The fourth day of Dot's wanderings in the Bush dawned brightly. The sun
arose in a sky all gorgeous in gold and crimson, and flashed upon a
world glittering with dewy freshness. Sweet odours from the aromatic
bush filled the air, and every living creature made what noise it could,
to show its joy in being happy and free in the beautiful Bush. Rich and
gurgling came the note of the magpies, the jovial Kookooburras saluted
the sun with rollicking laughter, the crickets chirruped, frogs croaked
in chorus, or solemnly "popped" in deep vibrating tones, like the ring
of a woodman's axe. Every now and then came the shriek of the plover, or
the shrill cry of the peeweet; and gayer and more lively than all the
others was the merry clattering of the big bush wagtail in the distance.
As soon as the Kangaroo heard the Bush Wagtail, she and Dot hurried away
to find him. No Christy Minstrel rattling his bones ever made a merrier
sound. "Click-i-ti-clack, click-i-ti-clack, clack, clack, clack, clack,
click-i-ti-clack," he rattled away as fast as he could, just as if he
hadn't a moment to waste for taking breath, and as if the whole lovely
world was made for the enjoyment of Bush Wagtails.
When Dot and the Kangaroo found him, he was swaying about on a branch,
spreading his big tail like a fan, and clattering gaily; but he stopped
in surprise as soon as he saw his visitors.
After greetings, he opened the conversation by talking of the weather,
so as to conceal his astonishment at seeing Dot and the Kangaroo
together.
"Lovely weather after the rain," he said; "the showers were needed very
much, for insects were getting scarce, and I believe grass was getting
rank, and not very plentiful. There will be a green shoot in a few days,
which will be very welcome to Kangaroos. I heard about you losing your
Joey--my cousin told me. I was very sorry; so sad. Ah! well, such things
will happen in the Bush to anyone. We were most fortunate in our brood;
none of the chicks fell out of the nest, every one of them escaped the
Butcher Birds and were strong of wing. They are all doing well in the
world."
Then the vivacious bird came a little nearer to the Kangaroo, and,
dropping his voice, said:
"But, friend Kangaroo, I'm sorry to see you've taken up with Humans.
You know I have quite set my face against them, although my cousin
is intimate with the whole race. Take my word for it, they're most
uncertain friends. Two Kookooburras were shot last week, in spite of
Government protection. Fact!" And as the bird spoke he nodded his head
warningly towards the place where Dot was standing.
"This little Human has been lost in our Bush," said the Kangaroo; "one
had to take care of her, you know."
"Of course, of course; there are exceptions to all rules," chattered the
Wagtail. "And so this is really the lost little Human there has been
such a fuss about!" added he, eyeing Dot, and making a long whistle of
surprise. "My cousin told me all about it."
"Then your cousin, Willy Wagtail, knows her lost way," said the Kangaroo
joyfully, and Dot came a little nearer in her eagerness to hear the good
news.
"Of course he does," answered the bird; "there's nothing happens that he
doesn't know. You should have hunted him up."
"I didn't know where to find him," said the Kangaroo, "and I got into
this country, which is new to me."
"Why he is in the same part that he nested in last season. It's no
distance off," exclaimed the Wagtail. "If you could fly, you'd be there
almost directly!" Then the bird gave a long description of the way they
were to follow to find his cousin Willy, and with many warm thanks the
Kangaroo and Dot bade him adieu.
As they left the Bush Wagtail they could hear him singing this song,
which shows what a merry, happy fellow he is:
"Click-i-ti, click-i-ti-clack!
Clack! clack! clack! clack!
Who could cry in such weather, 'alack!'
With a sky so blue, and a sun so bright,
Sing 'winter, winter, winter is back!'
Sportive in flight, chatter delight,
Click-i-ti, click-i-ti-clack!
"I'm so glad that I have the knack
Of singing clack! clack! clack!
If you wish to be happy, just follow my track,
Take this for a motto, this for a code,
Sing 'winter, winter, winter is back!'
Leave care to a toad, and live _à la mode_!
Click-i-ti, click-i-ti-clack!"
They had no difficulty in following the Wagtail's directions. They soon
struck a creek they had been told to pursue to its end, and about noon
they found themselves in very pretty country. It reminded Dot of the
journey they had made to find the Platypus, for there were the same
beautiful growths of fern and shrubs. There were also great trailing
creepers which hung down like ropes from the tops of the tall trees they
had climbed. These rope-like coils of the creepers made capital swings,
and often Dot clambered into one of the big loops and sat swinging
herself to and fro, laughing and singing, much to the delight and
amusement of the Kangaroo.
"Swing! swing! a bird on the wing
Is not more happy than I!
Stooping to earth, and seeking the sky.
Swing! swing! swing!
See how high upward I fly!
Here, midst the leaves I swing;
Then, as fast to my swing I cling,
Down I come from the sky!
Swing! swing! a bird on the wing
Is not more happy than I!"
Thus sang little Dot, tossing herself backwards and forwards, and the
Kangaroo came to the conclusion that there was something very sweet
about little Humans, and that Dot was certainly quite as nice as a Joey
Kangaroo.
In the middle of one of these little swinging diversions, a bird about
the size of a pigeon, with the most wonderfully shiny plumage, flew to
the tree on which Dot was swinging. Dot was so struck by the bird's
beautiful blue-black glossy appearance, and its brightly contrasting
yellow beak and legs, that she stopped swinging at once. "You _are_ a
pretty bird!" she said.
"I am a Satin Bower Bird," it said. "We heard you singing, and we
thought, therefore, that you probably enjoy parties, so I have come
to invite you to one of our assemblies which will take place shortly.
Friend Kangaroo, we know, is of a somewhat serious nature, but probably
she will do us the pleasure of accompanying you to our little
entertainment."
"I shall have great pleasure in doing so," said the Kangaroo; "I have
not been at any of your parties for a long time. You know, I suppose,
that I lost my little Joey very sadly."
"We heard all about it," replied the Bower Bird in a tone of
exaggerated, almost ridiculous sadness, for it was so anxious that the
Kangaroo should think that it felt very deeply for her loss. "We were in
the middle of a meeting at the time the Wallaby brought the news, and we
were so sad that we nearly broke up our assembly. But it would have been
a pity to do so, really, as the young birds enjoy themselves so much at
the 'Bower of Pleasure.' But," said the Satin Bird, with a sudden change
of tone from extreme sorrow to one of vivacious interest, "I must show
you the way to the bower, or you would never find it."
Dot jumped down from the swing, and she and the Kangaroo, guided by the
Satin Bird, made their way through some very thickly-grown bush. The
bird was certainly right in saying that they would never have found the
Bower of Pleasure without a guide. It was carefully concealed in the
most densely-grown scrub. As they were pushing their way through a
thicket of shrubs, before reaching the open space where the Satin Birds'
bower was built, they heard an increasing noise of birds all talking to
one another. The din of this chattering was enhanced considerably by the
shrill sounds of tree-frogs and crickets, and the hubbub made Dot feel
like the little Native Bear--as if her "head was empty."
"This will be a very pleasant party," said the Satin Bird, "there is
plenty of conversation, so everyone's in a good humour."
"Do you think anyone is listening, or are they all talking?" enquired
the Kangaroo timidly.
"Nobody would attempt to listen," answered the Satin Bird, "it would be
impossible against the music of the tree frogs and crickets, so everyone
talks."
"I should tell the tree-frogs and crickets to be quiet," said Dot, "no
one seems to care for their music."
"Oh, without music it would be very dull," explained the Satin Bird, "no
one would care to talk. You understand, it would be awkward, someone
might overhear what was said."
As the bird spoke the trio reached the place where the bower was
situated.
Dot thought it a most curious sight. In the middle of an open space the
birds had built a flooring of twigs, and upon that they had erected a
bower about three feet high, also constructed of twigs interwoven with
grass, and arranged so as nearly to meet at the top in an arched form.
"It's a new bower, and more commodious than our last," said the Satin
Bird with an air of satisfaction. "What do you think of the
decorations?"
In a temporary lull of the frog and cricket band and the conversation,
Dot and the Kangaroo praised the bower and its decorations, and enquired
politely how the birds had managed to procure such a collection of
ornaments for their pleasure hall. Several young bower birds came and
joined in the chat, and Dot was surprised to see how different their
plumage was from the satin blue-black of the old birds. These younger
members of the community were of a greenish yellow colour, with dark
pencillings on their feathers, and had no glossy sheen like their
elders.
Each of them pointed out some ornament that it had brought with which to
deck the bower. One had brought the pink feathers of a Galah, which had
been stuck here and there amongst the twigs. Others had collected the
delicate shells of land snails, and put them round about the entrance.
But the birds that were proudest of their contributions were those who
had picked up odds and ends at the camps of bushmen.
"That beautiful bright thing I brought from a camp a mile away," said a
bird, indicating a tag from a cake of tobacco.
"But it isn't so pretty as mine," said another, pointing to the glass
stopper of a sauce bottle.
"Or mine," chimed in another bird, as it claimed a bright piece of tin
from a milk-can that was inserted in the twigs just above the entrance
of the bower.
"Nonsense, children!" said a grave old Satin Bird, "your trifles are not
to be compared with that beautiful object I found to-day and arranged
along the top of the bower. The effect is splendid!"
As he spoke, Dot observed that, twined amidst the topmost twigs of the
construction was a strip of red flannel from an old shirt, a bedraggled
red rag that must have been found in an extinct camp fire, judging by
its singed edges.
The day Dot had lost her way she had been threading beads, and she still
had upon her finger a ring of the pretty coloured pieces of glass. She
saw the old Satin Bird look at this ring longingly, so she pulled it
off, and begged that it might be added to the other decorations. It was
instantly given the place of honour--over the entrance and above the
piece of milk tin.
This gift from Dot caused an immediate flow of conversation, because
every bird was pleased to have something to talk about. They all began
to say how beautiful the beads were. "Quite too lovely!" said one. "What
a charming little Human!" exclaimed another. "Just the finish that our
bower required," was a general remark, and a great many kept exclaiming,
"So tasteful!" "So sweet!" "How elegant!" "Exquisite!" "It's a love!"
"It's a dear!" and so on. A great deal more was said, but the oldest
bower bird, thinking that all the adjectives were getting used up, told
the frogs and crickets to start the music again, so as to keep the
excitement going, and all further observations were drowned in the
noise.
Presently the younger birds flew down to the bower, and began to play
and dance. Like a troop of children, they ran round and round the bower,
and to and fro through it, gleefully chasing each other. Then they would
assemble in groups, and hop up and down, and dance to one another in
what Dot thought a rather awkward fashion; but she was thinking of the
elegance and grace of the Native Companions, who can make beautiful
movements with their long legs and necks, whilst these little bower
birds are rather ungainly in their steps.
What amused her was to see how the young cock birds showed off to the
little hens. They were conceited fellows, and only seemed happy when
they had five or six little hens looking admiringly at their every
movement. At such times they would dance and hop with great delight; and
the little hens, in a circle round them, watched their hops and steps
with absorbed interest. Immensely pleased with himself, the young dancer
would fluff out his feathers, so as to look as big as possible, and
after strutting about, would suddenly shoot out a leg and a wing, first
on one side and then on the other, then spring high into the air, and do
a sort of step dance when his feet touched the earth again. Endless were
the tricks he resorted to, to show off his feathers and dancing to the
best advantage; and the little hens watched it all with silent
intentness.
In the meantime the frogs and crickets stopped to rest, and Dot could
hear the conversation of some of the old birds perched near her. A
little party of elderly hens were discussing the young birds who were
dancing at the bower.
"I must say I don't admire that new step which is becoming so popular
amongst the young birds," said one elderly hen; and all her companions
rustled their feathers, closed their beaks tightly, and nodded their
heads in various ways. One said it was "rough," another that it was
"ungainly," and others that it was "unmannerly."
"As for manners," said the first speaker, "the bower birds of this day
can't be said to have any!" and all her companions chorused, "No,
indeed!"
[Illustration: THE BOWER BIRDS]
"In my young day," continued the elderly hen, and all the group were
sighing, "Ah! in our young days!" when a young hen perched on a bough
above them, and interrupted pertly, "Dear me! can't you good birds find
anything more interesting to talk about than ancient history?" At this
the groups of gossips whispered angrily to one another "Minx!" "Hussy!"
"Wild Cat!" etc., and the rude young bird flew back to her companions.
"What I object to most in young birds," said another elderly hen,
"is their appearance. Some of them do nothing all day but preen their
feathers. Look at the over-studied arrangements of their wing flights,
and the affected exactness of their tail feathers! One looks in vain for
sweetness and simplicity in the present-day young bower birds."
"Even that is better than the newer fashion of scarcely preening the
feathers at all," observed yet another of the group. "Many of the young
birds take no pride in their feathers whatever, but devote all their
time to studying the habits of out-of-the-way insects." A chorus of
disapproval from all present supported this remark. "Studies that
interfere with a young hen's appearance should not be permitted," said
one bird.
"What is the good of knowing all about insects, when we live on berries
and fruit?" asked another.
"The sight of insects gives one the creeps!" said a third.
"I am thankful to say all my little hens care for nothing beyond playing
at the Bower and preening their feathers," said an affectionate bower
bird mother, "They get a deal of attention paid to them."
"No young Satin Bird would look at a learned little bower-hen," said the
bird who had first objected to untidy and studious young hens. "For my
part, I never allow a chick of mine even to mention insects, unless they
are well-known beetles!"
Dot thought this chattering very stupid, so she went round a bush to
where the old fathers of the bower birds were perched. They were grave
old fellows, arrayed in their satin blue-black plumage, and she found
them all, more or less, in a grumbling humour.
"Birds at our time of life should not have to attend parties," said
several, and Dot wondered why they came. "How are you, old neighbour?"
said one to another. "Terribly bored!" was the reply. "How long must we
stay, do you think?" asked another. "Oh! until these young fools have
finished amusing themselves," answered its friend. The only satin birds
who seemed to Dot to be interested in one another, were some engaged in
discussing the scarcity of berries and the wrongs done to bower birds
by White Humans destroying the wild fig and lillipilli trees. This
grievance, and the question as to what berries or figs agreed best with
each old bower bird's digestion, were the only topics discussed with any
animation.
Dot soon tired of listening to the birds, and returned to the Kangaroo,
who asked her if she cared to stay any longer. The little girl said she
had seen and heard enough, and, judging by this one, she didn't care for
parties.
"Neither do I," whispered the Kangaroo; "they make me feel tired; and,
somehow, they seem to remind one of everything one knows that's sad, in
spite of all the gaiety."
"Is it gay?" enquired Dot, hesitating a little in her speech, for she
had felt rather dull and miserable.
"Well, everyone says it's gay, and there is always a deal of noise, so I
suppose it is," answered the Kangaroo.
"I'd rather be in your pouch, so let us go away," entreated Dot; and
they left the bower place without any of the birds noticing their
departure, for they were all busy gossiping, or discussing the great
berry or digestion questions.
It was towards evening when they reached an open plain, and here they
met an Emu. As both Dot and the Kangaroo were thirsty, they asked the
Emu the way to a waterhole or tank.
"I am going to a tank now," replied the Emu; "let us proceed together."
"Do you think it will be safe to drink to-night"; enquired the Kangaroo
anxiously.
"Well, to tell the truth," said the Emu lightly, "it is likely to be a
little difficult. There is a somewhat strained feeling between the White
Humans and ourselves just now. In consequence, we have to resort to a
little strategy on our visits to the tanks, and we avoid eating anything
tempting left about at camping places."
"Are they laying poison for _you_?" asked the Kangaroo in horrified tones.
"They are doing something of the kind, we think," answered the Emu
airily, "for some of us have had most unpleasant symptoms after picking
up morsels at camping grounds. Several have died. We were quite
surprised, for hitherto there has been no better cure for Emu
indigestion than wire nails, hoop iron, and preserved milk cans. The
worst symptoms have yielded to scraps of barbed wire in my own case. But
these Emus died in spite of all remedies."
"But I heard," said the Kangaroo, "that Emus were protected by the
Government. I never understood why."
"We are protected," said the huge bird, "because we form part of the
Australian Arms."
"So do we," said the Kangaroo, "but we are not protected."
"True," said the bird, "but the Humans can make some money out of you
when you are dead, whereas we serve no purpose at all, excepting alive,
when we add a charm to the scenery; and, moreover, each of our eggs will
make a pound cake. But the time will come, friend, when there will be
neither Emu nor Kangaroo for Australia's Arms; no creature will be left
to represent the land but the Bunny Rabbit and the Sheep."
"I hate sheep!" said the Kangaroo, "they eat all our grass."
"You have not studied them as we have," answered the Emu. "They are most
entertaining. We have great fun with them, and we've learnt some capital
sheep games from those dogs Humans drive them with. It's really exciting
to drive a big mob, when they want to break and scatter. We were chasing
them, here and there, all over the plain to-day."
"I don't like sheep!" said Dot, "they are so stupid."
"So they are," agreed the Emu, "and that is what puzzles me. What is it
about the sight of sheep that excites one so? When one gets into a big
flock, one has to dance, one can't help oneself. We had a great dance in
a flock to-day, and the lambs would get under our feet, so I'm sorry to
say a good many of them were killed."
"Men will certainly kill you, if you do that," said Dot.
"We know it," chuckled the Emu; "that is why the tank is not quite safe
just now. But this evening I will show you a new plan by which to learn
if Humans are camped at a tank, or not. We have played the trick with
great success for several nights."
Conversing thus, the Emu, the Kangaroo, and Dot wandered on until the
Emu requested them to wait for a few minutes, whilst it peeped at the
tank, which was still a long way off.
It presently returned and said that it felt quite suspicious, because
everything looked so clear and safe. "From this point of high ground,"
said the bird, "you can watch our proceedings. I will now give the
signal and return to my post here."
The Emu then ran at a great pace along the edge of the plain, and
emitted a strange rattling cry. After disappearing from sight for a
time, it returned hurriedly to where Dot and her friend were waiting.
"Now, see!" said the Emu, nodding at the distant side of the plain.
Dot's eyes were not so keen of sight as those of an Emu; but she thought
she could see something like a little cloud of dust, far, far away
across the dry brown grass of the plain. Soon she was quite sure that
the little cloud was advancing towards her side of the plain, and in the
direction of the tank. As it came nearer she could see the bobbing heads
of Emus, popping up above the dust, and she could see some of the birds
running round the little cloud.
"What is the cause of all that dust?" she asked the Emu.
"Sheep!" it answered with a merry chuckle.
"But what are the Emus doing with the sheep?" asked Dot and the
Kangaroo, now fully interested in the Emu's manoeuvre.
"They are driving them to water at the tank," said the bird, highly
delighted with the scheme. "The sheep will soon know that they are near
water, and will go to it without driving. Then we shall watch, and if
they quietly drink and scatter, it will be safe for us, but if they see
anything unusual and break, and run--well, we shan't drink at the tank
to-night. There will be Humans and dogs there, and we don't cultivate
their society just now."
"Really that is the cleverest thing I have heard for a long time," said
the Kangaroo, full of admiration for the trick. "How did you jump to
that conclusion?"
"The idea sprang upon us," answered the Emu, with an immense hop in the
air, and a dancing movement when it came to the ground again. "Dear me!"
it exclaimed, "the sight of those sheep is beginning to excite me, and I
can hardly keep still! I wonder what there is so exciting about sheep!"
Dot could now see the advancing flock of sheep, with their attendant mob
of Emu, quite well. The animals had got scent of the water, and with
contented bleatings were slowly moving with a rippling effect across the
dusty plain. The mob of Emu soon left the sheep to go their own way,
and, grouped in a cluster, watched, with bobbing heads, every movement
of the flock.
Dot, the Kangaroo, and the Emu looked towards the tank with silent
interest. "I'm stationed here," whispered the bird, "to give a warning
in case there is any danger in this direction. Emus are posted all round
the tank on the same duty."
Dot could see the whole scene well, for beyond a few low shrubs on the
opposite side of the sheet of water, there was no sheltering bush near
the great tank which had been excavated on the bare plain.
[Illustration: THE EMUS HUNTING THE SHEEP]
Onward came the sheep, and quite stationary in the distance remained the
Emu mob. Just as the first sheep were descending the deep slope of the
tank, a Plover rose from amongst the bushes with a shrill cry. The Emu
started at the sound, and whispered to the Kangaroo, "There'll be no
drink to-night: watch!"
The cry of the Plover seemed to arrest the advance of the timid sheep:
they waited in a closely-packed flock, looking around. But presently the
old leader gave a deep bleat, and they moved forward towards the water.
"Shriek! Shriek!" cried the Plover from the bushes, screaming as they
rose and flew away; and suddenly the flock of sheep broke and hurried
back to the open plain. At the same instant Dot could hear the sharp
barking of a sheep dog, a noise that produced an instant effect on the
creatures she was with. With lightning speed the Kangaroo had popped her
into her pouch and was hopping away, and the Emu was striding with its
long legs as fast as it could for the cover of the Bush.
Just as they entered the Bush shelter, Dot peeped out of the pouch,
across the plain, and could see the mob of Emu in a cloud of dust,
running, and almost out of sight.
When they had reached a place of safety, the friendly Emu bid the
Kangaroo and Dot good-night. "We shall have to go thirsty to-night," it
said, "but there will be a heavy dew, and the grass will be wet enough
to cool one's mouth. That pretty trick of ours was such a success that
it is almost worth one's while to lose one's drink in proving it."
Turning to Dot it said, "You will be able to tell the big Humans that we
Emus are not such fools as they think, and that we find their flocks of
silly sheep most useful and entertaining animals."
Chuckling to itself, the Emu strode off, leaving Dot and the Kangaroo to
pass another night in the solitude of the Bush.