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An Easter outing in the
Antipodes—Arrangements for the party— Our comrades and their appearance—The
start —We steam round to Port Hacking—Our camp—A damper—A bad night—Dawn in
Australia—After Uallaby—A gem in the forest—A pull up the river—Splendid
scenery—The lyre bird—A camp feast— Hooked through the hand—Disembarkation.
I have said enough, I think,
to show folk at home that their cousins in the Antipodes have not
degenerated so far as manly sports are concerned. Nor $re field-sports
ignored. On the contrary, limited as have been the winged and four-footed
quarry hitherto for the votaries of St. Hubert and Nimrod, the capacities of
Australia for field-sports are even now on the increase.
I have mentioned hares as
being now commonly met with in the great Western Plains, and coursing is
becoming quite a popular pastime. In some parts of Australia, happily not
yet in New South Wales, rabbits have so increased as to be an unmitigated
pest to farmers and graziers. Marsupials of all kinds abound. Bush turkeys,
emus, pigeons, wild ducks, wild geese, cockatoos, black swans, quail, lyre
birds, and numerous other winged beasts, afford ample practice for the gun
of the enthusiastic sportsman, and both river and sea, as I will further
show in another chapter, afford infinite means of diversion for disciples of
the gentle Isaac Walton. "When a holiday comes round, therefore, it is
customary for several young fellows of kindred tastes in Sydney, to club
together, and, hiring a launch, or borrowing a boat, they betake them to one
of the many lovely spots in the vicinity of the metropolis, where fishing
and shooting can both be indulged in to their hearts' content. The shooting
is not so abundant and excellent as the fishing, but enough game can
generally be found, to tempt the enthusiastic possessor of a gun, to carry
it with him on his annual excursion.
Easter in Australia generally
falls about the time of the year when the days are long, and the nights are
cool. I was fortunate enough on one occasion to form one of a very jovial
party, the counterpart of hundreds of similar little combinations, to spend
the Easter holidays, and I cannot do better, I think, than transcribe for
the home reader my experiences as I detailed them for some friendly readers
in Calcutta. It will give friends at home a pretty fair idea of how the
young sportsmen of Australia spend a holiday.
Some days before the holidays
a trusty friend hinted to me that I should be welcome if I would consent to
join himself and a party of friends. I asked him where they were going.
"Oh!" said he, "we're going
to have a regular camp; we've got a steam-launch and a boat, and intend
going to Port Hacking to have some shooting, fishing, and general
diversion."
Now, I had camped out a good
deal in my time. I knew what it involved; and, remembering my corpulent
frame and rheumatic joints, I was rather averse to the idea of roughing it,
as I knew many enthusiastic young Australians were in the habit of doing,
when they went out on an expedition of the nature proposed by my friend. I
am just as fond of sport as most men, and, perhaps, have had as large an
experience as the majority of my Australian acquaintance. Grouse shooting,
partridge shooting, black-cock shooting, I have had. Salmon fishing in the
bonny Scottish rivers, in the lovely voes of Shetland, and in the deep blue
waters of the "Western Islands, I have enjoyed with a delicious zest; but I
never found warm dry clothing, comfortable quarters, and good cookery
detract from, but rather intensify the sport, whatever it may have been. In
New Zealand I have been out shooting wild cattle on the back ranges,
spearing eels with the Maories, and potting Paradise ducks, and other winged
and web-footed birds on the flax-fringed tarns of Canterbury. But I never
found a nice tent and warm blue blankets to be at all a bad accessory to
one's sport. After a weary day's waiting in the thick sal jungle of India,
when each rustle made my heart beat high with excitement, as I looked for
the expected leopard or lordly stag; or at the end of a long beat through
tangled bamboo or elephant grass, as the stately line of elephants bore
majestically down on the slouching tiger, the savage rhinoceros, or the
ponderous buffalo; a refresher in the shape of an iced hock and seltzer, a
sparkling draught of champagne or claret cup, or a long pull at refreshing
brandy and soda, has never detracted from the enjoyment of the sport pure
and simple, and, therefore, I asked my friend what sort of a camp they were
going to have.
Now he was the sort of man
who cares not a button so long as there's plenty of wallaby to be shot or
sclmapper to be liooked, and even when he said that everything was to be
quite on a scale of oriental magnificence in fact, I still felt rather
dubious, and I said," Well, we can go and see G.!" "All right," said A., and
off we went. My first impressions of G. were decidedly flattering to that
excellent fellow, and when we had visited his .well-stocked cellar,
discussed a flagon of delicious Australian wine, and G. had told me he was
to take a tent and I might have a share of it, I began to think it might not
be a bad thing after all to have an outing at Easter.
In addition to the
steam-launch there were to be two or three tents, two aborigines to assist
the chef de cuisine, and the party was to be limited to twenty. For their
sustenance and delectation a quarter of an ox, a live sheep, a colossal ham,
three barrels of beer, flour, potatoes, tomatoes, cabbages, parsnips,
carrots, cheese, bread, condiments, mushrooms, butter, and all the
"materials" for punch, not forgetting even the lemons, and last, but not
least, an enormous plum-pudding, were to be provided. Ere he had half
finished his tempting category my last remaining scruple had vanished, and
even for a time, I must ^confess with a blush, I forgot all about the
wallaby and the fishing. However, .we discussed another flagon, and then
arranged for a muster, and talked over every requisite detail. Our luggage
was to be sent down from G.'s, and it was finally decided that the party
should meet at Botany, at the Sir Joseph Bank's Hotel, on the Thursday
night.
Thursday evening saw A. and
self stowed on the box seat of the Botany 'bus. We had a pleasant ride, a
comfortable tea-dinner with our hostess and one fair ruddy damsel, several
smokes and shandygaffs, a stroll through the garden, and a meeting with
several old friends, until the approach of ten o'clock. About that time the
company began to roll up; but, heavens, what a change! In place of the
shining beavers and natty habiliments of every-day city life, we had now the
most incongruous assemblage of head-pieces that ever survived a life of
adventure and years of wear. There were slouching sombreros, dilapidated
wideawakes, moth-eaten fur caps, cricket caps, and even red night-caps. The
clothes would have shamed rag fair. Some wore jumpers, guernseys, and
tatterdemalion jackets. The continuations were shabby to a degree, and the
shoes would have been spurned by a Parisian chiffonier. Our captain
introduced us to each other, drew us up in line, called the roll, made us a
speech, and then we adjourned to the bar and underwent the agony of
tambaroora for drinks.
A rich Milesian brogue
betrayed the presence of one hardy son of Erin, while a polished enunciation
and rather formal manner evidenced that we had another pedagogue in our
midst, who, however, turned out to be a king of a fellow, and a mighty
trencherman. Judging from his revolver practice subsequently he was well
qualified to "teach the young idea how to shoot." Representing the banking
interest we had old Father Christmas, who fully sustained the jolly
associations connected with his name, and of the others I may speak anon.
A. and I had been fortunate
enough to secure a bed, but the others were relegated to the dim obscurity
of the long-room, where a few venturesome but enthusiastic votaries of the
noble game of whist essayed a rubber amid a Babel of sound, and a perfect
avalanche of practical jokes ; while the piano, under the nimble fingers of
a musical member of the party, emitted strains of a decidedly Bacchanalian
character; and, under the combined distraction, the whist-players had to
succumb. Very few that night slept the sleep of the just, and the noisy
clamour of the geese in the court-yard was welcomed as a glad heralding of
the advent of day.
It was a dull, gloomy
morning; but by ten o'clock we had accomplished a safe embarkation. The
whistle emitted a shrill scream as Davey (the engineer) turned on steam; and
with the angular, dusky figure of Black Bob, a half-caste and our captain
for the nonce, standing tall, erect, and stern, at the wheel, we steamed
rapidly off in the direction of Botany Heads, bearing the Heads the scene
was a striking one. Over all the land brooded a dark sombre mass of
watery-charged cloud, while far out to sea the sun was brightly shining,
tipping with a silvery sheen the long rolling undulations that came
majestically on to break in fleecy heaps upon the frowning rocks that guard
the coast. Shadows chased each other over the bounding billows, and in the
nooks and crevices of the shore there rested a thin filmy haze, through
which one could see delicate ferns and clustering shrubs nodding to the
toying breeze, and sparkling with pearly dew, as ever and anon an
inquisitive sunbeam darted through the haze.
The sporting ardour of K. was
no longer to be controlled. Producing an ancient revolver, with a huge box
of cartridges, and another of percussion caps, he loaded his weapon in
solemn silence; then espying a sea-gull several furlongs off, he blazed off
six barrels in rapid succession, and seemed astonished that the sea bird
still sailed on in unruffled serenity. Failing to bring down the distant
gull, he kept up an incossfi*t bombardment on* the rocks, close to which we
were now steaming, and seemed as happy in hearing the continuous pop pop of
his miserable fire-arm as the proverbial tinker's dog. The muzzle pointed at
each of our heads with most just impartiality, until some beneficent
individual, pro bono publico, quietly abstracted the cartridges, in an
unguarded moment on K.'s part, whose pistol was thenceforth dumb, and the
disappointed artillerist took to drowiiing his sorrows in the flowing bowl.
The hardy Norseman and a few
others now began to exhibit symptoms of malde mer. Their jokes grew milder
as their complexions more and more assimilated to the colour of the deep
green sea. Those of us who resisted had a double reward.
The rock scenery we were now
passing was lovely in the extreme. There Currunulla beach stretched out its
glistening bars of gold, on which the white breakers broke with a booming
roar; and in front we could see Port Hacking opening out before us; a small,
low, mangrove-covered island in the foreground; to the right a bold headland
with two snowy tents close to the beach, dark masses of verdure picked out,
with white "lillie-pillie" blossom; and far away to' the south the
undulations of the coast gradually fading in the dim haze of the distance.
The sail up the river was truly beautiful. We had to pursue a tortuous track
to keep the channel, and ever and anon a deep sequestered bay, or winding
inlet, would open up, disclosing little picture gems in a setting of grey
rock, glistening sand, and melancholy sombre bush. About noon we drew up at
our point of disembarkation. There was a rude little wharf, with a deep
overhanging rook crowned by I gnarled, twisted, old fig-tree, and under its
shade we set up our kitchen and unpacked our goods. We were moored in the
bight of a lovely amphitheatre of verdure-clad hills, with here and there a
rugged rock showing his weather-beaten scarred face from among the
surrounding foliage. In one corner a silvery cascade danced merrily from a
cleft ravine and glittered gaily in the sunshine, while all round the shore
was an encircling belt of oysters, forming a living chevaux de frise to
resist the landing of any incautious bather. It was a spot of rare sylvan
beauty; a fairy picture of forest, rock, and limpid wave; and so far as
.evidences of man's intrusions went, save our own noisy party, we might have
been countless leagues from the busy hum of the thronged metropolis.
The day was very warm, close,
and sultry, but ominous clouds hung about, threatening rain. While some
proceeded to set the tents, others scaled the heights, and hurled down
withered branches and dead logs for the camp fire, and, under the energetic
action of our caterer and captain, we were soon all squatted on improvised
seats of rock and log, enjoying our first meal in camp. After breakfast,
several betook them to the piscatory art, while six or seven of us got into
the boat and pulled over for the farther shore, intending to beat for
wallaby, or, at the very least, secure a stray parrot or wonga pigeon for
the pot. Alas ! we had not proceeded half-way ere a perfect torrent came
down on us from a passing thunder-cloud. Sacrebleu! how it pumped on us! We
got hastily ashore and cowered under an o'er-beetling rock, while the rain
came down mercilessly. I thought of my beautiful gun getting horribly wet; I
conjured up a vision of wet clothes, wet blankets, and wet feet, remembered
my rhenmatics, and shuddered. However, there was no help for it. It did not
look like clearing, so we buckled our belts, set our "stout hearts to a very
stey brae," and sturdily stumped it up the hill amid rocks, ferns, lovely
wild flowers, prickly shrubs, embracing creepers, and over all the pelting,
persistent rain. Long ere we reached the summit of the craggy steep, we were
squeezing "water from our saturated boots at every step. The rain now abated
somewhat, and finally ceased, but soon a new affliction we were doomed to
experience. We seemed to have got into the very nursery and head-quarters of
the sand-fly family. They swarmed about • us in clouds, and the vicious
little black brutes attacked us fiercely, and without a moment's pause. In
vain we smoked, swore, lashed ourselves with branches of trees; but, like
the self-torture of the priests of Baal, " all was of no avail." As for
wallaby, there was "nary one;" not even a sign of one. We felt inclined to
give up in disgust. We voted camping-out a mistake, holidays a delusion, and
wallaby-shooting a snare. We were wet, weary, and worried to death by those
demoniacal insects. I got one magnificent view far up the river, from the
top of a mighty wall of rocks that dipped down abruptly at my feet, a sheer
depth of several hundred feet. At my back was the gloomy bush, every tree
bearing bold evidences of the "baptism of fire" which at no distant date
must have swept over the forest. Far to the left, and in front, rounded
hills, with heathy-looking moorlands, bosky dells, and shaded ravines, lay
spread out in a panorama of weird, sombre beauty. At my feet, far below, the
river ran. Every inch of bottom was discernible from where I stood—the
yellow sand, the sunken rock, tlie deep dark pool, and dancing ripple on the
shingly bars.
We descended, moody and
sullen; we growled at each other; we cursed the dirty boat, the weather, the
arrangements, and things generally. Arrived in camp, we were laughed at; we
made a mighty onslaught on the beer barrel, and were comforted. The boys in
camp had caught some fine bream. We got on dry clothes, and felt better.
That night was a fearful night. In the first place, everything was more or
less wet. I had to sleep with my lower extremities grizzling against the
heated cylinder of the engine, my head and elbows out in the rain, and the
coaming of an infernal hatchway catching me right in the small of my back.
To add to my troubles, I got toothache and cramp. Over against the waterfall
was another camp, whence issued the sounds of a corroboree, with an
occasional howl from a pack of miscellaneous hounds, and altogether I was
having a very vivid experience of what it was to rough it in Australia.
Just as we were about
settling down for a good snooze, the sound of approaching oars was heard.
This turned out to be L-and the two sable hunters, Bob and Jimmie, from the
other camp, where they had been partaking of hospitality, "not wisely, but
too well." Bob was helpless, speechless, utterly incapable. Jimmie bundled
him ashore on his shoulders, tumbled him down like a sack, and then, like a
good true comrade as he was, gave him his own blanket and left him alone in
his glory. Now Jimmie proved a horrible nuisance that night, for the visits
he paid to the beer-barrel were as the sands of the sea for multitude. Thus
passed our first night. My soul was bitter within me, and I yearned for the
flesh-pots of Egypt—the delights and comforts of tent-life in India —as I
writhed upon my bed of torture. "I had but little sleep, and towards dawn I
got up and paced the narrow deck of the launch. A full moon flooded the
wooded" amphitheatre with a pale pure light; every twig and leaf stood out
in bold relief against the pallid light of our Lady Luna, and the silent
river ran a very stream of glittering silver. The camp-fire smouldered, with
a canopy of light curling smoke, hanging midway between the river and the
cliff. Not a sound disturbed the stillness save the murmur of the cascade,
the twitter of an early bird, the flop of some sportive fish in training for
an aquatic race, or the deep boom of L-'s nasal organ, which caused the deck
to quiver with a tremor as the prolonged bass snore rumbled in the calm
morning air. Now the harbingers of day—the tiny, twittering birds—began to
hop about, ruffling their feathers, chirping and whistling; and ere long the
moonlight waned before the approaching sun-god, and the world was once more
awake.
We were soon dispersed over
the camp, some fishing for black bream, of which there were quantities,
while others assisted the cooks in getting breakfast. It was a glorious
morning. We were joined now by the valiant Captain W-, the rotund G- and his
friend, and they courteously invited the gunners of our party to join them
in a hunt. Those who liked were to try deep-sea fishing; and, after an ample
breakfast, we started on our several ways, leaving Old Mull and his man
Friday, whose cognomen, by the way, was Monday, to look after preparations
for dinner.
Our way lay by the cascade,
and in a sheltered nook we came on the captain's camp. A noisy and
demonstrative pack of canine creatures came founding forth to meet us, and
through the smoke loomed large the swarthy features of the celebrated
Bundong arid his mate Joey. These were to be our shikarrees, masters of the
hounds, and directors-general of the beat. Both were "characters." Their
eccentricities were unbounded. Bundong had a weakness for liquids, Joey was
a Good Templar, but both were -ardent sportsmen, and, if the freedom of
their criticism'and plainness of their speech gave any clue to their
politics, they might have been put down as ultra-democrats both.
Our party mustered nine guns
in all, and we had a tremendous climb up the almost sheer acclivity,
threading our way amid boulders, heaped-up rocks, fallen logs, and mounds of
brushwood. We were now on a fine open heath, with an extensive swamp lying
in the hollow—the feeder to the rivulet below. Wild flowers of rare beauty,
delicate shape, and exquisite colouring, peered up at us from every nook
among the ferns and grass-palms. Here the native fuchsia, with its wax-like
petals of the loveliest pink, tipped with a pale creamy yellow, trembled on
its tiny pedestal. There the Australian honeysuckle, with a deep crimson
blossom, imparted a bright air of gaiety and life to the heathy shrubs of
dull green with which the upland was clothed. As we marched along in Indian
file, Bundong rated his dogs, swore and bellowed, till he was nearly hoarse.
When we reached the crest of the ridge, we saw a magnificent panorama
stretched out beneath us. At our back lay a bare, rugged brae, studded with
stunted shrubs and rugged rocks, jumbled together in picturesque confusion.
To our right, the living carpet of rushes and grasses in the basin-like
morass. In front a steep declivity, closed with densely-matted brushwood,
here and there a tree of snow-white bloom, stowing where the lillipillies
scattered their profusion of flowers. On the opposite steep a frowning wall
of rock, with caves and crags showing gloomy and dark, or standing boldly
confronting us, while the rich sunlight showed every scar and crevice in
their weather-beaten recesses. . Deep in the dell below a miniature lake lay
placid and still, while far out lay spread before us the majestic ocean,
with scarcely a ripple breaking the calm expanse of blue, save where a
lining of fleecy white gleamed like silver as the mighty swell dashed its
foaming volume on the jagged rocks that guarded the coast. The river wound
about, and in and out, with a bar of yellow sand gleaming like gold half-way
to the sea. But all was still, oppressively still, and the whole scene was
one of weird wild beauty, such as I have rarely seen surpassed for grandeur
and diversity. We now took our stations along the crest of the hill, I
taking the first post behind a hoary old boulder, while the others planted
themselves at intervals along the face of the hill right down to the water's
edge. Taking the dogs with them, the black fellows took now a wide detour to
reach the head of the bush-fringed gully, and we soon heard their wild
hallooing and ringing cooee as they urged the dogs into the cover. This is
technically termed " wall-bunging; " that is, beating up the game to the
concealed sportsmen. D- was with me, acting as gillie, and for a long time
we stirred not hand or foot, and the dogs were getting quite close to our
post of observation.
Just then I heard the
peculiar bump, bump, which once heard can never be mistaken for aught else
but the bounding of a marsupial. The noise came from behind, and looking
back, I saw a fine fat wallaby, all unconscious of my proximity, hopping
among the rocks behind me. For a moment it got into hollow, and the sound
ceased. I beckoned D-to go up the hill and try to drive the quarry in my
direction. This he satisfactorily accomplished. I got a good long shot, and
had the satisfaction of seeing our bounding brigand topple over. She, for it
proved to be a female, with a minute picanniny in her pouch, got up again,
however, and was making off, when a second shot brought her to bag. D-
returned, and we shortly afterwards rejoined our disappointed comrades, mine
having been the only piece discharged during the beat. A halt for
refreshments, and on we went again for a fresh beat. This time L-, G--, and
another lucky one got each a wallaby, and having doubled back round the
hill, the cravings of the inner man made us look at our watches. It was long
past dinner-time. Wallabys were scarce, dogs and men were tired, so we
resolved to return. This we did, carrying the slain along with us.
Reaching the stream, we
paused to admire one of the rarest little nooks of sylvan beauty that
perhaps could be found in the colony. The streamlet in its descent had
scooped out a basin in the rock. A deep still pool, with flashes of amber
and gold and pale green, where the struggling sunbeams peered through the
thick shade of the gum-trees. A huge prostrate monarch of the forest spanned
the upper part of the hollow like an arch, and stag ferns and others of
surpassing loveliness formed a drooping fringe of living green from every
projecting buttress and shady cranny. The water flashed with a pleasant
gurgling murmur, and the whole ensemble breathed an air of the deepest
serenity and peace. It was a gem of a picture. The whole thiug was perfect.
Every stone, rock, leaf, frond, dripping spray, and moss-grown trunk were so
hai*< moniously blended, so beautifully proportioned, so perfectly fitted,
that we could not resist an involuntary exclamation of delight and
admiration. However, appetite jogged us, and we again descended the steep,
abrupt decline. What a glorious dinner we had! How can I describe the
toothsome fare, Toohey's beer not being forgotten. The fishing party had
been successful, having caught forty-five magnificent schnapper and tailor,
rain-bow, parrot, and other fish of many sorts.
That night we had a grand
corroboree at the captain's camp, and I quite won the hearts of the dusky
"wall-bungers" by a Hindostanee song, given with the true nasal drawl,
high-pitched treble, and the long-drawn quavers and semi-quavers of the
bronzed beauties of dear old India, Sunday morning broke fair and beautiful
— both camps had by this time thoroughly fraternized, and we breakfasted
together. I could linger lovingly over the remembrance of the delicious
schnapper for breakfast. Poor old H-, always somehow managing to get into
trouble, slipped down the bank among the sharp oyster shells and got badly
cut about the hands and legs. He bore it all, however, with the most
imperturbable good-humour. We spent the day bathing and wandering through
the lovely bush.
Next day Father Christmas,
A-, and one or two others proposed a pull up the river, and as the tide was
running up strong we started. G-, Charley, L-, and myself took our guns, as
there was a chance of securing Wonga pigeons.. These may be considered as
the delicacy par excellence of an Australian sportsman's bag. They are fine
big plump birds, and almost approach in flavour,. I think, to a florican.
Our pull up the river was the treat of the outing. The scenery was
exquisitely beautiful.
Leaving the busy camp behind
us we quickly entered into a narrow gorge, with massy buttresses of rock
guarding the defile. Gnarled roots wound their sinewy arms like huge snakes
among the crevices, and gaunt, distorted, weather-beaten trunks sprang from
the solid rock, in places where it seemed almost impossible for vegetation
to exist. The cliffs towered high above on either bank, and an arch of
living green met overhead as the trees swayed to and fro with the wind,
shaking hands together across the clear stream, which ran silently far
below. Some of the dells looked like pictures of fairy-land; palms,
tree-ferns, mosses, wild flowers, and a wondrous^wealth of rare vegetable
forms of surpassing beauty clothed each dell in a living carpet of emerald;
and many of the caves showed wonderful studies of light and shade as the
scattered sunbeams darted through the umbrageous canopy, and played- in a
thousand sparkling colours on rock and stream and fern-fringed shore. In
some places huge trees lay half submerged in the water. Here the river
narrowed, as a deep gorge pent up the tide; there it rippled over shingly or
sandy bars, and we coul'd see the mullet ray-fish and whiting dart about in
shoals. Occasionally a crane would get up with slow, heavy flight, an
eagle-hawk would soar majestically with full expanded wings over-head, or a
kingfisher, resplendent in emerald, crimson, and gold, would flash past like
a mimic rainbow. In our quest for game we were disappointed; but the
loveliness and still beauty of the scene harmonized well with the calm sunny
day, and we emphatically enjoyed the soft silent gliding along, amid the
rare charms of scenery so beautifully displayed on every hand. We went with
the tide as far as we could go, until our progress was barred by a perfect
barricade of fallen trees. Higher up, the scenery is still more lovely; but
if we were not to be left high and dry on one of the numerous bars, we must
retrace our passage.
Dropping down with the tide,
several of us, divested of our habiliments, floated with the boat, pushed
her over the shallow parts, dived under in the deep cool pools, and looked
like an attendant convoy of Tritons round the car of Neptune. Albeit,
several of the Tritons bore more resemblance to the proverbial grampus than
to the graceful dolphin.
Reaching camp, we found one
of our number had been lucky enough to shoot a very handsome male lyre-bird.
This was the more fortunate for him, as these birds are notoriously shy, and
difficult to stalk. A friend who is conversant with the subject tells me in
reference to the lyre-bird, that the female makes her nest either on a
shelving rock or a convenient hollow of a large tree. It consists of a great
quantity of sticks and pieces of bark, and is lined with dry grass and
feathers. The nest is so small that the wonder is how the bird gets in. The
nest, usually, if not always, contains but an only young one, which is a
very helpless and featherless creation for a long time. If the nest is
discovered, the mother, usually so timid, seems to lose all shyness in her
anxiety for her young, and, when the intruder is about the locality of the
nest, she will keep scratching and chirping about as if she were alone. No
amount of interference with the nest and young will scare her-off. If the
young one be taken from the nest it is almost impossible to rear it, and it
is equally difficult to domesticate the old bird. A gentleman, well
acquainted with the haunts and habits of the lyre-bird, recently informed me
that the only successful attempt ever made to bring the birds to friendly
terras was by a Mr. Mahan, at Wood's Point, a settlement in the Gipps Land
ranges in Yictoria. They are very abundant thereabout, and, by a system of
what is known as figure 4 traps, he could easily get hold of as many as he
required. At great labour he used to find white grubs, which sustained them
till they would pick particles of lean beef, but some would die of sulk, and
some of dysentery. Mr. Mahan had a very commodious outhouse, in a corner of
which he had a large frame cage, in which he kept his captives for some days
till they began to feed, when he let them out. He always kept large heaps of
mould on the floor, and the birds had free access to the crossbeams and
rafters, on which they delighted to hop and dance about. He had some birds
for over four years in fine health and quite tame, and was in hopes of some
day making a valuable contribution to the zoological collection in
Melbourne, when all his efforts were frustrated by a virago of a neighbour,
who, for some paltry grievance, poisoned them all. This is the more
unfortunate as it is very unlikely that a similar effort will be made for
many a day by him or any one else, as the patience required is seldom
possessed by anybody, not to speak of the labour and expense, both of which
are very considerable items. All the plumage of the lyre-bird is dark and
soft, not a single interesting feather in it except the harp-shaped tail of
the male bird. But this is very beautiful, and when the bird is scratching
the little mould heaps and soft banks for grubs, he keeps all the time
whistling with most extraordinary and varied melody, having the tail
expanded to the fullest extent. It is generally asserted that the lyre-bird
is a mocker, but it is more likely that his notes are his own. The range of
his notes is so extensive, and their continuity so prolonged and beautiful,
that whoever will have the ability and means to renew Mr. Mahan's effort,
and be successful in domesticating a male bird that will whistle in
captivity, will have accomplished a task that ought to reward him well, and
bring the thanks of all enthusiastic naturalists.
After this digression anent
the lyre-bird, we adjourned to dinner. Shades of Apicius, Lucullus, Dr.
Kitchener, Meg Dods, and all giants of gastronomy, what a feast that was.
The succulence, flavour, tenderness, odour, and all sorts of good qualities
possessed by the viands beggar description, and when the huge plum-pudding,
flaming in its brandy sauce, scenting the wild bush with odours of Ambrosia
and Arcady, was solemnly placed upon the board, we simultaneously leapt to
our feet to cheer the cooks, and, if truth must be told, to shake down a
little of the cargo previously stowed.
In the evening we went over
to the captain's camp. Bundong and Joey sang us several corroborees : I gave
a Persian guzzul and several Hindoostanee operatic selections; while with
song, jest, and anecdote we passed a glorious time till the crescent moon
waxed and waned again, and then we sought our couches. Several of the boys
went 'possum shooting, but met with little success.. Several of us were-
decidedly Bacchanalian, and music had her votaries. Her soothing charms
failed signally on this occasion, however, to reconcile G—to the harmony..
After an unusually excruciating burst of song, he was observed to arouse
him, mutter a few disjointed observations, bless all liis musical children,
and dash wildly from the hut with a 'possum rug in the one hand and somebody
else's boots in the other.
The sun shone fair on Tuesday
morning, and there was a general hunt for ferns and specimens of plants.
After another sumptuous
breakfast, at which curry was a feature, we broke up our camp. The whistle
shrieked, we bore slowly off, leaving behind us such evidences of our stay
as might have fitted out a local rag fair, equal in wealth of incongruities
to any collection in any metropolis.
How shall I tell of the
fishing, the juicy ham—the unfailing barrel of beer, a very widow's cruse in
its inexhaustibleness, the speeches, and the songs? We fairly over-flowed
with melody. Poor F- had an ugly and acutely painful accident. A huge
schnapper hook buried itself deeply in the back of his hand, reaching to the
bone, and wedged fast, barb and all, anions the muscles. Fortunately I had a
case of taxidermist instruments with me, and managed a very neat and
successful surgical operation with the aid of a slender scalpel. Poor F-bore
the pain like a man. Then there was the disembarkation. It was dark. The
pier consisted of a single plank, stretching far out over the flat,
mud-covered shore. It was at some altitude above the mud. It was piled up
with swags, gun-cases, ferns, boxes, bundles, barrels, all the impedimenta
and camp-baggage of the expedition. My readers can imagine the consequence
when our gay sportsmen landed and commenced to wend-their weary way ashore.
Flop went one—splash went another. One demented youth was intercepted by Bob
as he was trying to plough his way through to the middle of the bay.
At length we all got safely
ashore. Two vans were waiting for us. To the very last the admirable
arrangement, management, and forethought of the projectors and directors of
the party were manifest. We had a most musical procession up to Sydney, and
parted at the railway station, after one of the jolliest excursions I have
ever enjoyed. |
