, when the rivers overflow their 
 banks and intrude into every adjoining hollow or 
 piece of low ground. A piece of low-lying land thus 
 periodically flooded is certain to be covered with a 
 thick scrub. Many writers on botany have com- 
 mented on the fact that the generality of wild fruits 
 are of such a size that they can be swallowed easily 
 by birds without being first picked to pieces, thus 
 allowing the seeds to fall to the ground uneaten. In 
 the latter case Nature's object would be defeated, for 
 while the birds would still eat the fruit, they would 
 give no return by carrying away the seeds also.
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. 201 
 
 When trees bear fruit so large that they cannot be 
 swallowed easily they are generally called solitary 
 trees, not because they are difficult to propagate, or 
 do not bear freely, but because the inconvenient size 
 of the seed is a bar to their distribution. The quan- 
 dong, otherwise as edible and attractive to birds as 
 most wild fruits, may be taken as an illustration. 
 Had the " wild cherry " been nearly as large as the 
 garden fruit of the same name (but not the same 
 species), we would never have found such beautiful 
 groves of these handsome trees as arc to be seen 
 between Dandenong and Fcrntree Gully, as well as 
 in many other parts of the colony. Had the stone 
 which grows outside been at the reverse end of 
 the fruit the birds might have eaten the latter 
 without interfering with the seed, but actually the 
 stone first presents itself, and it is so small as to 
 make it a matter of no moment to the bird whether 
 it swallows it or not. 
 
 Many human peculiarities seem to have their 
 prototype in the plant world. In old folk-lore — the 
 natural parent of the modern language of flowers — 
 every well-known floral specimen represents some 
 sentiment or other ; but for the most part they are 
 not chosen through any special fitness. There is no 
 method in Ophelia's assortment when she says : 
 " There's rosemary, that's for remembrance .... and 
 there is pansies, that's for thoughts." Even the 
 fatalist has his sluggish, suicidal creed represented. 
 Many of the heavy seed-bearing annuals have no 
 provision for distributing their kind. The plants 
 live through a brief season of vigour and then perish, 
 the seeds falling thickly around the white withered
 
 202 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 stem, and bursting into a nursery of tiny plants in 
 the succeeding spring. Then, from their very infancy, 
 the heirs of that careless, selfish plant engage with 
 each other in a struggle for existence in the very 
 harshest sense of the term, for to fall behind in 
 the competition means death. In such a strait the 
 human fatalist sums up the situation while charging 
 a pistol, and the misguided plant commits suicide in 
 another way. In their confined space the young 
 plants grow sickly, but ere they can deteriorate so 
 far as to be a reproach to the race the flowers refuse 
 to fulfil their mission, the myriads of fertilising insects 
 pass on to other fields, the germinating power is lost, 
 and when the members of this unfortunate family die 
 fighting each other to the last they leave no successors 
 to continue the feud in the following spring. 
 
 One of the most remarkable branches of the plant 
 world is the familiar mistletoe, that long ago became 
 an institution in England at Christmas-time, but is 
 rarely torn from the trees to shrivel under the burning 
 suns that mark the festive season in Australia. What 
 is a mistletoe } From where does it come ? Some 
 have considered it the out-cropping of a departed 
 growth habit of the tree where it is' now found ; 
 but the more general and popular theory is in favour 
 of an independent, if parasitical, plant. A skilful 
 gardener may by grafting cause entirely dififerent 
 fruits to grow upon the same tree, and Nature 
 manages it without any such operation. The mistle- 
 toe ofl'ers to the birds that flit about the trees where- 
 on it grows attractive berries, and thus achieves its 
 object. The berry is covered with a stiff holding 
 vegetable glue which enables it to adhere to bark and
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. 203 
 
 branch. It is only when thus exposed that the mistle- 
 toe will germinate at all. Planted in the soil the 
 berry is quite sterile. The rough bark of the sheoak 
 and its soft sappy wood offer a double advantage to 
 the mistletoe, by giving the seed a point of attach- 
 ment in the first instance and to the plant sustenance 
 afterwards. In a sheoak forest, therefore, mistletoes 
 are always plentiful, and after the sheoak they 
 flourish most freely on red gums. Their roots pene- 
 trate farther into the sappy bark and soft wood than 
 with most other native trees, and as more of the sap 
 channels are thus intercepted and converted to the 
 wants of an alien, the mistletoe growing on the 
 sheoak is generally a vigorous and healthy plant. 
 And it requires to be so, for the tree is very often 
 found in exposed situations, where its peculiar foliage 
 offers but a slight resistance to the winds, so that a 
 gale tearing away the branches of other trees only 
 plays a plaintive forest melody as it comes in con- 
 tact with the long waving plumes of the sheoak. 
 In return for the service of distribution carried out 
 by the birds, the mistletoe gives them a protection 
 for their homes, both against the elements and against 
 their natural enemies, which the open foliage of the 
 sheoak could not afford. In the middle of the tuft, 
 amongst the thick fleshy leaves, the nest is sheltered 
 and hidden, and in a sheoak forest almost every 
 bunch of mistletoe is thus occupied. 
 
 When in some of the forest tracts of Victoria we 
 see grand trees towering up from every loamy gully, 
 and just monopolising sufficient space to bring them 
 to maturity, we are apt to wonder how it was all 
 brought about. It would seem as though, ages ago,
 
 204 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 some mysterious landscape gardener had allotted to 
 every tree its area, and said, " Thus far shalt thou go, 
 but no farther." If the soil was obliged to support 
 double the number, they must necessarily be dwarfed 
 in size, but every tree seems to have just sufficient 
 space to bring it to perfection. How is it that in this 
 wealth of vegetation no arrogant young usurpers 
 spring up to contest the position .'* Simply because 
 the older tree, being in possession, has pre-empted a 
 certain section, and has in its own roots the remedy 
 for aggression. The means for preventing encroach- 
 ment upon their domain are the acids in the roots, 
 which poison the soil in their neighbourhood for other 
 trees, and thus convert it solely to their own use. In 
 shallow country the rich soil is near the surface, and 
 here the roots rush out rapidly on all sides, taking up 
 a large area, so that the country is lightly timbered. 
 In very poor land the trees take such selfish possession 
 of the soil that not even a dwarfed shrub and scarcely 
 a grass blade can live within the charmed circle. The 
 selector in a timbered country, without troubling 
 himself about cause and effect, is aware that if he 
 destroys the tree the grass will grow, and therefore he 
 "ring-barks" his timber. In deep rich country, where 
 the roots strike far down into the earth, the older 
 gums are more sociable, and sometimes allow a 
 number of dwarfed trees to take possession of the 
 surface soil in the shape of scrub, and struggle with 
 each other for existence, while the old giant looks 
 complacently down upon the contest. 
 
 One noticeable point in the forestry of Australia is 
 the disappearance of the sheoak groves that once 
 studded many of the southern plains. In the old
 
 A DAY IN THE BUSH. 205 
 
 days, when all Australia and a good percentage of 
 the old world was flocking to those new Eldorados, 
 the Ballarat and Sandhurst mines, it was a novel 
 sight to see groups of kangaroo sitting solemn and 
 stately in the thick shade of these trees, where the 
 brown stone walls now intersect the Keilor plains. 
 The wild game have entirely disappeared, and the 
 aboriginal is only occasionally represented in these 
 parts by either an utterly degraded and hopelessly 
 vagabond member of the race, or one semi-civilised. 
 The sheoaks also are a dying race. They are declining 
 before civilisation. In the plantations and hedgerows 
 we sometimes find young trees, but in the open pas- 
 tures, where groves have been naturally established, 
 they are all dwindling to decay and dying without 
 heirs. They have made way for more aggressive 
 usurpers in the vigorous Pinus insignis, or the sil- 
 very cedars that originally flourished on Lebanon 
 and other historic mountains in the Cradle of the 
 World. 
 
 Although a summer night in the woods is always 
 enjoyable and beneficial, its glory palls beside that of 
 an Australian winter's night — a clear, frosty, southern 
 winter's night — a night when every planet adds a 
 special brightness to the calm glory that is around 
 and above us, and every emotional being is forced to 
 the realisation of his own small individuality by the 
 beautiful omnipotence of Nature. There is a glitter 
 and sheen from every inanimate object under the 
 magic moonlight, and the gross and abrupt in 
 Nature are invested with a sober grace that accords 
 well with the spirit of a dreaming reverie. As 
 we stride along the grassy slopes a hundred dewy
 
 206 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 diamonds are whirled from their couches in the hollows 
 of the leaflets, and flash round us in a jewelled shower 
 surpassing in beauty the supremest creation of art, 
 while about our moving shadows on the grass the 
 moon throws a golden halo something like the glory 
 that the old masters of art long ago cast round their 
 ideal of the Saviour. On the crest of the ridge, load- 
 ing the air with sweet incense, the great gums stand 
 out in bold relief, a mass of grandeur, defined against 
 the steel-blue, star-studded background. 
 
 The most popular of Australian authors has noted 
 the " weird melancholy " characteristic of these forests 
 in repose; and the realisation of it comes to us inten- 
 sified by the voices of the night. The startling scream 
 of the curlew on the uplands has a yearning ring in 
 its rising cadences that invests a night-dream with old 
 recollections. But the memories induced by that 
 pathetic cry of the night bird vanish quickly as they 
 came, and to increase the sense of utter loneliness the 
 solemn call of a mopoke comes up from the deepest 
 and darkest corner of the glade, where the dense foli- 
 age of the ti-tree makes a gloom, and the tall swamp 
 plants shoot up so fragile and tender that the slightest 
 touch brings them rustling down shattered and de- 
 stroyed. We can imagine a note of despair in the 
 sharply intoned call of this half-mythological fre- 
 quenter of the night. His "never more" rings out 
 persistently like the comfortless chorus of that "stately 
 raven of the saintly days of yore," when it interjected 
 its obdurate truisms into the fanciful pictures of the 
 poet's meeting with his " lost Lenore." 
 
 Now another sound comes to our ears from afar 
 through the clear air. A cry ike the shriller notes of
 
 A DAY /N THE BUSH. 20/ 
 
 a pipe, heard at regular intervals, and increasing in 
 volume with each succeeding moment, but throughout 
 invested with the same melancholy cadence that per- 
 vades every whisper of the night. It is a flight of 
 wild swans winging their way to the south. 
 For an instant, in the golden rays of the moon, 
 we catch a glimpse of those flashing pinions, 
 and then they pass away over the tree-tops and 
 beyond our sight or hearing. Down the creek the 
 dingoes are out on their nightly hunt, and an occa- 
 sional long quavering howl, comprising a new scale of 
 notes, for the expression of abject misery, pain, and 
 despair, is borne with an accompaniment of echoes 
 to our ears. This is the nocturne of the Australian 
 bush. 
 
 Anon a shadow sweeps across the illumined sward, 
 and we have a faint glimpse of a solemn owl borne on 
 silent wings out beyond the limit of vision. 
 
 " The eye 
 May trace those saihng pirates of the night, 
 Stooping with dusky forms to cleave the gloom, 
 Scattering a momentary wake behind ; 
 A palpable and broken brightness shed, 
 As with white wing they part the darksome air." 
 
 The Australian owl is a mute hunter, and his com- 
 plaining hoot is never heard from "ivy-mantled tower," 
 or hollow oak, or barn, or deepest shadow of the wood. 
 Looking upward towards the myriad of radiant 
 worlds with our own familiar constellation, glittering 
 to-night with increased splendour, wc have a better 
 conception of the immensity of the universe than day- 
 light affords, and may well feel in a humble mood — 
 the reaction perhaps from that dense egotism which
 
 208 GU}r DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 once prompted man to regard this grand system 
 as a subsidiary illumination created for his per- 
 sonal convenience. But now the moon has set, the 
 curlew has ceased its wail, and over the calm face of 
 Nature, as an impenetrable veil, falls softly the dark- 
 ness that Cometh before the dawn. 
 
 How many people are apt to think that, for the 
 naturalist, suburban fields have long since been de- 
 serted, and that wild life can only be studied in remote 
 places, far in the bush. I have spent days in the 
 wildest mountains in Victoria without seeing as 
 many birds as may be found in strolling through 
 a field by the sea where the city clocks can 
 almost be heard striking the notes. They were 
 chiming a six-o'clock morning medley as I went 
 out of the railway-yard a few days since in one of the 
 suburban trains. A little more than a mile distant 
 from a railway station there is a small creek 
 trickling over a sand-bar into the sea. The tide 
 comes up for half a mile, and at the flood there is 
 sometimes a good fishing-ground here for a few hours. 
 The banks on one side are matted with dwarfed ti- 
 tree scrub, giving good shelter to the rabbits ; and 
 farther up, where the tide never comes^ are quiet 
 pools fringed with sedge and bulrushes. 
 
 Had the fish been feeding this morning I should
 
 SUBURBAN IV J LAS. 2O9 
 
 have given little attention to the surroundings; but 
 shrimps have no attraction for the silvery bream, and 
 a sand-worm cannot tempt the freckled mullet to 
 destruction. A walk down the shore towards Laverton 
 and back through the fields is, therefore, a more 
 pleasant prospect. 
 
 There are many sea-birds about the shore here, 
 and the rougher stretches of coast-line have also a 
 special interest for conchologists. First a group of 
 silver gulls are startled into flight, and then a 
 white-breasted cormorant, lately swimming half 
 under water, leaves for other haunts. A quarter 
 of a mile up the beach one of the big black cor- 
 morants — a bird dark, lonely, and cheerless — is 
 perched on a pinnacle of rock, stretching his neck 
 at intervals, as these birds do when alarmed or sus- 
 picious. Only those who have dissected one of these 
 birds killed after an hour's fishing can have any idea 
 of the enormous quantity of fish it destroys. In flight 
 one of the old birds keeps in the van, with the others 
 stretching out behind him in a perfect wedge-shaped 
 figure — a formation that cleaves the air more easily, 
 and assists their flight. 
 
 Amongst sea-shore birds the distinctions between 
 species are tolerably subtle. The tiny sand-piper 
 that runs before the pedestrian on every bit of 
 waste open beach, is the smallest of the order, 
 and it merges into the dottrels. Science only 
 knows how many dottrels there are. Even with 
 those native to this bit of coast ornithologists have 
 to resort to such faintly distinguishing terms as 
 " hooded,"' " shaded," " banded," " little," " big," &c. 
 Of course, when the name indicates some special trait 
 N
 
 210 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 in the habits or appearance of the bird it is difficult to 
 find fault with it. But inexpressive terms, such as 
 shaded and banded, big and little, have small signi- 
 ficance. The largest of the dottrels is very like a 
 snipe, and the snipe resembles closely a larger bird of 
 the same order. In fact, the point where one class 
 ends and the other begins is not always apparent. 
 The difference between the dottrels and sea plovers 
 is also slight. 
 
 Along the shore arc flocks of a species of bird 
 which some sportsmen and the gamesellers in the city 
 are pleased to call snipe. They are probably tringa, 
 a branch of the sea plover family. At sunset they 
 feed about the mouth of the creek here, but find 
 little peace now in haunts where they once prospered. 
 
 Many birds native to this bit of beach and 
 meadow have been driven farther back to the 
 great swamps on the plains, where, with a few swan 
 and wild ducks, and perhaps a pair of blue cranes, 
 they form quiet little communities. Some score 
 of miles back along the course of this little creek, 
 where it winds about amongst the stony mounds that 
 break the level of the Keilor plains, I have come 
 across the nest of the blue crane. The banks are 
 lined with a few dwarfed gums, and the tree-building 
 birds all over this wide tract go there in the nesting 
 season. P2very tree is occupied by a nest of some bird 
 or other. In one tree a tuft of dry sticks with very 
 little lining carries the light-green eggs of the crane 
 In the next a pair of magpies hold absolute possession 
 against all comers. Farther down two big brown 
 hawks have appropriated to their own use a forsaken 
 crow's nest.
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 211 
 
 Under the very shadow of this hawk's nest a pair 
 of }'ellow-tailed wrens built one of their pendent nests. 
 Evidently they had no fear of the hawks, who ignored 
 such small game. Close by a branch was saddled with 
 the mud-nest of a pair of grallinas, who, in a con- 
 spicuous coat of black-and-white, piped shrilly about 
 the waterpools. 
 
 These latter birds have a cup-shaped nest, some- 
 thing like that of the house swallow when building on 
 a ledge, but the plaster work on the outside is smooth, 
 and being more exposed to the sun, dries very hard. 
 The eggs are speckled like those of the minah, but 
 are slightly larger. 
 
 Before leaving the coast for the meadow let us see 
 what shells are to be found along the beach. Like 
 the shore birds, they have a very close alliance. 
 Gathering up a specimen of every variety to be found 
 upon the sand and the rocks, an ordinary observer 
 would probably range them under five or six heads, 
 with slight variations in each ; but the scientist ex- 
 tends the classes to perhaps fifty. The limpets, al- 
 though they seem to be one family, come under many 
 classes in the collection. It is in the study of the 
 smaller shells, however, that we realise how universal 
 is the life of the sea. In the bottom of a little pool left 
 by the flood-tide there are hundreds of tiny shells, some 
 so small that their shape can only be decided with 
 the microscope. Take up a handful and you have 
 a perfect mystery of species. To the naked eye they 
 are almost all alike, but under the glass distinguishing 
 marks come out. These tiny shells are in themselves 
 an extensive study. Of course there are mussels along 
 this shore, and under that title wc have a huge family, 
 
 N 2
 
 212 GUM DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 with representatives on every coast in the world. In 
 South America exists a perfect marine giant, yet 
 in appearance it is a fac-simile of the little black 
 mussel lying here on the sand. The unio, another 
 branch of the family, with a white pearly cup on either 
 shell, is found on the sandbanks of inland creeks as 
 well as here on the sea beach. The sea specimens 
 are a longer oval and more irregular in shape, and 
 the lines on the shell curve less gracefully than the 
 fresh-water specimens. The handsomest shell to be 
 found here, however, is certainly the phasianella. Its 
 shape is that of the variety of garden snail curling 
 upward instead of inward to a point. The markings 
 on the outside, which is smooth and bright, are very 
 beautiful. Indeed, the shell has an outer coating like 
 enamel, and in this its beauty lies. The shading in 
 the background varies from the darkest brown to a 
 light buff, and two shells are rarely found with the 
 same colour and markings. There are stray speci- 
 mens washed up upon the sands here, but their 
 favourite bit of beach is on the inner side of Swan 
 Island. Near the little torpedo pier at the north end 
 of the island they abound, and those who spend " the 
 season " at Queensclifif and wish to turn their attention 
 to shell-gathering will always find something there to 
 repay a journey. Those shells, and indeed salt-water 
 specimens generally, should never be washed in fresh 
 water, lest they lose their bright colours. It is the 
 same with the little scraps of scarlet, and white, and 
 pink seaweed tossed up by the waves. In making up 
 a specimen-book these should be pressed as soon as 
 they are taken from the sea water, for in that way 
 only are their brilliant colours retained. Another shell
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 213 
 
 that clings hard to the rocks here is the white turbo, 
 with very handsome orange shading on the inner side. 
 This shell-fish has a hard brown shield, fitting closely 
 into the aperture of the shell, and protecting it on its 
 only weak side whenever it has been displaced from 
 its hold on the weed-covered sandstone. The phasia- 
 nella's shield is pure white, bright, and hard as ivory. 
 Where the creek trickles over the sand there are 
 hundreds of semi-transparent, fragile shells, in colour 
 a dull white, speckled with pink, but the name of 
 which I have forgotten. Of the trochoidse, another 
 beautiful class of shells, I find a single specimen — a 
 conical shell that seems to be made up of one reddish- 
 brown thread winding up to a point. Here also is 
 the common English whelk, rare in Australian seas. 
 The smaller specimens are cream-coloured, and 
 serrated on the outside like the murex. Another 
 specimen is the "bishop's mitre." The mitre may 
 have been originally modelled on the pattern of the 
 shell ; the shell was certainly never copied from the 
 mitre. 
 
 Amongst the refuse of the sea waters who can 
 fix the limit and say, " Here the sea animal ceases 
 and the seaweed begins ? " Now that nerve centres 
 have been found for the sponges another point has 
 been gained by those who would extend the "animal" 
 kingdom indefinitely. Amongst the specimens to be 
 picked up here, none are more remarkable than the 
 sea urchin. You find only a fragment of the animal, 
 barely sufficient to give a suggestion of its real ap- 
 pearance. The empty shell, generally called a sea 
 &^^, had an animal inside, and outside a forest of 
 spines for its protection. It had a mouth out of all
 
 214 ^^^-'■^ BOUGHS AND WATILE BLOOM. 
 
 proportion to its size, and possibly an appetite to 
 match. Its teeth were large enough to hollow out 
 the little pits in the submerged rocks where it lies. 
 In other waters the sea urchins are found close in 
 shore, their spines bristling above the edge of their 
 pits like the bayonets of entrenched riflemen. There, 
 under the leeside of rocks, sheltered from the rush 
 of the ocean rollers, they live their own quiet circum- 
 scribed lives. Some scientists say that in certain 
 stages of their development — for, like the butterfly, 
 their youth is a time of transition — they closely re- 
 semble the asteria or starfish. 
 
 Having followed the beach far enough, we may 
 strike out amongst the sheoak trees and come back 
 through the fields. The influence of the cold ocean 
 breezes is noticeable here. Winter lingered long by 
 the shore before he was driven back south to his own 
 white land, his ice caves, and snow mountains. Then 
 spring came tardily down from the tropics, and so 
 her flowers, dead long ago in " the interior," are yet 
 beaming here in the grass. The first flower to catch 
 the eye is the very nearest approach amongst Austra- 
 lian wild flowers to the English dandelion. And once 
 more one may recall the rapid spread of English 
 plant-h'fe in this southern world. Hundreds of wild 
 weeds, which originally found their way here in seed 
 .shipments, may be seen in the Melbourne Gardens, 
 while those with winged seeds have spread far into the 
 country. 
 
 Waiting the other day at a suburban railway 
 station, I counted between the metals nearly a score 
 of foreign plants and grasses. There were clovers 
 (yellow, white, and oval-leafed), sorrel, dandelion.
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 21 5 
 
 thistle, docks (the " soor dockens " of the North 
 country), Cape weed, lucerne, a variety of milk 
 thistle, horehound, mallow, a scrap of English rye, 
 and a tuft of American prairie grass. All these 
 aliens, scorched every minute with the grimy breath 
 of throbbing engines, were flourishing, with scarcely 
 a native plant or blade of native grass amongst them. 
 It was typical of Anglo-Saxon colonisation. 
 
 The first sign of field life is an insect — a butterfly, 
 with bright auburn wings starred with black and set 
 off with a sombre edging. There are not many 
 butterflies hereabouts, and the naturalist who wishes 
 to study them must take his net to the mountains. 
 Our Victorian butterfly is much plainer than those up 
 nearer the tropics ; and the moth, although larger, is 
 plainer too. Yonder is a hawk perched on the fence. 
 By its long legs, and what can be seen of its shape 
 in the distance, I take it to be the handsome goshawk 
 with large yellow eyes and beautifully barred breast. 
 He wears handsomer plumage than any other mem- 
 ber of the tribe. Farther up on the plains two of 
 the smallest of colonial hawks are very common. 
 The kestrel haunts the thistle beds for mice, while the 
 grey kite with its sparkling ruby eyes skims along the 
 grass. The kite has a white breast with slate-grey on 
 the back, and if not so well proportioned as the kestrel, 
 has very powerful wings, and makes even more havoc 
 amongst small ground game. Larks, always found 
 in the vicinity of towns and villages, are plentiful 
 in the grass. The scientist has again trenched upon 
 the liberty of the subject by calling them pipits, but 
 they are larks in plumage and in habit, while at certain 
 seasons of the year they sing and soar as sweetly as
 
 2l6 GUM DOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 any of the race. The bird has the backward spur, 
 characteristic of all the lark family, and if anything 
 else is wanting to fix its identity, place it in a cage 
 alongside the British lark and see both birds prove 
 the brotherhood, as captive larks do, by running to 
 and fro and fluttering against the bars in a way that 
 must excite pity in the breast of anyone but a bird- 
 fancier. Years ago when I was a boy in the country 
 one of our neighbours caught a lark and placed it in 
 a cage fastened to the verandah. All day we watched 
 it with its breast against the wicker-work beating the 
 cage with its wings. That night someone guided a 
 fishing-rod to quietly push out the peg that fastened 
 the cage door, and in the morning the lark was with 
 its fellows on the hill-side welcoming the sun. Sky- 
 larks singing in the early summer when the shadows 
 of the white clouds chase each other across the 
 waving corn — is there anything sweeter in field or 
 forest ? The skylarks disappeared from our Victorian 
 plains for years, but they have come back again, and 
 upon any fine day }'OU may hear them sing. 
 
 In a little grassy bend where the creek winds 
 before running over the sands a single plover is in 
 possession. I call it a plover from force of habit ; 
 and a plover it will always be in the country, just as 
 the stone plover is a curlew — but the peewit is its 
 correct name. For every bird of the kind now out 
 in the grass country there was once a thousand, but 
 they have been killed or driven away. They learned 
 to suspect and avoid man, but, like the wild turkey, 
 were never suspicious of a horse, so they were shot 
 in scores from the saddle. The young plovers run 
 about as soon as they are hatched, and the little
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 21/ 
 
 downy chickens in the grass look Hke tufts of rich 
 brown and white velvet. With anyone close by they 
 crouch quite motionless, and but for the too evident 
 anxiety of the old birds one would never suspect 
 their whereabouts. It is not easy to find them in the 
 grass, and if the eye is diverted for an instant they 
 are probably never seen again. Young quail and 
 hares have the same faculty for hiding themselves 
 in the barest pastures. The plover builds no nest, 
 but lays its eggs — in colour an sesthetic green with 
 brown spots in relief — in any slight depression. In a 
 small patch of white rustling reeds some distance up 
 the creek a pair of the reed warblers that make music 
 for anglers along the Saltwater River have built their 
 home. Their eggs, placed in a big cup-like nest, 
 resemble very closely those of the common sparrow. 
 Amongst the furze bushes at one corner of the field 
 there are some tiny blue wrens. In the nesting 
 season you find their home in a little warm ball of 
 moss down at the foot of a bush. Out in the sheoaks 
 little, red-billed, red-tailed finches build a very large 
 nest, but with a circular passage so long and narrow 
 leading into it that nothing larger than the owners 
 can enter. The little grass paraquct fluttering up 
 from amongst the flowers is not showy enough to ex- 
 cite admiration, so it is left unmolested to hatch its 
 white eggs in the crevice of a sheoak or dwarfed gum 
 tree, while its more brilliant cousins are caught and 
 caged. 
 
 Coming back through the meadow, I find a little 
 bloodsucker. What evil fancy prompted such a 
 hideous name for the tiny little fellow hunting for 
 insects in the grass ? Certainly, if }'0u point a stick
 
 2l8 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 at him he opens his Httle yellow mouth to its widest 
 limit in the most defiant way, but this is a threat only, 
 and his solitary act of aggression. On the coarse bark 
 of the sheoak you sometimes find a larger one with a 
 tail twice the length of its body. It will bear the 
 very closest inspection without moving, and seems to 
 depend for safety entirely to the fact that the tree 
 trunk it has chosen for a hunting-ground is exactly the 
 colour of its own rough skin. These inoffensive little 
 creatures bear this nightmare of a name which even 
 serious science has adopted. 
 
 Melbourne has, undesignedly, been built on a 
 natural borderland. To westward the plains, on the 
 margin of which we have strolled, extend away for 
 many miles. Now let us look eastward, to where 
 the timber thickens gradually into the density of a 
 Gipps Land forest. The gums have been rudely 
 replaced by garden trees, and the wattles by willows. 
 Just now in September the shrubs in many a wide- 
 spreading domain help materially to give colour to 
 the prospect which is daily brightening. 
 
 " Oh ! gaily sings the bird, and the wattle boughs are stirred 
 And rustled by the scented breath of Spring.'' 
 
 A mild winter is not conducive to a perfect spring. 
 Flowers are half born when the late rains and spasms 
 of cold, the more bitter through being long withheld, 
 pinch the tender buds and they perish. The result 
 is a blighted, intermittent spring. When, however, 
 the winter has not been a " broken " one, the buds 
 burst, with one impulse, into flower, making per- 
 haps a briefer but certainly a better spring. The 
 acacias are amongst the first to herald the coming of
 
 SUBURBAN IV.I/.A'S. 219 
 
 the season of flowers, and the wattles of northern 
 forests that have been accHmatised round about 
 Melbourne so far cling to old traditions that they 
 bloom much earlier than the black or the golden 
 wattle. Frazer's wattle, a Queensland acacia with 
 an iridescent tinge in its foliage very like the leaves 
 of the saltbush, is about the first to put its suggestion 
 of gay yellow into the green sobriety of a southern 
 winter garden. Only the Murray wattle, with its 
 great, woolly, fragrant blossoms, is more beautiful. 
 A New South Wales acacia, carrying its bloom in 
 spikes instead of the broad racemes of the golden 
 wattle, runs its Queensland cousin a close race. 
 The banksia blooms linger on rather as surviving 
 flowers of winter than harbingers of spring. In 
 the cold season, when other blossoms are dead, these 
 are the salvation of the honey-eating birds. People 
 who live in the south of Victoria know how the 
 wattle birds congregate by the sea when the honey- 
 suckles are in blossom. Along the eastern shore 
 of Port Phillip Bay, in the very heart of winter, 
 one is amazed and delighted with the variety in 
 species and plumage of the honey-eaters. On occa- 
 sional sunny days they fill the groves with the life of 
 their tireless wings, the sparkle of bright feathers, and 
 the variety of a note not always musical. In the 
 Botanic Gardens the honeysuckle bed has always life 
 and colour at this season of the year. One of the 
 finest of the scented shrubs and trees grouped here is 
 the sand heath from the mounds above Botany Bay. 
 Late in the summer I have found it blooming beau- 
 tifully upon the heathy hills thereabouts. It thrives 
 wonderfully in our climate, and just now is at its best.
 
 220 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 The blossoms that jut up so freely between the hard, 
 sharp, burnished leaves are tinted in richest shades of 
 red and yellow, and full of a sweetness both of nectar 
 and perfume. Where the breeze curls round the tree 
 i^ito an eddy the air is suffused with a subtle fragrance 
 that tempts one to linger and inhale. There are 
 quite a score of New Holland honey-eaters wrangling 
 musically with each other for the right to dip into the 
 choicest blossoms. Their black bills, long and slender, 
 and slightly curled downward, seem incapable of the 
 constant clatter that marks the warfare amongst t^e 
 flowers. Shafts of yellow run along the line of the 
 quill feathers with the wing extended, and cluster 
 into a distinctive patch of colour on the side when the 
 bird is at rest. On the breast this honey-eater is 
 pencilled like the wattle bird in white and black. 
 Fewer in numbers are the "white-eyes" that dart 
 quickly from bush to bush close over the grass. The 
 editor of a lady's newspaper would call the colour of 
 their coat an aesthetic green ; a bushman would un- 
 derstand it better if described as mallee green. Other 
 occupants of the honeysuckle grove, lighter in colour 
 and larger in size than the "white-eyes," are the com- 
 mon white-plumed honey-eaters, which flit in pairs, 
 while the " white-eyes," though they cluster together 
 on the same bush, dart away singly and at intervals. 
 
 The bird's-beak Hakea, ofWest Australian forests^ 
 is conspicuous from the red flowers growing so 
 strangely, not as terminals to the younger branchlets, 
 but clinging to the bare limbs. Another species of 
 honeysuckle, the protea of the Cape of Good Hope, is 
 dotted with late blossoms, and into their thorn-girt 
 chalice — its very appearance suggesting rich stores of
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 221 
 
 nectar — the honey-cater dips freely. The most unique 
 of the group is the Indian Hakca. Every flower rests 
 upon a leaf which curls up lovingly about it in the 
 form of a green hood, enfolding and protecting the 
 blossom. 
 
 Flowers of September, in another sense, while 
 hardly heralds of spring, are the popular ornamental 
 foliage plants. What pillars of colour in a winter 
 garden, for example, are the ruddy Japanese cedars. 
 Riding through the county of Evelyn a few days 
 since, I noticed a profusion of yellow in a sheltered 
 hollow. Viewed more closely they were merely the 
 last leaves of the sweet briers, yellow and ready to fall, 
 yet still clinging to the stem and lingering on through 
 the winter months. There was more than one migrant 
 brier in this hollow. Along one side were clumps of 
 hawthorn growing more freely than I ever saw them 
 elsewhere, and covered with clusters of reddish purple 
 fruit that gave a predominant hue to the colouring 
 of the bank. Farther down were tufts of furze — not 
 the native furze, which belongs to the honeysuckle 
 tribe, but the English yellow-flowered thorn plant. 
 How did they come here ? The question was 
 answered later on. Within half a mile I found a 
 couple of cultivated paddocks bordered with hedges 
 of hawthorn and sweet brier. Amongst the haws the 
 bright plumage of some rosella parrots was conspicu- 
 ous. They flew before me along the line of the hedge, 
 and finally reaching the end went screaming away to 
 the hollow. Here was the explanation of this little 
 British colony in one of the gorges of Diamond Creek. 
 These parrots were the messengers that had carried 
 the seeds to the hollow, and unconsciously planted for
 
 222 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 themselves a winter orchard. The Httle white seeds 
 of the sweet brier are distributed in the same way, and 
 the hedges, if uncared for, spread out, taking absolute 
 possession of the grass lands. The furze is independ- 
 ent of the birds, and more rapid in its outward march. 
 When the seed-pods burst in the heat of midsummer 
 the seeds are cast far away on either side. All day 
 you hear the mimic fusilade along the hedgerows, and 
 see the shining little seed-bullets shot out into the 
 paddock and the roadway. 
 
 Among flowers designed only to give colour to 
 garden and landscape, the September mosses fairly 
 claim consideration. In long-settled districts where 
 the rail fences are falling to decay they are always 
 plentiful. Out about Bundoora they cling so thickly 
 to the grey posts and panels that the old wood is 
 almost hidden in this soft wrapping. Where the rails 
 face the west they become mere lines of lichens, in 
 which many tints of green and much variety of form 
 appears. Down towards the earth the posts on one 
 side are tinged red and yellow with hundreds of tiny 
 wood fungi. With respect to mosses, each locality has 
 just now an individuality. Down about Laverton, 
 where a couple of tiny streams trickle across the plains 
 to the sea, a dwarfed ti-tree, clinging low about the 
 ground, like the gunyang or kangaroo apple, borders 
 the banks. In the gaps of the scrub the rocks are 
 thickly covered with the most brilliant of lichens — in 
 colour a burnished orange, and gleaming brightly 
 amongst the general dulness of green. Perhaps the 
 sea-salts, in both air and earth, contribute to this 
 brightness. Take another locality — Beechworth, the 
 city of bay trees. In its gullies the yellow boulders —
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 223 
 
 piled in the lavish style which Nature adopts for her 
 monuments of stone in the gold country of the north- 
 east — have an envelope of pea-green moss. Here it 
 also gave a distinctive colour to the gorges, which are 
 bold and sterile below, though the tops of the hills are 
 capped with rich red soil and pleasant vineyards. 
 Out about Keilor plains the lichens of the fences 
 are a sort of red mushroom with the cap inverted. 
 The basalt rocks, their faces grey with the weather 
 stains of centuries, are covered with moss, the va- 
 rieties of which develop gradually into dwarfed cliff 
 ferns. You find these tiny ferns clinging where the 
 moisture trickles down through a fracture in the 
 wall of rock. Here they have the seclusion that most 
 of the ferns love, while they get also a filtered 
 share of the surface food. The main ground of the 
 common moss is a sward of plush velvet. At inter- 
 vals little rush spears spring, which terminate in 
 an oval fruit, yellow at first, but reddening as it 
 ripens. 
 
 The departure, rather than the coming, of birds 
 indicates for city people the change of seasons. In 
 the ponds by the Yarra the wild duck and coots are 
 yet plentiful, the former as they float motionless 
 seeming a mere tuft of dull brown feathers on the 
 water. The Australian black duck or teal at rest is a 
 typical object, its head being lost in the general 
 outline of the body. It cannot be confused with the 
 garrulous domestic duck fossicking so industriously 
 amongst the water-rceds. When the wild ducks 
 leave the ponds spring and their nesting season 
 is close at hand. They go to the quieter bush 
 swamps and streams to breed, and return to town in
 
 224 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the Christmas season, when the fowler's gun once more 
 wakes up the echoes of their country home. In these 
 city ponds the black swan builds amongst the white 
 reeds, and one of them may now be seen upon its 
 nest. The coots, tame as they are, object to anything 
 like prying curiosity. You may pass close to them 
 without exciting much notice, but a steady stare dis- 
 composes the bird. His four-note call becomes more 
 and more frequent, the white tail so jauntily tip-tilted 
 flips more industriously, a light trumpet-call, some- 
 thing like that of the black swan in flight, breaks in 
 upon the regularity of the complaint like the false 
 note of a singer, and finally the coot takes flight for a 
 tuft of weeds in the centre of the pool, screaming in 
 time to the flap of his wings, while his long legs dangle 
 awkwardly about the water. One of the reed warblers 
 keeping company with the porphyry coot has a 
 peculiar note like the slow, opening rattle of a mower 
 at work in the hay-fields — that measured, mechanical 
 click heard while the horses are being wheeled 
 slowly from one stretch to another. Imported birds 
 seem to mate rather earlier than our own songsters. 
 A few days since I watched a pair of starlings 
 surveying the corner of the Melbourne Museum in 
 quest of a home amongst the ivy. One of them, 
 seated on the mason-work of the building, chirped 
 out a warning that some too curious person was 
 beneath, and his mate at once came from his retreat, 
 and the pair flew away across the grounds. In 
 ten minutes they were back again for a further 
 survey. Here, as in other lands, the swallow is 
 a harbinger of spring. When the hundreds of 
 fairy martins, the smallest of all the swallows
 
 SUBURBAN WALKS. 225 
 
 cluster about the high red banks of the river, the 
 foundations of those mud nests that are so much 
 larger than the bird itself will soon follow. As the 
 birds flutter about the bank they keep up a constant 
 twittering chorus. Listen to a number of ladies in a 
 room whispering in groups, while some person, not a 
 man, is playing the finest of sonatas, and if you can 
 stand it you have a perfect imitation of the fairy 
 martins and their lisping silvery whistle. 
 
 A pair of swallows arc always associated in my 
 mind with no less serious a matter than the break-up 
 of a church. This church was a selector's hut of 
 the kind that both squatter and selector build but 
 seldom inhabit. Hither an harmonium had been 
 brought from one of the homesteads in a waggonette, 
 and in these journeys it had also been bumped hope- 
 lessly out of tune. A sheet of iron on the roof was 
 always loose, and it flapped ceaselessly in the wind, 
 keeping measured time to the drone of the hymn. 
 I remember above the pulpit a pair of welcome 
 swallows sat by their nest, the most attentive of the 
 congregation. It was my duty to describe that church 
 for a certain newspaper, and wishing to convey an idea 
 of something primitive in architecture, standing alone 
 in the pastoral wilderness, I called it a " dummy hut." 
 Perhaps, in my unconscious " new chum " ignor- 
 ance, I had gone very near the truth — the truth which 
 both pastor and people felt, but which never found 
 expression. The sketch did it. Never again could the 
 parson — a real archdeacon — pray or preach in that 
 hut, never again the people listen. Next Sunday 
 they went out under the wide-spreading arms of the 
 trees — a cathedral more appropriate. Though no 
 o
 
 226 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 censers were swung in these box-gum aisles, the 
 scents of the woods were sweet. The swallows kept 
 possession of the old hut while the disjointed roof 
 played its old tune to their little ones. 
 
 He who travels much by rail will find in the 
 winter night work of the selector — the annual " burn- 
 ing off" — something that speaks also of preparation 
 for spring. Rushing over the monotonous level of the 
 wheat country, one sees through the windows, and far 
 away, the thousand lights of a phantom city where no 
 city is. The illusion is almost perfect, the lights 
 being, perhaps, a bit too red for gas jets, except 
 when seen through a fog. There is nothing so decep- 
 tive at night as a bush fire. 
 
 One night I stood, with some fifty other resid- 
 ents of a country village, and watched for hours 
 the mountains burning, thirty miles away as we calcu- 
 lated. How magnificent we thought it — that is to say 
 how magnificent it would have been had we been 
 closer. We made every allowance for the distance, 
 and everything thus wanting in effect imagination 
 supplied. One of us had seen Mount Disappoint- 
 ment crowned with flames, another had witnessed the 
 burning of the Sebastopol plateau, and so experiences 
 were multiplied. 
 
 Suddenly, as we gazed and wondered, a strange 
 phenomenon was wrought. A giant form loomed up 
 behind the fire, and with one stroke swept away 
 miles of mountain and bui"ning trees. Whereupon 
 the saddening truth struck us. The short, dry grass 
 on the opposite hill-top, not more than half a mile off, 
 had been burning feebly, and someone passing by 
 was brushing it out with a bough.
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 22/ 
 
 We came down from that hill silent and pensive. 
 Nature and the night had played a practical joke 
 with us, and each of the victims felt ashamed of him- 
 self, and angry with his neighbour. 
 
 ^ometftrng: aljout ^ualtesi* 
 
 While popular delusions are being every day 
 destroyed the snake has thus far escaped critical 
 examination. Like that perturbed spirit whose busi- 
 ness is to disturb the peace of mind of orthodox 
 humanity, it has gained a world-wide notoriety while 
 really doing very little to deserve it. Armed by Nature 
 with terrible powers for retaliation, the snake has 
 used them with the greatest discretion, and yet man, 
 partly through fear, but largely on account of a 
 fervid imagination, has given it a pre-eminent place 
 amongst the foes of man. 
 
 Snakes will bite, and at least fifty per cent, of them 
 fatally, when you force them to it, but as a rule when 
 they come in close contact with man they are just 
 as eager to get out of the way as he is, and that 
 may be taken as a high compliment to their activity. 
 There are odd members of the human race whose 
 curiosity would prompt them to look down the 
 barrel of a gun in order to study the early stages 
 of an explosion. These are the people who in 
 the bush go clawing after imaginary rabbits and 
 hares in a hollow log or a chance burrow in the 
 O 2
 
 228 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 bank and discover through being bitten that it is 
 the country residence of a snake. The snake of 
 fiction is an unsightly, venomous thing that sits 
 in impossible attitudes on a small section of its tail 
 and hisses malevolent defiance at the whole world. 
 
 Now and again, if bush stories are to be believed, it 
 casts off this martial air and descends to such undigni- 
 fied domestic occupations as milking a cow, helping 
 itself at table in the hearty hospitable back-blocks 
 fashion, or standing tip-tail in the cradle for the 
 edification of the baby. I can, however, hardly 
 imagine a snake foolish or hungry enough to ruin its 
 digestion by eating station " damper." 
 
 One might explain the value of the snake to the 
 country journalist in the dull season, but I will not 
 do that. 
 
 The snake of real life is so essentially non- 
 aggressive that one is almost ashamed to say anything 
 severe about it. In any country township you may 
 find scores of men who have had unlimited narrow 
 escapes, and who work themselves into cold shudder- 
 ing fits in reflecting over '^ what might have been " ; 
 but those who have felt the fangs of a serpent — other- 
 wise than in imagination — are few and far between. 
 
 He jwho has much experience with Australian 
 snakes knows that they never strike " with intent," 
 unless menaced by danger, or suddenly alarmed. I 
 have trodden unconsciously within easy distance of 
 many a coiled snake, and, in common with many 
 more, have even stepped safely over them when 
 hidden in the grass ; but only in a single instance has 
 a snake struck at me with murderous purpose. 
 
 One sunny day in summer, rambling through
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 229 
 
 a little rushy valley — an Eden, only lacking an 
 Eve, and into which no serpent should have pene- 
 trated — a pleasant reverie was abruptly broken by 
 a sharp hiss, the only time in all my experience 
 that I ever heard a snake give such a warning. 
 There was only a fragment of a second between 
 that alarm and my spasmodic backward leap ; but 
 I had a glimpse of a venomous head and ■ several 
 inches of bared neck bending round in a rapid, 
 semicircular sweep that just brushed my knee, and 
 missed by the most uncomfortable of small spaces. 
 
 It was a six-foot brown snake, which had been 
 lying out in a little break in the rushes enjoying the 
 noonday heat, and perhaps absorbed in some little 
 idyll of his 'own. I knew that I must have trodden 
 upon it ; but what with the nervous shock and rapid 
 heart-pulsation of the moment, it was difficult to 
 say what happened. That snake, like the average 
 domestic servant, " gave warning," or it would never 
 have been mortified by a miss, or have paid for the 
 blunder with its own life. 
 
 In the same way I have only once seen a snake 
 spring at an assailant. That was on a spring 
 day in the Kyneton district. We were admiring 
 a herd of cattle standing in the shadow of the 
 trees, and completing as pretty a farm picture as 
 an artist could desire, when we found that a full- 
 grown brown snake was of the party. They are 
 never scarce in those woods. One of us walked up 
 close to it more carelessly than ordinary caution 
 should permit, and raised his stick to strike, when the 
 snake, without an instant's warning, sprang straight at 
 his face. The style in which that man quickened up
 
 230 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 to his work would have been ludicrous had the pos- 
 sibilities been less serious. The leap of the snake 
 was not more sudden than the fall of the stick, and 
 the two met half-way with the usual result. The 
 experience was enough to show that in attacking a 
 snake it is not wise to make any hostile demonstra- 
 tion. Old bushmen, as a rule, carry the stick on 
 their shoulder, and move up as if about to pass the 
 snake on one side without noticing it. While he 
 does this the snake's head is bent low amongst the 
 grass as a hare hides its form, and if the man turns 
 sharply, and strikes surely, there is no danger. 
 
 The average settler will make as good progress as 
 most men in running for the doctor when a friend or 
 relative is suddenly stricken with illness or accident, 
 but if there is anything in the world that tempts him 
 to linger by the way it is the opportunity of killing 
 a snake. The very fact that those who come upon a 
 snake in the country think only of killing it in the 
 safest and most expeditious way is no doubt one 
 reason why so little is known of their habits. But 
 for their great fecundity the different destroying 
 agents would soon have an appreciable effect on the 
 serpent tribe, and we might as in New Zealand forests 
 plunge recklessly through brake and bush with no 
 fear of any coiled foe. The few proofs I have had 
 of their rapid increase serve to show how many 
 enemies are required to keep their numbers reduced 
 to comfortable limits. 
 
 One evening my terrier "Tichborne " — whose con- 
 duct to the race has been already mentioned — " set " 
 a snake most unmistakably. It was in a clump of those 
 wild giant nettles that one lets go so hurriedly after
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 23! 
 
 clutching hold of them for assistance in climbing a 
 bank, I only reached the spot in time to catch that 
 distinctive rustling sound which betrays the movements 
 of a snake of any size. It evidently had its under- 
 ground home in the corner, and had taken shelter in 
 alarm. A few days later, coming by the same track, 
 I approached more cautiously, and this time was not 
 disappointed. In the centre of the clump the very 
 finest specimen of a tiger snake was coiled, for tiger- 
 snakes run more to width than the others, and a five- 
 feet snake is a large one. Just as it was about to 
 glide away once more its head was blown to pieces 
 by a charge of shot, for I had got so close that the 
 muzzle was within a few feet of the reptile. Practically 
 no less than forty-two snakes were destroyed by that 
 single charge, for had the big tiger-snake lived a few 
 days longer she would have been the mother of an 
 interesting family of forty-one. The young ones 
 were about nine inches in length, but showed only the 
 faintest signs of vitality. A few days before the 
 owner of the farm had killed another tiger-snake which 
 had its home in a pile of vine cuttings. This one, 
 under dissection with the pruning knife, revealed a 
 family of twenty-eight, each about twelve inches in 
 length. After lying for a time in a box exposed to 
 the sunlight they became wonderfully active for 
 infants, and glided smartly about their confined cage. 
 On being pressed with a straw or twig they turned 
 and darted their heads feebly towards the point of 
 irritation. The instinct to bite was strongly de- 
 veloped, but the power which it controlled was yet 
 dormant. They were an interesting family, but not 
 sufficiently so to be granted their liberty, and like
 
 232 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the rest of the tribe they were doomed to death. 
 When alarmed and about to strike the tiger-snake 
 flattens its head so as to bring its sheathed venomous 
 teeth into prominence, and its appearance thus 
 angered or alarmed is thoroughly savage. It was 
 amusing to note how valiantly these infant snakes 
 puffed themselves out in the same way. 
 
 The black snake was rare in that locality, but 
 sometimes we found one — always conspicuous by his 
 brilliant under-colouring. 
 
 A local cricketer w^as bitten one day while fielding 
 on the playground in the centre of the village. The 
 offending snake was only three parts grown, and the 
 village brand of whisky applied as an antidote was 
 more than a match for the poison. 
 
 . A good many of the pretty little grass-snakes are 
 no doubt perfectly harmless. In summer they live 
 like the lizards, upon insects which they find in the 
 grass, and at the approach of winter work their way 
 down a few inches below the surface of the ground, 
 and lie there torpid while the cold weather lasts. 
 On a hot day you catch sight of their silvery skins 
 glistening in the dry grass, when yet too far off to 
 be noticeable on account of their size. On a section 
 of the Keilor plains they were at one time very 
 plentiful, but the land was cultivated one season' for 
 a hay crop, and the snakes were almost exter- 
 minated. The owner of the paddock ploughed it 
 towards the close of autumn, and it rarely happened 
 that the ploughman opened a furrow from end to 
 end without leaving behind him a tiny silver-skinned 
 snake wriggling feebly in the sod. The exposure 
 had the effect of killing them effectually, and when
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 233 
 
 the land once more lay fallow there were no pretty 
 snakes gliding about amongst the tufts of dwarfed 
 kangaroo grass. In summer the hay-fields, and more 
 especially those that run right down to the river bank, 
 are a favourite hunting-ground of the snakes. In 
 walking along the margin of these oat-fields, just as 
 the corn is breaking into ear, and when the lower 
 leaves have withered and fallen from the stalk, so that 
 there is no dampness beneath, it is not an uncommon 
 thing to see a snake disturbed from its siesta on the 
 bare path glide in amongst the corn blades, where 
 for the time it is safer even than in its own burrow 
 in the river bank. In the mowing scores of them 
 are cut to pieces by the machine. The small animals 
 and birds such as quail and landrails move in 
 gradually towards the centre of the square then 
 being cut down, and if any of them come to grief it 
 is usually in the last band of standing corn, where, 
 confused by the rattle, they rush in upon the knives, 
 and are mutilated. The snake, accustomed to the 
 incessant clatter of the machine moving round about 
 it all through the summer day, is only alarmed when 
 the knives with their deafening din are close upon it. 
 In the last moment it raises its head defiantly to strike 
 this persistent intruder, and that movement is its ruin. 
 In the next instant it is caught in the advancing 
 teeth of the machine, and head and neck are lopped 
 from the body. 
 
 I first saw a snake fossicking for mice one Sunday 
 morning in a field where the hay-makers had finished 
 their work and nothing remained but an expanse 
 of shining stubble. On my first noticing the creature 
 —a brown one some five feet in length — its head was
 
 234 <^UM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 hidden in the ground. I was soon aware from its 
 movements that the reptile was invading the home of 
 some other animal rather than seeking shelter in its 
 own. It made several forward darts, as though try- 
 ing to pin something in the hole, and then slowly- 
 withdrawing its head appeared with an unfortunate 
 little mouse struggling in its mouth. The snake was 
 no sooner clear of the hole than it became aware "of 
 some added feature in the landscape, and dropping 
 the mouse, promptly turned its cunning little head on 
 one side, as all reptiles do under such circumstances, 
 and with its glittering black eye took in the situation. 
 The interesting part of the performance was over, 
 however, and a few blows from a pliant bramble 
 brought down the curtain. 
 
 Towards the close of harvest, when the big stacks 
 are rising slowly into the air all through the hay- 
 growing country, hundreds of snakes again come to 
 grief Still following their game, the field-mice, they 
 take shelter under the haycocks, and when these are 
 finally raised by the field-elevator and the remnants 
 of hay raked together to be thrown into the next dray 
 coming for its load, the mice go leaping away amongst 
 the stubble, but the snake, who has made the place 
 his temporary home, is instantly killed by the hay- 
 makers. 
 
 Few living things are more easily maimed than a 
 snake. The continuous vertebrae are very fragile, and 
 the slightest blow means a fracture. If the injury is 
 near the centre of the body the reptile is power- 
 less to glide off, and can only lie there angry, 
 venomous, and in pain to die by inches. A snake 
 thus wounded is seen in its most savage mood. It
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 235 
 
 darts its head now here, now there, in search of some- 
 thing upon which to wreak its vengeance, its httle 
 eyes fairly blazing with anger, and the black tongue 
 darting rapidly in and out between the slightly- 
 opened jaws. If a stick or any object moves within 
 range it strikes viciously — the rattle of its teeth upon 
 the wood telling how virulent would be the effect of a 
 bite if any animate being were so unfortunate as to 
 come within reach at the moment. 
 
 A wounded snake seems to derive a certain 
 amount of satisfaction in thus venting his anger, for 
 after striking two or three times he becomes either 
 sulky or satisfied, and declines to expend any more of 
 his poison. A snake injured in this way, and con- 
 scious that it cannot move out of the way, is really 
 more dangerous than one with its faculties unimpaired, 
 because of its greater readiness to bite at anything 
 passing within reach. 
 
 In our old schooldays one of the favourite sum- 
 mer pastimes was to dig or root out a snake that had 
 been " marked down "■' some days before ; and when 
 the doomed reptile was finally forced from beneath 
 the rocks or dug out of the bank of earth in which it 
 had made its home what a storm of missiles rained 
 upon it from the ring of keen snake-hunting school- 
 boys. Of course many of the stones rebounded and 
 struck those for whom they were not intended, but in 
 the excitement of the chase these wounds were philo- 
 sophically borne. 
 
 The great kingfisher or laughing jackass has on 
 very slight evidence gained the credit of being one of 
 the greatest enemies of snakes to be found in our 
 forests. An observant Englishman who visited the
 
 236 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 colonies a few years ago wrote in a book, " The 
 laughing jackass or great kingfisher makes night 
 hideous by its insane laughter ; in the day-time, how- 
 ever, it performs a very useful service in waging per- 
 petual war against snakes." This is a very handsome 
 compliment, but unfortunately not more reliable than 
 his reference to a companion night bird. " Another 
 bird that makes a great noise at night is the goat- 
 sucker, which continually cries, ' More pork ! more 
 pork ! ' " On many a still night in the bush I have 
 listened to the weird metallic call of this strange bird, 
 the mopoke of the natives, without hearing it give 
 expression to anything resembling the pork-shop 
 sentiment here attributed. If English writers would 
 strictly report that they "had been told" certain 
 strange things which they put into print about Aus- 
 tralia we could understand it. Some bushmen have 
 a wonderful faculty for invention when there is an in- 
 telligent stranger at hand to profit by it. I cannot 
 myself admit that the hoot of the laughing jackass is 
 either hideous or insane, nor, on the other hand, can 
 it claim special credit for the destruction of reptiles. 
 Out about Pastoria, in the Kyneton district, where 
 both snakes and great kingfishers were plentiful 
 enough, I never saw them in combat, nor had those 
 who spent the greater part of their lives in the bush 
 been so favoured. 
 
 On almost any hot day in summer the chattering 
 of a flock of minahs away amongst the gum trees told 
 that they had found a snake. The birds gather and 
 keep up an incessant din, darting down close upon the 
 snake with flapping wings and snapping beaks, and 
 keeping the reptile constantly occupied. And while
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 23/ 
 
 the sounds, which must have been famihar to every 
 bird in the bush, were ringing through the forest the 
 laughing jackasses sat stoHdiy in the branches over- 
 head, taking no apparent interest in the proceedings. 
 It is said that the jackass has been seen to carry large 
 snakes into the air, and then allow them to fall to the 
 ground, thus killing them. One reason for doubt- 
 ing the statement is that the laughing jackass has 
 barely enough wing power to support its own 
 weight, its wing feathers being short and soft, and the 
 beat noiseless. Anything like a full-grown snake, 
 whether of the brown, black, tiger, carpet, or diamond 
 species, would at least be as heavy as the bird itself. 
 A black hawk, with its long powerful pinions, might 
 perform such a feat, but hardly a laughing jackass. 
 That the laughing jackass destroys many small snakes 
 may be admitted, but so do most Australian birds. 
 
 At one time we kept a young magpie in a cage 
 after it had been taken from the nest on one of 
 the gum trees in the garden. This prisoner was fed 
 by the old birds long after its fellow nestlings had 
 been compelled to make their own way in the world, 
 and amongst other things dropped into the cage were 
 occasional small snakes, some of them the little 
 grass varieties, others young venomous snakes, which 
 the birds must have killed down by the river-side and 
 carried thither. The snake habit of frequenting the 
 banks of creeks and rivers is fatal to numbers of 
 them. After a freshet in the Deep Creek it was no 
 uncommon thing to find dozens of drowned snakes 
 lying amongst the rubbish at high-water mark. Just 
 as the snake enjoys undue notoriety for ferocity, so 
 amongst some credulous people it has gained credit
 
 238 GUM BOUCjHS and WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 for musical tastes. Meeting snakes of all kinds 
 casually in the country, in my credulous days, I 
 have at some facial inconvenience whistled various 
 popular airs, without in a single instance causing them 
 to assume the far-away look that marks a human being 
 in the throes of musical enjoyment. Indeed, to be 
 candid about the result of the experiment, the snakes 
 invariably acted as though they had an appointment 
 in some other part of the colony. Friends who 
 wished to be thought critical have remarked that 
 this was the very best evidence that snakes do 
 really possess a sound musical taste. Perhaps they 
 were right, for on that theory the absence of snakes 
 from any hut where the farm hands have an asthmatic 
 concertina, or from those farmhouses where an old- 
 fashioned piano is kept, might be explained. 
 
 The serious drawback to an excursion through 
 the heath country bordering the southern sea-coast 
 is the knowledge that the trail of the serpent is over 
 this Eden. A stroll through a corn-field, where, 
 instead of wheat, there is a blaze of crimson, pink, 
 and white flowers, is pleasant to the senses ; but 
 the romance evaporates when we know that the heath 
 mounds are equally popular with the snake tribe as a 
 promenade. Indeed, there are few parts of Australia 
 where the habits of the snakes can be better studied 
 than in certain sectionsof the southern coast-line, more 
 especially the low land about Cape Patterson and 
 Anderson's Inlet. Here the small streams from the 
 mountains spread over the flats, and form a series of 
 miniature lakes, where in the summer season the frogs 
 sing all day in chorus, and fill the air with what 
 to their uncultivated taste is, perhaps, music of
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SNAKES. 239 
 
 exceeding sweetness. They usually commence with a 
 modest solo, then a duet, a trio, a quartette, and 
 swell finally into a grand chorus. In the very midst 
 of the glee there is a sudden silence, and a score of 
 splashes in the water tell that the choristers — with the 
 exception of one who is struggling in the fangs of a 
 snake, and filling the air with his terrified, croaking 
 complaint — have sought safety amongst the roots of 
 the water-weeds at the bottom of the pool. 
 
 On a warm day operations may be closely watched 
 without disturbing either the hunter or the game. 
 The snake is generally guided to the spot by the 
 chorus of his victims, or a prior knowledge of the 
 locality ; and in taking up your station it is not 
 advisable to concentrate your attention solely on the 
 pool. One may have chosen as a look-out a point 
 directly on the serpentine line of march, and in this 
 case is apt to be startled at any moment by a rustling 
 amongst the grass at his feet. These unrehearsed 
 movements make matters uncomfortable, both for 
 actors and audience, and break the continuity of the 
 drama. 
 
 A position up amongst the branches of one of the 
 sweet-smelling banksia trees that stud the coast-line 
 forms an excellent look-out, for it gives a good bird's- 
 eye view of the pool, and as the tree-snakes of Aus- 
 tralia have their location farther north, there is nothing 
 to flurry one's nerves. Sometimes the snake is the 
 first to appear at the edge of the pool, and he gathers 
 him.self up amongst the marsh-button at the water's 
 edge, not in the customary basking coil, but doubled 
 in a continued letter S form, so that he can extend 
 himself rapidly and with ease. Here he lies quite
 
 240 GUM BOUGHS .-LVD IVATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 limp, and apparently asleep. Presently the green 
 head of a frog makes a ripple on the surface of the 
 water, and, after a short survey of the surroundings, 
 strikes out for the shore. Fortunate is it for him if in 
 paddling to the edge he comes in contact with the 
 broad floating leaf of a water-lily. On this normal 
 raft he may pour out his soul in song without any 
 fear of foreign aggression. But the leaves of the lilies 
 are not plentiful, so the frog generally gains the bank 
 without interruption, and at once turns his back upon 
 the source of danger. 
 
 If the frog would but sing with his face to land- 
 ward, and practice the accomplishment of diving 
 in backward, he would be all right ; but his 
 desire to take up a position from which he can dive 
 into the water at. the first alarm helps the hunter. If 
 the frog lands close to the snake the latter loses no 
 time in making the capture, but if he is out of reach 
 the snake waits patiently until his game, with a few 
 unwieldy hops, comes within striking distance, or 
 until the strains of the first comer have beguiled 
 another chorister from the depths of the pond. It is 
 not difficult to fix the exact moment when the snake 
 considers his prey within range. The graceful, bent, 
 venomous head, which has hitherto lain flat, is raised, 
 the bright black bead-like eyes shining, and the neck 
 gracefully curved. The muscular sides quiver with a 
 sort of suppressed energy, and the whole of the reptile's 
 body, although maintaining the same position, is yet 
 in motion. Then there is a sudden forward dart, a 
 pitiful cry from the frog, and the head of the snake is 
 raised still higher, with its prey struggling unavailingly 
 for the curved teeth rarely loose their hold when once
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 24I 
 
 secured. Sometimes when snakes are plentiful and 
 frogs scarce there is a fight for the game at the edge 
 of the pool, a large snake often relieving a smaller one 
 of its capture. 
 
 In Chambers' s Journal there is a story of an 
 Australian black snake chasing a clergyman at full 
 speed across three paddocks. This black snake had 
 the faculty of bringing head and tail together when 
 in motion, instead of gliding along in the usual 
 way — thus making a bicycle wheel of himself, so to 
 speak. Those familiar with Australian snakes and 
 with the effects of bush whisky will say either that 
 this snake was no Ophidian, but the great original 
 serpent, or that the reverend gentleman had evolved 
 this conception of a wheel snake from the depths of 
 his own boots. 
 
 There is a sameness about the ornithology of the 
 sea-coast of Victoria, and this is noticeable in the 
 colour rather than the form of the birds. The white- 
 breasted sea eagle has many of the characteristics of 
 the humbler fisher birds that surround him, and he is, 
 I should say, about the lowest type of his own brigand 
 race. Amongst other birds seen along this coast is 
 the sooty albatross, a smaller edition of the big, high- 
 flavoured fellow, whose chief mission on the waters 
 is seemingly to be trapped in the simplest way by
 
 242 GUM BOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 the passengers of ocean-going ships. The different 
 varieties of the family fill tlie same place amongst sea- 
 birds that the swallows do upon land, and in shape 
 they are veritable sea swallows. The crested penguin 
 is a very remarkable bird. Nature seems to have 
 given it a plume of no value whatever, while at the 
 same time so curtailing its mere apologies for wings 
 as to make these organs of no practical use. One 
 might have expected to find in the man-of-war bird a 
 gull with a stately " three-decker " aspect, but he is a 
 long, low, clean swimmer, built on the lines of the 
 modern torpedo boat. The big Pacific gull is no 
 stranger here, and sometimes, well out in the straits, 
 one has a glimpse of that lone voyageur the great 
 petrel. Occasionally, after a continuance of southerly 
 gales, fairy penguins are washed in upon the rocks, 
 telling, as the dead birds did to Columbus, stories of 
 other lands out beyond the green horizon. Among 
 sea-birds the gradations from one species to another are 
 more clearly marked perhaps than in any other order. 
 The tippet grebe, besides having variations in its own 
 family, is a distinct link between the cormorants and 
 the penguins. As the conditions under which the 
 sea-birds live are almost exactly similar, we find very 
 little variety in the markings of their plumage. The 
 prevailing colours are first of all white, then blackj 
 blue and grey, with a few nondescript shades as a 
 result of the commingling of some or all of these 
 colours. The predominance of white in so many 
 sea-birds is strong evidence in support of the theory 
 of that reign of universal white away back in the 
 glacial period. 
 
 In Polar regions of to-day the conditions are
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 243 
 
 probably the same which affected our plains and 
 mountains innumerable ages ago when the earth's 
 surface was being changed by genial warmth from a 
 cold white mass into a world of life, and colour, and 
 beauty. And in these Arctic lands, niore especially 
 in winter, we find every animal and bird clothed in a 
 garb of purest white. Possibly, the leading types of 
 bird and animal life all the world over were similarly 
 conditioned at one time, and the sea-birds, even those 
 now frequenting our semi-tropical coasts, have retained 
 the "glacial period" colours longest, partly because 
 their natural habits have not undergone the same 
 modification as those of most land birds ; and more 
 especially, perhaps, because their colour did not in any 
 way affect their safety. The breasts of sea-birds are 
 as a rule, white, but in swimming, that part of the bird 
 is immersed in the water, and if not entirely so, it at 
 least harmonises very much with the foam and spray 
 in the midst of which the birds live. Even on land 
 the colours agree quite as well as any other with the 
 white cliffs upon which the sea-birds lay their eggs. 
 The occurrence of albinocs, or purely white animals 
 and birds, seems also to point back to a period when 
 there was no variety in Nature. Near Corowa, in New 
 South Wales, I have seen a pure white kangaroo, 
 and fishing one day at the junction of two of the 
 branches of the Deep Creek near Keilor was much 
 interested in a real white sparrow flying about amongst 
 the thistles, in the midst of a flock of its ordinary 
 brown companions. There is no other bird of the 
 same colour in Victoria which would be mistaken for 
 a sparrow. These casuals must have been the result 
 of an hereditary out-cropping, a reminiscence of the 
 r 2
 
 244 ('^'■'^^ DOUGHS AXD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 period popularly known as " Antediluvian times." 
 Need I say that the white kangaroo was soon killed, 
 possibly the white sparrow also ? The hawks could 
 hardly miss so distinctive a mark. Most breeders of 
 pure stock have at one time or other been surprised 
 to find a white calf in their herds, although the 
 ancestors of the little animal for generations back 
 wore a coat of fashionable roan. The colour may 
 be a family trait, linking the little prize shorthorn 
 of to-day with the white cattle that once ran wild 
 through English forests. In the same way the albino 
 connects the present with a yet remoter time. In 
 both flora and fauna these peculiarities are noticeable. 
 Those variegations which the modem gardener has 
 marked upon almost every green leaf of the garden are 
 but the intelligent cultivation of chance developments, 
 such as those just noticed. In the sheltered valleys 
 between these southern hills you will find dark damp 
 nooks where the ferns and marsh weeds are white and 
 tender through being deprived of a sufficiency of light 
 and warmth. Place a young pot plant in a darkened 
 room, and after a time the absence of those influences 
 that have brought the plant to its present glorious 
 perfection cause this little thing to revert to its 
 hereditary condition of white feebleness. Exposed 
 to the sunshine, it soon becomes green and vigorous 
 again, and you have the metamorphosis that in the 
 infant past was slowly wrought through countless 
 ages. 
 
 Starfish are very plentiful along this rocky coast, 
 and by raising any piece of flat sandstone below the 
 high tide level you may find more specimens than 
 you care to collect. If you wish to be quite correct
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 245 
 
 in speaking of these little animals call iliem Astcria, 
 and as the scientific name is, for a wonder, rather a 
 pretty one, it may be commendable to keep to it. 
 AstcricB are more common, perhaps, than any other 
 living forms in the world, for you find them on every 
 coast. One of the offshoots of the tribe multiplies its 
 arms in a rather remarkable manner, very much after 
 the same fashion as the antlers of a stag multiply their 
 branches, except that in the case of the starfish the 
 multiplication seems to cease only with the animal's 
 death. Commencing originally with five arms like 
 other starfish, a second pair afterwards shoot out from 
 the extremities. These again multiply, each successive 
 output being smaller and more fragile than the last, 
 until finally the arms become as fine as thread, and 
 resemble a mere circlet of fringe. The multiplica- 
 tion, if ten times repeated, would give the starfish 
 5,120 arms. The variety just mentioned is native to 
 the Indian seas, but with careful search )'ou may 
 pick up a specimen at almost any point along our 
 southern coast. A friend was fortunate enough re- 
 cently to obtain a very fine specimen alive, which 
 he placed in his aquarium, ^^'herc it was one of the 
 chief attractions of a collection of Victorian curiosities. 
 Shortly afterwards, while dredging in Port Phillip 
 Bay, he brought up a beautiful harp shell, out of 
 which, as soon as it fell into the boat, rolled a hermit 
 crab, of a brilliant scarlet colour, and with a pair of 
 fine eyes, blazing like sapphires. As a fine specimen 
 of this remarkable order of Crustacea the crab was 
 preserved alive and transferred, together with his 
 harp shell, home to the aquarium. Here, however, 
 he proved a veritable tyrant, for on the following
 
 246 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 morning the starfish was found with all its beautiful 
 arms chopped into short lengths, like firewood piled 
 at a forest railway siding. The hermit crab had evid- 
 ently been on the war-path during the night, and the 
 destruction of his tank-mate must have been a piece 
 of wanton mischief, for there was scarcely'anything 
 edible about it, and, besides, the wants of the crab 
 in the matter of food had received liberal attention. 
 Since that time he has shown a disposition to destroy 
 all and sundry, and some smart-looking fish, which 
 in the water are much too clever to be caught by a 
 sluggish hermit, are occasionally found dead and 
 partly devoured in the aquarium. The nocturnal 
 pirate steals quietly upon his victims during the dark- 
 ness, and so effects their capture. Along the coast 
 near Melbourne the shell collector finds little to re- 
 ward his labour. It has not always been so barren, 
 however, for in many of the cliffs about there are 
 shell deposits in which we find the Spondylus, and 
 other rare varieties. These are, however, the relics 
 of the past, and no specimens of the kind ever roll 
 in upon the sands now with the southerly breakers. 
 
 Sea aquariums are daily formed and daily ab- 
 sorbed by the falling and rising tide on every bit of 
 rocky coast-line, and very beautiful are those situated 
 just where the tide turns to creep up again over the 
 water-worn rocks. The sides of the pool are hand- 
 somely decked with tresses of pink and white sea- 
 weed, adornments that can only exist here amongst 
 the rocks. At Lome one may spend many pleasant 
 hours in seeking out these crystal pools, and studying 
 the sea life that fairly teems in every drop of salt water 
 along this stern Otway coast. In winter a great many
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 247 
 
 marine animals seek the deep sea for warmth, but 
 during the hot days of an AustraHan summer they 
 come up almost to high-tide mark, and invest with 
 a new interest the sea aquariums. The rambler 
 amongst the rocks coming suddenly upon one of 
 these pools has at first but a faint conception of the 
 amount of life they contain. A few tiny fishes dart 
 for the shelter of the seaweeds, or a family of young 
 crabs scuttle off with their ludicrous side step to some 
 hole in the rock. Beyond this, the pool seems de- 
 serted, but settling down for a time and quietly sur- 
 veying this interesting tank one animate object after 
 another breaks upon the vision, until the predominant 
 feeling is one of wonder at our own first blindness. 
 But, clearl)', Nature never intended that he who runs 
 should read here, for the colouring of the life of this 
 pool is in such perfect harmony with everything else 
 it contains that time is required to identify the living 
 things. If it were otherwise, these coast pools would 
 be rare feeding grounds for the cormorants and gulls. 
 Perhaps the brilliant scarlet anemones are the excep- 
 tion to the rule, but one generally finds them attached 
 where the shadow of a ledge falls, not so much for 
 their own protection as that their presence may not be 
 too apparent to their prey inhabiting the same water. 
 
 The anemones of this coast show, as they do all 
 the world over, a wonderful variety in shade and 
 colour. The scarlet kind, with its fringe of tentacles 
 waving about in the water, is perhaps the handsomest 
 of all. 
 
 Another, brown in the cup with a crown of green 
 fringe, shows a preference for corners and retired 
 nooks of the rocks. Others, again, are all brown and
 
 248 GUM BOUGHS A. YD WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 all beautiful. These anemones have a reputation 
 as gourmands, low as they are in the scale of exist- 
 ence. One may prove the powers of the green- 
 fringed variety by a simple experiment. 
 
 The rocks here at low tide are covered with limpet 
 shells. If a number of these are detached, the limpets 
 cut out of the shell, and brought on the point of a 
 penknife one at a time in contact with these waving 
 fringes — that seem so much more the attributes of a 
 plant than an animal — the supple tentacles will grasp 
 the morsels round, and the limpets slowly disappear in 
 the pliant cup. Again and again I have seen the 
 fringe extended, calling as plainly as possible for more, 
 until fourteen limpets, about twice the original bulk of 
 the feasting fish itself, had been swallowed. Then the 
 waiter brought on a fresh course — mussels an naturel 
 — and at the end of an hour six of these had gone the 
 way of the limpets. Finally, having only a short holi- 
 day at Lome, there was no opportunity of testing 
 the appetite of this interesting animal to its limits. 
 
 The anatomy of the sea anemone is simple in the 
 extreme. It eats, breathes, digests, and performs 
 a half-score other functions with its stomach alone. 
 And the sea anemone has — oh, enviable distinction ! 
 — no liver. " Picture it, think of it, bilious man." 
 
 While the anemone was being fed one or two 
 scraps of shell fish sank,'slowly whirling to the bottom 
 of the pool, when suddenly a shrimp darted out from 
 a cleft in the rock, and seized one of the morsel.s. 
 With his long tender claws and feelers all spread, and 
 the amber of his almost transparent body in faint 
 contrast with the water, he was certainly one of the 
 most interesting of the living objects of the pool.
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 249 
 
 It is said that the shrimp sometimes robs the slow- 
 anemone of his food, but this one showed no dishonest 
 inchnations. Once, as he ghded gracefully about 
 the pool, he brushed ever so slightly against these 
 waving tentacles, and seemed fairly electrified with 
 fear at the contact. With a quick backward rush he 
 was clear of the danger long before the closing fringe 
 could envelop him. Perhaps the sharp spines of the 
 shrimp were a protection to him ; but not much in 
 this case, I fancy, for the lower we go in the descending 
 grade of existence the more faint are the perceptions 
 of pleasure and pain, and the anemone is not very 
 sensitive. 
 
 If by some accident his crown of fringe is shred 
 away he grows a new one, or if he be cut in twain by 
 a shifting rock, it means merely the creation of two 
 anemones where one formerly existed. 
 
 The starfish has one distinction — he is perhaps the 
 slowest mover of all sea animals, while yet being more 
 nomadic in his habits than the anemone. One of the 
 limpet shells, with fragments of fish attached, fell 
 within a couple of inches of one of these reposeful 
 asteria, and after an hour's toilsome travelHng he got 
 possession of it. 
 
 Some of the shell fish in motion about the 
 pool, carrying their dwellings with them like the 
 garden-snail, can, by comparison with the starfish, 
 claim the travellers' right of being citizens of the 
 world. 
 
 To westward of that headland at Lome where the 
 little pier runs out in the teeth of the seas there is 
 a level bed of rock studded with flat boulders, the 
 majority shaped like the loaves of bread baked
 
 250 ami BOUGHS axd wattle bloom. 
 
 at a country farmhouse. Under these boulders are 
 myriads of strange sea things gifted with the 
 capacity for hving either on land or beneath the 
 water, and upon this plateau, drained at low tide, the 
 finest specimens of starfish are found. At the 
 popular and growing aquarium in Melbourne it has 
 been found that the starfish live only for a few days 
 in the artificial pools. Could they be preserved a very 
 fine collection might be transferred from here to the 
 institution. 
 
 Under the same rocks with the starfish are huge 
 sea snails, as large almost as one's clenched hand and 
 with sides black as ebonite. The back is protected by 
 an armour of hard white shell, and the colour under- 
 neath — a bright buff" — contrasts finely with the 
 shining black of the animal's sides. Another inhabit- 
 ant of the rocks, slightly allied to the snail in habits 
 and appearance, has a jointed shell which enables him 
 to " double up " like the porcupine ant-eater of the 
 bush, leaving no vital part exposed. 
 
 Another large and very interesting zoophyte of 
 the rocks about this coast is the Cynthia. The best 
 specimens are about the size and shape of an ordinary 
 teacup, and rest upon a soft semi-elastic pedestal, the 
 material of which closely resembles prepared india- 
 rubber. The top covering is softer than the sides, 
 and through this the animal — which completely fills 
 the inside of the cup, and is of a dull-red colour — 
 evidently obtains its food by suction. The inside of 
 the cup is of a beautiful mauve colour, and this, with 
 other ornamental peculiarities, make it a trophy 
 eagerly sought by the summer visitors to the seaside. 
 Those attached to the rocks at low tide are covered
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 251 
 
 with a handsome fringe of seaweed, while others on 
 the higher ledges are girt about with white corallines. 
 How they got the popular name of Cynthia shells 
 one can only conjecture. That beautiful sea-goddess 
 Aphrodite might have used it as her drinking cup, 
 and certainly could have chosen nothing more ap- 
 propriate, but one fails to find the connection between 
 these curious homes and the mythological huntress 
 of Mount Cynthus. Many of the coast fishes found in 
 the pools may be studied nearer home in the glass 
 tanks of the Aquarium, but now and again one meets 
 a rare specimen. One of these, a chubby fish, with 
 his dark skin spotted with yellow eyes, not unlike the 
 markings on a peacock's tail, would have shown to 
 much advantage' in captivity and gaslight. Amongst 
 all the sea creatures that excite our admiration few 
 claim a larger share than the daring little rockfish 
 — the stormy petrel of the under sea. He is no lover 
 of quiet pools and a tame existence. Where the 
 foam is whitest and the billows lashed to wildest con- 
 fusion by the rocks, there in the watery turmoil is the 
 little rockfish. Those who seek for him must sub- 
 mit to being drenched by the spraj^ and flooded 
 occasionally with a higher sea, but in spite of these 
 disadvantages the rockfish gives, next to the bream, 
 the best sport that the angler can get along this 
 southern coast. 
 
 One of the recognised pastimes at this southern 
 watering-place is the snaring of crayfish and giant 
 crabs. Wherever there is a stretch of bold coast-line 
 you are certain to find the different varieties of Crus- 
 tacea, the crab and crayfish apparently living together 
 in harmony, except when there is a prospect of booty.
 
 252 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 It is amusing to watch the proceedings of the two 
 animals in such cases. As the crayfish is the great 
 attraction from the gourmand's point of vievV, and the 
 crab comparatively useless, the probability is that you 
 wish to snare the former only. If at low tide you 
 come upon a large sea-pool several feet in depth, and 
 with the white sand disappearing beneath an over- 
 hanging ledge of rock, you are certain to find the 
 Crustacea there. From a weedy crevice, too, you may 
 see their pliant spines protruding. Having made your 
 bait, possibly a small bream or rockfish, fast to a 
 piece of string, and weighted it with lead, you allow it 
 to sink gently down until it rests upon the sands. If 
 the pool is inhabited, ere long a crab or crayfish 
 shoots out from one of the crevices in the rock and 
 seizes the morsel. Sometimes the crayfish is scarcely 
 in possession before a crab sidles up in his peculiar 
 all-round style, and his supremacy being admitted 
 without question, at once deprives his fellow-lodger of 
 the prize. If the passage leading to their common 
 home is a narrow one he drives the crayfish into it, 
 and then taking the fish in his claws, tucks himself 
 into the hole so as to block it, and in the most philo- 
 sophical way proceeds with his banquet. His friends 
 the crayfish are as effectually imprisoned as if a door 
 had been closed upon them, and with those long claws 
 of his as a standing menace they are not likely to 
 play any mean tricks upon the master of the situation 
 behind his back. The depth of sea-water is decep- 
 tive, and the novice in snaring crayfish is apt at first 
 to make ludicrous mistakes. He insinuates his copper- 
 wire snare gently but surely over the tail of the cray- 
 fish, makes a desperate stroke, and finds that he has
 
 ALOXG THE SOUTH COAST. 253 
 
 been noosing salt water some two feet above his in- 
 tended victim. Experienced fishers let the snare 
 down until it cuts a tiny groove in the sand. 
 
 The sponges enjoy a negative distinction, as some 
 scientists have allotted them the honour of being the 
 very last possibility in the way of organic bodies. 
 And although it seems much too early to make a 
 definite boundary-line between the organic and in- 
 organic world, the sponges certainly look the part 
 allotted to them. Anything more expressionless, or 
 more abjectly helpless, cannot be imagined amongst 
 the things that have a being either by land or sea. 
 A flower that offers a gorgeous couch to the passing 
 insect, and then closes up and destroys him as soon 
 as he takes possession of it, might reasonably be 
 granted the power of sensitiveness, if not a capacity 
 for calculation : but why the sponge should enjoy the 
 same distinction is not exactly clear. Some autho- 
 rity, more gifted than others, has now said emphati- 
 cally that the sponge is an animal, but qualifies the 
 bold assertion with the opinion that it is a very infe- 
 rior sort of animal indeed. While the scientists differ 
 on the point, we recklessly hold our own opinions as 
 to its being a sea-mushroom, a water-lichen, or 
 something of that sort. Anyhow, the sponges of 
 Australia are amongst the prettiest and most inter- 
 esting of the treasures of the deep. They are para- 
 sitical in their habits, and establish themselves on 
 any submerged object, so that sometimes we find 
 them in novel positions, either enveloping a shell or 
 themselves caught and bound in threads of coral. 
 You may make a fair collection of sponges in shallow 
 water, or stranded on the beach after a heavy gale,
 
 254 ^^■l-'' BOUGHS AND WATTlE BLOOM. 
 
 but the best of them are found many fathoms deep, 
 and are only to be got by dredging. The AustraHan 
 seas are especially rich in sponges ; and some rare 
 varieties already known to science with many en- 
 tirely new specimens have been found in the waters 
 of Port Phillip alone. Strange to say, there is no- 
 thing like a complete collection in our national 
 museum, although Mr. Bracebridge Wilson, of Gee- 
 long, who has given a great deal of attention to 
 sponges, as well as other branches of marine life, has 
 sent many cases of them to the British Museum, and 
 delighted some of the specialists at home with his 
 new contributions. Probabl}', in the next work pub- 
 lished on the subject, we shall learn something of the 
 products of our sea-waters. In order to get an idea 
 of the real beauty of the sponges, they must be cut 
 with the dredge-knife from the rocks on which they 
 grow far beneath the surface, and plunged in a living 
 state into the mcth\'lated spirit necessary to preserve 
 them. If required for ornamental purposes only, you 
 may pick them up in hundreds along this coast-line 
 after a stiff gale from the south, but if the opportunity 
 is long delayed those washed ashore are covered 
 with the shifting sea-sands and lost for ever. 
 
 At certain points along the shore one notices great 
 mounds of limpet shells mixed with ashes. Some- 
 times they are covered with drift sand, and appear to 
 be nothing more than ordinary coast dune-;, but 
 when the surface is removed shells and ashes are 
 found piled in confusion together. These signs indi- 
 cate that at one time the camp-fire of a beach tribe 
 of aborigines smouldered here for a period, and 
 so the tons of partly calcined limpet shells were
 
 ALONG THE SOUTH COAST. 255 
 
 brought together. Some of these mounds are worthy 
 the attention of an AustraHan antiquarian. Even 
 the most cursory search reveals, for example, the 
 pointed bones which the aborigines used as forks 
 for the roasted shell fish. These are formed of the 
 smaller bones of the kangaroo — the large bone 
 of the hind leg the natives used to force the 
 clinging limpets from their hold on the rocks. 
 
 The coast is the geologist's fav^ourite field of re- 
 search, especially where the outline is bold and rocky, 
 and where the breakers have cut quaint figures in 
 the sandstone and revealed a notable variety in strata. 
 Along these cliffs the diligent searcher for fossil re- 
 mains is most likely to meet with something to reward 
 his labours. Perhaps it is a piece of petrified wood, the 
 fragment of an extinct vegetable world. In yonder 
 block of sandstone it has lain hermetically sealed 
 until the intrusive persistent waves once more brought 
 it into the light of day. What changes have taken place 
 between that interment and resurrection! In some 
 parts where the cliff has been undermined and broken 
 away through the action of a mountain stream cutting 
 its passage to the sea, we find the most beautiful im- 
 pressions of ferns and seaweed of a variety altogether 
 unknown to botanists. One almost fancies that 
 such apparent perfection of outline and reproduction 
 of delicate fibre is due to the existence of organic 
 vegetable matter, which remained invisible until the 
 action of water developed an outline, even as cer- 
 tain chemicals or agents, such as heat, etc., change a 
 blank sheet of note-paper to a highly-interesting mis- 
 sive when chemical ink has been used. 
 
 Where the fissures in the cliffs have been coated
 
 256 GUM BOUGHS AND WATTLE BLOOM. 
 
 with a few feet of soil, a growth of rugged scrub comes 
 into existence, and in these sheltered places we gener- 
 ally notice a hardy little coast wallaby dart for 
 shelter as soon as any strange object appears above 
 the ridge. He has not always lived amongst the 
 tussocks of long wavy grass and the general vegetable 
 dreariness of these exposed and precipitous cliffs, but 
 has been compelled to seek the spot as an asylum. 
 The marsupials of Australia are regarded by natural- 
 ists as strikingly illustrative of the theory of develop- 
 ment from a common source. It is a long chain from 
 the big forester, down through the different varieties 
 of wallaby to the kangaroo rat, and finally, to the 
 tiny interesting little creature known on the plains as 
 the " kangaroo mouse ; " but all have the same cha- 
 racteristics. Back beyond high-Avater mark, where 
 the sand has not encroached, the mounds are all 
 covered with beautiful heaths — the epacris of the 
 botanist. In the brilliancy of a spring day the bells 
 expand, and from the main lines of crimson and white 
 the colours converge towards each other through all 
 the beautiful shades of dark and pale pink. These 
 purely Australian flowers claim a near kinship with 
 the ericas, sometimes seen to such advantage in a 
 cottage garden ; but amongst the many British and 
 South African varieties of this hardy shrub, all 
 brought to a high stage of perfection by the gardener's 
 art, few surpass in beauty our own Australian heaths 
 in their natural homes. 
 
 Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvagf, London, E.G.
 
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