CHAPTER X

THE SPIRIT OF AUSTRALIA

(A Study in Black and White)

CONSIDER WHAT A potent element are black-and-white birds in the out-door life of Australia. It would probably be safe to say that we have more of these spruce studies, in numbers if not in point of variety, than any other country in the world. Indeed, the very familiarity of pied plumage tends to cause us to accept the colors and their owners as a matter of course, and to overlook the fact that, without them, there would be much less brightness and good cheer in Australia.

This conviction came to me with added force when travelling, in 1918, with the French Mission in Queensland. The soldier-visitors saw a good deal of the country areas, and, keen observers for the most part, they could not help noticing that there were almost as many wayside Wagtails, Pee-wees, Magpies, and pied Butcher-Birds to greet them as there were school children — “and all as happy.” Maybe, then, these vivacious birds had something to do with the appreciation aroused in Commandant d’Andre, who, as we swept across the rolling miles of the Darling Downs, proclaimed, with an expressive wave of the hand, his joy in the couleur of the country. “I understand,” he said — this soldier with the heart of a boy and the soul of an artist — “why your soldiers are so merry. I understand the Spirit of Australia!”

The Spirit of Australia! Hear E. S. Emerson, who, more than all others, has put Australian birds into rhyme; analyse it in both Anzac man and bird: —

Yet I’ve often thought, when resting, how this fighting

spirit flashed

Into mastership within one fleeting year;

And I’ve wondered, as my comrades into war-old

vet’rans dashed,

How it was they never showed a sign of fear.

But the riddle is no riddle as my thoughts the distance

span,

And in memory the mountain-track I take,

For I’ve seen a nesting Magpie swoop undaunted on

a man;

I have watched the ’Burra kill a tiger snake.

The poet has seen, too, evidence of the pluck of the Wagtail, the Pee-wee, the Swan, and many another native bird, and he concludes: —

That’s the spirit of Australia. Never mind how great

the odds;

Never mind how long and bitter is the strife —

To the death the bush-birds wage it; and, by all the

living gods,

That’s the spirit that our menace brought to life . . .

Oh, my native land, down under, with your sunshine

and your song,

With the soul of all your bushlands for a throne,

Though our heritage was freedom, and our fathers

bred us strong,

You have crowned us with a glory all your own.

Is there, one wonders, any particular reason why our black-and-white perching birds, above all others, are a mixture of music and fight? On the fact itself all Australians will agree. (Indeed, there was a suggestion put forward a short time ago that the Magpie, erroneously so called in the beginning because of its superficial resemblance to the pied bird of England, should be re-christened the “Anzac-Bird.”) It is true that there are one or two black-and-white birds of a non-fighting nature, but it will usually be found that these species are dwellers in the forest or scrub, that they are less plentiful than the pied birds of the open spaces, and that in practically every case, the females of the species (as distinct from the wives of such birds as the Pee-wee, the Wagtail, and the Magpie) are quietly garbed.

Carrying on the reflection, it seems to me that so many common Australian birds are not fightable in spite of their conspicuous coloring, but because of that very fact. They have none of the protective coloration which plays so large a part in the scheme and balance of Nature; therefore they must needs be endowed with some other special ability to protect themselves and their offspring. Further, as that same conspicuous coloration would render negative any general attempt on the part of such birds to obscure themselves, Nature has decreed that they shall face the world boldly — protected by their very prominence.*

(*“It is interesting to note,” writes Mr. H. J. Massingham, in his diary of a pied day spent among the birds of Southwest Dorset, “how kindred are the characters of mapgie and wagtail. . . . But the magpie, like the wagtail, possesses that impulsive, irrepressible temper which, alas! so often betrays him to the killer.” — Contemporary Review, August, 1919).

Support is added this supposition when one considers the ways of such birds as the Black-fronted Dottrel and White-fronted Chat. Each of these ground-dwellers is boldly marked with black and white on the breast, while the back is colored in drab harmony with the habitat of the bird. It is, beyond all doubt, this factor of protective coloration that each bird relies upon for safety; the boldly marked breast is kept carefully turned away from the observer, and the obscuring effect of the duller plumage is really wonderful. You get the same cause and effect in the case of the old-world Lapwing, which, by the way, is the original “Peewit,” or “Peewee,” names commonly applied, by reason of a similarity in calls (rather than in color and flight), to our black-and-white Magpie-Lark.

Moreover, while black-and-white-fronted birds of the ground lack the straight-out fighting ability of the more prominent pied species, Nature has given them (in addition to the modicum of protective coloration in respect of both plumage and eggs) the compensatory power to avert danger from their nests by means of a lure. Who that has met the little “Nun” (Chat) at its nest will forget the splendid artistry of the pretty creature in feigning to be injured? At the first sign of possible danger to eggs or young, they — both sexes practise the ruse, and sometimes several birds join forces — will go fluttering and tumbling along in most realistic fashion, meanwhile uttering cries pitiful enough to suggest the throes of death. Was this device evolved for confusion of the children of men? If so, it would seem that certain birds regarded man as quite a gullible creature, and that the fighting species considered themselves more than a match for him in a “scrap.” Manifestly, however, human-kind was not considered in the arrangements at all; the pluck of some birds, and the cleverness of others, came into being from natural causes, and, with the advance of civilisation, they have blended into the national life out o’ doors as part of the indefinable Spirit of Australia.

It is not only that our black-and-white birds are prominent in particular areas. More than any other birds of a definite color scheme, they are freely distributed over the whole continent. The Magpie, the Magpie-Lark, the Black and White Fantail (Wagtail), the Restless Flycatcher, the Black-throated Butcher-Bird, and the White-shouldered Lalage — each one of these is to be found in every one of the mainland States. It is the more retiring of the bi-colored species, such as the Whip-Bird, the Black and White Swallow, the Black and White Robin, and the rare Pied Honeyeater — birds without any assertive system or means of protection — that are restricted to certain favorable areas.

But the question of distribution becomes much more problematical when it is noted how few pied birds are known to Tasmania. Of all the birds mentioned above, only one (the Magpie) is a distinct resident of the island State, while, among the others, the Magpie-Lark and Lalage are recorded merely as accidental visitors. Why should this be? How is it that the common little Wagtail, for instance, is not known to Tasmania? Are it and the other missing “black and whites” of recent birth — subsequent to the formation of Bass Strait? Here is an interesting problem for the geographical student.

On the other hand, there is probably no area where pied birds are so prominent as they are in Southern Queensland. Brisbane, in fact, might well be known (in an ornithological aspect) as the City of Black and White. The plenteousness of water about the city and its environs, added to the somewhat humid atmosphere, makes for a plentiful supply of insect life, and, as a natural corollary, both the Wagtail and the Peewee have become almost domesticated — members of the family. It is much the same in other centres right along the Queensland coast.

“Magpie-Larks often feed with our fowls,” writes a friend in the North, “and I was amused to note that some of them have acquired from the fowls the habit of scratching for food. They go round and round, walking backwards, and drag their feet clumsily through the dust.”

The beautiful Restless Flycatcher, which closely resembles the Wagtail in appearance, but has singular little ways and habits of its own, is only an occasional visitor to the towns. So, too, is the Lalage; but, while the “Grinder” comes only singly or in pairs, the former capricious bird moves in scattered companies, and may only be looked for in the Spring-time. Scarcely less common are the Wagtail and Peewee in the thinly timbered forest and downs country of these northern parts, where the color scheme is stressed strongly by the addition of very many black-and-white Crow-Shrikes — Magpies and Butcher-Birds. This particular Butcher-Bird (the black-throated species) is much more plentiful in these areas than it is in Southern Australia, where the grey Butcher-Bird (“Whistling Jack”) is the chief representative of the genus.

In regard to the Magpie, how interesting it would be to know why the well-known white-backed species of the south does not occur in the north — having in mind the fact that the Black-backed Magpie is common both to north and south. One wonders whether it is in spite or because of this fact that Mr. Robert Hall (whose useful bird books are well known) has laid down in an ornithological magazine his belief that the Black-backed Magpie is merely a sub-species, or off-shoot, of the white-backed bird.

In “certain areas,” he says, “the sub-species is so fixed as apparently to be a species; in others the inter-breeding and the specimens showing reversion are so common as to make them inseparable; while, again, in the back country of all the eastern States, is shown the strong evidence of lesser dimensions, apart from dichromatism. Yet these lesser dimensions are not quite confined to the inland and drier area. Their points of resemblance are so many and those of difference so few that one strongly inclines to mark them as one variable species. In habitat both are the same; flight, gait, mode of hunting for food, and the food itself are the same. . . . . The difference appears to be in the plumage markings; possibly, too, in warble and temperament, varying with the area. . . . The warble of the Black-back consists of about 12 distinct syllables, and is finished with an indescribable, delightful, jubilant note. In every instance the female commences the warble, the male falling in at the last note, but holding it out longer than the female. The White-back rarely indulges in a song, rendering it in less musical style, and only in a chorus. The syllables are fewer and shorter. . . . In temperament the White-back appears to be the more savage of the two. In breeding-time the White-back will attack almost any living thing of large dimensions, the Black-back rarely interfering with anybody. . . .”

Irrespective of whether bush dwellers in Southern Australia will agree with Mr. Hall’s comparative criticism of the carol of the White-backed Magpie, there is no room for dispute as to its cheerfully truculent nature. When a pair of these masterful Australians “peg out a claim” in the Spring-time they assume a monarchy over all they survey — and there is a special embargo, born of experience, against roving boys.** The policy is even more offensive than defensive; swishing wings may hum about the ears of innocent youth ere he is within a quarter-mile of the sacred nest. Nerve-racking in its suddenness, this rushing sound is calculated to upset the equilibrium of a bush-loiterer who, engrossed in other interests, has failed to catch the initial war-cry of the bird. Full many a time both warning trump and beating wings have hastened my laggard footsteps along the bush tracks to school.

(** From a small schoolgirl’s essay: “I am trying to write on the birds, but my selfish brother has taken all the best things I was going to say. I don’t call that fair, and I am going to laugh the next time the Magpies take his hat and peck his head when we are going to school. They don’t like boys, and neither do I.”)

There is, I gather, a superstition still current in various parts of rural Britain to the effect that it is unlucky to see Magpies under certain conditions, these varying importantly with various localities. Thus, in some counties two are said to bring sorrow, in others joy; while in some places, we are instructed, one Magpie is a signal of misfortune, which can, however, be obviated by pulling off your hat and making a polite bow to the judicial bird. In Lancashire they say:

One for anger,

Two for mirth,

Three for a wedding,

Four for a birth;

Five for rich,

Six for poor;

Seven for a witch,

I can tell you no more!

If only for the sake of Imperial propriety, it should be emphasised that the British Magpie and its Australian namesake, birds with title and color in common, are different, if not distinct, in disposition. The general affinity of black-and-white birds has been shown to hold good in an international sense, but the outlook of the Australian bird is freer, more spacious — its disposition more resolute. (The advanced democracy of the land is not confined to the genus Homo). To pull off one’s hat to a sentinel “Anzac-Bird” would certainly be construed into a breach of the peace; and, moreover, closer approach to the nest would render handling of the hat distinctly unnecessary — the strong bill of the bird would then be in action. Verily, the late Frank Myers, devotee of Australia Felix, had much justification for writing of Mag., his “happy, dear, and blessed bird,” as “unlike any other creature unto whom was ever breathed the breath of song . . . unexampled as the forest he overlooks.”

So there you have it — cheerfulness, courage, and originality! Setting aside other attributes of this essentially Australian bird, in these qualities lies the reason for the appreciative, if impracticable, suggestion that the Magpie’s borrowed name should be altered to that of “Anzac-Bird.”

The Black-throated Butcher-Bird has much in affinity with its relative. Though slightly smaller than the Magpie, it has the same build and general color-scheme, inhabits the same class of open country, and is possessed also of pronounced musical and fighting ability. I have heard the Magpies singing their love-songs to the morn (and also to the moon) on many occasions, but not even those carolling choruses were sweeter than the concert performance of a quartette of Butcher-Birds rollicking in the bush beside Moreton Bay on a day in October. The notes most freely heard from individual birds lack the continuity of the Grey Butcher-Bird’s spirited melody, and constitute a chortle rather than a song. But they are indescribably rich and pure, and add a certain gipsy wildness to what is probably the nearest approach made by any Australian bird to the full, rolling tones of a pipe organ.

Like its grey relative — and seemingly in despite of the solemn appearance of the genus — the pied Butcher-Bird sometimes becomes as merry on the wing as any Skylark — more so, probably, for the unceasing individual efforts of the little European songster are apt to bring it under the suspicion of being a trifle mechanical. And there was emphatically no trace of this element in the movements of a quartette of Butcher-Birds which greeted a Christmas morning near the border highlands of Queensland and New South Wales. Joying in each other’s company and the freshness of the morning, they left the trees and swung up and down in the air, both movements and voices having the breezy freedom of merry children.

One other memory of the mellifluous voice of this gifted bird belongs to a sub-tropical mountain. Sufficient jungle had been cleared to meet the requirements of the sun-loving Butcher-Birds, and on a vital morning of September two of them came into a dawn symphony reminiscent of John Ford Paterson’s picture in the Melbourne Art Gallery. Here, however, was a living picture; nor was it the less harmonious for the marks of man’s presence. A massed array of white Watsonias was flowering radiantly at the edge of the jungle-hemmed paddock, and as the deliberate notes of the pure-voiced birds rose and fell, how perfectly the music seemed to harmonise with the color of the white flowers! It is doubtful whether any bird-voice can be out of symphony at sunrise on a bright morning. There is always the lyric touch then, be the voice ever so harsh. But the melody of these Butcher-Birds got beyond the lyrical, developed a Miltonic fulness, as it were, and merged itself in the challenging purity of the white flowers. Anon, as the sun rose and an element of the garish intruded into the symphony, the notes of the birds took a slightly golden tint, this time approximating to the color of a rich rose that festooned a gateway hard by.

Of the pluck of the Butcher-Bird in defence of the sanctity of its home many instances could be cited; one ready to hand concerns the warrior whose picture appears in this book, and who lived in the north of Queensland, not far from Mackay. “He was moderately tame in the non-breeding season,” writes Mr. W. G. Harvey, in sending the photograph, “and often came in search of scraps to the field where we would be eating our lunch. But when the nesting season commenced his whole nature changed. Whenever we had occasion to pass through his locality he would meet us before we were within one hundred yards of the nest, and persecute us right past it until we arrived at a point where a pair of Black and White Fantails had a nest in company with a pair of Magpie-Larks. These plucky birds always chased the Butcher-Bird back, and we were glad to be rid of him for a while. Curiously enough, the pet aversion of this Butcher-Bird was a little black-and-white terrier which used to follow us about. The bird always endeavored to peck the dog’s ears, and during the incubation season they were more often bleeding than not. One afternoon we had the camera with us, and, after focussing on a branch, tied the unfortunate dog underneath. Before long, down came the bird — and the photo was taken!”

An interesting recital this — noteworthy not only for its testimony to the courage of various pied birds, but for the record of the Butcher-Bird’s quaint antipathy to a dog with the same color markings as itself, and, moreover, for the illustration of the resourceful shrewdness of the enthusiastic photographer of wild birds.

Apparently the female Butcher-Bird is not so bellicose as her lord, but quite approves of his warlike attitude. At Roma (south-west Queensland) I saw a fine male Black-throat furiously attacking his reflection in a window in the heart of the town, what time his mate sat by and supplied a little cheering music. Unprotected glass would never have withstood the hammering of such a strong beak.

The joining of forces by the Magpie-Lark and Wagtail, as mentioned by Mr. Harvey, is not at all uncommon; nor is the practice exactly unique. In the far north of Queensland pioneering ornithologists find the nest of the remarkable Manucode, or Trumpet-Bird, consistently in proximity to that of the robust Black Butcher-Bird, the distance between the sites usually being about fifty yards. In this case, however, it would seem that the arrangement is not mutual, but that the shining “Bird of the Gods” deliberately seeks the neutral protection afforded by the war-like Butcher-Bird, without rendering any service in return. Further, a Manucode has been seen to drive away its “guardian” when the latter wandered too close to the aerial home of the greenish-black bird.

No such misunderstandings occur between the Wagtail and the Peewee. Quite frequently, in fact, and for year after year, they nest in the same tree, the finely modelled mud nest, as shapely as its graceful owners, occupying a position on a lofty, horizontal branch, and the beautiful little cup-shaped, cob-webbed home of the Wagtail resting unobtrusively on a lower limb. That there is more than chance in this arrangement may readily be believed; but one has to remember that other factors than the protective instinct favor the practice. The two species, for instance, though occupying distinct places in the scheme of natural balance, frequently feed in company on grassy flats. The larger bird has not the flitting Fly-catcher’s ability to snap up insects disturbed by the warm breath of animals — I once counted 23 Wagtails dancing attendance on 17 cows in a Brisbane suburb — but it does much towards freeing them from pestiferous insects. Like the Wagtail of James Thomas’s fine poem, the dainty Peewee may be seen:

In its suit of white and black

On some old, sedate cow’s back;

Stopping now, as though to say:

“If I’m heavy, tell me, pray.”

Be it noted, too, that the Peewee has almost as much to say for itself as the “merry, babbling, restless bird,” whose “sweet pretty creature” (voiced by night as well as by day) is known to almost every Australian child. “What both birds lack in strength,” observes Mr. Harvey, “they make up in noise.” “It is called the Magpie-Lark,” a small girl gravely informed me, “because it is so merry.”

That interesting observation has much in accord with those of the youthful Queenslanders who announced their respective beliefs that the Wagtail keeps its balancing fan incessantly moving “because it is so happy,” “to keep itself cool,” and (a very small boy offered this suggestion) “to brush the skeeters away!”

Passing now from a very distinguished quartette of Australians — Magpie to Butcher-Bird, Magpie-Lark to Fantail — we come naturally to a notable exception to what I have ventured to suggest is a law under which ubiquitous birds colored black and white in both sexes face the world with boldness of voice and manner. The Restless Flycatcher, though frequently confused with the Wagtail, is slimmer in build, more glossy in the black of its back, and clearly distinguishable by a white throat. The female is similarly colored, with a touch of buff added to the chest. Despite its distinctive uniform, however, the Restless Flycatcher is neither so voiceful nor so fightable as its popular little relative. Nor is it nearly so numerous — a fact that may be due to the strange lack of black-and-white assertiveness or to the bird’s comparative weakness in nest construction. I knew a Victorian instance in which a pair of these birds, after scratching feebly about on a dry limb, gave up the attempt at nest-building, whereupon a pair of Wagtails rapidly put together a nest, of similar material, in the abandoned position.

Let it be observed, also, that practically all of these bi-colored bird acquaintances of ours are stay-at-home species. Seldom do any of them wander far from one locality at any season of the year. Withal, it is recorded by a friend who carried out a long droving trip down the west of Queensland, that a “Shepherd’s Companion” followed his cattle for at least 70 miles, occupying ten days; identification was possible because the Wagtail had met with an accident and had no tail to wag!

The exception to the general lack of travellers among the black and whites is the White-shouldered Caterpillar-eater (Lalage), which cumbersome name, by the way, certain schoolboys cheerfully disregard in favor of the more expressive and alliterative title of “Midget-Magpie.” Here, again, you get a courageous temperament, allied, in the case of the male bird, to a highly musical voice, even though the quiet garb of the female, and the very small size of the nest, afford protection that is lacking in the cases of so many other daring studies in black and white.