Читать книгу Friends and Foes in the Australian Bush - Edward Sorenson - Страница 4

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Spotty was a downy little chap with feathers only on his wings. He was squatting uncomfortably in a flimsy twig nest at the top of a gum sapling, when he took a first survey of his surroundings. The cavity of the nest was so shallow, that he had merely to raise his head to do this. His view in front embraced a mile-width of open forest, with a low sandy rise covered with Cypress pine beyond it. Close behind him were narrow strips of scrub that bordered the Warrego River. The winds came wilting from the stony plains of the Paroo. The landscape shone grey under the summer sun; but, to Spotty, whose eyes had but recently opened, it was all wonderful and beautiful.

There were other nests about, two of which he could see from his higher position. One, containing two baby birds, was in a needle bush at the edge of a thicket. The other, which also contained a pair, was in a pine tree further out. In a third nest, on the other side of the river, the eggs had only just been laid, though it was now December.

Couples had been busy nesting and rearing their tender broods since the beginning of October, not only in that particular neighborhood, but through out the interior parts of Victoria, New South Wales, Southern Queensland, and South Australia. The Spotted Bower Birds favored always the arid mallee and brigalow country, and the tussocky inland plains that were interspersed with low bushes, small thickets, and scrubby ridges.

There was nothing important in his appearance, except that he looked a little odd with the prominent fleshy bare skin at the corners of his mouth, which, in his parents, was still thick and of a pinky color. For all that, he was unique in ornithology, since he and his dozen relatives, making up the group of Bower Builders, were the only birds that constructed, besides a nest, an ingenious playground or meeting hall. They were, in fact, the champion feathered architects of the world.

Some of the members of the group were more distinguished in certain respects than his own species. One, who lived in deep scrubs away over in Papua and neighboring islands, was the Gardener Bird, so called from the fact that his playground was a charming little garden of green moss, which measured nine feet across, and which was decorated with bright berries and flowers. Behind the garden, and opening on to it, was an elaborate little hut, or gunyah, composed mainly of orchid stems. It was eighteen inches high, built round a conical pile of green moss, and topped off with an orchid.

The Golden Bower Bird (who shared the Northern scrubs with the Toothbill and the Spotted Cat Bird) rivalled the Southern Regent in the golden splendour of his plumage, and, though the smallest of Spotty's relations, he built the largest bower of all, the sticks of which were piled up against two trees. One wall was eight feet high, bent over to form an arch, and the other about eighteen inches. It was adorned only with flowers, leaves, moss, and berries. Scattered immediately around were half-a-dozen gunyahs, each about nine inches high, built with the stems of grass or ferns bent together, and roofed with a horizontal thatch of twigs. The whole resembled a blacks' camp in miniature. Among and around these little cubby-houses, the birds ran when playing their curious games.

The Great Bower Bird (of the Northern Territory and Northwest) was the largest of all. He always decorated his bower with sea shells, no matter how far it was away from the coast. The Queensland Bower Bird (of the scrubby regions of the Gulf country) had the worst reputation, for he feasted himself whenever he could on chillies, paw paws, granadillas, guavas and mangoes, and sometimes he stole hen eggs, which he carried off in his claws. The Toothbill (of the North Queensland mountains), whom the blacks called Cherra-Chelbo, a mottled greyish- brown mimic with a serrated bill, who played alone on a leaf-carpeted clearing, which was furnished with a stone anvil for breaking snail- shells on, was the most retiring. His shy little mate laid her two dark-cream-colored eggs in a loose stick nest hidden away in a lofty tree.

Yelgan (the Regent Bird), who in his third year donned a beautiful coat of rich yellow and velvety black, was the most gorgeous and the most pugnacious. He often fought in the mating season until either he or his adversary was blinded or killed. He shared the Eastern scrubs with the Cat Bird and the handsome black Satin Bird. The latter assumed his splendid satiny blue-black coat only after several moults--about his eighth year. This was old age for Cowry, the Satin Bower Bird, for he lived only a year or two after donning his full livery. Before that, he was greyish-green like his lady-loves.

Despite all these wonderful relatives, Spotty could still lay claim to special notice. Among other things, his species was the boldest, and the most widely distributed.

His mother fed him on caterpillars, although her own diet at this season consisted largely of fruits and berries. Though other little bush birds might cry noisily for their meals, he was rarely heard to utter a sound.

He saw very little of his male parent, for that busy variety artist was much of his time at his bower, decorating it with any glittering trifle he could find, and holding solo concerts or maybe entertaining an odd visitor. Social gatherings were few and unexciting now, for most of the wives were busy with family cares. The big functions would come in the spring time, when the young bachelors would meet the little maidens with the more serious affairs of life in view, and there would be keen competition, much jealousy, and a few combats over the belle of the season.

But there was a lot of fun and gaiety in the bowers before that time arrived. As the young birds became fledged and left the nest, there were "children's parties," at which Spotty and those of his age made their first bow in society.

His youth was plainly shown by his lighter plumage, shorter tail, and his evident dependence on his mother for protection and guidance, as she led him one bright morning towards the assembly hall. The first thing he was aware of was a medley of strange sounds that alarmed him.

They all came from the place of meeting. First, the ring of a splitter's maul, then the chop of an axe, followed by the straining of wire and the hissing, buzzing noise of a captured cicada were heard; next the cries of the Noisy Miner, Babbler, Magpie and Crow sounded in quick succession. He thought many birds and other strange creatures were waiting to receive him. But, when he came to the bower, which consisted of two parallel walls of sticks and grass stuck in the ground, and which formed an arched avenue about nine inches wide, the floor of which was strewn with berries and pieces of glass and china, bits of rag and tin, silvery trinkets, and small sheep-bones, placed at each entrance like a door-mat, and the other objects classified in heaps--he saw only his male parent running through the hall, with his feathers puffed out. He soon realised that the strange medley of sounds were made by that superb mimic. With the exception of the Lyre Bird and his own cousins, Toothbill and the Golden Bower Bird, no feathered mimic could equal his father in mocking any bush sound that he heard frequently.

Spotty's dark brown eyes bulged with admiration and astonishment when he saw the beautiful ornaments. He pounced upon a brilliant bit of blue glass and ran through the gallery with it as the old birds did, then dropped it, and picked up something else. As the guests arrived, amongst whom were proud matrons accompanied by their sons and daughters, he became more gleefully excited. While the older males met and paid court to the females, he took upon himself the office of showing his young friends the wealth and beauty of the ancestral hall.

There was a period of exuberant mischief among them, which gradually evolved into some degree of order as the old birds, uttering often a scolding note, varied with an occasional stronger display of bad temper, mingled with them. These hysterical youngsters had to be taught the art of playing and dancing.

With a preponderance of youth and inexperience, the play was very much of a go-as-you-please affair. The birds darted among one another and through the gallery, performing all manner of capers and antics, picking up some ornament and running with it, or throwing it over the back while passing through. During these proceedings, one bird occupied an elevated post. He was on sentinel duty. The King of the bower, who was Spotty's parent, sometimes stood in the centre of the bower--to admire and to be admired. He bowed to the ladies as they danced before him.

At its termination, the sentinel dropped down from his perch, and the party broke up.

There were several other bowers in the immediate neighborhood, at one or other of which the parties reassembled from time to time. Some of these bowers were formed by making a passage through the centre of a big tussock of grass, and lengthening the walls, which were bent inwards. In the passage was the usual high platform of tightly-knitted sticks which gave strength to the walls. The birds usually assembled about 10 o'clock in the morning, and played for an hour. "At Homes" were held daily and the greatest goodwill and friendship existed amongst the whole community.

Early in the morning and in the afternoon, Spotty was taken abroad in quest of food, and in search of new attractions for the playground. He would share the latter and remain with his parents until the following spring. He was partly fed by them for the first couple of weeks. He was heavy and awkward on the wing yet, and a short flight left him panting for breath. But, as his tail lengthened, he acquired more of the grace and speed of his parents, as well as their untiring zeal and almost unconquerable restlessness.

His main ambition these days was apparently to become a great mimic like them. Whenever he heard a new sound, he would listen with rapt attention and endeavour to repeat it, then practise it at every opportunity until he could produce a realistic imitation. One of the first sounds he had picked up was the bleat of a lamb. He had seen mobs of sheep almost every day since he first looked out of the nest in the gum sapling. One day, the boundary-rider heard the bleat as he was passing a clump of needlebush, and turned back to investigate. As he entered the bushes, Spotty greeted him with a resentful quiss-s-s, and flew away.

"Deuce take these birds!" said the boundary-rider. "That's three times they've had me to-day."

His favorite food was wild figs and mistletoe berries. He also frequented the quondong trees, but so much of the fruit was pulled green for decorative purposes that only a thin crop reached the deep rosy tint of maturity. Unlike his cousins, the Satin Birds, who travelled in flocks, his species, when it went to the fruit trees, or returning therefrom, flew one after the other. His companions were never many, except when they met at the bowers.

As he grew older, he roamed about a great deal by himself. He always returned ere dusk to the roosting tree of his parents.

He was the cheekiest of the Bower Builders, and so inquisitive that he would perch on a traveller's tent, and watch every act, while that person prepared his dinner. Afterwards, he would hop about on the ground picking up crumbs, and would even sample the liquid in the billy-can. If another bird came to share the morsels, he would raise his neck feathers and growl, or scold, like a little bully.

Two miles down the river was a selector's garden, where he found a few cultivated fruits that he relished. They included grapes, tomatoes and chillies. The latter he swallowed whole so that they would not burn his mouth. In the winter months, when he had to do more hunting than usual, this garden provided green peas, cauliflower, and other succulent morsels. In this way he varied his diet of insects and figs.

Here he learnt to crow, and to call up the hens like a rooster, as if he had some dainty to offer them. Then he would suddenly cry like an eagle, at which the deluded hens and chicks would rush for cover.

He was so intent on learning to mew that he got down dangerously close to the first cat he met, and only his inherent alertness and activity saved him from instant death. When, with thumping heart, he joined his parent, who scolded the cat from a safe distance, he had a claw-mark showing redly on his dusky-brown foot.