The wirra is indeed a weapon of essential use to this people, and in throwing it they have acquired a skill which is astonishing. Little boys of seven and eight years old, and even girls of tender age, will knock down parrots from the she-oak trees with this instrument. The children are taught to use it almost as soon as they can walk. A piece of dry sponge is rolled along the ground, and they are made to throw the wirra at it until they are accomplished in its use.
Like the natives of Cooper's Creek, the people of the Port Lincoln district use a number of signs, unaccompanied by sound, which are of great advantage to them when engaged in hunting. They can, by using their hands, make known to their companions the animals they discover, and in what situation they are. They stretch out the first finger, in imitation of the leaping of a kangaroo, when such an animal, quietly feeding, is in sight; three fingers stretched out, the second finger a little lower than the others, is the sign for an emu; when an opossum is seen, the thumb is raised; and when the whole hand is extended, it is known that a fish is near. They have signs of a similar kind to indicate all the varieties of game.[1]
In tracking the kangaroo, the native has to bring into play other qualities than those shown in hunting excursions of an ordinary character. He is never sure in these adventures that he will be successful. A hundred uuforeseen misfortunes may rob him of his prey. The hunter himself, with his whole attention devoted to the pursuit, may be followed by hostile blacks who have a mission to kill him; the wild dogs may cross the line, and perhaps secure the animal when almost worn out; another blackfellow may spear it as it hastens to some water-hole to quench its thirst; it may mingle with a mob of kangaroos, and the single trail may be lost; or the animal may be of extraordinary fleetness and strength, and may escape the most arduous toil of the hunter; but with all these difficulties in front of him, the blackfellow patiently follows the marks left by the beast, until success or failure causes his return to his miam.
This mode of hunting the kangaroo "calls out every qualification prized by savages—skill in tracking, endurance of hunger and thirst, unwearied bodily exertion, and lasting perseverance. To perform this feat, a native starts upon the tracks of a kangaroo, which he follows until he sights it, when it flies timidly before him; again he pursues the track, and again the animal bounds from him; and this is repeated until nightfall, when the native lights his fire and sleeps upon the track; with the first light of day the hunt is resumed, and towards the close of the second day, or in the course of the third, the kangaroo falls a victim to its pursuer. None but a skilful huntsman in the pride of youth and strength can perform this feat, and one who has frequently practised it always enjoys great renown amongst his fellows."[2]
The natives of the Gawler Range, in South Australia, use a method of taking the wallaby which is highly ingenious. They make of long smooth pieces of wood an instrument like a fishing-rod, to the thin end of which they attach the skin and feathers of a hawk—so carefully arranged as to represent very accurately a living bird. Taking this in his hand, and his spear, the hunter
