Queensland, I reflected that if the adults in the present party did not intend to breed very shortly they would hardly have assembled at their play-ground and behaved in the manner they did. Also, with food so abundant, there would be nothing so very remarkable if a second brood was reared in the same year, though there might be an unusually long interval between the broods. Under the circumstances I did not expect to find eggs for seven or eight weeks, and as the sequel will show this estimate was not far out.
Next morning I was down at the acacias again. I was very early. Not a Bower-Bird was to be seen or heard. I returned again in the afternoon. The performance was on, the "stage manager" being in great form, and the audience numbering five. The red object was again vigorously attacked, shaken, and well scolded. It proved to be a large dead and dried-up centipede. At the conclusion the whole party flew off as before into the tract of thicker scrub.
On the following day I determined to make a thorough search in the immediate neighbourhood for any signs of nesting, past or present. In a couple of casuarinas, less than half a mile away, were two nests very much like those of the Tooth-billed Bower-Bird depicted in Mr. Sid. W. Jackson's photographs. They were both built of small, dead twigs, with a lining, if it could be called such, of needles from the casuarina tree. Both had an unoccupied look about them, though otherwise in good preservation. For the size of the bird they appeared small, but there was no other surrounding species to which they could belong. They were altogether too unsubstantial for old nests of Cracticus leucopterus. I felt sure they were last season's nests of the local Bower-Bird. However fascinating and exciting all this was, there was other work to do, and I determined to clear up the mystery respecting the Ptilotis I had seen when I drove out.
On 21st September I walked out to the spot, distant some seven miles, and hunted around. I could see no Ptilotis other than P. carteri, so concluded I was mistaken. It was a hot day, so I turned towards a neighbouring clay-pan which contained some very uninviting clay-coloured water. On my way I passed several large mulgas, and a large, spreading casuarina with the lower branches trailing on the ground. A thick-set bird flew out with a harsh cry, which resembled that of a Bower-Bird. I looked under the tree, and there was a perfect play-ground, with an inverted archway, filled with white flakes of limestone, mulga beans, sandal-wood nuts, and a few green leaves. I hid myself close at hand and commenced calling. I soon had the male back, and presently two or three more birds, but, owing to the surrounding cover being much less dense than at the acacia thicket, this party was much more shy. Their behaviour, however, was just the same, but if I made any movement, the performance ceased at once. My luck was evidently in, and I resolved to secure nest and eggs of one or both parties of these Bower-Birds, even if I had to wait till the next summer rains. I did not then take into account one contingency which happened in connection with this second party.
To write out all my notes in full on these interesting birds would occupy too much space, so I propose to give a summary of my observations, extending over six weeks' close contact with them. I eventually found a third play-ground, about three-quarters of a mile to the south of the acacia scrub. At this play-ground I never saw more than two birds. It was situated, as before, under a large,
