Sydney harbour—Jealousy between Sydney and Melbourne—The Blue
Mountains—Brisbane and Rockhampton—First evening in
tropical Australia—Gracemere station—Animal and plant
life—Vine-scrubs—Excursion into the neighbouring districts—A
Norseman who feels cold in Australia.
[Illustration:
SYDNEY HARBOUR.
]
My next visit was to Melbourne’s mother city, Sydney, the oldest city of
Australia.
As is known, it was originally a colony of criminals, but when the
wealth of Australia, its gold and its rich pastures, were discovered,
the colony got a large accession of all classes of society, and before
long transportation ceased. The city is now very aristocratic and has a
more antique appearance than Melbourne; the streets are crooked and
uneven; but there are several fine buildings, which do not, however,
attract the attention they deserve on account of the unevenness of the
ground. The Museum is admirably situated, and its magnificent treasures
are well worth visiting. To our surprise we found it open on Sundays,
while in the other towns in Australia, even the smallest, the Sabbath is
observed as strictly as in England. Scientific investigation flourishes
in Sydney, and several natural history collections are owned by private
individuals. The museum of Mr. W. M‘Leay deserves special mention. It is
really wonderful. The city has reason to be proud of its Botanical
Garden, which extends down to the harbour, and is for a great part
washed by the sea. The climate is subtropical, so that plants from the
various zones grow side by side. Thus I noticed _Digitalis purpurea_ and
the elm-tree growing by the side of _Ficus elastica_ and other tropical
plants. On the yellow water-lilies (_Nuphar luteum_) the sparrows were
singing as merrily as if this were their native land.
In Adelaide I was advised to say, when I came to Melbourne, that
Adelaide was a hole, and that no city in the southern hemisphere could
be compared with Melbourne, the Queen of the South; but if I desired to
keep on good terms with the people of Sydney, I must take care not to
praise Melbourne. On the other hand, I was advised to praise Sydney
harbour as the finest in the world.
And it is truly a wonderful harbour. It is large enough to hold all the
fleets of the world, and its beauty reminds one of the celebrated
entrances to Rio and to Naples.
As the hotels of the city are not clean, and are supplied with most
impertinent servants, the visitor should try to secure an introduction
to one of the clubs, for there he is always sure of being perfectly
comfortable.
If a person comes from the busy and lively Melbourne, he may find Sydney
sleepy and lazy, but it must not be considered a city of loafers. It is
celebrated for its colossal wealth.
The lower class of the inhabitants seemed to me to be inquisitive and
greedy; the cultivated classes, on the other hand, are engaging and
hospitable, and make a most favourable impression.
Between Melbourne and Sydney there is great rivalry. “It is no
exaggeration to say that New South Wales and Victoria are no less rivals
than Germany and France,” said an Australian literary gentleman. How far
he was right I cannot say. Meanwhile the following circumstance shows
that the jealousy is very great. Immediately after Sydney, in the
seventies, had had an international exhibition, Melbourne arranged a
similar one, and though the two colonies were to be united by a
railroad, the two cities could not agree on the width of the gauge, so
that we have to change trains on the boundary.
[Illustration:
THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.
]
By railroad we can make a very interesting excursion to the Blue
Mountains, where the aristocracy have their villas. The railway runs
zigzag up the mountains, and is regarded as a masterpiece of
engineering, sometimes mounting a gradient of 1 in 30. On the way we get
a splendid view of the landscape. The Parramatta river winds
picturesquely through the plain, and is bordered on both sides by
thriving dark orange-groves. The mountains, which are covered with trees
but are not cultivated, consist of a series of parallel ridges of the
same height, which are rent by deep ravines. One ridge rises beyond the
other until the last is lost in the blue distance.
It is a journey of but little more than two days to Brisbane, the
capital of Queensland. Not long after passing the boundaries of New
South Wales, the southern entrance of Moreton Bay is reached, a large
and shallow body of water not far from the city. When we neared the
shore, the sea broke over the long sand bars, which it was very
difficult to cross, but we soon afterwards found ourselves in the calm
water of the bay. The sun set as a blood-red disc in tropical splendour.
Immediately afterwards the full moon rose and shone on the beautiful
banks of the Brisbane river, while we steamed slowly up between the
forests of mangroves.
We now approached the land in whose solitary regions I was about to
spend several years. I stood alone on deck in the sultry night, and my
thoughts naturally turned to this strange country. What was I to find in
Queensland? Was I perhaps to leave my bones in this land, slain by the
blacks, bitten by a snake, or poisoned by malaria?
In Brisbane I met Mr. Archer, the Secretary of the Treasury of
Queensland. I had a letter of introduction to him from the zoological
professors of the University of Christiania, and was invited by him to
make my headquarters on his estate near Rockhampton.
After a journey of two days we arrived at the mouth of Fitzroy river.
Like all the rivers of Queensland, it is very shallow and not navigable
for large vessels. This is at present a great drawback to the maritime
commerce of the colony; but there are some good harbours, and efforts
are continually being made to remove obstacles by dredging.
Passengers and baggage were now transferred to a smaller steamboat,
which carried us up the stream. The left bank is flat and uninteresting;
while a range of mountains about 1400 feet high rises on the right bank.
After a few hours’ journey we pass a large establishment for canning
meat, in which solder alone for the tin cans amounts to about £300
annually,—and then almost immediately arrive at Rockhampton, the second
city in the young colony, containing about 9000 inhabitants. The first
thing which attracts attention on arrival is a remarkably fine
suspension bridge across the river.
The town itself contains nothing remarkable; still a fine hospital and a
large school-building, both built on a hill just behind the city, may be
worthy of mention. Rockhampton consists mainly of one-storied houses
with verandahs. The streets, as is the case in almost all Australian
towns, have awnings over the side-walks, a very wise provision against
the burning heat of the sun. Business is lively in the city, which is of
importance as the metropolis of a large extent of territory whose
products are marketed and exported here. This is also the distributing
point from which stations in the western part of Queensland are supplied
with all sorts of articles of necessity and luxury. A railway extends
nearly 300 miles to the west.
[Illustration:
THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE, BRISBANE.
]
Like other Australian cities, Rockhampton of course has its botanical
gardens, which in time will be very fine.
We at once drove to Gracemere, Messrs. Archer’s cattle station, situated
seven miles from the city. The country was flat, monotonous, and swampy,
but on approaching the station the ground began to rise. On reaching the
highest point a wide view suddenly burst upon us. Before us lay a large
lake sparkling in the last rays of the setting sun, hundreds of birds
swam on its glassy surface, and on the green shores was feeding a large
flock of geese, which hissed and took flight as we passed. On a
promontory extending far out into the lake was the station, which was to
be my home for some time to come; with its many houses it had the
appearance from the distance of a small village.
[Illustration:
FROGS (_Hyla cærulea_) ENTERING A WATER-JAR.
]
We drove along a mighty hedge of cactus to the main building, which lay
on the extreme point of the land. The bare timber walls did not impress
me very favourably, coming as I did from the luxury of Melbourne and
Sydney, but the spacious apartments and cool verandahs gave me a
hospitable greeting and looked cheerful and inviting.
When we had taken tea, Mr. Archer brought out his microscope in order to
let me examine some insects, thousands of which were swarming about the
lamp. But white ants had taken possession of the case, so that the
microscope was unfit for use. These insects are a great nuisance
throughout Queensland, and precautions must always be taken against them
when a house is built. It was a strange life which I now experienced for
the first time in the Australian “bush.” The summer heat was oppressive
in the pitchy darkness of a November evening, though now and then
lighted up by flashes of lightning. The insects gathered in great
numbers on the ceiling, and blinded by the lamplight they fell in such
thick layers on the table that it was not possible to read. Bats
fluttered in and out through the open windows and doors. Not only on the
floor, but, incredible as it may seem, even in the water-jar, the frogs
croaked merrily and often so loudly as to interfere with conversation.
I, however, soon felt perfectly comfortable at the station, where I
spent seven pleasant months of summer and winter, busily engaged in my
new and rich field of activity. A small house was given me as my
working-room, and it was so arranged as to serve as a safe repository
for my collections.
My European summer clothes soon became too warm for me, and the first
thing I did was to secure the usual Australian dress, which everybody
wears who lives in the bush. A light merino-wool shirt, having over this
a coloured cotton shirt open in the neck, with sleeves rolled up to the
elbows, trousers of heavy white cotton cloth called moleskin, white
cotton socks, shoes, a broad-brimmed felt hat with the brim turned down,
constitute the dress of the bushmen. This suit of clothes, which can be
bought ready-made at a low price anywhere in Australia, is neat and
cleanly and very convenient.
The region about Rockhampton is well known for its warm and dry climate,
100° F. being quite frequent during the summer months. Gracemere lies
just far enough within the tropical circle to permit us to speak of
tropical Australia; the heat is even greater here than farther north in
the more damp sea-climate, where the tradewind blows. In the winter,
hoar-frost is occasionally seen on the ground, and now and then ice may
form on a pool of water. Thus it will be seen that the thermometer does
not really go very low, but at such times the cold is felt so intensely
that it is a comfort to get near a fire.
The sky is almost always clear and cloudless; the air is pure and
transparent, especially in winter, when the mountains have a very
beautiful deep blue colour. In the clear winter evenings after sunset
the heavens often assume a remarkable greenish hue.
[Illustration:
GRACEMERE STATION.
]
It cannot be denied that there is something wearisome and monotonous in
a continuous summer—for there is nothing but summer in the greater part
of the land—yet every one who rejoices in sunshine and warmth will be
contented in the climate of Queensland; it is doubtless more salubrious
than any other in the tropical world.
The principal building at the station, like all the other houses, is
almost entirely surrounded by a verandah, which is enclosed in a
remarkable manner by creeping fig-trees clinging firmly to the posts.
The roof is covered after the Australian fashion with sheets of zinc,
and large iron tanks are placed at the corners of the house to catch the
rain-water, for this is almost universally used for drinking throughout
Australia; it is usually suspended on the verandah in canvas bags, which
exposes it to a rapid evaporation and makes it as cold as ice. Down
towards the lake there is a very fine garden, where orange-trees, vines,
and the European fig-tree grow side by side with the pine-apple and the
mango of the tropical zone. In the winter, stocks, recedas, and asters
flourish very well, but the summer is too warm for them. Pelargonium and
calladium glow in brilliant colours.
[Illustration:
THE MAIN BUILDING, GRACEMERE STATION.
]
The other most conspicuous trees in the garden are the magnificent
Madagascar _Poinciana regia_, tamarind, the Brazilian jacaranda, and
several sorts of Australian spruce, especially a beautiful specimen of
bunya-bunya (_Araucaria bidwillii_). This grand tree grows only in a
limited territory from Darling Downs north to Burnett river, and is
protected by the Government for the sake of the aborigines, who collect
the huge cones and use the seeds for food.
Cocoa-nut and date-palms delight the eye, but do not bear good fruit,
although the reason is not apparent.
Near the lake the celebrated Egyptian papyrus has been planted in large
quantities, and forms a perfect grove. A little singer, the
_Acrocephalus australis_, has made his home in this papyrus grove, where
several pairs are nesting. It sings in the evening and in the night, and
is considered to be Australia’s best song-bird. The lake, or lagoon as
it is called here, is a little more than a mile long and half a mile
wide, and is the resort of a great number of water-fowls. In the winter
more than 400 pelicans are seen here, but in the middle of the summer
most of them depart.
The pelicans do the most of their fishing in the night, and together.
The noise they make with the splashing of their wings while thus
occupied sounds something like that of a paddle-wheel steamer in motion.
Occasionally I could see them rise, apparently without moving their
wings, in a spiral direction, higher and higher, until they disappeared
from sight. It seemed as if they did it only for amusement or for the
purpose of enjoying the sunshine. When they return, they come down so
swiftly that a sough is heard in the air.
A few black swans (_Cygnus atratus_) are seen now and then. In November
I frequently heard them sing on the water in the evening. Ducks and
geese abound, and so do gray and blue cranes, cormorants, and
snake-birds (_Plotus_). Not many years ago Mr. A. Archer counted
thirty-seven kinds of birds on the lagoon. And still the birds are few
now, both as to numbers and species, as compared with what they were
twenty years ago. The cattle have eaten the tall grass and the weeds
growing in the shallow water near the shores of the lake, where
thousands of birds found their homes. Even black swans made their nests
here. Mr. Archer believes that a few years ago there were more than
10,000 birds on this lake. If a gun was fired, the birds rose with a
noise like distant thunder.
The most striking bird on the lagoon is doubtless the beautiful _Parra
gallinacea_, which in Australia is called the lotus-bird. It sits on
leaves that float on the water, particularly those of the water-lily.
Blue water-lilies are found in great numbers along the edge of the
lagoon, and hence the lotus-bird is very common here. It is somewhat
larger than a thrush, and has very long legs, and particularly highly
developed toes, which enable it to walk about on the floating leaves.
Its food consists chiefly of snails and insects, which it usually finds
by turning the lily leaf. Its simple nest is also built on the leaves.
The eggs, which are a beautiful brown with lines and spots, are
considered very rare, and are remarkable both on account of their form
and colour. They look, says Gould, as though they were drawn by a man
who had amused himself by covering the surface with fantastic lines. The
young look very funny on account of their long legs and big toes as
compared with their small bodies.
The grown bird is not shy, but the young are extremely timid. I had once
or twice seen the old birds with young, but as soon as I approached
them, the young always disappeared, while the old birds walked about
fearlessly, as if there was no danger. It long remained a mystery to me,
how they could conceal themselves so well and so long, but one day the
problem was solved. An old bird came walking with two young ones near
shore. I hid behind a tree and let them come close to me. As I suddenly
made my appearance, the small ones dived under the water and held
themselves fast to the bottom, while I watched them for a quarter of an
hour, before taking them up.
There are large quantities of fish in the lagoon, several varieties of
perch, eel, and a kind of pike with a very long snout (the gar-fish).
But the fresh-water mullet (_Mugil_) is particularly abundant: it has a
remarkable power of leaping out of the water, and in so doing it
frequently comes unawares up into the boat and is caught. When the
lagoon, on account of long-continued drought, is very low, you can
always be sure while bathing of coming in contact with some kind of
fish, which sometimes flies over your head.
Gracemere was originally a sheep station, but latterly the sheep have
entirely given place to cattle on the whole coast. This change is partly
due to the climate, which is too moist, and partly to a nocuous kind of
grass, namely the dreaded spear-grass (_Andropogon contortus_), which
grows on the coast, and which rendered sheep-raising impossible. It
stuck fast in the wool of the sheep, or worked itself into their very
bodies and killed them. For this reason Gracemere is now exclusively a
cattle station. The sheep were about 350 miles farther west.
As a curiosity it may be mentioned that in the vicinity of Gracemere I
saw the _Phragmites communis_, so well known in Norway, probably the
only plant which the Norwegian and Queensland floras have in common.
As Messrs. Archer are naturalised Norwegians from Scotland, it may
perhaps be interesting to learn that they were the first white men who
occupied the spot where Rockhampton now is situated. They have also
given Norse names to several localities in the vicinity, as for instance
Mount Berserker and Mount Sleipner. The run of their station was at
first fifty miles long and twenty miles wide. But gradually, as the
country became settled, the “squatters” were not permitted to retain
these larger pastures, which they do not themselves own, but occupy by
paying rent to the Government. Hence the area of the station very soon
became reduced, when the land, owing to the increase of population, was
offered for sale. This is usually the case with all new land in
Australia. First comes the large sheep and cattle-owner—the squatter—who
often lays claim to immense territory. Later he must give place to the
smaller selectors, who as a rule cultivate the soil. The squatter is,
however, allowed to purchase a certain part of the land for his own
possession and use. This the Archers had done. On the run there were at
this time only 4000 head of cattle, but they were all of pure pedigree.
They had recently brought from Melbourne a bull nine months old for
which they had paid £315. It is for the sake of the beef and not for
milk that so much stress is laid upon the blood of cattle in Australia.
[Illustration:
IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROCKHAMPTON.
]
The vicinity around Rockhampton and Gracemere furnishes considerable
variety both of flora and of fauna. The country is hilly, and well
watered with small lakes and streams. Along the streams vine-scrubs
often abound. The gum-tree (_Eucalyptus_), so characteristic of
Australia, also marks the woodlands here, and appears in greater variety
than is generally seen in so limited a territory. The gum-trees fit for
lumber, _Eucalyptus tereticornis_ and _Eucalyptus brachypoda_, are very
abundant in swampy places, along with isolated groups of the well-known
_Melaleuca leucadendron_, called by the colonists tea-tree, from which
is extracted what is known in medicine as cajeput oil. The heights
nearest the station are particularly well covered with the tree familiar
to the colonists as blood-wood (_Eucalyptus terminalis_), besides a
great many other trees of the same family. A few varieties of acacia,
_e.g._, _A. bidwillii_ and _A. salicina_, are found where the hills are
drier. On the plains box-tree (_Eucalyptus polyanthemos_) predominates.
In a circle of fifteen miles about Rockhampton there are found so many
useful trees that the number of species is about one-third of all the
useful trees in the colony. Although many of these have great value as
strong and solid timber, still they fall far short of being utilised as
they deserve. The colonists use the most valuable wood for ordinary
purposes, as for building houses and fences. In a tree like _Tristiana
suaveolens_ may be found a remarkably fine material for work under
water, while the _Eucalyptus robusta_ furnishes the best mahogany that
can be desired.
Various parasites and epiphytes are found in great numbers in the
woodlands, as for instance the _Ficus platypoda_ and _Ficus
cunninghamii_, which grow on the large gum-trees. They send their roots
down from giddy heights, enclose the tree, and at last destroy it.
Though the gum-trees usually give the Australian landscape a monotonous
appearance, the region about Rockhampton is very beautiful and
picturesque. The many little lakes and the changing forms of the hills
contribute much to this result. On the lagoons float the beautiful blue
water-lilies; the rare and splendid _Nelumbium speciosum_ is also
occasionally found.
But the greatest interest centres in the scrubs along the little
streams. In contrast with the woodland, where a single kind of tree may
prevail, we here find a multitude of families, genera, and species, of
which none predominates. All are mixed together, but form more or less a
harmonious whole. The average colour of this scrub is usually dark
green, but in the edges we find a pleasing change into a lighter green.
Here we find the _Bauhinia hookerii_, with its fine light-coloured
leaves, and _Capparis nobilis_ shines with its large white flowers.
There are only a few ground-flowers, but a number of creeping plants.
The trees are festooned with climbing plants such as _Vitis climatidea_
and others. Vitis in great abundance and of many varieties are found
especially in the scrubs, hence the colonists call this kind of brush
_vine-scrub_. The charming _Callistemon lanceolatum_, which is common in
the scrubs along the Queensland streams, attracts our attention on
account of its rich scarlet flowers, the more so since the total effect
of a scrub is green and very monotonous.
[Illustration:
LAUGHING JACKASS (_Dacelo gigas_).
]
This does not however hinder us from finding beautiful woody scenes
along the streams, often indeed so charming that we fancy ourselves
transported to an ideal landscape. It is not necessary to be a special
lover of nature in order to be captivated by the picturesque arches of
the trees over the winding stream, where the silence is broken only by
the shrill cry of the cockatoo or the tittering ha! ha! ha! ha! of the
laughing jackass. Suddenly, as we walk through the vine-scrub, a lizard
will throw itself down into the water with a great splash to disturb a
poor water-hen that has become absorbed in its own meditations on the
strand.
[Illustration:
VINE-SCRUB NEAR GRACEMERE.
]
Few of the birds of Australia have pleased me as much as this curious
laughing jackass, though it is both clumsy and unattractive in colour.
Far from deserving its name jackass, it is on the contrary very wise and
also very courageous. It boldly attacks venomous snakes and large
lizards, and is consequently the friend of the colonist.
The animal life in these woods was of the greatest interest to me, and
every day I added to my collection during the excursions I made in the
vicinity of Gracemere. In the scrub I shot a _Pitta strepitans_, which
is very rare in these parts, but common in Northern Queensland.
As the region around Rockhampton is comparatively civilised, I could not
look for any large number of mammals, for they are the first to yield to
civilisation. Those that live in trees were still frequently to be
found. The common opossum abounded, and the hollow trunks of the
gum-trees generally served as abodes of the bandicoot, of the native cat
(_Dasyurus_), and of the kangaroo-rat.
It is very interesting to observe how a kind of “white ant” make their
nests. They build them high up in trees, constructing tunnels along the
stem of the tree to the ground. If the tree leans, they always build the
tunnels on the under side, to avoid the opossum, which climbs on the
upper side.
My collections consisted chiefly of birds, fishes, and lower animals,
especially _Coleoptera_. I was fortunate enough to discover a new
fresh-water cod, the fish called black-fish by the colonists. It is so
little shy that it would even bite my leg when I bathed. I at one time
had an opportunity of observing that it can live for nine hours out of
water.
One of the largest land-snails of Australia, the _Helix cunninghamii_,
is found on the hills near the station.
My excursions extended not only to the immediate vicinity of Gracemere,
but I made journeys of investigation to regions 200 miles away. Near
Westwood, a little town about thirty miles from Rockhampton, I found for
the first time the so-called bower-birds (_Chlamydodera maculata_), a
family that has become celebrated on account of the bowers which they
build for their amusement.
These bowers, which must not be confounded with nests, are used, as is
well known, exclusively for amusement. They are always found in small
brushwood, never in the open field, and in their immediate vicinity the
bird collects a mass of different kinds of objects, especially
snail-shells, which are laid in two heaps, one at each entrance, the one
being much larger than the other. There are frequently hundreds of
shells, about three hundred in one heap and fifty in the other. There is
also usually a handful of green berries partly inside and partly outside
of the bower; but like the empty shells and the other things collected,
they are simply for amusement. Besides, these birds doubtless have the
sense of beauty, as is indicated by the variegated and glittering
objects gathered. This bower-bird has another remarkable quality, in its
wonderful power of imitating sounds. When it visits the farms, where it
commits great depredations in the gardens, it soon learns to mew like a
cat or to crow like a cock.
In the woods here I shot a young cuckoo (_Eudynamis flindersii_), which
was fed by four wood-swallows (_Artamus sordidus_). One of the swallows
fell to the same shot. The three survivors swooped down toward the young
cuckoo several times, but they took no notice whatever of their dead
companion. I tried to approach the place, but the bold birds kept flying
against me, as if to prevent me from proceeding, or to exhibit their
wrath at what had happened. I shot one more, and waited to see what
would happen. Both disappeared, but in the course of half an hour they
returned accompanied by two others.
On a farm outside the village I saw a large nocuous insect, a moth which
sucked the juice out of the oranges in the garden. Every evening a war
of extermination had to be made against these animals, which are all the
same very beautiful. Farmers have many other foes in tropical Australia.
The large fruit-eating bat (_Pteropus_) does great damage to the
orchards, and it is no pleasant sight for the industrious farmer to see
the devouring swarms of these so-called flying-foxes advancing on his
crops of an evening. Were it not for these enemies, fruit-growing in
Queensland would be still more profitable than it is. An orange is no
cheaper in Australia than in Norway, and all kinds of fruit are paid for
in proportion.
[Illustration:
TRUE AUSTRALIAN SCENERY.
]
Nor is the European bee, introduced by the colonists, permitted to live
in peace in its new home. A kind of moth attacks the larvæ and destroys
them.
From Westwood I proceeded to Peak Downs. Outside the village the
landscape was enlivened by the rare sight of flowers on the ground, the
red blossoms of the _Pimelea hæmatostachya_ affording an agreeable
change to the eye.
At Peak Downs, situated about 200 miles west of Rockhampton, I received
the first impression of genuine native Australian scenery. Large plains,
with here and there an isolated gum-tree; extensive scrubs, and now and
then low mountain-ridges in the background; sometimes an emu would
appear, or a little flock of kangaroos that are suddenly startled—all of
which is so characteristic of the country.
I was surprised at the great number of marsupials that had their abode
there. They had proved to be so troublesome that several of the
squatters had found it necessary to surround their large pastures with
fences so high that the animals could not jump over them and consume the
grass. One of the sheep-owners told me that in the course of eighteen
months he had killed 64,000 of these animals, especially wallabies
(_Macropus dorsalis_) and kangaroo-rats (_Lagorchestes conspicillatus_),
and also many thousands of the larger kangaroo (_Macropus giganteus_).
The bodies of these animals are left to lie and rot, for none but the
natives will eat the flesh; and although the skin of the large kangaroo
can be tanned into an excellent leather, still it does not pay to skin
the animal so far away from the coast. The only part that is used
occasionally is the tail, from which a fine soup is produced.
The squatters at Peak Downs took great interest in my work, and my first
experience of Australian “bush-life” was particularly agreeable. They
placed their men at my disposal, so that I had a splendid opportunity of
adding to my collections. At the station where I was a guest, even one
of the ladies of the house offered me her assistance, and once or twice
she accompanied me when I went after emus and kangaroos, which are
easily approached when you are driving in a buggy. My fair companion
held the reins while I did the shooting.
Emus are very inquisitive, and can therefore easily be enticed within
shooting range. Thus a man at Peak Downs told me that he frequently had
attracted their attention by lying on his back and kicking his feet in
the air. When the animals came near enough he shot them.
In the winter I made an excursion to Calliungal, where the inhabitants
were surprised that I suffered so much from the cold. As a joke they
invited their nearest neighbours to come and look at “a Norseman who
felt cold in Australia.” It was so cold in the nights that the pools
were frozen over, while the day was comparatively hot. On account of the
cold nights I, who was unaccustomed to this climate, found it difficult
to get woollen blankets enough for my bed.
In the Dee river, which flows by Calliungal, I observed several times
the remarkable Platypus (_Ornithorhynchus anatinus_) swimming rapidly
about after the small water insects and vegetable particles which
constitute its food. It shows only a part of its back above water, and
is so quick in its movements that it frequently dives under water before
the shot can reach it.