A very familiar birdcall in the wilderness is that of the cuckoo--or I should say “calls of the cuckoos,” for there are five different sorts, with five different calls, amongst our regular visitors. Of course, none of them says “cuckoo.” Once I used to cherish a secret feeling of resentment that we should have so many true cuckoos in Australia without one possessing the call associated with the name. But after four English Mays, in which the cuckoo calls all day, I thanked fate that I lived in a land where the cuckoo did not say “cuckoo” from dawn till long after dark. For a more monotonous birdcall I have never known. Our big scrub-cuckoo, the Koel, is nearest to it in monotony; but the five that visit the wilderness have quite different songs. True, the fantail and the two little bronze cuckoos have merely plaintive Whistles, but the big pallid cuckoo has a fine ringing song right up the scale, and the square-tailed calls over and over a distinct phrase, in a higher key each time. [Illustration: _A simple creature_] The shrike-tit, that gorgeous yellow-and-black fellow with the black crest, is one of the loveliest birds amongst our regular visitors, and one of my favourites, for he has such an unsuspicious nature. His long drawn out, rather plaintive note is very easy to imitate, and we can always bring him down to us by repeating the call. Again and again I have seen the simple creature hurrying through the wilderness in response to a human whistle, and flying wonderingly from tree to tree in search of his calling rival. Sometimes he comes within a few feet of us, dancing with rage and chattering angrily at the hidden intruder, before he discovers the fraud and flies off in disgust. [Illustration: _The attractive Lalage_] A visitor which has a particular attraction for me is the Lalage. I like his smart coat of black and white and grey, and I like his sweet trilling song, but what I like most is his name--his scientific name. For he is one of the few birds whose scientific name is preferable to the vernacular or the colloquial; _Lalage tricolor_ is far prettier and easier to say than “White-shouldered caterpillar-eater,” or the stupid “peewee lark.” Other birds that visit us occasionally are parrots. I have noticed five kinds--Rosellas, Mountain Lowrie, Blue Mountain parrots, and two little green lorikeets. They have always come when the eucalypts are in flower, and I love to see their gay bodies flashing against the creamy blossoms as they feed noisily on the honey. If only people would realize how much life and colour they bring to their gardens by retaining food-giving trees, I am sure they would not be so ruthless about cutting down trees to make way for roses and dahlias. No bed of flowers could be so soul-satisfying as the sight of a flock of parrakeets feeding in the honey-laden blossoms of a flower-covered bloodwood.