the hollow, and level with the ground. Both these nesting trees, though hollow in the trunk, were in a flourishing state. In view of the foregoing state of things, my anxiety to secure a perfect clutch of eggs increased.
Some days previously I had noticed a pair of birds in a clump of casuarinas not more than two miles from camp. I watched them, but lost sight of the female. I resolved to try again. I was at the spot by eight a.m. After a long wait the male came home alone. I immediately commenced a fresh search, and at length in a dead tree found a likely looking hole about two and a half feet from the ground. Inserting a slender stick, I got no response until I rattled it about at the entrance. I was then greeted with the usual angry screech, but no sound of young birds. I decided to chop the nest chamber out. The dead wood was extraordinarily tough, and turned the edge of my tomahawk. It was a good hour's work before I got at the nest. During all this time, the female refused to move. Eventually I had to lift her off. The nest contained two newly hatched young, and two heavily incubated eggs.
On 27th August, whilst watching another pair in a tree containing a nest hole, which the female frequently examined without entering, my attention was drawn to another pair, which flew by uttering the customary note. I followed their flight with the eye, until they disappeared in a neighbouring clump of casuarinas some distance away. I followed them, and found a nest hole in a rather small tree. This was about four feet from the ground. I rattled a stick at the entrance, and was greeted with a screech in reply. Being armed with an axe, I resolved to chop out the nest. After finding the approximate depth of the cavity, I cut deep notches above and below the nest chamber; then with a sharp downward stroke split off the intervening flake of wood and bark. This was set aside in case of need. After stuffing a handkerchief down the hole, further chopping revealed the inside of the nest chamber, with the sitting female. I gently lifted her off, only getting a slight nip in the process. There were three fresh eggs. Realising that three eggs were better than none, I took them, and picking up the before-mentioned slab of bark and wood, I replaced it over the cavity, securing it in its place with string. A few days later I took two more eggs from this nest, the five forming the type clutch described in The Emu of last October by Mr. H. L. White (see The Emu vol. xxi., p. 83).
This method of examining Parrots' nests, where it is practical, is a very useful one, and by adopting it I was able to watch the progress of several broods of young, without the parents deserting them.
Families vary in number from four to six. the smaller number being found in later nests. It was easy to distinguish the first hatched members of a brood, the difference in size and progress being very marked. A brood of five examined very easily were on the bare ground inside a very rotten tree. I was able to force
