In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“It is strange,” said Mr Hooker, “that the only inhabitants of this region, where the most graceful of trees and the most beautiful of birds in the universe exist, should be inhabited by races utterly incapable of appreciating them.”

“Perhaps, sir, it may be that God has thus arranged it, that civilised man should be led to the spot to make His name known among those savages. Had it not been for these birds of paradise, perhaps these very islands might not have been heard of.”

“Ah, Oliver, I like that idea. I think you are right,” said Mr Hooker, and he was silent for some minutes. I too was struck by it.

“Yes, sir,” said Oliver, “God has a reason for all His arrangements, and I think it is allowable for us to conjecture what that reason may be; but though we cannot find it out, we may be very sure the reason exists.”

We had been walking on through the forest, when one of our hunters made a sign to us to stop, and he advanced cautiously. We saw him raise his bow and let fly an arrow. Down fell a small bird rather larger than a thrush, the plumage as we saw it falling being of the most intense cinnabar red with the softest and most lovely gloss. Mr Hooker ran forward in the greatest state of agitation I had ever seen him exhibit, and kneeling down, gradually lifted up the bird. Had he discovered a nugget of gold of the same size, he could not have appeared more delighted. The feathers of the head were short and velvety, and shaded into a rich orange beneath. From the breast downwards the body was like the softest white gloss silk, while across the breast a band of deep metallic-green separated it from the red throat. Above each eye was a round spot, also of metallic-green. The bill was yellow, and the feet and legs were of a fine cobalt-blue, forming a striking contrast with the other parts of the body. On each side of the breast, concealed under the wings, were tufts of grey feathers, about two inches in length, terminated by a broad band of deep emerald-green. These plumes are raised, as in the other species we saw, into a pair of elegant fans when the wings are elevated. Besides these beautiful ornaments, there were in the middle of the tail two feathers like slender wires, about five inches long, diverging into a double curve. The end of these wires are webbed on the outer side, and covered with a fine metallic-green; so that the bird appears to have two elegant glittering circles hanging about five inches from the body, and the same distance apart.

It was some time before our kind friend could recover himself.

“Is it not beautiful? is it not beautiful?” he kept exclaiming as he held it up, still kneeling on the ground and exhibiting its various beauties. “Walter, I tell you that this is the most beautiful of the eight thousand different kinds of birds which our beneficent Creator has placed on this earth, to adorn it for the sake of us mortals. Not one of them possesses these spiral-tipped tail wires nor these beautiful breast fans. Then look at the colours. What art can in any way approach them! This is the King Bird of Paradise—the Paradisea Regia, we naturalists call it. Well worthy is it of the name.” When we stopped for the night, our attendants quickly built some leafy sheds, into which we crept, wrapped up in our mats, after we had partaken of our supper—consisting of a parrot pie, which we had brought with us, and also of some sago biscuit, washed down with arrack and water. Our guides would have preferred the spirit undiluted, as they are fond of potent liquors as well as of strong-tasted food. At early morn, before the sun rose, we heard the well-known cry of “Wawk—wawk—wawk!—Wok—wok—wok!” resounding through the forest, and continually changing its direction. Looking up, we caught sight of nights of the great bird of paradise, going to seek their breakfasts on the fruit-bearing trees. Lories and parroquets soon afterwards flew off from their perches, uttering shrill cries. King hunters croaked and barked; and cockatoos, black and white, screamed loudly through the woods; while numerous smaller birds, many also of the most lovely plumage, chirruped and whistled as they saluted the dawn. Our hunters, one with a gun, the other with a bow and arrows, started forth while we lighted our fire and made other preparations for breakfast. One of them soon came back with a large black bird having an enormous bill. Mr Hooker jumped up, almost letting drop the saucepan which he held in his hand, in his eagerness at the sight of the bird.

“A superb black cockatoo!” he exclaimed. “This is indeed a prize.”

All thoughts of eating were abandoned, while he expatiated on the beauty of the bird and its peculiar mode of living. Compared to its largely developed head, which was ornamented with a superb crest, its body appeared weak and small. It had long slender legs and large wings, its head being armed with a sharp-pointed hooked bill of prodigious size and strength. The plumage was quite black, and had over it the peculiar powdery white secretion which characterises cockatoos. The cheeks were bare, and of an intense blood-red colour. We had heard its voice the evening before, which, unlike the harsh scream of the white cockatoo, is that of a plaintive whistle. The tongue was a slender fleshy cylinder of a deep red colour, terminated by a black horny plate, furred across, and possessing prehensile power. We afterwards saw several of them, mostly one at a time, though now and then we caught sight of two or three together. They were flying slowly and noiselessly, and our hunter told us that a very slight wound would kill them.

“See here, Walter and Oliver; observe its powerful beak. This bird lives upon the kernel of the kanary-nut. We passed several of those lofty trees as we came along. This bill is evidently formed for the purpose of eating this kanary-nut, which no other bird can do. By-the-by, I picked up one. Here it is. See! it is so hard that a heavy hammer alone can crack it.”