It is a common bird, I am glad to say, and, despite the numbers of cats living a bush life on the island, it is holding its own. Its numbers in relation to those of its congeners—Malurus assimilis—I estimate at twenty to one. even allowing for the more silent and secretive habits of the latter. Though it has its preferences, I visited no part of Dirk Hartog where it was not present. When I state that I frequently saw a male sitting on a fence just outside the wool-shed door, and that I photographed a nest which had contained a brood of young within a very short distance of the homestead, and found another nest containing eggs not a quarter of a mile away, its familiarity will be at once apparent. Again, I climbed nearly to the highest point of the ridge traversing the island, known as Herald Heights (600 feet), and found pairs or parties of Pied Wrens right up to the summit. Further, I found two nests, one with young and one with eggs, close to the seashore at Notch Point. But the favourite haunts are undoubtedly big, fairly open flats, where salt-bushes of various species are abundant, and the scrub generally is of a more dwarfed character. During the breeding season the male, in nuptial dress, is not difficult of approach, and on numerous occasions I have watched him at a distance of a few feet. The females and immature birds will almost come to one's feet if called up and the observer stands quite motionless. The nuptial male, however, is more silent than males in brown plumage, and it was seldom I heard him uttering the familiar reeling notes. I found an interesting series of nests. The first I discovered (9th July) was in a small, half-dead bush growing in a little gully at a height of about 400 feet in the foothills. I had observed several birds about some five or six days previously, and at length found the nest, after a close search; it contained three eggs. I surmise birds were breeding in the foothills earlier than on the lower ground, through the situation being sheltered from the heavy westerly gales and rain-storms, and having the benefit of the early morning sun—being generally warmer, in fact. Other nests were in low, heath-like scrub, almost resting on the ground; also in salt-bushes, and, around the Ten-mile well, large, very prickly Hakea bushes were chosen. I seldom discovered a nest through flushing the sitting bird. In only one or two cases did this happen. The majority of the nests were well concealed. One, placed inside a dense but small prickly bush with a white flower, was so carefully hidden that, had the female remained quiet. I should have passed it by; another nest, however, placed in a dead bush, was visible 20 yards away. I was examining a nest in course of construction, and situated in a small salt-bush, where the female remained motionless within a few inches of the nest. In going to and from camp to the Ten-mile well for water, I passed very frequently a large Hakea bush. Walking nearer one day, I saw a Pied Wren's nest, and cautiously inserted a finger. I touched what I thought was a young bird. I left it undisturbed for nearly a week, and then thought I would see how the young were growing. To my surprise there were three fresh eggs. I had actually, in the first place, touched the female bird in the nest without causing her to leave her charge.
The majority of nests contained three eggs, some only two, and, again, several as many as four. Twice I found Cuckoos' eggs—viz., those of the Narrow-billed Bronze (C. basalis). But in the first case the Cuckoo's egg was on the ground, just underneath the Wren's nest, which contained two incubated eggs. When I find a small bird's nest
