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 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 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 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 being on familiar terms with 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 a 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 ropelike 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, squatting below, 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 from which Dot's creeper swing hung. 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 to any of your parties for a long time. You know, I suppose, that I
lost my 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 beard 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 the 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 great 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!"
"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
group 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 tall 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 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!" exclaimed 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 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 Kankaroo.
"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, "and 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 his 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. Emu 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.
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 be 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 solitudes of the Bush.
