For days I spent much time watching several pairs as they flew about among the trees on the Shawnee Hills, but the only sound I heard was the hammering of their strong stone-colored bills on the sides of the trees, a noise that might easily be heard a quarter of a mile away. They did not descend to fallen logs for their prey but made the chips and bark fly from the upright trees.
Naturalists say the pileated will occasionally leave the insect-laden trees in search of fruit and grain, a thing the ivory-billed never does.
My beautiful, noisy companions eyed me and my opera glass suspiciously, trying always to keep on the other side of the tree from me, and, for a time, gave me no hint of the reason for their Indian name.
But at last a hunter appeared upon the scene when the frightened birds bounded away through the air uttering a cry which did indeed resemble the words "Good God," spoken in gutteral tones. The marksman brought down a fine specimen, which he gave to me. With magnificent red top-knot and wide-spread wings it looks as if it might be longing to fly back to its home among the Shawnee Hills.
THE LYRE-BIRD.
(Menura superba.)
LYNDS JONES.
IF AUSTRALIA were noted for no other thing than the ancient and strange animal forms which are to be found nowhere else on the earth, it would still be a wonderful continent. Not the least remarkable of these forms is the lyre-bird, the subject of the present sketch. Since its discovery on January 24, 1798, by one Wilson, it has been handed about among the different orders of birds by different systematists until its anatomy seemed to give it a more or less permanent place among the birds of passerine form, in spite of its fowl-like build and strong legs and large feet.