The “bower” or, rather, the little rustic village, made by the beautiful Golden Bower-bird—a name which is as good as a description—is still more wonderful than either of the other two; indeed it is like a fairy-tale to read about it. This species chooses out two trees that stand near one another, and round the trunk of each it piles up an enormous quantity of small sticks and twigs, in the shape of a cone or pyramid. One of these stick pyramids may be as much as six feet high, and bulky in proportion, but the other is not nearly so large, standing only about eighteen inches from the ground. Having reared the two pillars, as it were, the birds—for several may join in the labour—proceed to arch over the space between them. For this purpose they search out the long stems of creepers that grow in the woods, and having fixed them, by an end, to the top of one pile, stretch them tight, and trail them over the other, thus making a covered walk between the two. Then they bring white moss, and festoon the pillars with it, and into the leafy roof they weave clusters of green fruit, like grapes, that hang down from it, so that it looks as if they had trained a vine over a trellis. Yet still the birds are not satisfied. All around the great central arbour they make little dwarf huts, or wigwams, of the growing grass, bending the stems together till the ends meet, and then thatching them over with a horizontal layer of twigs. When all is finished, they chase each other through their trellised arbour and round and round their little grassy wigwams—or “gunyahs” as they are called by the natives—the males, all resplendent in their beautiful golden plumage, glancing in and out amongst them, like so many little suns.