“I don’t know of these,” said Nic eagerly.
“The country swarms with beautiful birds, sir, especially with those of the parrot tribe. There is the black cockatoo, for instance—not that you’ll care for it.”
“Why?” said Nic.
“Because it is ugly,” said Leather, smiling, as if he enjoyed the boy’s enthusiasm. “It is wanting in bright feathers, but it is a curious bird, with a tremendously strong beak.”
“I must have a specimen, though,” said Nic. “What others are there?”
“I can hardly tell you, sir. The parrots are in great variety. Stop: there are two grass parrots that I know of. One is a green bird striped all over across with a darker green, like the breast of a cuckoo or a hawk, and it has fairly long legs, which enable it to go about actively on the ground. Other parrots have, as you know, very short legs, only suitable for clinging and climbing in the trees.”
“And the other—grass parrot you called it?”
“A lovely little creature, cross-barred like the ground parrot; but its colours are brilliant, and it is one of the most graceful-looking little birds of the kind.”
“Why, Leather,” cried Nic, “you are quite a naturalist! How do you know all this?”
“How could I help knowing, sir—spending days and weeks and months alone, out here in this great wild country, watching sheep or helping to hunt our stray cattle? What should I have done in a solitary bit of a hut without speaking to a fellow-creature perhaps for a month?”