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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bird Life Glimpses, by Edmund Selous,
-Illustrated by G. E. Lodge
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
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-Title: Bird Life Glimpses
-
-
-Author: Edmund Selous
-
-
-
-Release Date: April 11, 2016  [eBook #51733]
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-Language: English
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-BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES
-
-by
-
-EDMUND SELOUS
-
-With 12 Headings and 6 Full-Page Illustrations by G. E. Lodge
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-London: George Allen, 156
-Charing Cross Road. MCMV
-
-[All rights reserved]
-
-
-[Illustration: FLINT HOUSE, ICKLINGHAM]
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE
-
-
-In the autumn of 1899 I came to live at Icklingham in Suffolk, and
-remained there, with occasional intervals of absence, for the next
-three years. During the greater part of that period I kept a day-to-day
-journal of field observation and reflection, and the following pages
-represent, for the most part, a portion of this. They are the work of
-one who professes nothing except to have used his eyes and ears to
-the best of his ability, and to give only, both in regard to fact and
-theory, the result of this method--combined, of course, in the latter
-case, with such illustrations and fortifications as his reading may
-have allowed him to make use of, and without taking into account some
-passing reference or allusion. That my notes relate almost entirely
-to birds, is not because I am less interested in other animals, but
-because, with the exception of rabbits, there are, practically, no
-wild quadrupeds in England. I am quite aware that a list can be
-made out, but let any one sit for a morning or afternoon in a wood,
-field, marsh, swamp, or pond, and he will then understand what I
-mean. In fact, to be a field naturalist in England, is to be a field
-ornithologist, and more often than not--I speak from experience--a
-waster of one’s time altogether. Unless you are prepared to be always
-unnaturally interested in the commonest matters, and not ashamed to
-pass as a genius by a never-ending barren allusion to them, be assured
-that you will often feel immensely dissatisfied with the way in which
-you have spent your day. Many a weary wandering, many an hour’s
-waiting and waiting to see, and seeing nothing, will be yours if you
-aim at more than this--and to read a book is fatal. But there is the
-_per contra_, and what that is I know very well. Of a few such _per
-contras_--they were to me, and I can only hope that some may be so to
-the reader--these “Bird Life Glimpses” are made up.
-
-  EDMUND SELOUS.
-
-  CHELTENHAM, _May 1905_.
-
-
-
-
-LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
-
-
-  FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
-
-  “AT THE QUIET EVENFALL”                      _To face page_      8
-  _Wood-Pigeons coming in to Roost_
-
-  THE RULES OF PRECEDENCE                      ”       ”          54
-  _Hooded Crows and Rooks Feeding_
-
-  A GRAND DESCENT                              ”       ”          80
-  _Herons coming down on to Nest_
-
-  A STATUESQUE FIGURE                          ”       ”         119
-  _Snipe, with Starlings Bathing, and Peewits_
-
-  INDIGNANT                                    ”       ”         131
-  _Starling in possession of Woodpecker’s
-      Nesting Hole_
-
-  A PRETTY PAIR                                ”       ”         198
-  _Long-Tailed Tits Building_
-
-
-  CHAPTER HEADPIECES
-
-                                                               PAGE
-  PHEASANT ROOSTING                                               1
-
-  YOUNG NIGHTJARS                                                21
-
-  ROOKS AT NEST                                                  51
-
-  HERON FISHING                                                  72
-
-  MALE WHEAT-EAR                                                106
-
-  A “MURMURATION” OF STARLINGS                                  129
-
-  PEEWITS AND NEST                                              163
-
-  COAL-TIT                                                      194
-
-  GREEN WOODPECKER                                              224
-
-  MARTINS BUILDING NEST                                         239
-
-  MOORHEN AND NEST                                              261
-
-  DABCHICKS AND NEST                                            296
-
-[Illustration: PHEASANT ROOSTING]
-
-
-
-
-BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-Icklingham, in and about which most of the observations contained
-in the following pages have been made, is a little village of West
-Suffolk, situated on the northern bank of the river Lark. It lies
-between Mildenhall and Bury St. Edmunds, amidst country which is very
-open, and so sandy and barren that in the last geological survey it is
-described as having more the character of an Arabian desert than an
-ordinary English landscape. There are, indeed, wide stretches where
-the sand has so encroached upon the scanty vegetation of moss and
-lichen that no one put suddenly down amongst them would think he were
-in England, if it happened to be a fine sunny day. These arid wastes
-form vast warrens for rabbits always, whilst over them, from April to
-October, roam bands of the great plover or stone-curlew, whose wailing,
-melancholy cries are in artistic unison with their drear desolation.
-The country is very flat: no hill can be seen anywhere around, but the
-ground rises somewhat, from the river on the northern side, and this
-and a few minor undulations of the sand look almost like hills, against
-the general dead level. I have seen the same effect on the great bank
-of the Chesil, and read of it, I think, in the desert of Sahara.
-These steppes on the one side of the river pass, on the other, into
-a fine sweep of moorland, the lonely road through which is bordered,
-on one side only, by a single row of gaunt Scotch firs. Westwards,
-towards Cambridgeshire, the sand-country, as it may be termed, passes,
-gradually, into the fenlands, which, in a modified, or, rather,
-transitional form, lie on either side the Lark, as far as Icklingham
-itself.
-
-The Lark, which, for the greater part of its limited course, is a
-fenland stream, rises a little beyond Bury (the St. Edmunds is never
-added hereabouts), and enters the Ouse near Littleport. It is quite a
-small river; but though its volume, after the first twelve miles or so,
-does not increase to any very appreciable extent, the high artificial
-banks, through which, with a view to preventing flooding, it is made to
-flow, after entering the fenlands proper, give it a much more important
-appearance, and this is enhanced by the flatness of the country on
-either side: a flatness, however, which does not--nor does it ever,
-in my opinion--prevent its being highly picturesque. Those, indeed,
-who cannot feel the charm of the fenlands should leave nature--as
-distinct from good hotels--alone. For myself, I sometimes wonder that
-all the artists in the world are not to be found there, sketching; but
-in spite of the skies and the windmills and Ely Cathedral in the near,
-far, or middle distance, I have never met even one. It is to the fens
-that the peewits, which, before, haunted the river and the country
-generally, retire towards the end of October, nor do they return till
-the following spring, so that Icklingham during this interval is
-almost--indeed, I believe quite--without a peewit. Bury is eight miles
-from Icklingham, and about half-way between them the country begins to
-assume the more familiar features of an English landscape, so that the
-difference which a few miles makes is quite remarkable.
-
-Fifty years ago, I am told, there were no trees in this part of the
-world, except a willow here and there along the course of the stream,
-and a few huge ones of uncouth and fantastic appearance, which are
-sometimes called “she oaks” by the people. The size of these trees is
-often quite remarkable, and their wood being, fortunately, valueless,
-they are generally allowed to attain to the full of it. They grow
-sparingly, yet sometimes in scattered clusters, and the sand, with the
-wide waste of which their large, rude outlines and scanty foliage has
-a sort of harmony, seems a congenial soil for them. They are really,
-I believe, of the poplar tribe, which would make them “poppels”
-hereabouts, were this understood. These trees, with some elders and
-gnarled old hawthorns, which the arid soil likewise supports, rather
-add to than diminish the desolate charm of the country, and, as I say,
-till fifty years ago there were no others. Then, however, it occurred
-to landowners, or to some local body or council, that sand ought to
-suit firs, and now, as a consequence, there are numerous plantations of
-the Scotch kind, with others of the larch and spruce, or of all three
-mingled together.
-
-Thus, in the more immediate proximity of Icklingham we have the warrens
-or sandy steppes, the moorlands passing here and there into green seas
-of bracken, the river, with a smaller stream that runs into it, and
-these fir plantations, which are diversified, sometimes, with oaks,
-beeches, and chestnuts, and amidst which an undergrowth of bush and
-shrub has long since sprung up. Beyond, on the one hand, there are the
-fenlands, and, on the other, ordinary English country. In all these
-bits there is something for a bird-lover to see, though, I confess,
-I wish there was a great deal more. The plantations perhaps give the
-greatest variety. Dark and sombre spots these make upon the great
-steppes or moors, looking black as night against the dusky red of
-the wintry sky, after the sun has sunk. In them one may sit silent,
-as the shadows fall, and see the pheasants steal or the wood-pigeons
-sweep to their roosting-trees, listening to the “mik, mik, mik” of
-the blackbird, before he retires, the harsh strident note of the
-mistle-thrush, or the still harsher and more outrageous scolding of the
-fieldfare. Blackbirds utter a variety of notes whilst waiting, as one
-may say, to roost. The last, or the one that continues longest, is the
-“mik, mik” that I have spoken of, and this is repeated continuously for
-a considerable time. Another is a loud and fussy sort of “chuck, chuck,
-chuck,” which often ends in almost an exaggeration of that well-known
-note which is generally considered to be the one of alarm, but which,
-in my experience, has, with most other cries to which some special
-meaning is attributed, a far wider and more generalised significance.
-As the bird utters it, it flies, full of excitement, to the tree or
-bush in which it means to pass the night, and here, whilst the darkness
-deepens, it “mik, mik, mik, mik, miks,” till, as I suppose, with the
-last “mik” of all, the head is laid beneath the wing, and it goes
-peacefully to sleep. It is now that the pheasants come stealing, often
-running, to bed. You may hear their quick, elastic little steps upon
-the pine-needles, as they pass you, sometimes, quite close. I have had
-one run almost upon me, as I sat, stone still, in the gloom, seen it
-pause, look, hesitate, retreat, return again, to be again torn with
-doubt, and, finally, hurry by fearfully, and only a pace or two off,
-to fly into a tree just behind me. This shows, I think, that pheasants
-have their accustomed trees, where they roost night after night. In
-my experience this is the habit of most birds, but, after a time, the
-favourite tree or spot will be changed for another, and thus it will
-vary in a longer period, though not in a very short one. This, at
-least, is my idea; assurance in such a matter is difficult. The aviary
-may help us here. Two little Australian parrakeets, that expatiate
-in my greenhouse, chose, soon after they were introduced, a certain
-projecting stump or knob of a vine, as a roosting-place. For a week or
-two they were constant to this, but, after that, I found them roosting
-somewhere else, and they have now made use, for a time, of some
-half-dozen places, coming back to their first choice in due course, and
-leaving it again for one of their subsequent ones. Part of this process
-I have noticed with some long-tailed tits, which, for a night or two,
-slept all together, not only in the same bush but on the same spray of
-it. Then, just like the parrakeets, they left it, but I was not able to
-follow them beyond this. It would seem, therefore, that birds, though
-they do not sleep anywhere, but have a bedroom, like us, yet like
-variety, in respect of one, within reasonable limits, and go “from the
-blue bed to the brown.”
-
-Pheasants are sometimes very noisy and sometimes quite silent in
-roosting, and this is just one of those differences which might be
-thought to depend on the weather. For some time it seemed to me as if
-a sudden sharp frost, or a fall of snow, made the birds clamorous,
-but hardly had I got this fixed, as a rule, in my mind, when there
-came a flagrant contradiction of it, and such contradictions were soon
-as numerous as the supporting illustrations. I noticed, too, that on
-the most vociferous nights some birds would be silent, whilst even
-on the most silent ones, one or two were sure to be noisy, so that
-I soon came to think that if their conduct in this respect did not
-depend, purely, on personal caprice, it at least depended on something
-beyond one’s power of finding out. The cries of all sorts of birds are
-supposed to have something to do with the weather, but I believe that
-any one who set himself seriously to test this theory would soon feel
-like substituting “nothing” for “something” in the statement of the
-proposition. It is much as with Sir Robert Redgauntlet’s jackanape,
-I suspect--“ran about the haill castle chattering, and yowling, and
-pinching, and biting folk, specially before ill weather or disturbances
-in the state.” Every one knows the loud trumpety note, as I call it,
-with which a pheasant flies up on to its perch, for the night. It is
-a tremendous clamour, and continues, sometimes, for a long time after
-the bird is settled. But sometimes, after each loud flourish, there
-comes an answer from another bird, which is quite in an undertone; in
-fact a different class of sound altogether, brief, and without the
-harsh resonance of the other, so that you would not take it to be the
-cry of a pheasant at all were it not always in immediate response to
-the loud one. It proceeds, too, from the same spot or thereabouts.
-What, precisely, is the meaning of this soft answering note? What is
-the state of mind of the bird uttering it, and by which of the sexes
-is it uttered? It is the cock that makes the loud trumpeting, and were
-another cock to answer this, one would expect him to do so in a similar
-manner. It is in April that my attention has been more particularly
-drawn to this after-sound, so that, though early in the month, one
-may suppose the male pheasant to have mated with at least a part of
-his harem. One would hardly expect, however, to find a polygamous
-bird on terms of affectionate connubiality with one or other of his
-wives, and yet this little duet reminds me, strongly, of what one
-may often hear, sitting in the woods, when wood-pigeons are cooing in
-the spring. Almost always they are invisible, and it is by the ear,
-alone, that one must judge of what is going on. Everywhere comes the
-familiar “Roo, coo, oo, oo-oo,” and this, if you are not very close, is
-all you hear, and it suggests that one bird is sitting alone--at least
-alone in its tree, though answered perhaps from another. Sometimes,
-however, one happens to be at the foot of the tree oneself, and then,
-if one listens attentively, one will generally hear a single note, much
-lower, and even softer than the other which precedes it, a long-drawn,
-hoarse--but sweetly, tenderly hoarse--“oo.” The instant this has been
-uttered, comes the note we know, the two tones being different, and
-suggesting--which, I believe, is the case--that the first utterance is
-the tender avowal of the one bird, the next the instant and impassioned
-response of the other.
-
-There is, perhaps, as much monotonous sameness--certainly as much of
-expressive tenderness--in the coo of the wood-pigeon as in any sound
-in nature, and yet, if one listens a little, one will find a good deal
-of variety in it. Every individual bird has its own intonation, and
-whilst, in the greatest number, this “speaks of all loves” as it should
-do, in some few a coo seems almost turned into a scream. Sometimes,
-too, I have remarked a peculiar vibration in the cooing of one of
-these birds, due, I think, to there being hardly any pause between the
-several notes, which are, usually, well separated. Such a difference
-does this make in the character of the sound, that, at first, one
-might hardly recognise it as belonging to the same species. Even in
-the typical note, as uttered by any individual bird, there is not
-so much sameness as one might think. It is repeated, but not exactly
-repeated. Three similar, or almost similar, phrases, as one may call
-them, are made to vary considerably by the different emphasis and
-expression with which they are spoken. In the first of these the bird
-says, “Roo, coo, oo-oo, oo-oo,” with but moderate insistence, as though
-stating an undeniable fact. Then quickly, but still with a sufficiently
-well-marked pause, comes the second, “Rōō, cōō, oo-ōō, oo-ōō,” with
-very much increased energy, as though warmly maintaining a proposition
-that had been casually laid down. In the third, “roo, coo,” &c., there
-is a return to the former placidity, but now comes the last word on the
-subject: “ook?” which differs in intonation from anything that has gone
-before, there being a little rise in it, an upturning which makes it a
-distinct and unmistakable interrogative, an “Is it not so?” to all that
-has gone before.
-
-[Illustration: “AT THE QUIET EVENFALL”
-
-_Wood-Pigeons coming in to Roost_]
-
-Considerable numbers of wood-pigeons roost, during winter, in the
-various fir plantations which now make a feature of the country round
-Icklingham. They retire somewhat early, so that it is still the
-afternoon, rather than the evening, when one hears the first great
-rushing sound overhead, and a first detachment come sweeping over the
-tops of the tall, slender firs, and shoot, like arrows, into them.
-Then come other bands, closely following one another. The birds fly in
-grandly. Sailing on outspread wings, they give them but an occasional
-flap, and descend upon the dark tree-tops from a considerable height.
-The grand rushing sound of their wings, so fraught with the sense
-of mystery, so full of hurry and impatience, has a fine inspiriting
-effect; it sweeps the soul, one may say, filling it with wild elemental
-emotions. What is this? Is it not a yearning back to something that one
-once was, a backward-rushing tide down the long, long line of advance?
-I believe that most of those vague, undefined, yet strongly pleasurable
-emotions that are apt to puzzle us--such, for instance, as Wordsworth
-looks upon as “intimations of immortality”--have their origin in the
-ordinary laws of inheritance. What evidence of such immortality as is
-here imagined do these supposed intimations of it offer? Do they not
-bear a considerable resemblance to the feelings which music calls up in
-us, and which Darwin has rationally explained?[1] “All these facts,”
-says Darwin, “with respect to music and impassioned speech, become
-intelligible to a certain extent, if we may assume that musical tones
-and rhythm were used by our half-human ancestors during the season of
-courtship, when animals of all kinds are excited, not only by love,
-but by the strong feelings of jealousy, rivalry, and triumph. From
-the deeply-laid principle of inherited associations, musical tones,
-in this case, would be likely to call up, vaguely and indefinitely,
-the strong emotions of a long-past age. Thus, in the Chinese annals
-it is said, ‘Music’ (and this is Chinese music, by the way) ‘has the
-power of making heaven descend upon earth’; and, again, as Herbert
-Spencer remarks, ‘Music arouses dormant sentiments of which we had not
-conceived the possibility, and do not know the meaning’; or, as Richter
-says, ‘tells us of things we have not seen and shall not see.’” I have
-little doubt myself that the feelings to which we owe our famous ode,
-and those which were aroused by music in the breast of Jean Paul and
-the Chinese annalist, were all much of the same kind, and due to the
-same fundamental cause. We may, indeed, say with Wordsworth that the
-soul “cometh from afar,” but what world is more afar than that of long
-past time, which we may, yet, dimly carry about with us in our own
-ancestral memories?
-
-There is, I believe, no falser view than that which looks upon the
-poet as a teacher, if we mean by this that he leads along the path of
-growing knowledge; that he, for instance, and not Newton, gets first
-at the law of gravitation, and so forth. If he ever does, it is by a
-chance combination, merely, and not as a poet that he achieves this;
-but, as a rule, poets only catch up the ideas of the age and present
-them grandly and attractively.
-
-“A monstrous eft was, of old, the Lord and Master of Earth,” &c.
-
-Yet this very ode of Wordsworth “on intimations of immortality,” has
-been quoted by Sir Oliver Lodge in his Presidential Address to the
-Society for Psychical Research,[2] as though it were evidential. I
-cannot understand this. Surely a feeling that a thing is, is not, in
-itself, evidence that it is--and, if not, how does the beauty and
-strength of the language which states the conviction, make it such? In
-this famous poem there is no jot of argument, so that the case, after
-reading it, stands exactly the same as it did before. No more has been
-said now, either for or against, than if any plain body had expressed
-the same ideas in his or her own way. For these mysterious sensations
-are not confined to poets or great people. They are a common heritage,
-but attract outside attention only when they find exalted utterance.
-_Suum cuique_ therefore. The poet’s aptitude is to feel and express;
-not, as a rule, to discover.
-
-Besides the grand sweeping rush of the wood-pigeons over the
-plantation, which makes the air full of sound, there is some fluttering
-of wings, as the birds get into the trees; but this is less than one
-might expect. It is afterwards, when they fly--first one and then
-another--from the tree they have at first settled in to some other one,
-that they think will suit them better, that the real noise begins. Then
-all silence and solitude vanishes out of the lonely plantation, and
-it becomes full of bustle, liveliness, and commotion. The speed and
-impetus of the first downward flight has carried the birds smoothly on
-to the branches, but now, flying under them, amongst the tree trunks,
-they move heavily, make a great clattering of wings in getting up to
-the selected bough, and often give a loud final clap with them, as they
-perch upon it.
-
-Wood-pigeons are in greater numbers in this part of Suffolk than one
-might suppose would be the case, in a country for the most part so
-open. However, even a small plantation will accommodate a great many.
-I remember one cold afternoon in December going into one of young
-oaks and beeches, skirting a grove of gloomy pines, where the rooks
-come nightly to roost. My entry disturbed a multitude of the birds in
-question, but after sitting, for some time, silently, under a tree
-of the dividing row, they returned “in numbers numberless,” almost
-rivalling the rooks themselves. Some trees seemed favourites, and,
-from these, clouds of them would, sometimes, fly suddenly off, as if
-they had become overcrowded. There was a constantly recurring clatter
-and swish of wings, and then all at once the great bulk of the birds,
-as it seemed to me, rose with such a clapping as Garrick or Mrs.
-Siddons might have dreamed of, and departed--quantities of them, at
-least--in impetuous, arrowy flight. I should have said, now, that the
-greater number were gone, though the plantation still seemed fairly
-peopled. Towards four, however, it became so cold that I had to move,
-and _all_ the pigeons flew out of all the trees--a revelation as to
-their real numbers, quite a wonderful thing to see. Some of the trees,
-as the birds left them, just in the moment when they were going, but
-still there, were neither oaks nor beeches--nor ashes, elms, poplars,
-firs, sycamores, or any other known kind for the matter of that--but
-_pigeon_-trees, that and nothing else.
-
-For wrens, tits, and golden-crested wrens these fir plantations are as
-paradises all the year round. The first-named little bird may often be
-seen creeping about amongst the small holes and tunnels at the roots
-of trees--especially overturned trees--going down into one and coming
-out at another, as though it were a mouse. It is very pretty to see
-it peep and creep and disappear, and then demurely appear again. Often
-it will be underground for quite a little while--long enough to make
-one wonder, sometimes, if anything has happened to it--but nothing
-ever has. As soon as it has explored one labyrinth, it utters its
-little chirruppy, chirpy, chattery note, and flits, a brown little
-shadow, to another, into the first dark root-cavern of which it, once
-more, disappears. House-hunting, it looks like--for the coming spring
-quarter, to take from Lady Day, it being February now--but it is too
-early for the bird to be really thinking of a nest, and no doubt
-the finding of insects is its sole object. The golden-crested wrens
-are more aerial in their search for food. They pass from fir-top to
-fir-top, flitting swiftly about amongst the tufts of needles, owing to
-which, and their small size, it is difficult to follow their movements
-accurately. The pine-needles seem very attractive to them. I have often
-searched these for insects, but never with much success, and I think,
-myself, that they feed principally upon the tiny buds which begin to
-appear upon them, very early in the year. In winter they may often be
-seen about the trunks of the trees, and I remember, once, jotting down
-a query as to what they could get there on a cold frosty morning in
-December, when a spider, falling on the note-book, answered it in a
-quite satisfactory manner.
-
-Many spiders hibernate under the rough outer bark of the Scotch fir,
-often in a sort of webby cocoon, which they spin for themselves;
-numbers of small pupæ, too, choose--or have chosen in their
-pre-existences--the same situations, especially that of the cinnabar
-moth, which is extremely common about here. Its luridly-coloured
-caterpillar--banded with deep black and orange--swarms upon the common
-flea-bane, which grows something like a scanty crop over much of the
-sandy soil; and when about to pupate, as I have noticed with interest,
-it ascends the trunk of the Scotch fir, and undergoes the change in
-one of the numerous chinks in its flaky bark. I have seen numbers of
-these caterpillars thus ascending and concealing themselves, but I do
-not know from how great a distance they come to the trees. Probably
-it is only from quite near, for the majority, to get to them, would
-have to travel farther than can be supposed possible, and, moreover,
-fir-trees in these parts date, as I said, only from some fifty years
-back. Doubtless it is mere accident, but when one sees such numbers
-crawling towards the trees, and ascending as soon as they reach them,
-it looks as though they were acting under some special impulse, such
-as that which urges birds to migrate, or sends the lemmings to perish
-in the sea. These caterpillars, however, as I now bethink me, are
-nauseous to birds. I have thrown them to fowls who appeared not to see
-them, so that they offer, I suppose, an example of warning coloration.
-If, however, the caterpillar is unpalatable, the chrysalis probably is
-also, so that it would not be for these that the golden wren, or the
-coal-tit, its frequent companion, searches the bark in the winter.
-
-Coal-tits, too, feed much--_ne m’en parlez point_--on the delicate
-little buds at the ends of the clusters of spruce-needles, but they,
-likewise, pull at and examine the needles themselves, so may, perhaps,
-find some minute insects at their bases. They eat the buds of the
-larch, too, and, as said before, whatever they can get by prying and
-probing about, on the trunks of all these firs--especially that of the
-Scotch one, which they search, sometimes, very industriously. Whilst
-thus engaged they say at intervals, “Woo-tee, woo-tee, woo-tee” (or
-“Wee-tee,” a sound between the two), and sometimes “Tooey, tooey,
-tooey-too; tooey, tooey, tooey-too.” They flit quickly from place
-to place, and, both in this and their way of feeding generally, a
-good deal resemble the little golden wrens. The latter, however, are
-brisker, more fairy-like, and still more difficult to watch. Yet, do
-not let me wrong the coal-tit--he moves most daintily. Every little hop
-is a little flutter with the wings, a little flirt with the tail. His
-little legs you hardly see. He has a little game--not hop, skip, and
-jump, but hop, flirt, and flutter. His motion combines all three--in
-what proportions, how or when varying, that no man knoweth. How,
-exactly, he gets to any place that he would, you do not see, you cannot
-tell--he is there, that you see, but the rest is doubtful. He does not
-know, himself, I believe. “_Aber frag’ mich nür nicht wie_,” he might
-say, with Heine, if you asked him about it.
-
-But if there is such a mystery in the movements of the coal-tit, what
-is to be said about those of the long-tailed one? Most unfair would
-it be to omit him, now that the other has been mentioned. Nor will I.
-Dear little birdikins! The naturalist must be _blasé_, indeed, who
-could ever be tired of noting your ways, though he might well be weary
-of following you about amongst the delicate larches, which are most
-your fairy home and in which you look most fairy-like. Such a dance as
-you lead him! For always you are passing on, making a hasting, running
-examination of the twigs of the trees you flit through, searching
-systematically, from one to another, in a sort of aerial forced-march,
-which makes you--oh, birdikins!--most difficult to watch. Like other
-tits, you--Oh, but hang the apostrophe; I can’t sustain it, so must
-drop, again--and I think for ever--into the sober third person. Like
-other tits, then, these little long-tailed ones are fond of hanging,
-head downwards, on the under side of a bough or twig: but I am not
-sure if I have seen other tits come down on a bough or twig in this
-way--at any rate not to the same extent. Say that a blue or a great
-tit, and a long-tailed one, are both on the same bough, together. The
-two former will fly, or flutter--fly, to another, alight upon its upper
-side, and get round to its under one, by a process that can be seen.
-The long-tailed tit will jump and arrive on the under side, hanging
-there head downwards. That, at least, is what it looks like, as if he
-had turned himself on his back, in the air, before seizing hold of his
-twig. Really there is a little swing down, after seizing it--like an
-acrobat on a trapeze--but this is so quick that it eludes the eye. It
-is by his legerdemain and illusion, and by his jumping, rather than
-flying, from bough to bough, that the long-tailed tit is distinguished.
-He often makes a good long jump--a real jump--without appearing to
-aid himself with his wings at all. The note of these tits is a “Zee,
-zee--zee, zee, zee, zee,” but it is not of such a sharp quality as the
-“zee” or “tzee” of the blue tit. It is more pleasing--indeed, there is
-something very pleasing about it. What is there, in fact, that is not
-pleasing about this little bird?
-
-But I have something more to say upon the subject of the coal-tit’s
-diet; for he eats, I believe, the seeds of the fir-cones, and manages
-not only to pick them out of these, but to pick the cone itself to
-pieces in so doing--a wonderful feat, surely, when one thinks how large
-and hard the cone is, and how small the bird. It is not on the tree
-that I have seen these tits feeding in this manner, but on the ground,
-and the question, for me, is whether the cones that lay everywhere
-about had been detached and then reduced, sometimes, almost to shreds,
-by them or by squirrels. At first I unhesitatingly put it down to the
-latter, but I soon noticed that in these particular firs--not part
-of a plantation but skirting the road, as is common here--a squirrel
-was never to be seen. Neither were coal-tits numerous, but still a
-pair or two seemed to live here, and were often engaged with the
-cones. Half-a-dozen of these I took home to examine at leisure. Two,
-I found, had been only just commenced on, and the punctures upon them
-were certainly such as might have been made by the beak of a small
-bird, suggesting that the tit had here begun the process of picking
-the cone to pieces, before any squirrel had touched it. One of the
-outer four-sided scales had been removed, and as no cut or excoriation
-was visible upon the surface thus exposed, this, again, looked
-more as if the scale aforesaid had been seized with a pincers--the
-bird’s beak--and torn off, than as though it had been cut away with
-a chisel--the squirrel’s teeth--for, in this latter case, the plate
-beneath would, in all probability, have been cut into, too, at some
-point, and not left in its natural smooth state. Another two of these
-cones consisted of the bases only, and from their appearance and the
-debris around them, seemed to have been pecked and torn, rather than
-gnawed to pieces. In five out of the six, the extreme base--that part
-from the centre of which the stalk springs--had been left untouched.
-In the sixth, however, this had been attacked, and presented a rough,
-hacked, punctured appearance, the stalk itself--represented by just a
-point--having apparently been pecked through, suggesting strongly that
-the tits had commenced work while the cone hung on the tree, and had
-severed it in this way. All round the basal circle the scales had been
-stripped off, and the exposed surface was smooth and unexcoriated--as
-in the other instance--except where a portion of it seemed to have
-been torn, not cut, away. Two seed-cavities were exposed and empty. It
-certainly looked as though these cones had been hacked and pulled to
-pieces by the tits, and not gnawed by squirrels, so as this agreed with
-the absence of the latter, and what I had actually seen the bird doing,
-I came to the conclusion that they had been. Perhaps there is nothing
-very wonderful in it after all, but, looking at a fir-cone, I should
-have thought it clean beyond the strength of a coal-tit to tear it to
-pieces. But what, now, is the origin of the name “coal-tit,” which
-seems to have no particular meaning? Is it a corruption of “cone-tit,”
-which, if the bird really feeds on the seeds of the fir, and procures
-them in this manner, would have one? German _Kohlmeise_, however, is
-rather against this hypothesis.
-
-[Illustration: YOUNG NIGHTJARS]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-One bird there is to whom these scattered fir plantations, with their
-surrounding, sandy territory, dotted here and there with a gaunt
-elder-bush or gnarled old hawthorn, are extremely dear, and that
-bird is the nightjar. Nightjars are very common here. If spruces and
-larches alternate with the prevailing Scotch fir, they love to sit on
-the extreme tip-top of one of these, and there, sometimes, they will
-“churr” without intermission for an extraordinary length of time.
-Sometimes it seems as if the bird would never either move, or leave
-off, but all at once, with a suddenness which surprises one, it rises
-into the air, and goes off with several loud claps of the wings above
-the back, and uttering another note--“quaw-ee, quaw-ee”--which is never
-heard, save during flight. After a few circles it may be joined by
-a companion--probably its mate--upon which, as in an excess of glad
-excitement, it will clap its wings, again, a dozen or score of times
-in succession. The two then pursue one another, wheeling in swiftest
-circles and making, often, the most astonishing turns and twists, as
-they strive either to escape or overtake. Often they will be joined
-by a third or fourth bird, and more fast, more furious, then, becomes
-the airy play. No words can give an idea of the extreme beauty of
-the flight of these birds. In their soft moods they seem to swoon on
-the air, and, again, they flout, coquette, and play all manner of
-tricks with it. Grace and jerkiness are qualities quite opposite to
-each other. The nightjar, when “i’ the vein,” combines them with easy
-mastery, and to see this is almost to have a new sensation. It is as
-though Shakespeare’s Ariel were to dance in a pantomime,[3] yet still
-be Shakespeare’s Ariel. As one watches such beings in the deepening
-gloom, they seem not to be real, but parts of the night’s pageant
-only--dusky imaginings, shadows in the shapes of birds. What glorious
-powers of motion! One cannot see them without wishing to be one of them.
-
-I have spoken of the nightjar clapping its wings a dozen or score of
-times in succession. This is not exaggerated. I have counted up to
-twenty-five claps myself, and this was less than the real number, as
-the first tumultuous burst of them was well-nigh over before I began to
-count. It is not easy, indeed, to keep up with the bird, and when it
-stops, one is, generally, a little behind. The claps are wonderfully
-loud and distinct--musical they always sound to me--and I believe,
-myself, that they are almost as sexual in their character as is the
-bleating of the snipe. The habit has, indeed, become now so thoroughly
-ingrained that any sudden emotion, as, say, surprise or fear, is apt to
-call it forth, of which principle, in nature, many illustrations might
-be given; but it is when two or more birds are sporting together--or
-when one, after a long bout of “churring,” springs from the tree, and,
-especially, in a swift, downward flight to the ground, where its mate
-is probably reclining--that one hears it in its perfection. Why so
-little has been said about this very marked and noticeable peculiarity,
-why a work of high authority should only tell us that “in general
-its flight is silent, but at times, when disturbed from its repose,
-its wings may be heard to smite together,” I really do not know. The
-expression used suggests that the sound made by the smiting of the
-wings is but slight, whereas one would have to be fairly deaf not to
-hear it. And why only “when disturbed”? Under such circumstances the
-performance will always be a poor one, but it is not by startling the
-bird, but by waiting, unseen and silent, that one is likely to hear it
-in its perfection, and then not alarm or disquietude, but joy will have
-produced it--it is a glad ebullition.
-
-The domestic habits of the nightjar are very pretty and interesting.
-No bird can be more exemplary in its conjugal relations, and in its
-care and charge of the young. Both husband and wife take part in the
-incubation of the eggs, and there is, perhaps, no prettier sight than
-to see the one relieve the other upon them. It is the female bird, as I
-believe, that sits during the day--which, to her, is as the night--and,
-shortly after the first churring round about begins to be heard,
-her partner may be seen flying up from some neighbouring clump of
-trees, and, as he comes, uttering, at intervals, that curious note of
-“quaw-ee, quaw-ee,” which seems to be the chief aerial vehicle of the
-domestic emotions. As it comes nearer, it is evidently recognised by
-the sitting bird, who churrs in response, but so softly that human ears
-can only just catch the sound. The male now settles beside her, churrs
-softly himself, and then pressing and, as it were, snoozling against
-her, seems to insist that it is now his turn. For a few seconds the
-pair sit thus, churring together, and, whilst doing so, both wag their
-tails--and not only their tails, but their whole bodies also--from
-side to side, like a dog in a transport of pleasure. Then all at once,
-without any fondling or touching with the beak--which, indeed, I have
-never seen in them--the female darts away, leaving the male upon the
-eggs. She goes off instantaneously, launching, light as a feather,
-direct from her sitting attitude, without rising, or even moving,
-first. In other cases the cock bird settles himself a little farther
-away, and the hen at once flies off. There are infinite variations in
-the pretty scene, but the prettiest, because the most affectionate, is
-that which I have described, where the male, softly and imperceptibly,
-seems to squeeze himself on to the eggs, and his partner off them. I
-have seen tame doves of mine act in just the same way, and here, too,
-both would coo together upon the nest.
-
-In regard to the two sexes churring, thus, in unison, I can assert,
-in the most uncompromising manner, that they do so, having been
-several times a witness of it, at but a few steps’ distance, and in
-broad daylight, I may almost say, taking the time of the year into
-consideration. The eyes, indeed, are as important as the ears in coming
-to a conclusion on the matter, for not only is the tail wagged in these
-little duets, but with the first breath of the sound, the feathers of
-the bird’s throat begin to twitch and vibrate, in a very noticeable
-manner. Various authorities, it is true, either state or imply that
-the male nightjar alone churrs, or burrs, or plays the castanets,
-however one may try to describe that wonderful sound, which seems to
-become the air itself, on summer evenings, anywhere where nightjars
-are numerous. But these authorities are all mistaken, and as soon as
-they take to watching a pair of the birds hatching their eggs, they
-will find that they were, but not before, for there is no other way
-of making certain. It is true that the churr thus uttered, though as
-distinct as an air played on the piano, is now extraordinarily subdued,
-of so soft and low a quality that, remembering what it more commonly
-is, one feels inclined to marvel at such a power of modulation. But it
-is just the same sound “in little”--how, indeed, can such a sound be
-mistaken?--and, after all, since a drum can be beaten lightly, there is
-no reason why an instrument, which is part of the performer itself,
-should be less under control. What is really interesting and curious
-is to hear such a note expressing, even to one’s human ears, the soft
-language of affection--for it does do so in the most unmistakable
-manner.
-
-Though, as we have seen, both the male and female nightjar help in the
-hatching of the eggs, the female takes the greater part of it upon
-herself, and is also much more _au fait_ in the business--I believe
-so, at least. The sexes are, indeed, hard to distinguish, and, as the
-light fades, it becomes, of course, impossible to do so. Still, one
-cannot watch a sitting pair, evening after evening, for an hour or more
-at a time, without forming an opinion on such a point; and this is
-mine. We may assume, perhaps, that it is the female bird who sits all
-day, without once being relieved. If so, it is the male who flies up
-in the evening, and from this point one can judge by reckoning up the
-changes, and timing each bird on the eggs. This I did, and it appeared
-to me, not only that the hen was, from the first, the most assiduous
-of the two, but, also, that the cock became less and less inclined to
-attend to the eggs, as the time of their hatching drew near. So, too,
-he seemed to me to sit upon them with less ease and to have a tendency
-to get them separated from each other, which, in one case, led to a
-scene which, to me, seemed very interesting, as bearing on the bird’s
-intelligence, and which I will therefore describe. I must say that,
-previously to this, when both birds were away, I had left my shelter
-in order to pluck an intervening nettle or two, and thus get a still
-clearer view, and I had then noticed that the two eggs lay rather
-wide apart. Shortly afterwards one of the birds, which I judged to be
-the male, returned, and in getting on to the eggs--which it did by
-pushing itself along the ground--it must, I think, have moved them
-still farther from one another. At any rate it became necessary, in
-the bird’s opinion, to alter their relative position, and in order to
-do this it went into a very peculiar attitude. It, as it were, stood
-upon its breast, with its tail raised, almost perpendicularly, into
-the air, so that it looked something like a peg-top set, peg upwards,
-on the broad end, the legs being, at no time, visible. Thus poised, it
-pressed with the under part of its broad beak--or, as one may say, with
-its chin--first one egg and then the other against its breast, and, so
-holding it, moved backwards and forwards over the ground, presenting a
-strange and most unbirdlike appearance. The ground, however, was not
-even, and despite the bird’s efforts to get the two eggs together,
-one of them--as I plainly saw--rolled down a little declivity. At the
-bottom some large pieces of fir-bark lay partially buried in the sand,
-and under one of these the egg became wedged. The bird was unable to
-get it out, so as to bring it up the hill again to where the other egg
-lay, for the bark, by presenting an edge, prevented it from getting
-its chin against the farther side of the one that was fast, so as to
-press it against its breast as before--though making the most desperate
-efforts to do so. Wedging its head between the bark and the ground, it
-now stood still more perpendicularly upright on its breast, and, in
-this position, shoved and shouldered away, most desperately. After
-each effort it would lie a little, as if exhausted, then waddle to
-the other egg, and settle itself upon it; then, in a minute or two,
-return to the one it had left, and repeat its efforts to extricate it.
-At last, however, after nearly half-an-hour’s labour, an idea seemed
-to occur to it. It went again to the properly-placed egg, but instead
-of settling down upon it, as before, began to move it to the other
-one, in the way that I have described. “If the mountain will not go to
-Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain”--that was clearly the process
-of reasoning, and seeing how set the bird’s mind had been on one course
-of action--how it had toiled and struggled and returned to its efforts,
-again and again--its subsequent, sudden adoption of another plan
-showed, I think, both intelligence and versatility. It, in fact, acted
-just as a sensible man would have done. It tried to do the best thing,
-till convinced it was impossible, and then did the second best. Having
-thus got the two eggs together again, it tried hard to push away the
-piece of bark--which was half buried in the sand--backwards, with its
-wings, feet, and tail, after the manner in which the young cuckoo--in
-spite of the anti-vaccinationists[4]--ejects its foster brothers and
-sisters from the nest. Finally, as it grew dark, it flew away. I then
-went out to look, and found that the bird had been successful in its
-efforts, to a certain extent. The two eggs now lay together, and
-though not quite on the same level, and though the piece of bark was
-still in the way of one of them, both might yet have been covered,
-though not with ease, and so, possibly, hatched out. However, had I
-left them as they were, I have no doubt that, assisted, perhaps, by its
-partner, the bird would have continued to work away till matters were
-quite satisfactory. But having seen so much, and since it would soon
-have been too dark to see anything more, I thought I would interfere,
-for once, and so removed the bark, and smoothing down the declivity,
-laid the eggs side by side, on a flat surface. I must add that whilst
-this nightjar was thus struggling to extricate its eggs, it uttered
-from time to time a low querulous note.
-
-When the eggs are hatched, both parents assist in feeding the chicks,
-and the first thing that one notices--and to me, at least, it was
-an interesting discovery--is that they feed them, not by bringing
-them moths or cockchafers--on which insects the nightjar is supposed
-principally to feed--in their bill, but by a process of regurgitation,
-after the manner of pigeons. There is one difference, however, viz.,
-that whereas the bill of the young pigeon is placed within that of the
-parent, the young nightjar seizes the parent’s bill in its own. Those
-peculiar jerking and straining motions, which are employed to bring
-up the food--from the crop, as I suppose--into the mouth, are the
-same, or, at least, closely similar, in either case. I have watched
-the thing taking place so often, and from so near, that I cannot, I
-think, have been mistaken. There was, usually, a good light, when the
-first ministrations began, and even after it had grown dark I could
-almost always see the outline of the bird’s head and beak, defined
-against the sky, as it sat perched upon the bare, thin point of an
-elder-stump, from which it generally flew to feed the chicks. Never
-was this outline broken by any projection, as it must have been had an
-insect of any size been held in the bill. A more conclusive argument
-is, I think, that the chicks were generally fed, in the way I have
-described, several times in succession. They would always come out
-from under their mother, as the evening approached, and, jumping up
-at her bill, try to insist on her feeding them. Whether she ever fed
-them, then, before leaving the nest, I cannot, for certain, say. I
-do not think she did, nor can I see how she could have had anything
-in her crop after sitting, fasting, all day. As a rule, at any rate,
-she first flew off, and fed them only on her return. When she flew,
-I used to watch her for as long as I could, and would sometimes see
-her, as well as the other one, circling and twisting about in the air,
-in pursuit of insects, as it appeared to me. I never saw any insects,
-however, as I should have done had they been of any size, nor did I
-ever see anything, on the part of the birds, that looked like a snatch
-in the air with open bill. But if insects were being caught at all,
-the bill must, of course, have been opened to some extent, and this
-shows, I think--for what else could the birds have been doing?--that
-it is very difficult in the dusk of evening to see it opened, even
-when it is. For my own part, I have found it difficult--not to say
-impossible--to see swallows open their beaks, even in broad daylight,
-when they were obviously hawking for insects. The point is an important
-one, I think, in considering what kinds of insects the nightjar more
-habitually feeds on, and how, in general, it procures them--questions
-which, having been settled, as it seems to me, merely by assertion,
-are entirely reopened by the fact that the young are fed in the way I
-have described. For if moths and cockchafers are the bird’s principal
-food, why should it not bring these to the young, in the ordinary way?
-But if it swallows huge quantities of insects, so small that it cannot
-seize them in the bill, but must engulf them, merely, as it flies, as
-a whale does infusoria, we can then see a reason for its not doing
-so. How else, but by disgorging it in the form of a pulp, could such
-food as this be given to the chick? and if to do so became the bird’s
-habitual practice, it would not be likely to vary it in any instance.
-Now the green woodpecker feeds largely on ants, and, further on, I will
-give my reasons for believing that it feeds its young by regurgitation.
-The little woodpecker, however, I have watched coming, time and time
-again, to its hole in the tree-trunk, with its bill full of insects of
-various kinds, and of a respectable size, so that there is no doubt
-that it gives these to its brood, as does a thrush or a blackbird. What
-can make a difference, in this respect, between two such closely-allied
-species, if it be not that the one has taken to eating ants, minute
-creatures which it has to swallow wholesale, and could not well carry
-in the bill? When, therefore, we find the parent nightjar regurgitating
-food into the chick’s mouth, we may suspect that it also swallows
-large quantities of insects of an equally small, or smaller size. The
-beak need neither be widely nor continuously opened, for many such to
-be engulfed as the bird sailed through a strata of them; but even if
-it were both, we need not wonder at its not often being remarked, in a
-species which flies and feeds, mostly, by night, when it is both dark,
-and people are in bed. Still, I find in Seebohm’s “History of British
-Birds” the following: “The bird has been said to hunt for its food,
-with its large mouth wide open, but this is certainly an error.” The
-first part of the sentence impresses me more than the last. Why _has_
-the bird its tremendous, bristle-fringed gape? Does it not suggest a
-whale’s mouth, with the baleen? Other birds catch individual insects as
-cleverly, without it.
-
-There is another consideration which makes me think that nightjars feed
-much in this way. They hardly begin to fly about, before 8.30 in the
-evening, and between 3 and 4, next morning, they have retired for the
-day. Now I have watched them closely, on many successive evenings in
-June and July, and, for the life of me, I could never make out what
-food they were getting, or, indeed, that they were getting any, up to
-at least 10 o’clock. For much of the time they would be sitting on a
-bough, or perched on a fir-top, and churring, and, when they flew, it
-was often straight to the ground, and then back, again, to the same
-tree. They certainly did not seem to be catching insects when they
-did this, and their longer flights were not, as a rule, round trees,
-and often resolved themselves into chasing and sporting with one
-another. That they occasionally caught moths or cockchafers seems, in
-itself, likely, but I never had reason to suppose that these were their
-particular quarry. It seems strange that I should have so rarely seen
-them catch any large insect--I cannot, indeed, remember an instance;
-but, on the other hand, they might well have engulfed crowds of small
-ones, as they flew, without my being able to detect it, and without any
-special effort to do so. That the air is often full of these--gnats,
-little flies, &c.--may be conjectured by watching swallows, and also
-bats. Indeed, one may both see and feel them oneself--in cycling, for
-instance, when I have often had a small beetle, constructed on the
-general plan of a devil’s coach-horse, sticking all over me. For all
-the above reasons, my view is that it is the smaller things of the air
-which form the staple of the nightjar’s food, and that its huge gape,
-and, possibly, the bristles on either side of the upper jaw, stand in
-relation to the enormous numbers of these which it engulfs. The bird,
-in fact--and this would apply equally to the other members of the
-family--plays, in my idea, the part of an aerial whale.
-
-I have watched a pair of nightjars through the whole process of
-hatching out their eggs and bringing up their young, as long as the
-latter were to be found; for they got away from the nest--if the
-bare ground may be called one--long before they could fly. It was
-on the last day of June that the chicks first burst upon me. I had
-been watching the sitting bird for some time, and had noticed that
-the feathers just under her chin were quivering, while her beak was
-held slightly--as slightly as possible--open. I thought she must be
-churring, but no sound reached my ear, so I concluded she was asleep
-merely, and dreaming that she was. She sat so still and close that I
-never imagined she could have ceased incubating. I had seen her eggs,
-too, as I thought, yesterday; but in this I may have been mistaken. All
-at once, however, a strange little, flat, fluffy thing ran out from
-under her breast, and, stretching up, touched its mother’s beak with
-its own. She did not respond, however, on which the chick ran back,
-disappointed. As soon as that queer little figure had disappeared, I
-was all eagerness to see it again, but hour after hour went by, the
-old bird drowsed and dreamed, and still there was no re-emergence. It
-seemed as though I had had an hallucination of the senses, all looked
-so still and unchangeable; but, at last, as the evening began to fall,
-and churring to be heard round about, out, suddenly, came the little
-apparition again, accompanied, this time, with an exact duplicate of
-itself. The two appeared from opposite sides, and, with a simultaneous
-jump, seized and struggled for the beak of the mother, who again
-resisted, and then, suddenly, darted off, just as, with “quaw-ee,
-quaw-ee,” the partner bird flew up. He settled himself beside the
-chicks, and when they sprang up at him, as they had just before done
-at the mother, he fed one thoroughly, but not the other, flying off
-immediately afterwards. The hen soon returned, and fed both the chicks
-several times, always, as I say, by the regurgitatory process. Between
-the intervals of feeding them, she kept uttering a little croodling
-note, expressive of quiet content and affection, whilst the chicks,
-more rarely, gave vent to a slender pipe. One of them I now[5] saw to
-be a little larger than the other, and of a lighter colour, and this
-bird seemed always to be the more greedy. The difference, in all three
-respects, increased from day to day, till at last, in regard to size,
-it became quite remarkable. The two parent birds were much alike in
-this respect, and as the two chicks had been born within a day of each
-other, it seems odd that there should have been this disparity between
-them. But so it was.
-
-It appeared to me that, as the big chick was certainly the greedier
-of the two, so both the parents tried to avoid the undue favouring of
-it at the expense of the other. If so, however, their efforts were
-not very effective. It was difficult, indeed, to avoid the eagerness
-of whichever one first jumped up at them. As they got older, the
-chicks were left more and more alone in the nest, or, rather, on
-the spot where they were born. At first, they used to lie there in
-a wonderfully quiescent way, not moving, sometimes, for hours at a
-time, but gradually they became more active, and would make little
-excursions, from which they did not always trouble to return. Thus,
-by degrees, the old nesting-site became lost, for the parents, though
-for some time they continued to show an affection for it, settled
-more and more by the chicks, or, if they did not see them, somewhere
-near about, and then called them up to them. This they did with the
-little croodling note which I have spoken of, and which the chicks, on
-hearing, would answer with a “quirr, quirr,” and run towards it, then
-stop to listen, and run again, getting, all the while, more and more
-excited. If the old bird was at any distance, which, as the chicks got
-older, was more and more frequently the case, there would sometimes
-be long intervals between these summoning notes--if we assume them
-to be such--and, during these, the chicks lay still and, generally,
-close together, as if they were in the nest. When I walked to them, on
-these occasions, both the parent birds would start up from somewhere
-in the neighbourhood, and whilst one of them flew excitedly about, the
-other--which I took to be the hen--used always to spin, in the most
-extraordinary manner, over the ground, looking more like an insect
-than a bird, or, at any rate, suggesting, by her movements, those of a
-bluebottle that has got its wings scorched in the gas, and fallen down
-on the table. Whilst she was doing this, the chicks would, sometimes,
-run away, but, quite as often, one or both of them would remain where
-they were--apparently quite unconcerned--and allow me to take them up.
-When, at last, the mother followed the example of her mate, and flew
-off, she showed the same superior degree of anxiety in the air, as
-she had, before, upon the ground. She would come quite near me, hover
-about, dart away and then back again, sit on a thistle-tuft, leave it,
-as though in despair, and, at last, re-alight on the ground, where she
-kept up a loud, distressed kind of clucking, which, at times, became
-shriller, rising, as it were, to an agony. The male was a little less
-moved. Still, he would fly quite near, and often clap his wings above
-his back. I cannot, now, quite remember whether the male ever began by
-spinning over the ground, in the same way as the hen, but, if he did,
-it did not last long, and he soon took to flight.
-
-It will be seen from the above that the chicks are very well able to
-get about. They run, indeed, as easily, if not quite so fast, as a
-young duckling, and this power is retained by the grown bird, in spite
-of its aerial habits, for I have seen my two pursuing one another over
-the ground with perfect ease and some speed, seeming, thus, to run
-without legs, for these were at no time visible. The ground-breeding
-habits of the nightjar probably point to a time when it was, much more,
-a ground-dwelling bird, and as these habits have continued, we can
-understand a fair power of locomotion having been retained also. My own
-idea is that the nuptial rite is, sometimes at least, performed on the
-ground, but of this I have had no more than an indication.[6]
-
-The nightjar utters many notes, besides that very extraordinary one by
-which it is so well known, and which has procured for it many of its
-names. I have made out at least nineteen others; but I do not believe
-that any very special significance belongs to the greater number of
-them, and I hold the same view in regard to many other notes uttered by
-various birds, which are supposed, always, to have some well-defined,
-limited meaning. Each, no doubt, has a meaning, at the time it is
-uttered, but I think it is, generally, one of many possible ones which
-may all be expressed by the same note, such note being the outcome, not
-of a definite idea, but of a certain state of feeling. Surprise, for
-instance, may be either a glad surprise or a fearful surprise, and very
-varied acts spring from either joy or fear. With ourselves definite
-ideas have become greatly developed; but animals may live, rather, in
-a world of emotions, which would then be much more a cause of their
-actions, and, consequently, of the cries which accompanied them, than
-the various ideas appertaining to each. Because, for instance, a rabbit
-stamps with its hind feet when alarmed, and other rabbits profit by
-its doing so, why need this be done as a signal, which would involve a
-conscious design? Is it not more likely that the stamp is merely the
-reaction to some sudden, strong emotion, which need not always be that
-of fear? If rabbits stamp, sometimes, in sport and frolic--as I think
-they do--this cannot be a signal, and therefore we ought not to assume
-that it is, when it has the appearance, or produces the effect, of
-one. All we can say, as it seems to me, is that excitement produces a
-certain muscular movement, which, according to the class of excitement
-to which it belongs, may mean or express either one thing or another.
-Such a movement, or such a cry, is like the bang of a gun, which may
-have been fired either as a salute or with deadly intent. However, if
-the nightjar’s nineteen notes really express nineteen definite ideas
-in the bird’s mind, I can only confess that I have not discovered what
-these are. Some of the sounds, indeed, are very good illustrations
-of the view here brought forward--for instance, the croodling one
-just mentioned, which, when it calls the chicks from a distance,
-seems as though it could have no other meaning than this, but which
-may also be heard when parent and young are sitting together, and,
-again, between the intervals in the process of feeding the latter. Is
-it not, therefore, a sound belonging to the soft, parental emotions,
-from which sometimes one class of actions, and sometimes another, may
-spring--the note being the same in all? From the number of sounds which
-the nightjar has at command, I deduce that it is a bird of considerable
-range and variety of feeling, which would be likely to make it an
-intelligent bird also; and this, in my experience, it is. Two of the
-most interesting notes, or rather series of notes, which it utters,
-are modifications, or extensions, of the only one which has received
-much attention--the churr, namely. One of these is a sort of jubilee
-of gurgling sounds, impossible to describe, at the end of it; and the
-other--much rarer--a beatification, so to speak, of the churr itself,
-also towards the end, the sound becoming more vocal and expressive,
-and losing the hard, woodeny, insect-like character which it usually
-has. To these I will not add a mere list of sounds, as to the import
-of which--not wishing to say more than I know--I have nothing very
-particular to say.
-
-These are days in which the theory of protective coloration has
-been run--especially, in my opinion, in the case of the higher
-animals--almost to death. It may not be amiss, therefore, that I
-should mention the extraordinary resemblance which the nightjar
-bears to a piece of fir-bark, when it happens to be sitting amidst
-pieces of fir-bark, and not amidst other things, which, when it is,
-it no doubt resembles as strongly. If, at a short distance, and for a
-considerable time, one steadily mistakes one thing for another thing,
-with the appearance of which one is well acquainted, this, I suppose,
-is fair proof of a likeness, provided one’s sight is good. Such a
-mistake I have made several times, and especially upon one occasion.
-It was midday in June, and a sunny day as well. I had left the bird in
-question, for a little while, to watch another, and when I returned,
-it was sitting in the same place, which I knew like my study table. My
-eye rested full upon it, as it sat, but not catching the outline of
-the tip of the wings and tail, across a certain dry stalk, as I was
-accustomed to do, I thought I was looking at a piece of fir-bark--one
-of those amongst which it sat. I, in fact, looked for the eggs _upon_
-the bird, for I knew the exact spot where they should be; but, as I
-should have seen them, at once, owing to their light colour, I felt
-sure they must be covered, and after gazing steadily, for some time,
-all at once--by an optical delusion, as it seemed, rather than by
-the passing away of one--the piece of fir-bark became the nightjar.
-It was like a conjuring trick. The broad, flat head, from which the
-short beak projects hardly noticeably, presented no special outline
-for the eye to seize on, but was all in one line with the body. It
-looked just like the blunt, rounded end, either of a stump, or of any
-of the pieces of fir-bark that were lying about, whilst the dark brown
-lines and mottlings of the plumage, besides that they blended with,
-and faded into, the surroundings, had, both in pattern and colouring,
-a great resemblance to the latter object; the lighter feathers exactly
-mimicking those patches which are made by the flaking off of some of
-the numerous layers of which the bark of the Scotch fir is composed.
-This would only be of any special advantage to the bird when, as in the
-present instance, it had laid its eggs amongst pieces of such bark,
-fallen from the neighbouring Scotch fir-trees, and did it invariably
-do so, a special protective resemblance might, perhaps, be admitted.
-This, however, is not the case. It lays them, also, under beeches or
-elsewhere, where neither firs nor fir-bark are to be seen.
-
-Unless, therefore, it can be shown that a large majority of nightjars
-lay, and have for a long time laid, their eggs in the neighbourhood
-of the Scotch fir, the theory of a special resemblance in relation to
-such a habit, due to the action of natural selection, must be given
-up; as I believe it ought to be in some other apparent instances of
-it, which have received more attention. Of course, there might be a
-difference of opinion, especially if the bird were laid on a table, as
-to the amount, or even the existence, of the resemblance which I here
-insist upon. But I return to the essential fact. At the distance of two
-paces I looked full at a nightjar sitting amongst flakes of fir-bark,
-strewed about the sand, and, for some time, it appeared to me that it
-was one of these. This is interesting, if we suppose, as I do, that
-mere chance has brought about the resemblance, for here is a point
-from which natural selection might easily go on towards perfection.
-As I did make out the bird, at last, there is clearly more to be done.
-It is, perhaps, just possible that we already see in the nightjar some
-steps towards a special resemblance. The bird is especially numerous in
-Norway, as I was told when I was there; and Norway is one great, pine
-forest. However, not knowing enough in regard to its habitat, and the
-relative numbers of individuals that resort to different portions of
-it, to form an opinion on this point, I will suppose, in the meantime,
-that its colouring has been made generally protective, in relation
-to its incubatory habits; for the eggs are laid on the ground, and
-commonly at the foot of a tree, stump, or bush--in the neighbourhood of
-such objects, in fact, as have a more or less brownish hue.
-
-It is during incubation that the bird would stand most in need of
-protection, since it is then exposed, more or less completely, for a
-great length of time. One bird, as far as I have been able to see,
-sits on the eggs all day long, without ever once leaving them. Day,
-however, is night to the nightjar, who not only sits on its eggs, but
-sleeps, or, at least, dozes, on them as well. Drowsiness may, in this
-case, have meant security both to bird and eggs; for the most sleepy
-individuals would, by keeping still, have best safeguarded their
-young, at all stages, as well as themselves, against the attacks of
-small predatory animals. Flies used often to crawl over the face of
-the bird I watched daily. They would get on its eyes; and once a large
-bluebottle flew right at one of them. But beyond causing it just to
-open or shut the eye, as the case might be, they produced no effect
-upon the sleepy creature. The nightjar is a remarkably close sitter,
-and both this special habit and its general drowsiness upon the nest
-may have been fostered, at the same time, by natural selection. The
-more usual view of the nightjar’s colouring is, I suppose, that it is
-dusky, in harmony with night. But from what does a bird of its great
-powers of flight require protection, either as against the attacks of
-enemies or the escape of prey; and again, what colour, short of white,
-would be a disadvantage to it, in the case of either, when _nox atra
-colorem abstulit rebus_?
-
-Questions of a similar nature may be asked in regard to the tiger,
-lion, and other large feline animals, which, fearing no enemy, and
-hunting their prey by scent, after dark, are yet supposed to be
-protected by their coloration. These things are easily settled in the
-study, where the habits of the species pronounced upon, not being
-known, are not taken into account; but I may mention that my brother,
-with his many years’ experience of wild beasts and their ways, and,
-moreover, a thorough evolutionist, is a great doubter here. How, he
-asks, as I do now, with him, can the lion be protected, in this way,
-against the antelope, and the antelope against the lion, when the one
-hunts, and the other is caught, by scent, after darkness has set in?
-Of what use, for such a purpose, can colour or colour-markings be to
-either of them? On the other hand, these go, in varying degrees, to
-make up a creature’s beauty. Take, for instance, the leopard, jaguar,
-or tiger.[7] Surely their coloration suggests adornment much more
-obviously than assimilation; and though they hunt mostly, as I say,
-by night, they are yet sufficiently diurnal to be able to admire
-one another in the daytime. Darwin, who is often assumed to have
-been favourable to the protective theory of coloration in the larger
-animals, in instances where he was opposed to it, says this: “Although
-we must admit that many quadrupeds have received their present tints,
-either as a protection or as an aid in procuring prey, yet, with a host
-of species, the colours are far too conspicuous, and too singularly
-arranged, to allow us to suppose that they serve for these purposes.”
-He then cites various antelopes, giving illustrations of two, and
-continues: “The same conclusion may, perhaps, be extended to the
-tiger, one of the most beautiful animals in the world, the sexes of
-which cannot be distinguished by colour, even by the dealers in wild
-beasts. Mr. Wallace believes that the striped coat of the tiger ‘so
-assimilates with the vertical stems of the bamboo[8] as to assist
-greatly in concealing him from his approaching prey.’ But this view
-does not appear to me satisfactory.” (It seems opposed to the more
-usual habits of the creature.) “We have some slight evidence that his
-beauty may be due to sexual selection, for in two species of _felis_
-the analogous marks and colours are rather brighter in the male than
-in the female. The zebra is conspicuously striped, and stripes cannot
-afford any protection on the open plains of South Africa.”[9] Yet, when
-naturalists to-day refer every colour and pattern under the sun to the
-principle of protection, the reviewers all agree that Darwin agrees
-with them. Truly, nowadays, “_‘Darwin’ laudetur et alget_.”
-
-The fact is that for some reason--I believe because it lessens the
-supposed mental gap between man and other animals--Darwin’s theory of
-sexual selection was, from the beginning, looked askance at; and even
-those who may accept it, now, in the general, do so tentatively, and
-with many cautious expressions intended to guard their own reputations.
-This is not a frame of mind favourable to applying that theory, and,
-consequently, all the applications and extensions go to the credit of
-the more accepted, because less _bizarre_, one; for even if authorities
-are mistaken here, they will, at least, have erred in the orthodox
-groove, which is something. I believe, myself, that it is sexual
-selection which has produced much of what is supposed to be due not
-only to the principle of protective, but to that, also, of conspicuous,
-or distinctive, coloration. Take, for instance, the rabbit’s tail. I
-have never been able to make out that the accepted theory in regard to
-it is borne out by the creature’s habits. Rabbits race and run not only
-in alarm, but as an outcome of high spirits. How can the white tail
-distinguish between these two causes; and if it cannot, why should it
-be a sign to follow? One rabbit may indeed judge as to the state of
-mind of another, but not by looking at the tail; and if too far off to
-see anything else, it can form no opinion. Again, each rabbit has its
-own burrow, and it does not follow that because one runs to it here,
-another should there. Accordingly, I have noticed that white tails
-in rapid motion produce no effect upon other tails, or their owners,
-when these are some way off, but that rabbits, alarmed, make their
-near companions look about them. Of course, in the case of a general
-stampede, in the dusk, to the warren--from which numbers of the rabbits
-may have strayed away--it is easy to imagine that the rearmost are
-following the white tails of those in front of them; or rather that
-these have given them the alarm, since all know the way to the warren.
-But how can one tell that this is really so, seeing that the alarm in
-such a case is generally due to a man stalking up? Would it not look
-exactly the same in the case of prairie marmots, whose tails are not
-conspicuously coloured? Young rabbits, it is true, would follow their
-dams when they ran, in fear, to their burrows; not, however, unless
-they recognised them, and this they could not do by the tail alone. If
-they were near enough to recognise them, they would be able, probably,
-to follow them by sight alone, tail or no tail, nor would another white
-powder-puff be liable to lead them astray, as otherwise it might do.
-With antelopes, indeed, which have to follow one another, so as not to
-stray from the herd, a light-coloured patch, or wash upon the hinder
-quarters, might be an advantage; but as some of the kinds that have[10]
-it are handsomely ornamented on the face and body, and as the wash of
-colour behind is often, in itself, not inelegant, why should not one
-and all be for the sake of adornment, or, rather, is it not more likely
-that they are so? No one, I suppose, who believes in sexual selection
-at all, will be inclined to explain the origin of the coloured
-posterior surface in the mandril, and some other monkeys, in any other
-way. To me, having regard to certain primary facts in the sexual
-relations of all animals, it does not appear strange that this region
-should, in many species, have fallen under the influence of the latter
-power. Can we, indeed, say, taking the Hottentots and some civilised
-monstrosities of feminine costume that do most sincerely flatter them
-into consideration, that it has not done so in the case of man?
-
-The protective theory, as applied to animals that hunt, or are hunted,
-by night, seems plausible only if we suppose that the enemies against
-whom they are protected, are human ones. But even if man has been long
-enough upon the scene to produce such modification, who can imagine
-that he has had anything to do with the colouring of such an animal
-as, say, the tiger, till recently much more the oppressor than the
-oppressed, and, even now, as much the one as the other--in India, for
-instance, or Corea, in which latter country things are certainly equal,
-if we go by the Chinese proverb, which says, “Half the year the Coreans
-hunt the tigers, and the other half the tigers hunt the Coreans.”
-
-Tigers, indeed--especially those that are cattle-feeders--would
-seem, often, to kill their prey towards evening, but when it is
-still broad daylight. With regard, however, to the way in which they
-accomplish this, I read some years ago, in an Indian sporting work, a
-most interesting account of a tiger stalking a cow--an account full
-of suggestiveness, and which ought to have, at once, attracted the
-attention of naturalists, but which, as far as I know, has never since
-been referred to. The author--whose name, with that of his work, I
-cannot recall--says that he saw a cow staring intently at something
-which was approaching it, and that this something presented so odd
-an appearance that it was some time before he could make out what it
-was. At last, however, he saw it to be a tiger, or, rather, the head
-of one, for the creature’s whole body, being pressed to the ground,
-with the fur flattened down, so as to make it as small as possible,
-was hidden, or almost hidden, behind the head, which was raised, and
-projected forward very conspicuously; so that, being held at about the
-angle at which the human face is, it looked like a large, painted mask,
-advancing along the ground in a very mysterious manner. At this mask
-the cow gazed intently, as if spell-bound, seeming to have no idea of
-what it was, and it was not till the tiger had got sufficiently near to
-secure her with ease, that she took to her heels, only to be overtaken
-and pulled down. Now here we have something worth all the accounts of
-tiger-shootings that have ever been written, and all the tigers that
-have ever been shot. So far from the tiger endeavouring to conceal
-himself _in toto_, it would appear, from this, that he makes his great
-brindled head, with its glaring eyes, a very conspicuous object, which,
-as it is the only part of him seen or remarked, looks curious merely,
-and excites wonder, rather than fear. I know, myself, how much nearer
-to birds I am able to get, by approaching on my hands and knees, in
-which attitude “the human form divine” is not at once recognised.
-Therefore I can see no reason why the same principle of altering the
-characteristic appearance should not be employed by some beasts of
-prey, and long before I read this account I had been struck with the
-great size of the head of some of the tigers in the Zoological Gardens.
-
-The moral of it all, as it appears to me, is that, before coming to any
-settled conclusion as to the meaning of colour and colour markings in
-any animal, we should get accurate and minute information in regard to
-such animal’s habits. As this is, really, a most important matter, why
-should there not be scholarships and professorships in connection with
-it? It is absurd that the only sort of knowledge in natural history
-which leads to a recognised position, with letters after the name, is
-knowledge of bones, muscles, tissues, &c. The habits of animals are
-really as scientific as their anatomies, and professors of them, when
-once made, would be as good as their brothers.
-
-Space, after this disquisition, will not permit me to say much more
-about the nightjars--only this, that they return each year to the same
-spot, and have not only their favourite tree, but even their favourite
-branch in it, to perch upon. I have seen one settle, after successive
-flights, upon a particular point of dead wood, near the top of a small
-and inconspicuous oak, surrounded by taller trees which had a much more
-inviting appearance, and on coming another night, there were just the
-same flights and settlings. It is not, however, my experience that the
-eggs are laid, each year, just where they were the year before. It may
-be so, as a rule, but there are certainly exceptions, and amongst them
-were the particular pair that I watched.
-
-[Illustration: ROOKS AT NEST]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-The hooded crow is common in this part of the country, during the
-winter; to the extent, indeed, of being quite a feature of it. With
-the country people he is the carrion crow merely, and they do not
-appear to make any distinction between him and the ordinary bird of
-that name, which is not seen nearly so often. He is the one they have
-grown up with, and know best, but his pied colouring does not seem to
-have gained him any specially distinctive title. For the most part,
-these crows haunt the open warren-lands, and, owing to their wariness
-and the absence of cover, are very difficult to get near to. Like the
-rooks, they spend most of the day in looking for food, and eating it
-when found, their habit being to beat about in the air, making wider
-or narrower circles, whilst examining the ground beneath for any
-offal that may be lying there. This is not so much the habit of rooks,
-for they, being more general feeders, march over the country, eating
-whatever they can find. They would be neglecting too much, were they to
-look for any class of thing in particular, though equally appreciative
-of offal when it happens to come in their way. “The Lord be praised!”
-is then their attitude of mind.
-
-The crows, however, feed a good deal in this latter way, too, and, as
-a consequence, mingle much with the rooks, from whom, perhaps, they
-have learnt a thing or two. Each bird, in fact, knows and practises
-something of the other’s business, so that, without specially seeking
-one another’s society, they are a good deal thrown together. Were there
-never any occasion for them to mingle, they would probably not feel the
-wish to do so, but the slightest inducement will bring crows amongst
-rooks, and rooks amongst crows, and then, in their actions towards
-each other, they seem to be but one species. They fight, of course; at
-least there are frequent disagreements and bickerings between them,
-but these have always appeared to me to be individual, merely--not to
-have any specific value, so to speak. Both of them fall out, amongst
-themselves, as do most other birds. Rooks, especially, are apt to
-resent one another’s success in the finding of food, but such quarrels
-soon settle themselves, usually by the bird in possession swallowing
-the morsel; they are seldom prolonged or envenomed. So it is with the
-rooks and hooded crows, and, on the whole, I think they meet as equals,
-though there may, perhaps, be a slightly more “coming-on disposition”
-on the part of the latter, and a slightly more giving-way one on that
-of the former bird. One apparent instance of this I have certainly
-seen. In this case, two rooks who were enjoying a dead rat between
-them, walked very tamely away from it, when a crow came up; and, later,
-when they again had the rat, a pair of crows hopping down upon them,
-side by side, in a very bold and piratical manner, again made them
-retreat, with hardly a make-believe of resistance. But one of these two
-crows may have been the bird that had come up before, and the rat may
-have belonged to it and its mate, by right of first discovery, which,
-in important finds, there is, I think, a tendency to respect, even if
-it needs some amount of enforcing. I have observed this when rooks
-and hooded crows have been gathered together about some offal which
-they were devouring. One or, at most, two birds seemed always to be in
-possession, whilst the rest stood around. For any other to insinuate
-itself into a place at the table was an affair demanding caution, nor
-could he do so without making himself liable to an attack, serious in
-proportion to the hunger of the privileged bird. As it began to appear,
-however, either from the latter’s languidness, or by his moving a
-little away, that this was becoming appeased, another--either rook or
-crow--would, at first warily, and then more boldly, fall to; and thus,
-without, probably, any actual idea of the thing, the working out of
-the situation was, more or less, to take it in turns. At least it was
-always the few that ate, and the many that waited, and a general sense
-that this should and must be so seemed to obtain. Always, at such
-scenes, there will be many small outbreaks, and when these have been
-between the two species, I have been unable to make out that one was
-inferior to the other. But such ebullitions have more of threatening
-in them than real fighting, so, taking into consideration the incident
-just recorded, it may be that the crow, when really in earnest, is
-recognised by the rook as the better bird, though, if anything, I think
-he is a little the smaller of the two. Jackdaws, on the other hand,
-seem conscious of their inferiority when with rooks, and slip about
-demurely amongst them, as though wishing not to be noticed.
-
-On the part of either rook or crow, a combative inclination is
-indicated by the sudden bending down of the head, and raising and
-fanning out of the tail. The fan is then closed and lowered, as the
-head goes up again, and this takes place several times in succession.
-If a bird come within slighting distance of one that has thus expressed
-himself, there is, at once, an _affaire_, the two jumping suddenly
-at one another. After the first pass or two, they pause by mutual
-consent--just as duellists do in a novel--and then stand front to
-front, the beaks--or rapiers--being advanced, and pointed a little
-upwards, their points almost touching. Then, instantaneously, they
-spring again, each bird trying to get above the other, so as to strike
-him down. These fireworks, indeed, belong more to the rooks than
-the crows, for the former, being more social birds, are also more
-demonstrative. Not that the crows are without the gregarious instinct.
-Here, at least, in East Anglia, one may see in them something like
-the rude beginnings of the state at which rooks have arrived. They
-do not flock in any numbers, but bands of six or seven, and upwards,
-will sometimes fly about together, or sit in the same tree or group of
-trees. On the ground, too, though they feed in a much more scattered
-manner than do rooks, not seeming to think of one another, they yet get
-drawn together by any piece of garbage or carrion that one or other of
-them may find. In this we, perhaps, see the origin of the gregarious
-instinct in most birds, if not in all. Self-interest first makes a
-habit, which becomes, by degrees, a want, and so a necessity; for if
-“custom is the king of all men,” as Pindar has pronounced it to be, so
-is it the king of all birds, and, equally, of all other animals.
-
-[Illustration: THE RULES OF PRECEDENCE
-
-_Hooded Crows and Rooks Feeding_]
-
-I think, myself, that their association with the rooks tends to make
-these crows more social. They get to feed more as they do, and this
-brings them more together. In the evening I have, sometimes, seen a few
-fly down into a plantation where rooks roosted, and which they already
-filled, and one I once saw flying, with a small band of them, on their
-bedward journey. Whether this bird, or the others, actually roosted
-with the rooks, for the night, I cannot say, but it certainly looked
-like it. On the other hand, if one watches rooks, one will, sometimes,
-see what looks like a reversion, on the part of an individual or two,
-to a less advanced social state than that in which the majority now
-are. Whether there are solitary rooks, as there are rogue elephants, I
-do not know, but the gregarious instinct may certainly be for a time
-in abeyance with some, if not with all of them. I have watched one
-feeding, sometimes, for a length of time, quite by itself. Not only,
-on such occasions, have there been no others with it, but often none
-were in sight, nor did any join it, when it flew up. Nothing, in fact,
-can look more solitary than these black specks upon the wide, empty
-warrens, or the still more desolate marshes--fens, as they are called,
-though, as I say, Icklingham is separated from the real fenlands by
-some seven miles. These fens are undrained, and unless the weather has
-been dry for some time, it is difficult to get about in them. At first
-sight, indeed, it looks as though one could do so easily enough, for
-the long, coarse grass grows in tufts, or cushions--one might almost
-call them--each one of which is raised, to some height, upon a sort of
-footstalk. But if one steps on these they often turn over, causing one
-to plunge into the water between them, which their heads make almost
-invisible. These curious, matted tufts were used here in old days
-for church hassocks--called _pesses_--and several of them, veritable
-curiosities, are now in the old thatched church at Icklingham, which
-has been abandoned--why I know not--and is fast going to ruin.
-
-Rooks sometimes visit these marshes for the sake of thistles which
-grow there, or just on their borders, the roots of which they eat,
-as do also, I believe, some of the hooded crows, since I have seen
-them excavating in the same places. I know of no more comfortless
-sight than one or two of these crows standing about on the sodden
-ground, whilst another sits motionless, like an overseer, in some
-solitary hawthorn bush, in the grey dawn of a cold winter’s morning.
-In the dank dreariness they look as dank and dreary themselves, and
-seem to be regretting having got up. There is, indeed, something
-particularly shabby and dismal-looking in the aspect of the hooded
-crow, when seen under unfavourable circumstances. They impress one,
-I believe, as squalid savages would--as the Tierra del Fuegians did
-Darwin. The rook, at all times, looks much more civilised, even when
-quite alone. I am not sure whether the latter bird, to return to his
-occasional adoption of less social habits, ever roosts alone, but I
-have some reason to suspect that he does. I have seen one flying from
-an otherwise untenanted clump of trees, before the general flight out
-from the rook-roost, two or three miles distant, had begun; to judge by
-appearances, that is to say, for the usual stream in one direction did
-not begin till some little time afterwards. A populous roosting-place
-drains the whole rook population of the country, for a considerable
-distance all around it--far beyond that at which this rook was from
-his--and in January, which was the date of the observation, such
-establishments would not have begun to break up. This process, which
-leads to scattered parties of the birds passing the night in various
-new places, does not begin before March.
-
-I had heard this particular rook cawing, for some time, before I saw
-it, and, on other occasions, I have been struck by hearing solitary
-caws, in unfrequented places, at a similarly early hour. Some rooks,
-therefore, may be less social in their ways than the majority, and
-if these could be separately studied, we might know what all rooks
-had once been. The present natural history book contents itself with
-a summary of the general habits of each species, as far as these are
-known or surmised, or rather as far as one compiler may learn them
-from another _sæcula sæculorum_. It is to be hoped that, some day in
-the future, a work may be attempted which will record those variations
-from the general mode of life, which have been observed and noted down
-by successive generations of field-naturalists. A collection of these
-would help as much, perhaps, to solve some of the problems of affinity,
-as the dissection of the body, and there would be this advantage in the
-method, viz., that any species under discussion would be less likely
-to leave a still further gap in the various classificatory systems, by
-disappearing during the process of investigation.
-
-I have said that rooks and crows meet and mingle together, as though
-they were of the same species, but is there, to the boot of this, some
-special relation--what, it would puzzle me to say--existing between
-them? I remember once, whilst standing under a willow tree by the
-little stream here, my attention being attracted by a hooded crow,
-which, whilst flying, kept uttering a series of very hoarse, harsh
-cries, “Are-rr, are-rr, are-rr” (or “crar”)--the intonation is much
-rougher and less pleasant than that of rooks. He did not fly right
-on, and so away, but kept hovering about, in approximately the same
-place, and still continuing his clamour. I fancied I heard an answer
-to it from another hooded crow in the distance, and then, all at once,
-up flew about a score of rooks and joined him. For some minutes they
-hovered about, over a space corresponding with a fair-sized meadow,
-the crow making one of them, and still, at intervals, continuing to
-cry, the rooks talking much less. Then, all at once, they dispersed
-again over the country. What, if anything, could have been the meaning
-of this _rendezvous_? All I can imagine is that, when the rooks heard
-the repeated cries of the crow, they concluded he had found something
-eatable, and, therefore, flew up to share in it, but that, seeing
-nothing, they hovered about for a time on the look-out and then gave
-it up and flew off. I can form no idea, however, of what it was that
-had excited the crow, for excited he certainly seemed--it was a sudden
-burst of “are”-ing. He did not go down anywhere, so that it can have
-had nothing to do with a find, and I feel sure from the way he came
-up, and the place and distance at which he began to cry, that he had
-not seen me. This, then, was my theory, at the time, to account for
-the action of the rooks; but on the very next day something of the
-same sort occurred, which was yet not all the same, and which could
-not be explained in this way. This time, when a crow rose with his
-“crar, crar” and flew to some trees, a number of rooks rose also from
-all about, and after circling a little, each where it had gone up,
-flew to a plantation, where shortly the crow flew also. Here, again,
-there was no question of the crow having found anything, for he rose
-from where he had for some time been, and flew straight away. Nor could
-the rooks have imagined that he had, for they all rose as at a signal,
-and, without going to where he had been, flew to somewhere near where
-he had gone, and here they were shortly joined by him. Certainly the
-rooks were influenced by the crow--the crow afterwards by the rooks, I
-think--but in what way, or whether there was any definite idea on the
-part of either of them, I am unable to say. Birds of different species
-often affect one another, psychically, in some way that one cannot
-quite explain. I have seen some small tits flying, seemingly full of
-excitement, with the first band of rooks from the roosting-place in the
-morning, and, evening after evening, a wood-pigeon would beat about
-amongst the hosts of starlings, which filled the whole sky around their
-dark little dormitory. He would join first one band and then another,
-seeming to wish to make one of them, and this he continued to do almost
-as long as the starlings remained. Peewits, again, seem to have an
-attraction for starlings, and other such instances, either of mutual or
-one-sided interest--generally, I think, the latter--may be observed.
-We need not, I think, assume that every case of commensalism amongst
-animals has had a utilitarian origin, even when we can now see the link
-of mutual benefit.
-
-Rooks, when once introduced, are not birds that can be lightly
-dismissed. The most interesting thing about them, in my opinion, is
-their habit of repairing daily to their nesting-trees during the
-winter. Two visits are paid--at least two clearly marked ones--one in
-the morning, the other in the later afternoon, taking the shortness
-of the days into consideration. The latter is the longer and more
-important one, and, to give a general idea of what happens upon it, I
-will describe the behaviour of some birds on which I got the glasses
-fixed, whilst watching, one Christmas, a small rookery, in some elms
-near the house. It is always stated that rooks visit their nests,
-during the winter, in order to repair them. The following slight but
-accurate account of what the birds really do during these visits, is to
-be read in connection with that statement, which, as it appears to me,
-is either inaccurate, or, at least, not sufficiently full. Towards 3,
-then, as I have it, like Mr. Justice Stareleigh, in my notes, the rooks
-flew in, and of these a certain number settled in the largest elm of
-the group. This contained, besides other nests, two, if not more, that
-were built close against each other, making one great mass of sticks.
-One rook perched upon the topmost of these nests, whilst another sat in
-the lower one. The standing rook kept uttering deep caws, and, at each
-caw, he made a sudden dip forward, with his head and whole body. At the
-same time he shot up and spread open the feathers of his tail, which
-he also arched, becoming, thus, a much finer figure of a bird. The
-action seemed to express sexual emotion, with concomitant bellicosity,
-and the latter element was soon manifested in a spirited attack upon
-the poor sitting rook, who was, then and there, turned out of the
-nest. Shortly afterwards, a pair of rooks peaceably occupied this same
-lower nest, and continued there for some time. One of them sat in it,
-and, looking long and steadily through the glasses, I could see the
-tail of this bird thrown, at short intervals, spasmodically upwards.
-Then, as the raised and spread feathers were folded and lowered, the
-anal portion of the body was moved--wriggled--in a very special and
-suggestive manner, about which I shall have more to say when I come
-to the peewit. Whilst the sitting bird was behaving in this way, the
-other one of the pair--which I put down as the female--stood beside
-him, and as she occasionally bent forward towards him, the black of her
-feathers becoming lost in his, I felt assured that she was cossetting
-and caressing him, much as the hen pigeon caresses the male, whilst
-he sits brooding on the place where the nest will be. There were also
-several other combats, and more turnings of one bird out of the nest,
-by another. At 3.15 four rooks sit perched on the boughs, all round the
-great mass of sticks, but not one upon it. One of the four bends the
-head, with a look and motion as though about to hop down. Instantly
-there is an excited cawing--half, as it seems, remonstrative, half in
-the tone of “Well, if you do, then I will, too,”--from the other three,
-which is responded to, of course, by the first, the originator of the
-uproar, and then all four drop on to the sticks, a pair upon each nest.
-By 3.20 every rook is gone, but in ten minutes they are all back,
-again, with much cawing. Four birds--the same four as I suppose--are
-instantly on the great heap, but as quickly off it, again, amongst the
-growing twigs, and this takes place three or four times in succession.
-Two others, though they never come down upon the heap, remain close
-beside it, and seem to feel a friendly interest in it. Sometimes they
-fly away for a little, but they return, again, and sit there as before,
-their right to do so seeming to be admitted. Thus there are six birds
-in all, who seem primarily interested in the great heap of sticks,
-which may, perhaps, indicate that it is composed of three rather than
-of two nests. Once, however, for a little while, another rook is
-associated with the six, making seven. At 3.45 the rooks again fly
-off, but return in another ten minutes, and this time the tree with
-the great communal nest in it is left empty. There is a great deal of
-cawing, mingled with a higher, sharper note, all very different to
-the cries made by the rooks, at this same time of the year, in their
-roosting-places, or when leaving or returning to them in the morning
-or evening. It was for this latter purpose, doubtless, that the final
-exodus took place at a little past 4. During the last visit no nest was
-entered by any bird.
-
-Do the rooks, then, come to their nests in winter, in order to repair
-them? Not once, so far as I could catch their actions, did I see
-one of these lift a stick, and their behaviour on other occasions,
-when I have watched them, has been more or less the same. On the
-other hand we have the combats, the clamorous vociferation, the
-caressing of one bird by another, the raising and fanning of the tail,
-with the curious wriggling of it--bearing, in my mind, a peculiar
-significance--everything, in fact, to suggest sexual emotion. To me it
-appears that the nests are visited rather for the sake of sport and
-play, than with any set business-like idea of putting them in order.
-The birds come to them to be happy and excited, to have genial feelings
-aroused by the sight of them--
-
-  “Venus then wakes and wakens love”
-
-They come, in fact, as it seems to me, in an emotional state a good
-deal resembling that of the bower-birds of Australia, when they play
-at their “runs” or “bowers”; nor do the nests now--though in the
-spring they were true ones--differ essentially, as far as the purpose
-to which they are put is concerned, from these curious structures, of
-which Gould says: “They are used by the birds as a playing-house, and
-are used by the males to attract the females.” This latter statement
-is certainly true, in the case, at least, of the satin bower-bird
-(_Ptilorhynchus violaceus_), which I have watched at the Zoological
-Gardens. That the mainspring, so to speak, of this bird’s actions is
-sexual, no naturalist, seeing them, could doubt. But was the “bower”
-originally made for the purpose which it now serves? Did the idea of
-putting it to such a use precede its existence in some shape or form,
-or did it not rather grow out of something else, because about it, as
-it then was, certain emotions were more and more indulged in, till at
-last it became the indispensable theatre for their display? Then, as
-the theatre grew, no doubt the play did also, and _vice versâ_, the two
-keeping pace with each other. I believe that this original something
-was the nest, and that when we see a bird toy, court, or pair upon
-the latter--thus putting it to a use totally different from that of
-incubation, but similar to that which is served by the bower--we get a
-hint as to the process by which the one structure has given rise to the
-other.
-
-Wonderful as is the architecture and ornamentation of some of the
-bowers, as we now know them, especially the so-called garden of
-_amblyornis_, their gradual elaboration from a much simpler structure
-presents no more difficulty than does that of a complicated nest from a
-quite ordinary one. All that we want is the initial directing impulse,
-and this we have when once a bird uses its nest, not only as a cradle
-for its young, but, also, as a nuptial bed or sporting-place. In a
-passage of this nature, the nest, indeed, must remain, but why should
-it not? Let us suppose that, like the rooks, the bower-birds--or,
-rather, their ancestors--used, at one time, to use their old nests
-of the spring, as play-houses during the winter. If, then, they had
-built fresh nests as spring again came round, might they not gradually
-have begun to build fresh play-houses too? The keeping up of the old
-nest--but for a secondary purpose--would naturally have passed into
-this, and the playing about it would, as naturally, have led to the
-keeping of it up. That duality of use should gradually have led to
-duality of structure--that from one thing used in two different ways
-there should have come to be two things, each used in one of these
-ways--does not seem to me extraordinary, but, rather, what we might
-have expected, in accordance with the principle of differentiation and
-specialisation, which has played so great a part in organic evolution.
-It is by virtue of this principle that limbs have been developed out of
-the vertebral column, and the kind of advantage which all vertebrate
-animals have gained by this multiplication and differentiation of
-parts, in their own bodily structure, is precisely that which a bird of
-certain habits would have gained, by a similar increase in the number
-and kind of the artificial structures made by it. It is, indeed,
-obvious that the “bower,” in many cases, could not be quite what it
-is, if it had also to answer the purpose of a nest, and still more so,
-perhaps, that the nest could never have made a good bower. The extra
-structure, therefore, represents a greater capacity for doing a certain
-thing--just as do the extra limbs--which makes it likely that it has
-been evolved from the earlier one, in accordance with the same general
-law which has produced the latter.
-
-Thus, in our own rook we see, perhaps, a bower-bird _in posse_, nor is
-there any wide gap, but quite the contrary, between the crow family and
-that to which the bower-birds belong. “The bower-birds,” says Professor
-Newton, “are placed by most systematists among the _Paradiseidæ_,” and
-Wallace, in his “Malay Archipelago,” tells us that “the _Paradiseidæ_
-are a group of moderate-sized birds allied, in their structure and
-habits, to crows, starlings, and to the Australian honey-suckers.” It
-is, surely, suggestive that the one British bird that uses its nest--or
-nests, collectively--as a sort of recreation ground, where the sexes
-meet and show affection, during the winter, should be allied to the
-one group of birds that make separate structures, which they use in
-this same manner. Of course there are differences, but what I suggest
-is that there is an essential similarity, which, alone, is important.
-Probably the common ancestor of the bower-birds was not social in
-its habits like the rook, and this difference may have checked the
-development of the bower in the latter bird. As far, however, as the
-actions of the two are concerned, they do not appear to me to differ
-otherwise than one might expect the final stages of any process to
-differ from its rough and rude beginnings. The sexual impulse is, so
-it seems to me, the governing factor in both, so that, in both, it may
-have led up to whatever else there is. In regard to the rooks, they did
-not, when I watched them, appear to be repairing their nests. I think
-it quite likely, however, that they do repair them after a fashion,
-though I would put another meaning upon their doing so. That, being at
-the nest, there should often be some toying with and throwing about of
-the sticks, one can understand, and also that this should have passed
-into some amount of regular labour: for all these things--with the
-emotional states from which they spring--are interconnected through
-association of ideas, so that one would glide easily into another, and
-it is in this, as I believe, that we have the rationale of that amount
-of repairing which the rook does do. Personally, as said before, I have
-seen little or nothing of it.
-
-When we consider that many birds are in the habit of building one or
-more supernumerary nests--not with any definite purpose, as it seems
-to me, but purely in obedience to the, as yet, unsatisfied instinct
-which urges them to build--we can, perhaps, see a line along which the
-principle of divergence and specialisation, as applied to the nest
-structure, may, on the above hypothesis, have been led. Given two
-uses of a nest, and more nests made than are used, might not we even
-prophesy that one of the redundant ones would, in time, serve one of
-the uses, supposing these to be very distinct, and to have a tendency
-to clash with one another? Now courting leads up to pairing, and I can
-say positively from my own observation that rooks often pair upon the
-nest. This is the regular habit with the crested grebes, and I have
-seen it in operation between them after some, or at least one, of the
-eggs had been laid--possibly they had all been. But this must surely be
-to the danger of the eggs, so that, as these birds build several nests,
-natural selection would favour such of them as used separate ones for
-pairing and laying. It does not, of course, follow that a tendency to
-make a secondary nest and use it for a secondary purpose would develop
-itself in any bird that was accustomed to pair or court upon the true
-one; but it might in some, and, whenever it did, the evolution of the
-“run” or “bower” would be but a matter of time, if, indeed, it should
-not be rather held to exist, as soon as such separation had come about.
-There would be but a slight line of demarcation, as it appears to me,
-between an extra nest, which was used for nuptial purposes only, and
-the so-called bowers of the bower-birds. As for the ornamentation which
-is such a feature of these latter structures, the degree of it differs
-amongst them, and we see the same thing--also in varying degrees--in
-the nest proper. The jackdaw, for instance--and the proclivity has been
-embalmed in our literature--is fond of putting a ring “midst the sticks
-and the straw” of his, and shags, as I have noticed, will decorate
-theirs with flowers, green leaves, and bleached spars or sticks. It
-seems natural, too, that an æsthetic bird, owning two domiciles, one
-for domestic duties and the other for love’s delights, should decorate
-the latter, more and more to the neglect of the former. We see the
-same principle at work amongst ourselves, for even in the most artistic
-households, the nursery is usually a plain affair compared with the
-boudoir or drawing-room.
-
-As bower-building prevails only amongst one group of birds--not being
-shared by allied groups--and as birds, universally almost, make some
-sort of nest, we may assume that the latter habit preceded the former.
-If so, the ancestral bower-bird, from which the various present species
-may be supposed to be descended, would have built a nest before he
-built a bower. Is it not more probable, therefore, that the new
-structure should have grown out of the old one, than that the two are
-not in any way connected? The orthodox view, indeed, would seem to be
-the reverse of this, for we read in standard works of ornithology that
-the bowers have nothing to do with the nests of the species making
-them; whilst, at the same time, complete ignorance as to their origin
-and meaning is confessed. But if we know nothing about a thing, how do
-we know that it has nothing to do with some other thing? One argument,
-brought forward to show that the nests of the bower-bird are not in
-any way connected with their bowers, is that the former present no
-extraordinary feature. But if the bower has grown out of the nest, in
-the way and by the steps which I suppose, there is no reason why the
-latter--and the bird’s general habits of nidification--should not have
-remained as they were. As long as a single structure was used for a
-double purpose, the paramount importance of the original one--that of
-incubation--would have kept it from changing in any great degree, and
-when there had come to be two structures for two purposes, that only
-would have been subjected to modification which stood in need of it.
-For the rest, as incubation and courtship are very different things,
-one might expect the architecture in relation to them to be of a very
-different kind. For these reasons, and having watched rooks at their
-nests in the winter, and the breeding habits of some other birds, I
-think it possible (1) that the bower has grown out of the nest, and (2)
-that the sexual activities of which it is, as it were, the focus, were
-once displayed about the nest itself. On the whole, however--though
-I suggest this as a possible explanation--it is perhaps more likely
-that the cleared arena where so many birds meet for the purposes
-of courtship--as, _e.g._ the blackcock, capercailzie, ruff, argus
-pheasant, cock-of-the-rock, &c. &c.--is the starting-point from which
-the bower-birds have proceeded, especially as one species of the family
-has not got so very much farther than this, even now.
-
-Rooks, then, to leave speculation and return to fact, are swayed,
-even in winter, by love as well as by hunger--those two great forces
-which, as Schiller tells us, rule the world between them. They wake,
-presumably, hungry; yet, before they can have fed much, make shift to
-spend a little while on the scene of their domestic blisses. Hunger
-then looks after them till an hour or so before evening, when they
-return to their rookeries, and love takes up the ball for as long as
-daylight lasts. And so, with birds as men--
-
-    “Erfüllt sich der Getriebe
-    Durch Hunger und durch Liebe.”
-
-But there is a third great ruling power in the life of both, which
-Schiller seems to have forgotten--sleep--and as its reign, each day,
-is as long, or longer, than that of the other two conjoined, and as it
-long outlasts one of them, it may be called, perhaps, the greatest of
-the three.
-
-[Illustration: HERON FISHING]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-There is a heronry on an estate here, into which, in the early spring,
-I have sometimes crept, coming before dawn, in silence and darkness, to
-be there when it awoke. What an awakening! A sudden scream, as though
-the night were stabbed, and cried out--a scream to chill one's very
-blood--followed by a deep “oogh,” and then a most extraordinary noise
-in the throat, a kind of croak sometimes, but more often a kind of
-pipe, like a subdued siren--a fog-signal--yet pleasing, even musical.
-Sometimes, again, it suggests the tones of the human voice--weirdly,
-eerily--vividly caught for a moment, then an Ovid’s metamorphosis.
-This curious sound, in the production of which the neck is as the long
-tube of some metal instrument, is very characteristic, and constantly
-heard. And now scream after scream, each one more harsh and wild
-than the last, rings out from tree to tree. Other sounds--strange,
-wild, grotesque--cannot even suffer an attempt to describe them. All
-this through the darkness, the black of which is now beginning to be
-“dipped in grey.” There is the snapping of the bill, too--a soft click,
-a musical “pip, pip”--amidst all these uncouth noises. On the whole,
-it is the grotesque in sound--a carnival of hoarse, wild, grotesque
-inarticulations. Amidst them, every now and then, one hears the great
-sweep of pinions, and a shadowy form, just thickening on the gloom, is
-lost in the profounder gloom of some tree that receives it.
-
-Most of the nests are in sad, drooping-boughed firs--spruces, a name
-that suits them not--trees whose very branches are a midnight, as
-Longfellow has called them,[11] in a great, though seldom-mentioned
-poem. Others are in grand old beeches, which, with the slender white
-birch and the maple, stand in open clearings amidst the shaggy firs,
-and make this plantation a paradise. Sometimes, as the herons fly out
-of one tree into another, they make a loud, sonorous beating with their
-great wings, whilst at others, they glide with long, silent-sounding
-swishes, that seem a part of the darkness. Two will, often, pursue
-each other, with harshest screams, and, all at once, from one of
-them comes a shout of wild, maniacal laughter, that sets the blood
-a-tingling, and makes one a better man to hear. Whilst sweeping, thus,
-in nuptial flight, about their nesting-trees, they stretch out their
-long necks in front of them, sometimes quite straight, more often
-bent near the breast like a crooked piece of copper wire. A strange
-appearance!--everything stiff and abrupt, odd-looking, uncouth, no
-graceful curves or sweeps. The long legs, carried horizontally, balance
-the neck behind--but grotesquely, as one gargoyle glares at another.
-Thus herons fly within the heronry, but as they sail out, _en voyage_,
-the head is drawn back between the shoulders, in the more familiar way.
-As morning dawns, the shadowy “air-drawn” forms begin to appear more
-substantially. Several of the birds may then be seen perched about in
-the trees, some gaunt and upright, others hunched up in a heap, with,
-perhaps, one statuesque figure placed, like a sentinel, on the top of
-a tall, slender larch, the thin pinnacle of the trunk of which is bent
-over to form a perch.
-
-Other, and much sweeter, sounds begin now to mingle with the harsh,
-though not unpleasing screams, and, increasing every moment in volume,
-make them, at last, but part of a universal and most divine harmony.
-The whole plantation has become a song. Song-thrush and mistle-thrush
-make it up, mostly, between them, but all help, and all is a music;
-chatters and twitters seem glorified, nothing sounds harshly, joy
-makes it melody. There is a time--the daylight of dawn, but not
-daylight--when the birds sing everywhere, as though to salute it. As
-the real daylight comes, this sinks and almost ceases, and never in
-the whole twenty-four hours, is there such an hour again. The laugh,
-and answering laugh, of the green woodpecker is frequent, now, and
-mingles sweetly with the loud cooing of the wood-pigeons--not the
-characteristic note, but another, very much like that of dovecot
-pigeons, when they make a few quick little turns from one side to
-another, moving the feet dancingly, but keeping almost in the same
-place: a brisk, satisfied sound, not the pompous rolling coo of a
-serious proposal, nor yet that more tender-meaning note, with which the
-male broods on the nest, caressed by the female. But the representative
-of this last, in the wood-pigeon--the familiar spring and summer
-sound--is now frequently heard, and seems getting towards perfection.
-So, at last, it is day, and the loud, bold clarion of the pheasant is
-like the rising sun.
-
-The above is a general picture of herons in a heronry. It is almost
-more interesting to watch two lonely-sitting birds, upon each of whom,
-in turn, one can concentrate the attention. They sit so long and so
-silently, such hours go by, during which nothing happens, and one can
-only just see the yellow, spear-like beak of the sitting bird pointing
-upwards amidst the sticks. Only under such circumstances can one
-really hug oneself in that ecstacy of patience which, almost as much
-as what one actually sees, is the true joy of watching. But at length
-comes that for which one has been waiting, and may wait and wait, day
-after day, and yet, perhaps, not see--the change upon the nest. It
-comes--“Go not, happy day.” There is a loud croak or two in the air,
-then a welcoming scream, and in answer to it, as her mate flies in,
-the sitting bird raises herself on the nest, and stretching her long
-neck straight up--perpendicularly almost, and with the head and beak
-all in one line with it--pours out a wonderful jubilee of exultant
-sounds. Then, standing on the nest together, _vis-à-vis_, and with
-their necks raised, both the birds intone hoarsely, and seem to glare
-at one another with their great golden eyes. Then the male bends down
-his head, raises his crest, snaps his bill several times, and, sinking
-down, disappears into the nest; whilst the female, after giving all
-her feathers and every portion of her person a very violent shake,
-as though to scatter night and sleep to the four winds, immediately
-flies off. The whole magnificent scene has lasted but a few seconds.
-As by magic, then, it is gone, and this quickness in departing has a
-strange effect upon one. The thing was so real, so painted there, as
-it were--the two great birds, with their orange bills and pale-bright
-colouring, clear in the morning air. It did not seem as if they could
-vanish like that. They looked like permanent things, not vanishing
-dreams. Yet before the eye is satisfied with seeing, or the ear with
-hearing, the one has flown off silently like a shadow and the other
-sunk as silently into invisibility. Now there is a great stillness,
-a great void, and the contrast of it with the flashed vividness of
-what has just been, impresses itself strangely. It is as though one
-had walked to some striking canvas of Landseer or Snider, and, as one
-looked, found it gone. That, however, would be magic. This is not, but
-it seems so. One feels as though “cheated by dissembling nature.”
-
-I have described the welcoming cry raised by the female heron on the
-arrival of her mate as “a jubilee of exultant sounds,” which indeed it
-is, or sounds like; but what these sounds are--or were--their vocalic
-value--it is difficult to recall, even but a few minutes after they
-have been uttered. Only one knows that they were harshly, screamingly
-musical, for surely sounds full of poetry must be musical. The actions,
-however--the alighting of the one bird with outstretched neck, the
-leaping up at him, as one may almost say, with the marvellous pose, of
-the other, the vigorous shake, in which inaction was done with, and
-active life begun, and then that searching, careful contemplation of
-the nest by the male, before sinking down upon it--all that is stamped
-upon the memory, and will pass before me, many a night, again, as I lie
-and look into the dark.
-
-It is the female heron, one may, perhaps, assume, who sits all night
-upon the nest, being relieved by the male in the morning. The first
-change, in my experience, takes place between 6 and 9. The next is in
-the afternoon--from 4 to 5, or thereabouts--and there is no other till
-the following day. Well, therefore, may the mother bird shake herself
-before flying swiftly off, after her long silent vigil. Perhaps,
-however, as darkness reigns during most of this time it is the male
-heron who really shows most patience, since his hours of duty include
-the greater part of the day.
-
-It must not be supposed that the above is a description of what
-uniformly takes place when a pair of sitting herons make their change
-upon the nest. On the contrary, the actions of both birds vary greatly,
-and this is my experience in regard to almost everything that birds do.
-Sometimes the scene is far less striking, at other times it is just
-as striking, but all the details are different--other cries, other
-posturings, all so marked and salient that one might suppose each to
-be as invariable as it is proper to the occasion. The same general
-character is, of course, impressed upon them all, but with this the
-similarity is exhausted. This--and it is largely the case, I think, in
-other matters--makes any general description of little value. My own
-view is that, in describing anything an animal does, it is best to pick
-a case, and give a verbal photograph. Two advantages belong to this
-process. First, it will be an actual record of fact, as far as it goes,
-and, in the second place, it will also be a better general description
-than one given on any other principle. There will be more truth in it,
-looked at as either the one thing or the other.
-
-The particular pair of herons that supplied me with this particular
-photograph had a plantation to themselves for their nest--at least,
-though other herons sometimes visited it, they were the only ones that
-bred there. I watched them from a little wigwam of boughs that I had
-put against the trunk of a neighbouring tree, from which there was a
-good view. They had built in the summit of a tall and shapely larch,
-and beautiful it was to look up and see nest and bird and the high
-tree-top set in a ring of lovely blue, so soft and warm-looking that
-it made one long to be there. The air looked pure and delicate, and
-the sun shone warmly down upon the nest and its patient occupant. But
-the weather was not always like this. Once there was a hurricane. The
-tree, with the nest in it, swayed backwards and forwards in the violent
-gusts of wind, and now and again there was the crash and tearing sound
-of a trunk snapped, or a large branch torn off. But the heron sat firm
-and secure. There were several such crashes, nor was it much to be
-wondered at, the plantation being full of quite rotten birches that
-I might almost have pushed over, myself. In a famous gale here, one
-Sunday, the firs in many of the plantations were blown down in rows and
-phalanxes, falling all together as they had stood, and all one way, so
-that, to see them, it looked as though a herd of elephants--or rather
-mammoths--had rushed through the place. A tin church was carried away,
-too--but I was in Belgium during all this stirring time.
-
-A close, firm sitter was this heron, yet not to be compared with
-White’s raven, since the entry of any one into the plantation was
-sufficient to make her leave the nest. Unfortunately, the nest almost
-hid her, as she sat, yet sometimes, as a reward for patience, she would
-move the head, by which I saw it--or at least the beak--a little more
-plainly. Sometimes, too, she would crane her neck into the air or even
-stand up in the nest, which was as if a saint had entered the shrine.
-When she did this it was always to look at the eggs, and, having done
-so, she would turn a little round, before sitting down on them again.
-Very rarely I caught a very low and very hoarse note--monosyllabic,
-a sort of croak--but silence almost always reigned. At first, when I
-came to watch the nest, I disturbed the bird each time, and again on
-leaving: afterwards I used to crawl up to the wigwam, and then retire
-from it on my hands and knees, and, in this way, did not alarm her.
-Once in the wigwam, her suspicions soon ceased, and she returned to
-the nest, usually from sailing high over the plantation, evidently on
-the watch, but, sheltered as I was, I was invisible even to her keen
-sight. On one occasion she flew out over the marshlands, and went down
-upon them. I left the plantation almost at the same time as she did,
-and, on my way home, I saw her rise and fly towards it again. Halfway
-there she was joined by her mate, and the two descended upon it,
-together, most grandly--a really striking sight. Slowly they sailed
-up, on broad light wings that beat the air with regular and leisurely
-strokes. Mounting higher and higher, as they neared the plantation,
-they, at length, wheeled over it at a giddy height, from which, after
-a few great circling sweeps, they all at once let themselves drop,
-holding their wings still spread, but raised above their backs, so as
-not to offer so much resistance to the air. At the proper moment the
-wide wings drooped again, the rushing fall was checked, and with harsh,
-wild screams, the two great birds came wheeling down, in narrower and
-narrower circles, upon the chosen spot. Perhaps the swoop of an eagle
-may be grander than this, but I doubt it. The drop, especially, gives
-one, in imagination, the same sort of half-painful sensation that the
-descent part of a switchback railway does, when one is in it--for one
-substitutes oneself for the bird, but retains one’s own constitution.
-
-[Illustration: A GRAND DESCENT
-
-_Herons coming down on to Nest_]
-
-Earlier in the year--in cold bleak February--I used to watch this
-same pair of herons pursuing one another, in nuptial flight, over the
-half-sandy, half-marshy wastes, that, with the moorland, lie about
-the lonely, sombre spot that they had chosen for their home. This,
-too, is “a sight for sair een.” How grandly the birds move “aloft,
-incumbent on the dusky air,” beating it with slow measured strokes of
-those “sail-broad vans” of theirs. They approach, then glide apart,
-and, as they sweep in circles, tilt themselves oddly from one side to
-another, so that now their upper, and now their under surface catches
-the cold gloomy light--a fine sight beneath the snow-clouds. With a
-shriek one comes swooping round upon the other, who, almost in the
-moment of contact, glides smoothly away from him. The pursuer plies
-his wings: slow-beating, swift-moving, they pass over the desolate
-waste, one but just behind the other. Again a “wild, wild” cry from
-the pursuing bird is answered by another from the one pursued, and
-then, on set sails, they sink to earth, in a long, smooth, gently
-descending line, reaching it without another wing-beat. Queer figures
-they make when they get there. One sits as though on the nest, his
-long legs being quite invisible beneath him. The other stands in
-varying attitudes, but all very different from anything one ever sees
-represented, either in a picture or a glass case. That elegant letter
-S, which--especially under the latter hateful condition--the neck
-is, of custom, put into, occurs in the living bird less frequently
-than one might suppose it would. When resting or doing nothing in
-particular, herons draw the head right in between the shoulders--or
-rather wings--which latter droop idly down, and being, thus, partially
-expanded, like a fan fallen open, cover, with their broad surface,
-the whole body and most of the legs. The thighs, so carefully shown
-in the cases, are quite hidden, and only about half the shank is seen
-beyond the square, blunt ends of the wings. The beak points straight
-forward, or almost so. It is a loose, hunched-up pose, not elegant,
-but very nice; one can smack one’s lips over it; it is like a style in
-writing--a little slipshod perhaps, like Scott’s, as we are told;[12]
-but then _give_ me Scott’s “slipshod”(!) style--I prefer it to
-Stevenson’s, though Stevenson himself did not. Then, again, when the
-bird is alarmed or thrown on the alert about anything, the long neck is
-shot, suddenly, forward and upward, not, however, in a curve, but in a
-straight line, from the end of which another straight line--the head
-and beak--flies out at a right angle. The neck, also, makes a somewhat
-abrupt angle with the body, and the whole has a strange, uncouth
-aspect, which is infinitely pleasing.
-
-One might suppose that, with its great surface of wing, and the
-slowness with which it is moved, the heron would rise with some
-difficulty--as does the condor--and only attain ease and power when
-at some little height. This, however, is not the case. It will rise,
-on occasions, with a single flap of the great wings, and then float
-buoyantly, but just above the ground, not higher than its leg’s
-length--if this can be said to be rising at all. A single flap will
-take it twenty paces, or more, like this, when, putting its legs down,
-it stands again, and thus it will continue as long as it sees fit.
-
-From the length of time which herons spend out on the marshes, or
-adjoining warrens, they must, I suppose, feed a good deal on frogs,
-or even less aquatic prey--moles, mice, shrews, as I believe, for I
-have found the remains of these under their trees, in pellets which
-seemed to me far too large, as well as too numerous, to be those of
-owls, the only other possible bird: yet I have not observed them in the
-pursuit of “such small deer,” and herons look for their food far more,
-and wait for it far less than is generally supposed. See one, now, at
-the river. For a minute or two, after coming down, he stands with his
-neck drawn in between his shoulders, and then, with a stealthy step,
-begins to walk along under the bank, advancing slowly, and evidently on
-the look-out. Getting a little more into the stream, he stands a few
-moments, again advances, then with body projecting, horizontally, on
-either side of the legs--like the head of a mallet--and neck a little
-outstretched, he stops once more. At once he makes a dart forward,
-so far forward that he almost--nay, sometimes quite--overbalances,
-the neck shoots out as from a spring, and instantly he has a
-fair-sized fish in his bill, which, after a little tussling and quiet
-insistence--gone through like a grave formal etiquette--he swallows.
-Directly afterwards he washes his beak in the stream, and then drinks,
-a little, as though for a sauce to his fish. There is, now, a brisk
-satisfied ruffle of the plumage, after which he hunches himself up,
-again, and remains thus, resting, for a longer or shorter time. In
-swallowing the fish, the long neck is stretched forwards and upwards,
-and, when it has swallowed it, the bird gives a sort of start, and
-looks most comically satisfied. There is that about him--something
-almost of surprise, if it could be, at his own deediness--which, in a
-man, might be expressed by, “Come, what do you think of that, now? Not
-so very bad, is it?” A curious sort of half-resemblance to humanics
-one gets in animals, sometimes--like, but in an odd, _bizarre_ way,
-more generalised, the thing in its elements, less consciousness of
-what is felt. They wear their rue with a difference, but rue it is. It
-is interesting, too, to see the way in which the fish is manipulated.
-It is not tossed into the air, and caught, again, head downwards, nor
-does it ever seem to be quite free of the beak, at all points; but
-keeping always the point, or anterior part of the mandibles, upon it,
-the heron contrives, by jerking its head about, to get it turned and
-lying lengthways between them, _en train_ for swallowing. The whole
-thing has a very tactile appearance; it is wonderful with what delicacy
-and nicety, in nature, very hard, and, as one would think, insensitive
-material may be used. How, in this special kind of handling, does the
-human hand, about which so much has been said, excel the bird’s beak?
-The superiority of the former appears to me to lie, rather, in the
-number of things it can do, than in the greater efficiency with which
-it can do any one of them. It is curious, indeed, that the advantage
-gained here is due to the principle of generalisation, as against that
-of specialisation, which last we see more in the foot.
-
-In its manipulation of the fish the serratures in the upper mandible
-of its bill must be a great help to the heron, and this may throw some
-light on the use of the somewhat similar, though more pronounced,
-ones in the claw of its middle toe. Concerning this structure, Frank
-Buckland--whose half-part edition of White’s “Selborne” I have at
-hand--says: “The use of it is certainly not for prehension, as was
-formerly supposed, but rather, as its structure indicates, for a comb.
-Among the feathers of the heron and bittern can always be found a
-considerable quantity of powder. The bird, probably, uses this comb to
-keep the powder and feathers in proper order.” Why “certainly”? And how
-much of observation does “probably” contain? This is what Dickens has
-described as making a brown-paper parcel of a subject, and putting it
-on a shelf, labelled, “Not to be opened.” But, “By your leave, wax,”
-and I shall open as many such parcels as I choose. It is possible,
-indeed, that the heron’s serrated claw may not be, now, of any special
-use. It may be a survival, merely, of something that once was. If,
-however, it is used in a special manner, what this manner is can only
-be settled by good affirmative evidence, and of this, as Frank Buckland
-does not give any, we may assume he had none to give. Instead we have
-“certainly” and “probably.” But I, now, have “certainly” seen the heron
-use his foot to secure an eel, which had proved too large and vigorous
-for him to retain in the bill, and which he had dropped, after just
-managing to fly away with it to the mud of the shore. Here, therefore,
-“probably” the serrated claw was of some assistance, and the fact that
-this heron flew to the shore, whenever he caught an unwieldy eel, and
-dropped it there, goes to show that this was his regular plan, viz. to
-put it down and help hold it with his foot, or two feet. There was
-always a little water where the eel was dropped--it was not the shore,
-to be quite accurate, but only the shallow, muddy water near it--and
-therefore it was only on one occasion that I saw the foot used in this
-way, with absolute certainty. But as I did see it this once, I cannot
-doubt that it was so used each time, as indeed it always appeared to me
-to be. It is the inner side of each of the two claws that is serrated,
-and one can imagine how nicely an eel, or fish, thus dropped into
-the mud, could be pinched between them. This, then, is affirmative
-evidence. Negatively, I have seen the heron preen itself very
-elaborately, without once raising a foot so as to touch the feathers.
-On these occasions the bird often, apparently, does something to its
-feet, with the beak, what, exactly, it is difficult to say, inasmuch as
-a heron’s feet are hardly ever visible, except while it walks. But the
-head is brought right down, and then moves slightly, yet nicely, as a
-hand might that held some long, fine instrument, with which a delicate
-operation was being performed. Were the extreme tip of the bill to be
-passed between the serratures of the claw, the motion would be just
-like this, at least I should think it would.
-
-People about here talk of a filament which they say grows out of
-one of the heron’s toes, and by looking like a worm in the water,
-attracts fish within his reach, in the same way as does the lure of the
-angler-fish. In Bury, once, seeing a heron--a sad sight--hanging up
-in a fishmonger’s shop, I looked at its feet, but did not notice any
-filament. This, indeed, was before I had heard the legend, but my idea
-is that it has sprung up in accordance with the popular view that the
-heron always waits, “like patience on a monument,” for his prey to
-come to him; whereas my own experience is that he prefers to stalk it
-for himself. I suspect, myself, that when the bird stands motionless,
-for any very great length of time, he is not on the look-out for a
-fish or eel, as commonly supposed, but resting and digesting merely.
-Certainly, should one approach, he might find himself under the
-necessity of securing it--his professional pride would be touched--but
-why, if he were hungry, should he wait so long? Why should he not
-rather do what, as we have seen, he is very well able to do, set out
-and find his own dinner? It need not take him five minutes to do so.
-One use, probably, of the long neck is that, from the height of it, the
-bird can peer out into the stream, as from a watch-tower, which is the
-simile that Darwin[13] has made use of in regard to the giraffe, an
-animal whose whole structure has been adapted for browsing in trees,
-but which has thereby gained this incidental advantage, with the result
-that no animal is more difficult to approach.
-
-I have given a picture--or, rather, a photograph--of how a pair of
-sitting herons relieve each other on the nest. It is interesting, also,
-to see one of them come to it, and commence sitting, when the other is
-away. Alighting on one of the supporting boughs that project from the
-mass of sticks, he walks down it with stealthy step and wary mien, the
-long neck craned forward, yet bent into a stiff, ungraceful S. Upon
-reaching the nest, he stands for some seconds on its brim, in a curious
-perpendicular attitude, the legs, body, and neck being almost in one
-straight line, from the top of which the snake-like head and spiked
-bill shoot sharply and angularly out. Standing thus, he raises himself
-a-tip-toe once or twice, as though it were St. Crispin’s Day, or to
-get the widest possible view of the landscape, before shutting himself
-out from it, then stepping into the nest, and sinking slowly down in
-it, becomes entirely concealed in its deep, capacious cavity. Both
-here, and, still more, in alighting, one cannot but notice the strange
-rigid aspect that the bird presents. “Cannot but,” I say, because one
-would like it to be otherwise--graceful, harmonious--but it is not.
-There are no subtle bends or curves--no seeming symmetry--but all is
-hard, stiff, and angular. Even the colours look crude and harsh, as
-they might in a bad oil painting. Nature _is_ sometimes “a rum ’un,” as
-Squeers said she was. Here she looks almost unnatural, very different
-from what an artist who aimed at being pleasing, merely, or plausible,
-would represent her as. This shows how cautious one ought to be in
-judging of the merits, or otherwise, of an animal artist. There are
-many more human than animal experts, and the latter, as a rule, are not
-artistic, so that, between critical ignorance and uncultured knowledge,
-good work may go for long before it gets a just recognition. Those who
-talk about Landseer having stooped to put human expressions into his
-animals, seem to me to be out of touch at any rate with dogs. Probably
-the thought of how profoundly the dog’s psychology has been affected by
-long intercourse with man has not occurred to them, it being outside
-their department. Sure I am that the expression of the dog in that
-picture, “The Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,” and of the two little King
-Charles spaniels lying on the cavalier’s hat, are quite perfect things.
-Even in that great painting of Diogenes and Alexander--removed, Heaven
-knows why, and to my lasting grief, from the National Gallery--though
-here there is an intentional humanising, yet it is wonderful how close
-Landseer has kept to _civilised_ canine expression--though one would
-vainly seek for even the shadows of such looks in the dogs of savages.
-As for Diogenes, the blending of reality with symbolical suggestion
-is simply marvellous. Never, I believe, will any human Diogenes, on
-canvas, approach to this animal one. Yet this masterpiece has been
-basely spirited away from its right and only worthy place--its true
-home--in our national collection, to make room, possibly, for some
-mushroom monstrosity of the time, some green-sick Euphrosyne or
-melancholy, snub-nosed Venus (the _modern_-ancient Greek type has often
-a snub nose). However, no one seems to mind.
-
-I think some law ought to be enacted to protect great works against
-the changes of fashion. Has not the view that succeeding ages judge
-better than that in which a poet or artist lived, been pressed a great
-deal too far, or, rather, has it not for too long gone unchallenged?
-If something must be gained by time in the power of forming a correct
-estimate, much also may be lost through its agency. It is true that the
-slighter merit--that dependent on changing things--dies in our regard,
-whilst the greater, which is independent of these, lives on in it and
-may be better understood as time goes by. But this better understanding
-belongs to the _élite_ of many ages, not to each succeeding age as
-a whole. And what, too, is understanding, without feeling? Must not
-the one be in proportion to the other--in all things, at least, into
-which feeling enters? But if an age sinks, it sinks altogether, both
-heart and head. We know how Shakespeare fared in the age of Charles
-the Second, when time had run some fifty years. It would be very
-interesting, I think, if we could compare an Elizabethan audience with
-one of our own--full of languid press critics--at a Shakespearean
-play--King Lear, for instance. Should we not have to confess that the
-age which produced the thing responded to it--that is, understood
-it--best? And this, indeed, we might expect--it was in Molière’s own
-day, and he himself was on the stage, when that cry from the pit
-arose: “Bravo Molière! Voilà la bonne comédie!” But all Shakespeare’s
-excellences--Molière’s as well--were of the permanent order, the high
-undying kind, so that it was of this that his age had to judge, and
-judged, there can be little doubt--for King Lear, _as he wrote it_, was
-a popular play--much better than our later one. If we will not confess
-this with Shakespeare, take Spenser, the delight of his age, whose
-glorious merits none will deny, though few, now, know anything about
-them. Why, then, must we think that time is the best judge of men’s
-work, or dwell only on the truth contained in this proposition? There
-is a heavy _per contra_ against it. At the time when a man’s reputation
-is most established, his work may be quite neglected, showing that
-there is knowledge, merely, accumulated and brought down through the
-ages, but no real appreciation--a husk with nothing inside it. That
-best judgment which we think we get through time, even where it exists,
-is too often of the head only, whilst more often still it is nothing at
-all, a mere assurance received without question--as we take any opinion
-from anybody, when we neither know nor care anything about the subject
-of it. How easy to agree that Milton’s greatness is more recognised,
-now, than it was, when we have never yet been able, and never again
-intend to try, to read the “Paradise Lost”! It is the same with our
-detractions. If all the inappreciative, silly things said about Pope
-are really meant by the people who say them--as they seem to wish us to
-believe, and, as for my part, I do not doubt--if they really _cannot_
-enjoy “The Rape of the Lock,” “The Dunciad,” or the various “Essays,”
-then, in the matter of Pope, what a dull age this must be, compared to
-that of Queen Anne! And are we really to believe that Goethe, Scott,
-Shelley, with the rest of their generation, were mistaken about Byron,
-whilst we of to-day are not? What was it that Scott’s, that Shelley’s
-organism thrilled to, when they read him, with high delight, if some
-microscopic creature who reads him now is right when he finds him
-third-rate? It is very odd, surely, if the most gifted spirits of an
-age do really “see Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt” in this way. To
-me it seems less puzzling to suppose that successive generations have,
-as it were, varying sense organs, which are acted upon by different
-numbers of vibrations of the ether, so that for one to belittle the
-idol of another, is as it would be for the ear to fall foul of
-millions in a second, it being sensitive, itself, only to thousands. We
-do, indeed, admit the “_Zeitgeist_,” but if ever we allow for it when
-we play the critic, it is always in favour of our own perspicuity--and
-this against any number of past spiritual giants. This is an age in
-which most things are questioned. Is it not time for that dogma of what
-we call “the test of time”--by which everybody understands his own
-time--to be questioned, too?
-
-“In April,” says the rhyme, “the cuckoo shows his bill.” Somewhat
-late April, in my experience, at least about this bleak, open part
-of Suffolk, which, however, contrary to what might be expected,
-seems loved by the bird. Almost opposite to my house, but at some
-little distance from it, across the river, there is a wide expanse of
-open, sandy land, more or less thinly clothed with a long, coarse,
-wiry grass, and dotted, irregularly, at very wide intervals, with
-elder and hawthorn trees and bushes--a desolate prospect, which I
-prefer, myself, to one of cornfields, unless the corn is all full of
-poppies and corn-flowers, which, indeed, it is here, and I am told
-it is bad agriculture. If that be so, then, _à bas_ the good! Part
-of this space, where the sand encroaches on the grass, till it is
-shared, at last, only by short, dry lichen, which the rabbits browse,
-I call the amphitheatre, it being roughly circular in shape. One
-solitary crab-apple tree--from the seed, no doubt, of the cultivated
-kind--growing on its outer edge, is a perfect glory of blossom in the
-spring, and becomes, then, quite a landmark. This barren space is a
-favourite gathering-ground of the stone-curlews; whilst cuckoos seem
-to prefer the more grassy expanse, flying about it from one lonely bush
-or tree to another, and down a wild-grown hedge that tops a raised bank
-on one side, running from a tangled plantation standing sad and sombre
-on the distant verge. Beyond, and all around, is the moorland; whilst
-nearer, through a reedy line, the slow river creeps to the fenlands. I
-have seen sights, here, to equal many in spots better known for their
-beauty, not meaning to undervalue these; but as long as there is sun,
-air, and sky, one may see almost anything anywhere. Take an early May
-morning--fine, but as cold as can be. Though the sun is brilliant in a
-clear, blue sky, the earth is yet white with frost, and over it hang
-illuminated mists that rise curling up, like the smoke from innumerable
-camp-fires. A rabbit, sitting upright with them all around him, looks
-as though he were warming his paws at one, and cuckoos, flitting
-through the misty sea, appearing and fading like the shades of birds
-in Hades, make the effect quite magical. Nature’s white magic this--oh
-short, rare glimpses of a real fairyland, soon to be swallowed up in
-this world’s great tedium and commonplace! It is in the afternoon,
-however, from 5 o’clock or thereabouts, and on into the evening,
-that the cuckoo playground is best worth visiting. Quite a number of
-cuckoos--a dozen sometimes, or even more--now fly continually from bush
-to bush, or sit perched in them, sometimes two or more in the same one.
-They fly irregularly over the whole space, and, by turns, all are with
-one another, and on every bush and tree that there is. Two will be
-here, three or four there, half-a-dozen or more somewhere else, whilst
-the groups are constantly intermingling, the members of one becoming
-those of another, two growing into four or five, these, again, thinning
-into two or one, and so on. But during the height of the play or sport,
-or whatever we may term it, there is hardly a moment when birds may not
-be seen in pursuit, or, rather, in graceful following flight, of one
-another, over some or other part of the space. This space--an irregular
-area of about 1100 paces in circumference--they seldom go beyond or
-leave, except for good, and as they repair to it daily, at about the
-same times, this makes it, in some real sense, their playground, as I
-have called it.
-
-But, now, what is the nature of the play, and in what does the pleasure
-consist? If it be sexual, as I suppose, then it would seem as if the
-passions of the cuckoo were of a somewhat languid nature. The birds,
-even when there is most the appearance of pursuit, do not, in a
-majority of cases, seem to wish to approach each other closely. The
-rule is that when the pursued or leading cuckoo settles in a tree or
-bush, the pursuing or following one flies beyond it, into another.
-Should the latter, however, settle in the same bush, the other, just
-as he alights--often on the very same twig--flies on to the next. This
-certainly looks like desire on the part of the one bird; but where two
-or more sit in the same tree, or in two whose branches interpenetrate,
-they show no wish for a very near proximity. The delight seems to be
-in flying or sitting in company, but the company need not be close.
-That the sexual incentive is the foundation-stone of all, can hardly
-be doubted, but this does not appear to be of an ardent character,
-and perhaps social enjoyment, independent of sex, may enter almost as
-largely. After all, however, the same may be said of the sportings of
-peewits and other birds, when the breeding-time is only beginning, so
-that, perhaps, there is not really any very distinctive feature. Be it
-as it may, this sporting of cuckoos is a very pretty and graceful thing
-to see. Beginning, as I have said, in the latter part of the afternoon,
-it is at its height between 6 and 7 o’clock, then gradually wanes, but
-lasts, as far as odd pairs of birds are concerned, for another hour or
-more. As may be imagined, it does not proceed in silence; but what is
-curious--yet very noticeable--is that the familiar cuckoo is not so
-often heard. Far more frequent is a noisy “cack-a-cack, cack-a-cack,”
-a still louder “cack, cack, cack”--a very loud note indeed--the loud,
-single “cook” disjoined from its softening syllable, and the curious
-“whush, whush” or “whush, whush, whush-a-whoo-whoo.” The last is very
-common, seems to express everything, but is uttered, I think, oftenest
-when the bird is excited. Again, instead of “cuckoo,” one sometimes
-hears “cuc-kew-oop,” the last syllable being divided, with a sort of
-gulp in the throat, making it a three-syllabled cry. This difference
-is very marked, and, moreover, the intonation is different, being much
-more musical. All these notes, and others less easy to transcribe, are
-uttered by the bird, either flying or sitting. Another one, different
-from all, and very peculiar, is generally heard under the latter
-condition, but by no means invariably so. It is a sharp, thin “quick,
-quick, quick-a-quick,” or “kick, kick, kick-a-kick,” pronounced very
-quickly, and in a high tone. Whether this is the note of the female
-cuckoo only, I cannot say. I have often heard it in answer to a
-“cuckoo,” but I am not yet satisfied that even this last is uttered by
-the male bird alone. To this point, however, I will recur.
-
-Now, all the above variants of the familiar “cuckoo”--the “cook,”
-“cack,” “cack-a-cack,” “cuc-kew-oop,” &c.--I have heard both in May
-and April, as any one else may do who will only listen. But in what
-other way does the cuckoo “change his tune,” which, according to the
-old rhyme, he does “in June”? “In June he changes his tune.” This, at
-least, is what I take it to mean, and it is so understood, about here.
-It can, I think, only mean this, and if it means anything else it is
-equally false in my experience. I think, before putting faith in old
-country jingles of this sort, one ought to remember two things. First,
-that ordinary country people are not particularly observant, except,
-perhaps, of one another; and then, that, as a general principle--this
-at least is my firm belief--a rhyme will always carry it over the
-truth, if the latter is not too preposterously outraged. Something,
-in this case, was wanted to rhyme with June, as with all the other
-months, in which it happened to come pretty pat. Oh, then, let the
-cuckoo change his _tune_, for you may hear him do it then as well
-as at another time. And many poets, too--most, perhaps, now and
-again--led by this same bad necessity of rhyming, run counter to truth
-in just the same way. Rhyme, indeed, is in many respects a pernicious
-influence. It is constraining, cramps the powers of expression, checks
-effective detail, and coarsens or starves the more delicate shades and
-touches. Yet, with all the limitations and shacklings which its use
-must necessarily impose, we have amongst us a set of purists who are
-always crying out against any rhyme which is not absolutely exact,
-though that it is sufficiently so to please the ear--and what more is
-required?--is proved by this, that many of our best-loved couplets
-rhyme no better--and by this, that the ear is pleased with rhythm
-alone, as in blank verse. And so the fetters, instead of being widened,
-as they ought to be, are to be pulled closer and closer, and, to get
-an absolute jingle, all higher considerations--and there can hardly
-be one that is not higher--are to be sacrificed. I doubt if there has
-ever been a poet whose own ear would have led him to be so nice in
-this way; but so-called critics--for the most part the most artificial
-and inappreciative of men--weave their net of nothing around them.
-Happy for our literature, and for peoples still to be moved by it,
-to whom what was thought by the old British pedants to constitute a
-cockney rhyme will be a matter but of learned-trifling interest--if of
-any--when “these waterflies” are disregarded! By great poets I would
-be understood to mean. As for the other ones, “_de minimis_”--yes, and
-“_de minoribus_,” too, here--“_non curat lex_.” _Mais laissons tout
-cela._
-
-There can hardly be a better place for observing the ways of cuckoos
-than this open amphitheatre which I have spoken of. It is not only
-their playing-ground, but their feeding-ground, too, and the way in
-which they feed is very interesting--at least, I think it so. The few
-hawthorns and elders that are scattered about, serve them as so many
-watch-towers. Sitting, usually, on some top bough of one, they seem
-to be resting, but really keep a watch upon the ground. The moment
-their quick eye catches anything “of the right breed” there, they fly
-down to it, swallow it on the spot, and then fly back to their station
-again. When they have exhausted one little territory they fly to a
-bush commanding another, and so from bush to bush. They always fly
-down to a particular spot, and in a direct line, without wavering.
-This proves that they have seen the object from where they were
-sitting, though often it is at a distance which might make one think
-this impossible. Their eyesight must be wonderfully good, but that,
-of course, one would expect. I have seen a cuckoo fly from one bush
-like this, and return to it, again, eight or nine times in succession,
-at short, though irregular, intervals. Both on this and on other
-occasions, whenever I could make out what the bird got, it was always a
-fair-sized, reddish-coloured worm, very much like those one looks for
-in a dung-heap, to go perch or gudgeon fishing. When the bush was near
-I could see this quite easily through the glasses, if only the bird
-showed the worm in its bill, as it raised its head. As a rule, however,
-it bolted it too quickly, whilst it was still indistinguishable amidst
-the grass. Now, from time to time, we have accounts of cuckoos
-arriving in this country somewhat earlier than usual--in March, say,
-instead of April--and these have been discredited on the ground that
-the proper insects would not then be ready for the bird, so that it
-would starve; though as birds, like the poor in a land of blessings,
-sometimes do starve, I can hardly see the force of this argument.
-However, here is the cuckoo feeding--largely, as it seems to me--upon
-worms, which are not insects, and this might make it possible for it to
-arrive, sometimes, at an earlier season, and yet find enough to eat.
-It is easy to watch cuckoos feeding in this way in open country, such
-as we have here, and a fascinating sight it is. Were I to see it every
-day of my life, I think I should be equally interested, each time. But
-is it an adaptation to special surroundings, or the bird’s ordinary way
-of getting its dinner? I think the latter, for I have seen it going on
-in one of the plantations, here, from shortly after daybreak. Here the
-birds flew from the lower boughs of oaks and beeches, and their light
-forms, crossing and recrossing one another in the soft, pure air of
-the early morning, had a very charming effect. Indeed, I do not know
-anything more delightful to see. Though, usually, the cuckoo eats what
-it finds where it finds it, yet, once in a while, it may carry it to
-the bush, and dispose of it there. I have, also, seen it fly up from
-the bush, and secure an insect in the air, returning to it, then, like
-a gigantic fly-catcher. Such ways in such a bird are very entertaining.
-
-My idea is that the cuckoo is in process of becoming
-nocturnal--crepuscular it already is--owing to the persecution which
-it suffers at the hands of small birds. This is at its worst during
-the blaze of day. It hardly begins before the sun is fairly high, and
-slackens considerably as the evening draws on. Accordingly, as it
-seems to me, the cuckoo likes, in the between-while, to sit still,
-and thus avoid observation, though it by no means always succeeds
-in doing so. It is frequently annoyed by one small bird only, which
-pursues it, from tree to tree, in a most persevering manner, perching
-when it perches, sometimes just over its head, but very soon flying
-at it, again, and forcing it to take flight. This is not like the
-shark and the pilot-fish, but yet it always reminds me of it. I am
-not quite sure, however, whether the relation may not sometimes be a
-friendly one, not, indeed, on the part of the cuckoo, but on that of
-its persevering attendant. All over the country cuckoos are, each year,
-being reared by small birds of various species. When the spring comes
-round again, have these entirely forgotten their experience of the
-season before? If not, would not the sight, and, perhaps, still more,
-the smell of a cuckoo, rouse a train of associations which might induce
-them to fly towards it, in a state of excitement, and would it not be
-difficult to distinguish this from anger? Moreover, the probability,
-perhaps, is that the young cuckoos, as well as the old ones, return to
-the localities that they were established in before migration, and,
-in this case, they would be likely to meet their old foster parents
-again. It is true that the real parent and offspring, amongst birds,
-meet and mingle, in after life, without any emotion upon either side,
-as far, at least, as we can judge; but we must remember what a strange
-and striking event the rearing of a young cuckoo must be in the life
-of a small bird, at least the first time it occurs. The smell, also,
-would not be that of its own species, so that there would be more
-than appearance to distinguish it. In fact, the thing having been
-peculiar, the feelings aroused by it may have been stronger, in which
-case the memory might be stronger too, and revive these feelings, or,
-at least, it might arouse some sort of emotion, possibly of a vague
-and indistinct kind. Smell is powerful in calling up associations, and
-I speculate upon the possibility of its doing so, here, because the
-plumage of the young cuckoo, when it left its foster-parents, would
-have been different to that in which it must return to them. However,
-these are dreams. There is certainly much hostility on the part of
-small birds to the cuckoo, but perhaps it is just possible that _l’un
-n’empêche pas l’autre_.
-
-The cuckoo, when thus mobbed and annoyed, is supposed to be mistaken
-for a hawk. But do his persecutors fear him, as a hawk? My opinion is
-that they do not, and that even though they may begin to annoy him,
-under the idea that he is one, they very soon become aware, either
-that he is not, or, at least, that they need not mind him if he is.
-It is even possible that small birds may, long ago, have found out
-the difference between a hawk and a cuckoo, but that the habit, once
-begun, continues, so that it is, now, as much the thing to mob the
-one as the other. Be this as it may, I do not think that hawks suffer
-from this sort of annoyance, to anything like the same extent that
-cuckoos do. They have always seemed to me to be pretty indifferent,
-and the _canaille_ to keep at a wary distance, whereas I have seen a
-chaffinch plunge right down on the back of a cuckoo, who ducked his
-head, and moved about on the branch where he was sitting, in a manner,
-and with a look, to excite pity, before flying off it, pursued by his
-petty antagonist. But hawks--even kestrels--may sit in trees for hours
-unmolested, though the whole grove know of their presence there.
-
-Whilst watching the cuckoos sporting in their playground, and on other
-occasions, I have tried to come to a conclusion as to whether the
-male only, or both the sexes cuckoo. I have not, however, been able
-to make up my mind, and to me the point seems difficult to settle.
-(It has been settled, I know, but I don’t think that settles it.) The
-sexes being indistinguishable in field observation, we have to apply
-some test whereby we may know the one from the other, before we can
-say which of the two it is that cuckoos on any one occasion. But what
-test can we apply, other than the bird’s actions, and until we know
-how these differ in the sexes, how can we apply it? For how long,
-too, as a rule, can we watch any one bird, and when two or more are
-together how can we keep them distinct? Some crucial acts, however,
-there are, which one sex alone can perform, and if a man could spend
-a week or two in watching, for a reasonable length of time each day,
-cuckoos that in this way had declared themselves to be females, he
-would then be able to speak, on this point, with authority. One way,
-indeed, he might prove the thing in a moment, but not the other way.
-For instance, if he were to see a cuckoo lay an egg, and if that cuckoo
-cuckooed, the assumption that the male bird alone can do so would be,
-at once, disproved; but if it merely did not cuckoo, the question
-would lie open, as before. The chance, however, of making such an
-observation as this is an exceedingly small one. We must think of some
-other that would be equally a test. Certain activities may bring the
-sexes together, by themselves, but nidification, incubation, and the
-rearing of the young, are all non-existent in the case of the cuckoo.
-The problem cannot be solved in the way that I have solved it, with
-the nightjar. There is, however, the nuptial rite, and if we could see
-this performed, and were able to keep the sexes distinct, for some time
-afterwards, something, perhaps, might be got at. Let us suppose, then,
-that two cuckoos are observed under these circumstances, and that the
-male, only, cuckoos. Here, again, this would be mere negative evidence,
-in regard to the point in dispute. Either both the birds, or the female
-only, must cuckoo, or else the observation, so difficult to make, must
-be repeated indefinitely, and, moreover, each time that neither bird
-cuckooed--which might very often be the case--nothing whatever would
-have been gained.
-
-This is the view I take of the difficulties which lie in the way of
-really knowing whether the male and female cuckoo utter distinct
-notes. Short of the test I have suggested, one can only, I believe,
-come to a conclusion by begging the question--which has accordingly
-been done. Personally, as I say, I have not made up my mind; but I
-incline to think that both the sexes cuckoo. On one occasion, when the
-behaviour of a pair that I was watching seemed emphatically of a sexual
-character, the bird which I should have said was the female did so,
-several times, in full view; and the other, I think, cuckooed also. But
-here, again, I could not say for certain that the two were not males,
-and that conduct, which seemed to me eager and amorous, especially on
-the part of one bird--it was the other that certainly cuckooed--was
-not, really, of a bellicose character. Another pair I watched for many
-days in succession, from soon after their first arrival, as I imagine,
-and when not another cuckoo was to be seen or heard far or near. They
-took up their abode in a small fir plantation, and were constantly
-chasing and sporting with one another. That, at least, is what it
-looked like. If what seemed sport was really skirmishing, then it seems
-odd that two males should have acted thus, without a female to excite
-them. Would it not be odd, too, for two males to repair, thus, to the
-same spot, and to continue to dwell there, being always more or less
-together and following one another about? Though it was early in April,
-therefore, and though we are told that the male cuckoo arrives, each
-year, before the female, I yet came to the conclusion that these birds
-were husband and wife. At first it seemed to me that only one of them
-cuckooed, but afterwards I changed my opinion, though the two never did
-so at the same time, or answered each other, whilst I had them both
-in view. This, however, had they both been males, they probably would
-have done. Space does not allow of my giving these two instances _in
-extenso_, so I will here conclude my remarks about the cuckoo; for I
-have nothing to say--at least nothing new and of my own observation--in
-regard to its most salient peculiarity--though for saying nothing, upon
-that account, I think I deserve some credit.
-
-[Illustration: MALE WHEAT-EAR]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-Another bird, very characteristic, whilst it stays, of the steppes of
-Icklingham, is the wheat-ear. A blithe day it is when the first pair
-arrive, in splendid plumage always--the male quite magnificent, the
-female, with her softer shades, like a tender afterglow to his fine
-sunset. Both are equally pleasing to look at, but the cock bird is by
-much the more amusing to watch.
-
-Who shall describe him and all his nice little ways--his delicate
-little hops; his still more delicate little pauses, when he stands
-upright like a sentinel; his little just-one-flirt of the wings,
-without going up; his little, sudden fly over the ground, with his
-coming down, soon, and standing as though surprised at what he had
-done; or, lastly and chiefly, his strange, mad rompings--one may almost
-call them--wherein he tosses himself a few yards into the air, and
-comes pitching, tumultuously, down, as though he would tumble all of a
-heap, yet never fails to alight, cleanly, on his dainty little black
-legs? This last is “Ercles’ vein, a tyrant’s vein”: and yet he has
-higher flights, bolder efforts. In display, for instance, before the
-female, he will fly round in circles, at a moderate height, with his
-tail fanned out, making, all the while, a sharp little snappy sort of
-twittering, and clapping his wings from time to time. He does this
-at irregular, but somewhat long intervals, but sometimes, instead of
-a roundabout, he will mount right up, and then, at once, descend, in
-that same tumultuous, disorderly sort of way, as though he were thrown,
-several times, by some unseen hand, in the same general direction--it
-looks much more like that than flying. But there is variation here,
-too, and the bird’s ruffling, tousled descent, may be exchanged for a
-drop, plumb down, till, when almost touching the ground, it slants off,
-and flits over it, for a little, before finally settling. The ascent
-is by little spasms of flight, divided from one another by a momentary
-cessation of effort, during which the wings are pressed to the sides.
-
-Larks will mount something in this way, too, and, after descending
-for some time, parachute-wise, and singing, one will often fold his
-wings to his sides, and shoot down, head first--a little “jubilee
-plunger”--for his song is a jubilee. Another way to come down is at
-a tangent, and sideways, the tip of one wing pointing the way, like
-the bowsprit of a little ship. Yet another is by terraces, as I call
-it; that is to say, after the first dive down from where it has hung
-singing, the bird sweeps along, for a little, at one level--which is a
-terrace--then dives, again, to another one, a little below it, sweeps
-along on that, descends to a third, and so on, down to the ground.
-There is, indeed, a good deal of individual variety in the way in
-which larks fly--at least between any two or more that one may see
-doing the same thing at the same time--soaring, descending, and so on.
-The flight itself is of many kinds--as the ordinary, the mount up to
-the watch-tower (“from his watch-tower in the skies”), the hanging,
-motionless, on extended wings, the descent, the serene on-sailing,
-without a stroke, as of the eagle; and, again, the suspension, with
-wings lightly quivering, as the kestrel hovers. But how different
-is the character impressed upon these last! What the eagle does in
-majesty, and the hawk in rapine, that the lark does in beauty only, in
-music of motion and song.
-
-All this, of course, is in the spring and summer only. In the winter,
-when they flock, larks fly low over the land, and this they all do in
-much the same way. Though most of their poetry is now gone, or lies
-slumbering, yet they are still interesting little birds to watch. They
-walk or run briskly along the ground, and continually peck down upon
-it, with a quick little motion of the head. They appear to direct
-each peck with precision, and to get something each time, but what I
-cannot say. It may be anything, as long as it is minute; that seems to
-be the principle--so that, as one sees nothing, it is like watching a
-barmecide feast. Larks never hop, I believe, when thus feeding, though
-sometimes the inequalities of the ground give them the appearance of
-doing so. They look and move like little quails, crowd not, but keep
-together in a scattered togetherness, and fly, all together, over the
-hard earth, often seeming to be on the point of alighting, but changing
-their minds and going on, so that no man--“no, nor woman either”--can
-say whether, or when, they will settle. Creeping thus--for, however
-fast they go, they seem to creep--over the brown fields in winter,
-the very shape of these little birds seems different to what one has
-known it. They look flatter, less elongated; their body is like a small
-globe, flattened at the poles, and the short little tail projects from
-it, clearly and sharply. A staid tail it is in winter. I have never
-seen it either wagged or flirted; for between the wagging and flirting
-of a bird’s tail, there is, as Chaucer says about two quite different
-things, “a long and largé difference.” Much charm in these little
-birdies, even when winter reigns and
-
-    “Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind.”
-
-Occasionally one hears, from amongst them, a little, short, musical,
-piping, note--musical, but
-
-    “Oh tamquam mutatus ab illo.”
-
-By February, however, larks are soaring and singing, though, at
-this time, they do not mount very high. The song, too, is not fully
-developed, and is, often, no more than a pleasant, musical twittering,
-especially when two or more chase one another through the air. It is
-curious how often just three birds together do this, a thing I have
-many times noticed--not with larks only--and which I believe to lie at
-the base of any antic--such, for instance, as that of the spur-winged
-lapwing of La Plata--in which three, and no more, take a part. These
-trios look like a pair in love, and an interloper, but it may be two
-wanting, and one not caring; or again, as it has often seemed to me,
-none of the three may be very much in earnest. Be it as it may, with
-the larks, at this time, there are some delightful chasings, delightful
-skimmings and flutterings, and then all three mount into the air, and
-sing delightfully--a little _Lobegesang_. Nature--wild nature--has two
-voices, a song of joy and a shriek of agony. Eternally they mingle and
-sound through one another, but, on the whole, joy largely predominates.
-But when we come to man we get the intermediates; the proportions
-change, the shadows lengthen, the sky becomes clouded, one knows not
-what to think.
-
-In winter the larks, here, as one might expect, keep entirely to
-the agricultural part of the country that encircles or intersects
-the numerous barren stretches. As the spring comes on, they spread
-over these, too, but here they are much outnumbered by their poor
-relations, the titlarks, to whom such wildernesses are a paradise.
-Indeed, by his pleasing ways, and, especially, by the beauty of his
-flight, this sober-suited, yet elegant little bird helps to make them
-so. With his little “too-i, too-i” note, he soars to a height which,
-compared, indeed, to the skylark’s “pride of place,” is as mediocrity
-to genius; but having attained it, he comes down very prettily--more
-prettily, perhaps, than does his gifted relative. The delicate little
-wings are extended, but raised, especially when nearing the ground,
-to some height above the back, and the fragile body, suspended between
-them like the car of a tiny balloon, seems to swing and sway with the
-air. The tail, though downward-borne with the rest of the bird, feels
-still some “skyey influences,” for it is “tip-tilted,” and as “like
-the petal of a flower,” I fancy, as any nose on any face. As the bird
-nears the heather from which he started--for he especially loves the
-moorlands--he, too (perhaps all birds have), has a way of gliding a
-little onwards above it, poised in this manner, which adds much to the
-grace of his descent. Then, softly sinking amidst it, he sits elastic
-on a springy spray, or walks with dainty, picked steps over the sandy
-shoals that lie amidst its tufty sea. This, indeed, is one of his
-show descents. Not all of them are so pretty. In some the wings are
-not quite so raised, so that their lighter-coloured under-surface--an
-especial point of beauty--is not seen. Sometimes, too, the titlark
-plunges and sweeps earthwards almost perpendicularly, his tail trailing
-after him like a little brown comet. But, whatever he does, he is a
-dainty little bird with a beauty all his own, and which is none the
-less for being of that kind which is not showy, but “sober, steadfast,
-and demure.”
-
-Now does this flight, which I have described--the mounting and return
-to earth again--more resemble that of a lark or a wagtail? It is the
-new way to class the pipits with the latter birds, instead of with the
-former, which, now, they “only superficially resemble.” Had they been
-classed, hitherto, with the wagtails, it would, probably, have been
-discovered that they only superficially resembled _them_, and were
-really larks--and so it goes on, in that never-ending change-about,
-called classification. If the pipits are not larks, why, first, do
-they fly like them, and then, again, why do they sing like them? There
-is a certain resemblance of tone, even in the poor, weak notes of the
-meadow-pipit, and no one can listen to the rich and beautiful melody of
-the tree-pipit, as it descends to earth, in a very lark-like manner,
-singing all the time, without recognising its affinity with that of
-the skylark, to which--in Germany, at any rate--it is hardly inferior.
-Is song, then, so superficial? To me it seems a very important
-consideration in settling a bird’s family relationship. How strange it
-would be to find a dove, duck, crow, gull, eagle, parrot, &c., whose
-voice did not, to some extent, remind one of the group to which it
-belonged! Is there anything more distinctive amongst ourselves? The
-members of a family will often more resemble one another in the tone
-of their voice than in any other particular, even though there may be
-a strong family likeness, as well. Structure is _quelque chose_, no
-doubt; especially as, dissection not being a popular pastime, one has
-to submit to any statement that one reads, till the professor on whose
-authority it rests is contradicted by some other professor--as, in due
-time, he will be, but, meanwhile, one has to wait. Classification,
-however, should take account of everything, and, for my part, having
-heard the tree-pipit sing, and seen both it and the titlark fly, I
-mistrust any system which declares such birds to be wagtails and not
-larks.
-
-I think our caution in accepting merely adaptive resemblances as tests
-of relationship may be pushed a little too far. A bat flies in the same
-general way as a bird, but we do not find it practising little tricks
-and ways--with an intimate style of flight, so to speak--resembling
-that of some particular group of birds. All men walk; yet a man, by his
-walk, may proclaim the family to which he belongs. A thousand points of
-similarity may meet to make any such resemblance, but it is not likely
-that they should unless they were founded on a similarity of structure.
-Surely, too, the resemblances of notes and tones must rest upon
-corresponding ones in the vocal organs, though these may be too minute
-to be made out. To some extent, indeed, these principles may be applied
-to get the titlarks into either family. It is a question of balance.
-That there is something in common between them and the wagtails I do
-not deny, and the fact that when the two meet on the Icklingham steppes
-neither seems to know the other, proves nothing in regard to the
-nearness or otherwise of the relationship.
-
-The male of the pied- or water-wagtail may often be seen courting
-the female here, and a pretty sight it is to see. He ruffles out his
-feathers so that his breast looks like a little ball, and runs to her
-in a warm, possession-taking way, with his wings drooped, and his tail
-expanded and sweeping the ground. She, quite unmoved, makes a little
-peck at him, as though saying, “Be off with you!” whereat he, obeying,
-runs briskly off, but turning when hardly more than a foot away, comes
-down upon her, again, even more warmly than before. She may relent,
-then, or she may not, but, at this point, another male generally
-interferes, when all three fly away together. There is a good deal
-of similarity between the courtship of the wagtail and that of the
-pheasant, for, having run up to the hen, the little bird, if not too
-brusquely repulsed, will run about her in a semicircle, drooping his
-wing upon that side, more especially, which is turned towards her, so
-as to show all that she can see--and this I have seen the pheasant do,
-time after time, with the greatest deliberation.
-
-Having noticed this method in the wagtail, I have looked for it in the
-wheat-ear, also--the two may often be studied together--but I have not
-yet seen him act in quite the same way. His chief efforts, no doubt,
-are those aerial ones of which I have spoken, but having exhausted
-these, or after sitting for some time on the top twig of an elder,
-singing quite a pretty little song, he will often pursue the object of
-his adoration over the sunny sand, with ruffled plumage, and head held
-down. He is reduced to it, I suppose, but it seems quite absurd that he
-should be. He _ought_ to be irresistible, dressed as he is, for what
-more can be wanted? Nothing can be purer, or more delicately picked
-out, than his colouring--his back cream-grey, his breast greyey-cream.
-Divided by the broad, black band of the wings, these tintings would
-fain meet upon the neck and chin, but, here, a lovely little chestnut
-sea, which neither can o’erpass, still keeps them apart. They cannot
-cross it, to mingle warmly with each other and make, perhaps, a richer
-hue. _Fas obstat_--but fate, in chestnut, is so soft and pretty that
-neither of them seems to mind. Then there are pencilled lines of black
-and chastened white upon the face, a softening into white upon the
-chin, and a dab of pure white above the tail--but this you only see in
-flight. The tail itself seems black when it disports itself staidly,
-for it is the black tip, then, beyond the black of the wings, that you
-see. Marry, when it flirteth itself into the air, as it doth full oft,
-then it showeth itself white, cloaked in a chestnut. The pert little
-bill and affirmative legs are black. This is how I catch the bird,
-running over the warrens, it is not from a specimen on a table; not
-so exact, therefore, and yet, perhaps, more so--“lesser than Macbeth,
-yet greater.” Truly these wheat-ears, at 7 o’clock in the morning,
-with the sun shining, are splendid--which is what General Buller said
-his men were--but I prefer their uniform to khaki; I am not sure,
-however, whether I prefer it to that of the stone-chat, which, though
-less salient, is superior in warmth and richness. Both these handsome
-little birds sometimes flash about together in sandy spaces over the
-moorlands, or may even be seen perched on the same solitary hawthorn or
-elder. Then is the time to compare their styles, and not to know which
-to like best.
-
-The stone-chat, by virtue of his little, harsh, twittering “char,”
-which, as long as you are near him, never leaves off, seems always to
-be an angry bird. With this assumed state of his mind, his motions,
-when he chars like this, seem exactly to correspond. There is something
-in his quick little flights about, from one heather-tuft to another, in
-the way he leaves and the way he comes down upon them, in the little
-impatient flutter of the wings, and bold assertive flirt of the tail,
-supported--in spite of a constant threat of overbalancing--by a firm
-attitude, that suggests a fiery temper. You get this, more especially,
-through the tail. It is flirted _at you_, that tail. You feel that,
-and, also, that the intention, if questioned, would be avouched,
-that were you to say to the bird, sternly and firmly--in the manner
-of Abraham accosting Samson--“Do you flirt your tail at me, sir?”
-the answer, instead of a pitiful, shuffling evasion--a half-hearted
-quibble--would be an uncompromising, “I do flirt my tail at you, sir.”
-One cannot doubt this--at least I cannot. So sure, in fact, have I
-always felt about it, that I have never yet asked the question. Why
-should I--_knowing_ what the answer would be? But though this seems to
-be the stone-chat’s mental attitude, when bob and flirt and flutter are
-as the gesticulations accompanying hot utterance--the impatient “char,
-char, charring”--yet, when this last is wanting--which is when he
-doesn’t see you--all seems changed, and such motions, set in silence,
-assume a softened character. Now, instead of to the harsh chatter, it
-is to the soft purity of the bird’s colouring that they seem to respond.
-
-Of all the birds that we have here, the peewits, for a great part of
-the year, give most life to the barren lands. In the winter, as I
-say, they disappear entirely, going off to the fens, though, here and
-there, their voice remains, mimicked, to the life, by a starling. In
-February, however, they return, and are soon sporting, and throwing
-their fantastic somersaults, over their old, loved breeding-grounds.
-Pleasant it is to have this breezy joy of spring-time, once again,
-to have the accustomed tilts and turns and falls and rushing sweeps,
-before one’s eyes, and the old calls and cries in one’s ears--the
-sound of the wings, too, free as the wild air they beat, and sunlight
-glints on green and white, and silver-flying snowflakes. “What a piece
-of work is a _peewit_!” The glossy green of the upper surface--smooth
-and shining as the shards of a beetle--glows, in places, with purple
-burnishings, and, especially, on each shoulder there is an intensified
-patch, the last bright twin-touch of adornment. The pure, shining white
-of the neck and ventral surface--shining almost into silver as it
-catches the sun--is boldly and beautifully contrasted with the black
-of the throat, chin, and forehead. The neat little, corally stilt-legs
-are an elegant support for so much beauty, and the crest that crowns
-it is as the fringe to the scarf, or the tassel to the fez. There is,
-besides, the walk, pose, poise, and easy swing of the whole body.
-
-On the sopped meadow-land, near the river, in “February fill-dyke”
-weather, it is pleasant to see peewits bathing, which they do with
-mannerisms of their own. Standing upright in a little pool, one of
-them bobs down, into it, several times, each time scooping up the
-water with his head, and letting it run down over his neck and back.
-This is common; but he keeps his wings all the time pressed to his
-sides, so that they do not assist in scattering the water all over him,
-after the manner in which birds, when they wash, usually do. Nor does
-he sink upon his breast--which is also usual--but merely stoops, and
-rises bolt upright, again, every time. Having tubbed in this clean,
-precise, military fashion, he steps an inch or so to one side, and
-then jumps into the air, giving his wings, as he goes up, a vigorous
-flapping, or waving rather, for they move like two broad banners. He
-descends--the motion of the wings having hardly carried him beyond
-the original impulse of the spring--jumps up in the same way, again,
-and does this some three or four times, after which he moves a little
-farther off, and preens himself with great satisfaction. Either this is
-a very original method of washing, on the part of peewits in general,
-or this particular peewit is a very original bird. Apparently the
-latter is the explanation, for now two other ones bathe, couched on
-their breasts in the ordinary manner. Still the wings are not extended
-to any great degree, and play a less part in the washing process than
-is usual. Both these birds, too, having washed, which takes a very
-little while, make the little spring into the air, whilst, at the same
-time, shaking or waving their wings above their backs, in the way that
-the other did, though not quite so briskly, so that it has a still more
-graceful appearance. It is common for birds to give their wings a good
-shake after a bathe, but, as a rule, they stand firm on the ground,
-and this pretty aerial way of doing things is something of a novelty,
-and most pleasing. It is like the graceful waving of the hands in the
-air, by which the Normans--as Scott tells us--having had recourse to
-the finger-bowl, at table, suffered the moisture to exhale, instead of
-drying them, clumsily, on a towel, as did the inelegant Saxons. The
-peewit, it is easy to see, is of gentle Norman blood.
-
-[Illustration: A STATUESQUE FIGURE
-
-_Snipe, with Starlings Bathing, and Peewits_]
-
-Towards evening, a flock of starlings come down amongst the peewits,
-and some of them bathe, too, in one of the little dykes that run across
-the marshlands. There is a constant spraying of water into the air,
-which, sparkling in the sun’s slanting rays, makes quite a pretty
-sight. On the edge of the dyke, with the _jets d’eaux_ all about him,
-a snipe stands sunning himself, on a huge molehill of black alluvial
-earth. He stands perfectly still for a very long time, then scratches
-his chin very deftly with one foot, and stands again. Were I an artist
-I would sketch this scene--this solitary statuesque snipe, on his
-great black molehill, against the silver fountains rising from the
-dark dyke; beyond, through the water-drops, peewits and starlings,
-busy or resting, all in the setting sun--“_im Abendsonnenschein_.”
-The starlings are constantly moving, and often fly from one part of
-the land to another. With the peewits it is different. They do not
-move about, to nearly the same extent. To watch and wait seems to be
-their principle, and when they do move, it is but a few steps forward,
-and then stationary again. It appears as if they waited for worms to
-approach the surface of the ground, for, sometimes, they will suddenly
-dart forward from where they have long stood, pitching right upon their
-breasts, securing a worm, and pulling it out as does a thrush--herons,
-by the way, will often go down like this, in the act of spearing a
-fish--or they will advance a few steps and do the same, as though their
-eye commanded a certain space, in which they were content to wait.
-
-Starlings, as I have often noticed, seem to enjoy the company of
-peewits. They feed with them merely for their company, as I believe,
-and, when they fly off, will often go, too. They think them “good
-form,” I fancy; but the peewits do not patronise. They are indifferent,
-or seem to be so. They may, however, have a complacent feeling in
-being thus followed, and, as it were, fussed about, which does not
-show itself in any action. I have seen, a little after sunrise, a
-flock of some forty or fifty peewits go up from the marshlands, and,
-with them, a single starling, which flew from one part of the flock
-to another, making, or appearing to make, little dives at particular
-birds. After a minute or so, it flew back to the place it had left, and
-where other starlings were feeding. One of these flew to meet it, and
-joining it, almost midway, made delighted swoops about it, sheering
-off and again approaching, and so, as it were, brought it back. Now,
-here, the general body of the starlings remained feeding when the
-peewits went up. One, only, went with them, and this one must have felt
-something which we may assume the others to have felt also, though they
-resisted. What was this feeling of the starling towards the peewits?
-Was it sympathy--a part joyous, part fussy participation in their
-affairs--or something less definable; or, again, was the attraction
-physical merely, having to do, perhaps, with the scent of the latter
-birds. Something there must have been, and in such obscure causes we,
-perhaps, see the origin of some of those cases of commensalism in the
-animal world, where a mutual benefit is, now, given and received. The
-subject seems to me to be an interesting one, and I think it might
-gradually add to our knowledge and enlarge the range of our ideas, were
-naturalists always to note down any instance of one species seeming
-to like the society of another, where a reason for the preference was
-not discernible. How interesting, too, to see this glad welcoming back
-of one speck in the air, by another!--for that was the construction
-I placed upon it. Was there individual recognition here? Were the
-two birds mated? If this were so, then--as it was September at the
-time--starlings must mate for life, as most birds do, I believe. In
-this case, the vast flocks, in which they fly, to roost, through the
-winter, are only a mantle that masks more intimate relations, and so it
-may be with other birds.
-
-This I know, that starlings have hearts even in winter. Sitting, in
-January, amidst the branches of a gnarled old walnut tree that tops a
-sandy knoll overlooking the marshes, I have often seen them wave their
-wings in an emotional manner, whilst uttering, at the same time, their
-half-singing, all-feeling notes. They do this, especially, on the long,
-whistling “whew”--the most lover-like part--and as the wings are waved,
-they are, also, drooped, which gives to the bird’s whole bearing a
-sort of languish. The same emotional state which inspires the note,
-must inspire, also, its accompaniment, and one can judge of the one by
-the other. Though of a different build--not nearly so “massive”--these
-starlings might say, with Lady Jane, “I despair droopingly.” But no,
-there is no despair, and no reason for it. One of them, now, enters
-a hole in the hollow branch where he has been sitting, thus showing,
-still more plainly, the class of feelings by which he is dominated.
-But how spring-in-winteryfied is all this!--
-
-    “And on old Hiem’s thin and icy crown
-    An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
-    Is, as in mockery, set.”
-
-And then, all at once, from the midst of the walnut tree, comes the
-cry of a peewit, rendered to the life by one of these birds. There are
-no peewits near, nor, though the wide waste around is their very own,
-have they been seen there for months. The fenlands have long claimed
-them, and the fenlands are seven miles distant. Most strange--and
-pleasing strange--it is, to hear their absolute note, when they are all
-departed. I have sat and heard a particular starling, on which my eyes
-were fixed, thus mimic the unmistakable cry of the peewit, eight or
-nine times in succession. It was the spring note, so that, this being
-in January, also, it would have been still more remarkable had the
-peewit itself uttered it.
-
-Over the more barren parts of the Sahara, here, and even where some
-thin and scanty-growing wheat crops struggle with the sandy soil, the
-great plovers, or stone-curlews, may often be seen feeding, cheek by
-jowl, with the peewits. Scattered amongst them both, are, generally,
-some pheasants, partridges, fieldfares, thrushes, and mistle-thrushes,
-and all these birds are apt, upon occasions, to come into collision
-with one another--or, rather, the stone-curlews and mistle-thrushes,
-being the most bellicose amongst them, are apt to fall out between
-themselves, or with the rest. For the stone-curlew, he is, certainly,
-a fighter. A cock pheasant that approaches too near to one is attacked,
-and put to flight by it. The rush of this bird along the ground, with
-neck outstretched, legs bent, and crouching gait--a sort of stealthy
-speed--is a formidable affair, and seems half to frighten and half
-to perplex the pheasant. But what a difference to when rival male
-stone-curlews advance against each other to the attack! Then the
-carriage is upright--grotesquely so, almost--and the tail fanned out
-like a scallop-shell, which, now, it is not. This is interesting, I
-think, for in attacking birds of another species there would not be so
-much, if any, idea of rivalry, calling up, by association, other sexual
-feelings, with their appropriate actions. The combats of rival male
-birds seem, often, encumbered, rather than anything else, by posturings
-and attitudinisings, which do not add to the kind of efficiency
-now wanted, but, on the other hand, show the bird off to the best
-advantage--_e.g._ the beautiful spread of the tail, and the bow, as
-with the stock-dove, where both are combined and make a marked feature
-of the fiercest fights. All these, in my view, are, properly, displays
-to the female, which have been imported, by association of ideas, into
-the combats of the birds practising them. But in this attack on the
-pheasant there is nothing of all this, and the action seems, at once,
-less showy and more pertinent. After routing the pheasant, this same
-stone-curlew runs _à plusieurs reprises_ at some mistle-thrushes, who,
-each time, fly away, and come down a little farther on. _En revanche_
-a mistle-thrush attacks a peewit, actually putting it to flight. It
-then advances three or four times--but evidently nervous, and making
-a half retreat, each time--upon a stone-curlew, who, in its turn, is
-half frightened and half surprised. Another one comes up, as though
-to support his friend, so that the last dash of the mistle-thrush is
-at the two, after which he retreats with much honour. As he does so,
-both the stone-curlews posturise, drawing themselves up, gauntly, to
-their full height--an attitude of haughty reserve--then curving their
-necks downwards, to a certain point, at which they stand still and
-slowly relax. There is no proper sequence or proportion in all this. A
-stone-curlew chases a mistle-thrush, a mistle-thrush a peewit, and then
-the stone-curlew himself is half intimidated by the mistle-thrush that
-he chased. Yet, just before, he routed a pheasant, whilst the other
-day he ran away from a partridge. “Will you ha’ the truth on’t?” It
-depends on which is most the angry bird, has most some right infringed,
-some wrong done, or imagined done to him. He, for that moment, is the
-prevailing party, and the others give him way.
-
-The stone-curlew is an especial feature of the country
-hereabout--indeed its most distinctive one, ornithologically speaking.
-It begins to arrive in April and stays till October, by the end of
-which month it has, usually, left us, all but a few stragglers which
-I have, sometimes, seen flying high in February--how sadly their
-cry has fallen, then, and yet how welcome it was! I am always glad
-when the voice of these birds begins to be heard, again, over the
-warrens. One can never tire of it--at least, I never can. With Jacques
-I say, always, “More, more, I prythee, more,” and I can suck its
-melancholy--for it is a sad note enough--“as a weasel does eggs.”
-There are several variants of the cry, which seems to differ according
-to the circumstances under which it is uttered. The “dew-leep,
-dew-leep”--thin, shrill, and with a plaintive wail in it--comes
-oftenest from a bird standing by itself, and it is astonishing for what
-a length of time he will utter it, unencouraged by any response. He
-does not embellish the remark with any appropriate action or gesture,
-but just stands, or sits, and makes it. That is enough for him. “It
-is his duty and he will.” But the full cry, or _clamour_, as it is
-called, proceeds, usually, from several birds together, as they come
-down over the warrens. That is a beautiful thing to hear--so wild and
-striking--and the spread solitudes amidst which it is uttered seem
-always to live in it. I have seen two birds running, and thus lifting
-up their voices, almost abreast, with another one either just in front
-of or just behind them, the three looking, for all the world, like
-three trumpeters on the field of battle--for they carry their heads
-well raised, and have a wild look of martial devotion. But it is more
-the wailing sounds of the bagpipes than the blast of the trumpet.
-
-    “Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
-      Pibroch of Donuil,
-    Wake thy wild voice anew,
-      Summon Clan-Conuil.”
-
-And the wails grow and swell from one group to another, and all come
-running down as though it were the gathering of the clans.
-
-Then there is a note like “tur-li-vee, tur-li-vee, tur-li-vee,” quickly
-repeated--sometimes very quickly, when it sounds more like “ker-vic,
-ker-vic, ker-vic”--and for such a length of time that it seems as
-though it would never leave off. All these notes, though differing,
-have the same general quality of sound, the same complaining wail in
-them, but one there is which is altogether different, and which I
-have only heard in the autumn, when the birds were flying in numbers,
-preparatory to migration. Though plaintive, it has not that drear
-character of the others; a whistling note it is, with a tremulous
-rise and fall in it--“tir-whi-whi-whi-whi-whi”--very pleasant to
-hear, and bringing the sea and seashore to one’s memory. It bears a
-resemblance--a striking one, it has sometimes seemed to me--to the
-long, piping cry of the oyster-catcher, but is very much softer. I have
-heard this note uttered by a bird that a hawk was closely pursuing,
-but also on other occasions, so that it is not, specially, a cry of
-distress. The hawk in question, as I remember, was a sparrow-hawk, and
-therefore not as big as the stone-curlew. The two were close together
-when I first saw them--almost touching, in fact--the hawk spread
-like a fan over the stone-curlew, following every deviation of its
-flight--upwards, downwards, to one or another side--sometimes falling
-a little behind, but not as much as to leave a space--the two were
-always overlapping. I can hardly say why--perhaps it was the easy,
-parachute-like flight of the hawk, with nothing like a swoop or pounce,
-and the bright, clear sunshine diffusing a joy over everything--but
-somehow the whole thing did not impress me as being in earnest, but,
-rather, as a sport or play--on the part of the hawk more particularly;
-and, strange as this theory may appear, it is, perhaps, somewhat in
-support of it, that, a few mornings afterwards, I saw a kestrel, first
-flying with a flock of peewits, and then with one alone. I could not
-detect any fear of the hawk in the peewits, and it is difficult to
-suppose--knowing the kestrel’s habits--that he seriously meditated
-an attack on one of them. In the same way--or what seemed to be the
-same way--I have seen a hooded crow flying with peewits,[14] and a
-wood-pigeon with starlings: to the latter case I have already alluded.
-The stone-curlew in the above instance, though separated, for a time,
-by the hawk, as I suppose, was one of a great flock, amounting, in
-all, to nearly three hundred, which used to fly up every morning over
-the moor, where I have often waited to see them. Lying pressed amidst
-heather and bracken, I once had the band fly right over me, at but a
-few feet above the ground, so that, when I looked up, I seemed to raise
-my head into a cloud of birds. A charming and indescribable sensation
-it was, to be thus suddenly surrounded by these free, fluttering
-creatures. They were all about me--and so near. The delicate “whish,
-whish” of their wings was in my ears, and in my spirit too. I seemed in
-flight myself, and felt how free and how glorious bird life must be.
-
-Almost as interesting is it to see the stone-curlews fly back to their
-gathering-grounds, in the very early mornings, after feeding over the
-country, during the night. They come either singly or in twos and
-threes--grey, wavering shadows on the first grey of the dawn. Sometimes
-there will be a wail from a flying bird, and sometimes the sharper
-ground-note comes thrilling out of the darkness--from which I judge
-that some run home--but silence is the rule. By the very earliest
-twilight of the morning, when the moon, if visible, is yet luminous,
-and the stars shining brightly, the _Heimkehr_ is over, and now, till
-the evening, the birds will be gathered together on their various
-assembly-grounds. With the evening come the dances, which I have
-elsewhere described,[15] and then off they fly, again, to feed, not now
-in silence, but with wail on wail as they go. Such, at least as far as
-I have been able to observe, are the autumn habits of these birds. In
-the spring they are far more active during the daytime. Di-nocturnal
-I would call the stone-curlew--that is to say, equally at home, as
-occasion serves, either by day or night. Nothing is pleasanter than
-to see them running over the sand, with their little, precise, stilty
-steps. Sometimes one will crouch flat down, with its head stretched
-straight in front of it, and then one has the Sahara--a desert scene.
-This habit, however, does not appear to me to be so common in the grown
-bird--in the young one, no doubt, it is much more strongly developed.
-
-The migration of the stone-curlew begins early in October, but it is
-not till the end of that month that all the birds are gone. About half
-or two-thirds of the flock go first, in my experience, and are followed
-by other battalions, at intervals of a few days. A few stay on late
-into the month, but every day there are less, and with October, as a
-rule, all are gone.
-
-[Illustration: A “MURMURATION” OF STARLINGS]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-Starlings are not birds to make part of an _olla podrida_ merely--as
-in my last chapter--so I shall devote this one to them, more or
-less entirely. I will begin with a defence of the bird, in regard
-to his relations with the green woodpecker. Not, indeed, that he
-can be acquitted on the main charge brought against him, viz. that
-he appropriates to himself the woodpecker’s nest. This he certainly
-does do, and his conduct in so doing has aroused a good deal of
-indignation, not always, perhaps, of the most righteous kind. The
-compassionate _oologist_, more especially, who may have found only
-starling’s eggs where he thought to find woodpecker’s, cannot speak
-patiently on the subject. His feelings run away with him, in face of
-such an injustice. The woodpecker is being wronged--by the starling;
-it will be exterminated--all through the starling. It makes his blood
-boil. To console himself he looks through his fine collection, which
-contains not only woodpecker’s eggs--say a roomful--but woodpeckers
-themselves--in the fluff.[16] It is something--balm in Gilead--yet had
-it not been for the starling there might have been more.
-
-Personally, I do not share in the panic, and if the green woodpecker
-should disappear from this island--as, indeed, it may--the starling,
-I am confident, will have had but little to do with it. The result,
-as I believe, of the present friction between the two birds, will
-be of a more interesting and less painful character. For say that a
-woodpecker be deprived of its first nest, or tunnel, it will assuredly
-excavate another one. Not, however, immediately: it is likely, I think,
-that there would be an interval of some days--perhaps a week, or
-longer--and, by this time, a vast number of starlings would have laid
-their eggs. Consequently, the dispossessed woodpecker would have a far
-better chance of laying and hatching out his, this second time, and a
-better one still, were he forced to make a third attempt. No doubt, a
-starling wishing to rear a second brood would be glad to misappropriate
-another domicile, but, as the woodpecker would be now established,
-either with eggs or young, it would probably--I should think, myself,
-certainly--be unable to do so, but would have to suit itself elsewhere.
-The woodpecker should, therefore, have reared its first brood some time
-before the starling had finished with its second, and so would have
-time to lay again, if this, which I doubt, is its habit. Thus, after
-the first retardation in the laying of the one species, consequent upon
-the action of the other, the two would not be likely again to come
-into collision; nor would the woodpecker be seriously injured by being
-forced, in this way, to become a later-breeding bird. As long as there
-are a sufficient number of partially-decayed trees for both starlings
-and woodpeckers--and any hole or hollow does for the former--I can
-see no reason why the latter should suffer, except, indeed, in his
-feelings; and even if a time were to come when this were no longer
-the case, why should he not, like the La Plata species, still further
-modify his habits, even to the extent, if necessary, of laying in a
-rabbit burrow? Love, I feel confident, would “find out a way.”
-
-[Illustration: INDIGNANT!
-
-_Starling in possession of Woodpecker’s Nesting Hole_]
-
-But there is another possibility. May not either the woodpecker or the
-starling be a cuckoo _in posse_? If one waits and watches, one may see
-first the one bird, and then the other, enter the hole, in each other’s
-absence, and it is only when the woodpecker finds the starling in
-possession--and this, as I am inclined to think, more than once--that
-he desists and retires. Now, the woodpecker having made its nest, is,
-we may suppose, ready to lay, and, if it were to do so, it is at least
-possible that the starling might, in some cases, hatch the egg. True,
-the latter would still have his nest, or a part of it, to make, but
-it is of loose material--straw for the most part--and the cow-bird of
-America has, I believe, been sometimes brought into existence under
-similar circumstances. Some woodpeckers, too--evolution, it must be
-remembered, works largely through exceptions--might be sufficiently
-persistent to lay an egg in the completed nest of the starling. In this
-latter case, at any rate, it seems more than likely that the original
-parasite would become the dupe of his ousted victim, “and thus the
-whirligig of time” would have “brought in his revenges.”
-
-Whether in speculating upon the various possible origins of the
-parasitic instinct, as exhibited in perfection by the cuckoo, this
-one has ever been considered, I do not know, but it does not appear
-to me to be in itself improbable. It is not difficult to understand a
-bird seizing another one’s nest, first as a mere site for, and then,
-gradually, as its own. That the dispossessed bird should still strive
-to lay in its own appropriated nest, and, often, succeed in doing so,
-is also easy to imagine; and if this should be its only, or most usual,
-solution of the difficulty, it would lose, through disuse, the instinct
-of incubation, and become a cuckoo _malgré lui_. All feeling of
-property would, by this time, be gone; the parasitic instinct would be
-strongly developed, and that it should now be indulged, at the expense
-of many, or several, species instead of only one--once the robber, but
-whose original theft would be no longer traceable--is a sequel that
-one might expect. In a process like this there would have been no very
-abrupt or violent departure, on the part of either species--of the dupe
-or of the parasite--from their original habits. All would have been
-gradual, and naturally brought about. Therefore, as it appears to me,
-all might very well have taken place. Let me add to these speculations
-one curious fact in regard to the two birds whose inter-relations have
-suggested them, which extremely close observation has enabled me to
-elicit. I have noticed that a woodpecker which has abandoned its hole,
-always lays claim to magnanimity, as the motive for such abandonment,
-whereas the starling as invariably attributes it to weakness. I have
-not yet decided which is right.
-
-But the starling may be regarded in a nobler light than that of a
-parasitical appropriator, or even a mere finder of, dwellings. He is,
-and that to a very considerable extent, a builder of them, too. I have
-some reason to think that he is occasionally, so to speak, his own
-woodpecker, for I have seen him bringing, through an extremely rough
-and irregular aperture, in a quite decayed tree, one little beakful of
-chips after another, whilst his mate sat singing on the stump of the
-same branch, just above him. The chips thus brought were dropped on the
-ground, and had all the appearance of having been picked and pulled out
-of the mass of the tree. Possibly, therefore, the aperture had been
-made in the same way.
-
-It is in gravel-or sand-pits, however, that the bird’s greatest
-architectural triumphs are achieved. Starlings often form colonies
-here, together with sand-martins, and the holes, or, rather, caverns,
-which they make are so large as to excite wonder. A rabbit--nay,
-two--might sit in some of them; two would be a squeeze, indeed, but
-one would find it roomy and comfortable. The stock-dove certainly
-does, for she often builds in them, as she does in the burrows of
-rabbits, and can no more be supposed to make the one than the other.
-Besides, I have seen the starlings at work in their vaults, and the
-latter growing from day to day. But no, I am stating, or implying,
-a little too much. Properly, satisfactorily at work I have not seen
-them, though I have tried to; I have been unfortunate in this respect.
-But there were the holes, and there were the starlings always in and
-about them, and, sometimes, hanging on the face of the sand-pit, like
-the sand-martins themselves. That the latter had had anything to do
-with these great, rounded caves, or that the starlings had merely
-seized on the last year’s martin-holes, and enlarged them, I do not
-believe. That may be so in some cases, but here, as it seems to me,
-it would have been impossible. Sand-martins, as is well known, drive
-their little narrow tunnels, for an immense way, into the cliff--nine
-feet sometimes, it is said, but this seems rather startling. Large and
-roomy and cavernous as are the chambers of the starlings, yet they are
-not quite so penetrating, so bowelly, as this. Therefore--and this
-would especially apply in the earlier stages of their construction--the
-original martin-holes ought always to be found piercing their backward
-wall, if the starlings had merely widened the shaft for themselves.
-This, however, has not been the case in the excavations which I
-have seen, even when they were mere shallow alcoves in the wall of
-the cliff--but just commenced, in fact. Moreover, some of these
-starling-burrows were several feet apart, the cliff between them being
-unexcavated. Sand-martins, however, drive their tunnels close together,
-and in a long irregular line, or series of lines, so that if, in these
-instances, starlings had seized upon them, there ought to have been
-many small holes in the interstices between the large ones. Lastly,
-if a starling can do such a prodigious amount of excavation for
-himself, why should he be beholden to a sand-martin, or any other bird,
-for a beginning or any part of it? That he will, sometimes, commence
-at a martin’s hole, just as he might at any other inequality of the
-surface--as where a stone has dropped out--and, so, widen a chink into
-a cavern, a fine, roomy apartment (as Shakespeare ennobled inferior
-productions, which was not plagiarism), I am not denying, nor that he
-might enjoy work, all the more, when combined with spoliation. But,
-with or without this, the starling appears to me to be an architect of
-considerable eminence, and, as such, not to have received any adequate
-recognition.
-
-To return to these wonderful sand-caves--his own work--it seems
-curious, at first, considering their size, how he can get them so
-rounded in shape. Here there is no question of turning about, in a
-heap of things soft and yielding, pressing with the breast, to all
-sides, moulding, as it were, the materials, like clay upon the potter’s
-wheel--the way in which most nests are made cup-shaped; but we have a
-large, airy, beehive-like chamber, somewhat resembling the interior
-of a Kaffir hut, except that the floor is not flat, but more like a
-reversed and shallower dome. The entrance, too, is small, compared
-to the size of the interior, in something like the same proportion.
-Here, on the outside, where the birds have clung, the sand looks
-scratched, as with their claws, or, sometimes, as though chiselled with
-their beaks; but within, the walls and rounded dome have a smooth and
-swept appearance, almost as if they had been rubbed with sandpaper.
-Sometimes I have wondered if the starlings scoured, so to speak, or
-fretted the inside of their caverns, by rapidly vibrating their wings
-against them, so as to act like a stiff brush on the soft, friable
-sandstone. One of my notings, when watching in the sand-pits, was this:
-“A starling appears, now, at the mouth of a hole, waving his wings most
-vigorously. Then disappearing into it, again, he quickly returns, still
-waving them, and moves, so, along the face of the cliff, for there
-is something like a little ledge below the row of holes.” This bird,
-indeed, waved its wings so long and so vigorously that I began to think
-it must have a special and peculiar fondness for so doing--that here
-was an exaggeration, in a single individual, of a habit common to the
-species, for starlings during the nesting season are great performers
-in this way. But if the wings were used as suggested, they would
-certainly, I think, be sufficiently strong, and their quill-feathers
-sufficiently stiff, to fret away the sand; and as their sweeps would
-be in curves, this would help to explain the domed and rounded shape
-of these bird cave-dwellings. Only, why have I not seen them doing it?
-Though many of the holes were unfinished--some only just begun--and
-though the birds were constantly in them, I could never plainly see any
-actual excavation being done by them, except that, sometimes, one, in a
-perfunctory sort of manner, would carry some nodules of sand or gravel
-out of a hole that seemed nearly finished; yet still they grew and
-grew. The thing, in fact, is something of a mystery to me.
-
-It is easier to see how, when the chambers are completed, the starlings
-build their nests in them; and, especially, the fact of their entering
-and plundering each other’s is open and apparent. They seem to chance
-the rightful owner being at home, or in the near neighbourhood. There
-is no stealth, no guilty shame-faced approach. Boldly and joyously they
-fly up, and if unopposed, “so,” as Falstaff says (using the little
-word as the Germans do now); if not, a quick wheel, a gay retreat, and
-a song sung at the end of it. Such happy high-handedness, careless
-guilt! A bird, issuing from a cave that is not his own, is flown after
-and pecked by another, just as he plunges into one that is. The thief
-soon reappears at the door of his premises, and sings, or talks, a
-song, and the robbed bird is, by this time, sing-talking too. Both
-are happy--_immer munter_--all is enjoyment. A bird, returning with
-plunder, finds the absent proprietor in his own home. Each scolds, each
-recognises that he has “received the dor”; but neither blushes, neither
-is one bit ashamed. Happy birdies! They fly about, sinning and not
-caring, persist in ill courses, and _how_ they enjoy themselves! There
-is no trouble of conscience, no remorse. “Fair is foul, and foul is
-fair,” with them. It is topsy-turvyland, a kind of right wrong-doing,
-and things go on capitally. Happy birdies! What a bore all morality
-seems, as one watches them. How tiresome it is to be human and high
-in the scale! Those who would shake off the cobwebs--who are tired
-of teachings and preachings and heavy-high novellings, who would see
-things anew, and not mattering, rubbing their eyes and forgetting their
-dignities, missions, destinies, virtues, and the rest of it--let them
-come and watch a colony of starlings at work in a gravel-pit.
-
-But starlings are most interesting when they flock, each night, to
-their accustomed roosting-place; in autumn, more especially, when
-their numbers are greatest. It is difficult to say, exactly, when the
-more commonplace instincts and emotions, which have animated the birds
-throughout the day, begin to pass into that strange excitement which
-heralds and pervades the home-flying. Comparatively early, however, in
-the afternoon many may be seen sitting in trees--especially orchard
-trees--and singing in a very full-throated manner. They are not eating
-the fruit; a dead and fruitless tree holds as many, in proportion to
-its size, as any of the other ones. Presently a compact flock comes
-down in an adjacent meadow, and the birds composing it are continually
-joined by many of the singing ones. Whilst watching them, other flocks
-begin to sweep by on hurrying pinions, and one notices that many of
-the high elm trees, into which they wheel, are already stocked with
-birds, whilst the air begins, gradually, to fill with a vague, babbling
-_susurrus_, that, blending with the stillness or with each accustomed
-sound, is perceived before it is heard--a felt atmosphere of song. One
-by one, or mingling with one another, these flocks leave the trees,
-and fly on towards the wood of their rest; but by that principle which
-impels some of any number, however great, to join any other great
-number, many detach themselves from the main stream of advance, and
-fly to the ever-increasing multitudes which still wheel, or walk, over
-the fields. It seems strange that these latter should, hitherto, have
-resisted that general movement which has robed each tree with life, and
-made a music of the air; but all at once, with a whirring hurricane of
-wings, they rise like brown spray of the earth, and, mounting above one
-of the highest elms, come sweeping suddenly down upon it, in the most
-violent and erratic manner, whizzing and zigzagging about from side to
-side, as they descend, and making a loud rushing sound with the wings,
-which, as with rooks, who do the same thing, is only heard on such
-occasions. They do not stay long, and as all the flocks keep moving
-onwards, the immediate fields and trees are soon empty of birds. To
-follow their movements farther, one must proceed with all haste towards
-the roosting-place. About a mile’s distance from it, at the tail of a
-little village, there is a certain meadow, emerald-green and dotted
-all over with unusually fine tall elms. In these, their accustomed
-last halting-place, the starlings, now in vast numbers, are swarming
-and gathering in a much more remarkable manner than has hitherto been
-the case. It is, always, on the top of the tree that they settle, and,
-the instant they do so, it becomes suddenly brown, whilst there bursts
-from it, as though from some great natural musical box, a mighty volume
-of sound that is like the plash of waters mingled with a sharper,
-steelier note--the dropping of innumerable needles on a marble floor.
-On a sudden the sing-song ceases, and there is a great roar of wings,
-as the entire host swarm out from the tree, make a wheel or half-wheel
-or two, close about it, and then, as though unable to go farther, seem
-drawn back into it, again, by some strong, attractive force. Or they
-will fly from one tree to another of a group, swarming into each, and
-presenting, as they cluster in myriads about it, before settling, more
-the appearance of a vast swarm of bees, or some other insects, than
-of birds. These flights out from the trees, always very sudden, seem,
-sometimes, to be absolutely instantaneous; whilst in every case it is
-obvious that vast numbers must move in the same twinkle of time, as
-though they were threaded together.
-
-All this time, fresh bands are continuing to arrive, draining different
-areas of the country. From tree to field, from earth to sky, again, is
-flung and whirled about the brown, throbbing mantle of life and joy;
-nature grows glad with sound and commotion; children shout and clap
-their hands; old village women run to the doors of cottages to gaze and
-wonder--the starlings make them young. Blessed, harmless community!
-The men are out, no guns are there, it is like the golden age. And now
-it is the final flight, or, rather, the final many flights, for it is
-seldom--perhaps never--that all, or even nearly all, arrive together at
-the roosting-place. As to other great things, so to this daily miracle
-there are small beginnings; the wonder of it grows and grows. First a
-few quite small bands are seen flying rapidly, yet soberly, which, as
-they near or pass over the silent wood--their pleasant dormitory--sweep
-outwards, and fly restlessly round in circles--now vast, now
-narrow--but of which it is ever the centre. “Then comes wandering by”
-one single bird--apart, cut off, by lakes of lonely air, from all
-its myriad companions. Some three or four follow separately, but not
-widely sundered; then a dozen together, which the three or four join;
-then another small band, which is joined by one of those that have gone
-before it, itself now, probably, swollen by amalgamation. Now comes a
-far larger band, and this one, instead of joining, or being joined by,
-any other, divides, and, streaming out in two directions, follows one
-or other of those circling streams of restless, hurrying flight, that
-girdles, as with a zone of love and longing, the darksome, lonely-lying
-wood. A larger one, still, follows; and now, more and faster than
-the eye can take it in, band grows upon band, the air is heavy with
-the ceaseless sweep of pinions, till, glinting and gleaming, their
-weary wayfaring turned to swiftest arrows of triumphant flight--toil
-become ecstasy, prose an epic song--with rush and roar of wings, with
-a mighty commotion, all sweep, together, into one enormous cloud. And
-still they circle; now dense like a polished roof, now disseminated
-like the meshes of some vast all-heaven-sweeping net, now darkening,
-now flashing out a million rays of light, wheeling, rending, tearing,
-darting, crossing, and piercing one another--a madness in the sky. All
-is the starlings’ now; they are no more birds, but a part of elemental
-nature, a thing affecting and controlling other things. Through them
-one sees the sunset; the sky must peep through their chinks. Surely
-all must now be come. But as the thought arises, a black portentous
-cloud shapes itself on the distant horizon; swiftly it comes up,
-gathering into its vast ocean the small streams and driblets of flight;
-it approaches the mighty host and is the mightier--devours, absorbs
-it--and, sailing grandly on, the vast accumulated multitude seems now
-to make the very air, and be, itself, the sky.
-
-As a rule, this great concourse separates, again, into two main, and
-various smaller bodies, and it is now, and more especially amongst the
-latter, that one may witness those beautiful and varied evolutions
-which are, equally, a charm to the eye and a puzzle to the mind. Each
-band, as it circles rapidly round, permeated with a fire of excitement
-and glad alacrity, assumes diverse shapes, becoming, with the quickness
-of light, a balloon, an oil-flask, a long, narrow, myriad-winged
-serpent, rapidly thridding the air, a comet with tail streaked suddenly
-out, or a huge scarf, flung about the sky in folds and shimmers. A
-mass of flying birds must, indeed, assume some shape, though it is
-only on these occasions that one sees such shapes as these. More
-evidential, not only of simultaneous, but, also, of similar motion
-throughout a vast body, are those striking colour changes that are
-often witnessed.[17] For instance, a great flock of flying birds will
-be, collectively, of the usual dark-brown shade. In one instant--as
-quickly as Sirius twinkles from green to red, or red to gold--it has
-become a light grey. Another instant, and it is, again, brown, and
-this whilst the rapidly-moving host seems to occupy the same space in
-the air, so lightning-quick have been the two flashes of colour and
-motion--for both may be visible--through the living medium; as though
-one had said, “One, two,” or blinked the eyes twice. Yet in the sky
-all is a constant quantity; the sinking sun has neither rushed in nor
-out, on all the wide landscape round no change of light and shade has
-fallen, and other bands of moving birds maintain their uniform hue.
-Obviously the effect has been due to a sudden change of angle in each
-bird’s body, in regard to the light--as when one rustles a shot-silk
-dress--and this change has shot, in the same second of time, through
-myriads of bodies. Sometimes the light of the sky will show, suddenly,
-like so many windows, through a multitude of spaces, which seem to
-be at a set and regular distance from one another; and then, again,
-be as suddenly not seen, the whole mass becoming opaque to the eye,
-as before. Here, again, the effect, which is beautiful, can only be
-produced by a certain number of the birds just giving their wings a
-slant, or otherwise shifting their posture in the air, all at the same
-instant of time. This, at least, is the only way in which I can explain
-it.
-
-What the nature of the psychology is, that directs such movements, that
-allows of such a multitudinous oneness, must be left to the future to
-decide; but to me it appears to offer as good evidence for some form of
-thought-transference--containing, moreover, new points of interest--as
-does much that has been collected by the Psychical Research Society,
-which, in its investigations, seems resolved to treat the universe as
-though man only existed in it. This is a great error, in my opinion,
-for even if greater facilities for investigation are offered by one
-species than by any other, yet the general conclusions founded on these
-are almost certain to be false, if the comparative element is excluded.
-How could we have acquired true views in regard to the nature and
-meaning--the philosophy--of any structure in our human anatomy, through
-human anatomy alone? How should we know that certain muscles, found
-in a minority of men, were due to reversion, if we did not know that
-these same muscles were normally present in apes or other animals?[18]
-Exactly the same principle applies to the study of psychology, or
-what is called psychical research: and it is impossible not to get
-exaggerated, and, as one may say, misproud ideas of our mental
-attributes, and consequently of ourselves, if we do not pay proper
-attention to the equivalents, or representatives, of these in our blood
-relations, the beasts.
-
-In fact, if we study man, either mentally or physically, as one species
-amongst many, we have a science. If we study him only, or inordinately,
-we very soon have a religion. The Psychical Research Society appears to
-me to be going this way. Its leading members are becoming more and more
-impressed by certain latent abnormal faculties in the human subject,
-but they will not consider the nature and origin of such faculties, in
-connection with many equally mysterious ones scattered throughout the
-animal kingdom, or pay proper attention to these. The wonder of man,
-therefore, is unchecked by the wonder of anything else: no monkey, bat,
-bird, lizard, or insect pulls him up short: he sees himself, only, and
-through Raphaels and Virgils and genius and trances and ecstasies--soon
-sees himself God, or approaching, at least, to that size. So an image
-is put up in a temple, and joss-sticks lighted before it. Service is
-held. There are solemn strains, reverential attitudes, and “Out of the
-deeps,” and “Cometh from afars,” go up, like hymns, from the lips of
-officiating High Priests--the successive Presidents of the Society. It
-is church, in fact, with man and religion inside it. Outside are the
-animals and science. In such an atmosphere field natural history does
-not flourish. You may not bring dogs into church. That, however, is
-what I would do, and it is just what the Society ought to do. With man
-for their sole theme they will never, it seems likely, get beyond a
-solemn sort of mystic optimism. If they want to get farther they should
-let the dogs into church.
-
-Whilst starlings are thus flying to the roosting-place, they often
-utter a peculiar, or, at any rate, a very distinctive note, which
-I have never heard them do, upon any other occasion, except in the
-morning, on leaving it. It is low, of a musical quality, and has in
-it a rapid rise and fall--an undulatory sound one might call it,
-somewhat resembling that note I have mentioned of the great plover,
-which, curiously enough, is also uttered when the birds fly together
-in flocks. But whilst there is no mistaking the last, this note of the
-starlings is of a very elusory nature, and I have often been puzzled
-to decide whether it was, indeed, vocal or only caused by the wings.
-Sometimes there seems no doubt that the former is the case, but on
-other occasions it is more difficult to decide. I think, however, that
-it is a genuine cry, and, as I say, I have only heard it upon these
-occasions, nor have I ever heard or read any reference to it. It is
-usually stated that starlings fly, together, in silence, but besides
-the special note I have mentioned, and which is totally unlike any of
-their other ones, they often make a more ordinary twittering noise. It
-is not loud, and does not seem to be uttered by any large proportion
-of the birds, at once. Still, their numbers being so great, the volume
-of sound is often considerable; and no one could watch starlings going
-to roost, for long, without hearing it. Those, therefore, who say that
-they always fly in silence cannot have watched them for long.
-
-The final end and aim of all the gatherings, flights, circlings, and
-“skiey” evolutions generally, which are gone through by starlings, at
-the close of each day, is, of course, the entry into that dark wood
-where, in “numbers numberless,” yet packed into a wonderfully small
-space, they pass the night, clinging beneath every leaf, like those
-dreams that Virgil speaks of. This entry they accomplish in various
-ways. Sometimes, but rarely, they descend out of the brown firmament
-of their numbers, in one perpetual rushing stream, which seems to
-be sucked down by a reversed application of the principle on which
-the column of a waterspout is sucked up from the ocean. More often,
-however, they fly in, in detachments; or again, they will swarm into
-one of the neighbouring hedges, forming, perhaps, the mutual boundary
-of wood and meadow, and, commencing at the remote end, move along it,
-flying and fluttering, like an uproarious river of violent life and
-joy, the wood at last receiving them. But should there be another
-thicket or plantation, a field or so from their chosen dormitory, it is
-quite their general habit to enter this, first, and fly from it to the
-latter. The passage from the one to the other is an interesting thing
-to see, but it does not take place till after a considerable interval,
-during which the birds talk, and seem to be preparing themselves for
-going to bed. At last they are ready, or the proper time has come. The
-sun has sunk, and evening, in its stillness, seems to wait for night.
-The babbling sing-song, though swollen, now, to its greatest volume,
-seems--such are the harmonies of nature--to have more of silence in it
-than of sound, but, all at once, it changes to a sudden roar of wings,
-as the birds whirl up and fly across the intervening space, to their
-final resting-place. It seems, then, as though all had risen, at one
-and the same moment, but, had they done so, the plantation would now
-be empty, and the entire sky, above it, darkened by an immense host of
-birds. Such, however, is not the case. There is, indeed, a continuous
-streaming out, but, all or most of the while that it is flowing, the
-plantation from which it issues must be stocked with still vaster
-numbers, since it takes, as a rule, about half-an-hour for it to become
-empty. It is drained, in fact, as a broad sheet of water would be, by a
-constant, narrower outflow, taking the water to represent the birds.
-
-Thus, though the exodus commences with suddenness, it is gradually
-accomplished, and this gives the idea of method and sequence, in
-its accomplishment. The mere fact that a proportion of the birds
-resist, even up to the last moment, the impulse to flight, which so
-many rushing pinions, but just above their heads, may be supposed
-to communicate, suggests some reason for such self-restraint, and
-gradually, as one watches--especially if one comes night after
-night--the reason begins to appear. For a long time the current of
-flight flows on, uninterruptedly, hiding with its mantle whatever of
-form or substance may lie beneath. But, at last, the numbers begin to
-wane, the speed--at least in appearance--to flag, and it is then seen
-that the starlings are flying in bands, of comparatively moderate size,
-which follow one another at longer or shorter intervals. Sometimes
-there is a clear gap between band and band, sometimes the leaders
-of the one are but barely separated from the laggards of the other,
-sometimes they overlap, but, even here, the band formation is plain
-and unmistakable. This, as I have said, is towards the end of the
-flight. On most occasions, nothing of the sort is to be seen at its
-beginning. There is a sudden outrush, and no division in the continuous
-line is perceptible. Occasionally, however, the exodus begins in much
-the same way as it ends, one troop of birds following another, until
-soon there ceases to be any interval between them. But though the
-governing principle is now masked to the eye, one may suppose that
-it still exists, and that as there are unseen currents in the ocean,
-so this great and, apparently, uniform stream of birds, is made up
-of innumerable small bands or regiments, which, though distinct,
-and capable, at any moment, of acting independently, are so mingled
-together that they present the appearance of an indiscriminate host,
-moving without order, and constructed upon no more complex principle
-of subdivision than that of the individual unit. There is another
-phenomenon, to be observed in these last flights of the starlings,
-which appears to me to offer additional evidence of this being the
-case. Supposing there to be a hedge, or any other shelter, in the
-bird’s course, one can, by stooping behind it, remain concealed or
-unthought of, whilst they pass directly overhead. One then notices that
-there is a constant and, to some extent, regular rising and sinking of
-the rushing noise made by their wings. It is like rush after rush, a
-maximum roar of sound, quickly diminishing, then another roar, and so
-on, in unvarying or but little varying succession. Why should this be?
-That, at more or less regular intervals, those birds which happened
-to be passing just above one, should fly faster, thereby increasing
-the sound made by their wings, and that this should continue during
-the whole flight, does not seem likely. It would be method without
-meaning. But supposing that, at certain points, the living stream
-were composed of greater multitudes of birds than in the intermediate
-spaces, then, at intervals, as these greater multitudes passed above
-one, there would be an accentuation of the uniform rushing sound. Now
-in a moderate-sized band of starlings, flying rapidly, there is often a
-thin forward, or apex, end, which increases gradually, or, sometimes,
-rather suddenly, to the maximum bulk in the centre, and a hinder or
-tail end, decreasing in the same manner. If hundreds of these bands
-were to fly up so quickly, one after another, that their vanguards
-and rearguards became intermingled, yet, still, the numbers of each
-main body ought largely to preponderate over those of the combined
-portions, so that here we should have a cause capable of producing
-the effect in question. The starlings then--this, at least, is my own
-conclusion--though they seem to fly all together, in one long string,
-really do so in regiment after regiment, and, moreover, there is a
-certain order--and that a strange one--by which these regiments leave
-the plantation. It is not the first ones--those, that is to say, that
-are stationed nearest the dormitory--that lead the flight out to it,
-but the farthest or back regiments, rise first, and fly, successively,
-over the heads of those in front of them. Thus the plantation is
-emptied from the farther end, and that part of the army which was, in
-sitting, the rear, becomes, in flying, the van. This, at least, seems
-to be the rule or tendency, and precisely the same thing is observable
-with rooks, though in both it may be partially broken, and thus
-obscured. One must not, in the collective movements of birds, expect
-the precision and uniformity of drilled human armies. It is, rather,
-the blurred image, or confused approximation towards this, that is
-observable, and this is, perhaps, still more interesting.
-
-One more point--and here, again, rooks and starlings closely resemble
-each other. It might be supposed that birds thus flying, in the dusk
-of evening, to their resting-place, would be anxious to get there, and
-that the last thing to occur to them would be to turn round and fly in
-the opposite direction. Both here, however, and in the flights out in
-the morning, we have that curious phenomenon of breaking back, which,
-in its more salient manifestations, at least, is a truly marvellous
-thing to behold. With a sudden whirr of wings, the sound of which
-somewhat resembles that of a squall of wind--still more, perhaps, the
-crackling of sticks in a huge blaze of flame--first one great horde,
-and then another, tears apart, each half wheeling round, in an opposite
-direction, with enormous velocity, and such a general seeming of storm,
-stir, and excitement, as is quite indescribable. This may happen over
-and over again, and, each time, it strikes one as more remarkable.
-It is as though a tearing hurricane had struck the advancing host of
-birds, rent them asunder, and whirled them to right and left, with the
-most irresistible fury. No act of volition seems adequate to account
-for the thing. It is like the shock of elements, or, rather, it is a
-vital hurricane. Seeing it produces a strange sense of contrast, which
-has a strange effect upon one. It is order in disorder, the utmost
-perfection of the one in the very height of the other--a governed
-chaos. Every element of confusion is there, but there is no confusion.
-Having divided and whirled about in this gusty, fierce fashion, the
-birds, for a moment or so, seem to hang and crowd in the air, and
-then--the exact process of it is hardly to be gathered--they reunite,
-and continue to throng onwards. Sometimes, again, a certain number,
-flashing out of the crowd, will wheel, sharply, round in one direction,
-and descend, in a cloud, on the bushes they have just left. In a second
-or two they whirl up, and come streaming out again. In these sudden and
-sharply localised movements we have, perhaps, fresh evidence of that
-division into smaller bodies, which may, possibly, underlie all great
-assemblies either of starlings or other birds.
-
-If anything lies in the way of the starlings, during this, their last
-flight, to the dormitory--as, say, a hedge--the whole mass of them,
-in perfect order and unison, will, as they pass it, increase their
-elevation, though why, as they were well above it before, one cannot
-quite say. However they do so, and the brown speeding cloud that they
-make, whirling aloft and flashing into various sombre lights against
-the darkening sky, has a fine stormy effect. It would make the name of
-any landscape painter, could he put on canvas the stir and spirit of
-these living storms and clouds that fill, each morning and evening, a
-vast part of the heavens with their hurrying armies, adding the poetry
-of life to elemental poetry, putting a heartbeat into sky and air. Were
-Turner alive, now, I would write to him of these wondrous sights; for,
-unless he despaired, surely he can never have seen them. He who gave
-us “Wind, steam, and speed” might, had he known, have given us a “Sky,
-air, and life,” to hang, for ever (if the trustees would let it) on
-the walls of the National Gallery. But who, now, is there to write to?
-Who could give us not only the thing, but the spirit of the thing--the
-wild, fine poetry of these starling-flights? It is strange how much
-poetry lies in mere numbers, how they speak to the heart. What were
-one starling, winging its way to rest, or even a dozen or so? But all
-this great multitude filled with one wish, one longing, one intent--so
-many little hearts and wings beating all one way! It is like a cry
-going up from nature herself; the very air seems to yearn and pant for
-rest. And yet there is the precise converse of this. The death of one
-child--little Paul Dombey, for instance--is affecting to read about:
-thousands together seem not to affect people--no, not even ladies--at
-all.
-
-It is interesting to sit in the actual roosting-place of the starlings,
-after the birds have got there. They are all in a state of excitement,
-hopping and fluttering from perch to perch, from one bush to another,
-and always seeming to be passing on. One is in the midst of a world of
-birds, of a sea of sound, which is made up, on the whole, of a kind
-of chuckling, chattering song, in which there are mingled--giving it
-its most characteristic tones--long musical whews and whistles, as
-well as some notes that may fairly be called warblings--the whole very
-pleasing, even in itself; delightful, of course, as a part of all the
-romance. As one sits and watches, it becomes more and more evident
-that a disseminating process is going on. The birds are ever pushing
-forward, and extending themselves through the thick undergrowth, as
-though to find proper room for their crowded numbers. There is, in
-fact, a continual fluttering stream through the wood, as there has
-been, before, a flying stream through the air, but, in the denseness
-of the undergrowth, it is hard to determine if there is a similar
-tendency for band to follow band. The universal sing-song diminishes
-very slowly, very gradually, and, when it is almost quite dark, there
-begin to be sudden flights of small bodies of birds, through the
-bushes, at various points of the plantation, each rush being followed
-by an increase of sound. Instead of diminishing, these scurryings,
-with their accompanying babel, become greater and more numerous, as
-the darkness increases, but whether this is a natural development,
-or is caused by an owl flying silently over the plantation, I am not
-quite sure, though I incline to the former view. Night has long fallen,
-before silence sinks upon that darker patch in darkness, where so many
-hearts, burdened with so few cares, are at rest.
-
-Next morning, whilst it is still moonlight, there is a subdued
-sing-songing amongst the birds, but by crawling, first on one’s hands
-and knees, and then flat, like a snake, one is able to get, gradually,
-into the very centre of their sleeping-quarters, where, sitting still,
-though one may create a little disturbance at first, one soon ceases
-to be noticed. As daylight dawns, there is some stretching of the
-wings, and preening, and then comes an outburst of song, which sinks,
-and then again rises, and so continues to fluctuate, though always
-rising, on the whole, until the sound becomes a very din. At length
-comes a first wave of motion, birds fluttering from perch to perch,
-and bush to bush, then a sudden roar of wings, as numbers fly out, a
-lull, and then a great crescendo of song, another greater roar, a still
-greater crescendo, and so on, roar upon roar, crescendo on crescendo,
-as the tide of life streams forth. The bushes where the birds went up
-are completely empty, but soon they fill again, and the same excited
-scene that preceded the last begins to re-enact itself. Birds dash from
-their perches, hang hovering in the air, with rapidly-vibrating wings,
-perch again, again fly and flutter, the numbers ever increasing, till
-the whole place seems to seethe. “_Fervet opus_,” as Virgil says of
-the bees. Greater and greater becomes the excitement, more and more
-deafening the noise, till, as though reaching the boiling-point, a
-great mass of the birds is flung off, or tears itself from the rest,
-and goes streaming away over the tree-tops. The pot has boiled over:
-that, rather than an art of volition, is what it looks like. There is
-a roar, thousands rise together, but the greater part remain. It is as
-though, from some great nature-bowl of dancing, bubbling wine, the most
-volatile, irrepressible particles--the very top sparkles--went whirling
-joyously away; or as though each successive flight out were a cloud
-of spray, thrown off from the same great wave. It will thus be seen
-that the starlings fly out of their bedroom, as they fly into it, in
-successive bodies, namely, and not in one cloud, all together.
-
-In the plantation are many fair-sized young trees, but it is only now,
-when the birds have begun to fly, that they may be seen dashing into
-them. They have been empty before, standing like uninhabited islands
-amidst an ocean of life. When roosting, starlings seem to eschew trees
-that are at all larger than saplings, or whose tops project much above
-the level of the undergrowth. Tall, thin, flexible bushes--such as
-hazel or thorn--closely set together, seem to be what they demand
-for a sleeping-place. They sit on or near the tops of these, and
-it is obvious that a climbing animal, of any size--say a cat or a
-pole-cat--would find it difficult, or impossible, to run up them,
-and would be sure to sway or shake the stem, even if it succeeded.
-Whether this has had anything to do, through a long course of natural
-selection, with the choice of such coverts, I do not know, nor, do I
-suppose, does anybody. It is matter of conjecture, but what I have
-mentioned in regard to the many small trees, scattered through the
-plantation, seems to me curious. How comfortably, one would think,
-could the birds roost in these, but, again, how easily could a cat run
-up them. Of course a habit of this kind, gained in relation to such
-possibilities as these, would have been gained ages ago, when there
-might have been great differences both in the numbers and species of
-such animals as would have constituted a nightly danger. Certain it is
-that starlings, during the daytime, much affect all ordinarily-growing
-trees. They roost, also, in reed-beds, where they would be still safer
-from the kind of attack supposed.
-
-Even whilst this book is going through the press, have come the
-usual shoutings of the Philistines--their cries for blood and fierce
-instigations to slaughter. The starlings, they tell us, do harm, but
-what they really mean is this, that, seeing them in abundance, their
-fingers itch to destroy. It is ever so. These men, having no souls in
-their bodies, have nothing whatever to set against the smallest modicum
-of injury that a bird or beast (unless it be a fox or a pheasant) may
-do--against any of those sticks, in fact, that are so easily found to
-beat dogs with. In one dingle or copse of their estate a pheasant or
-two is disturbed. Then down with the starlings who do it, for what good
-are the starlings to them? _They_ do not care about grand sights or
-picturesque effects. They would sooner shoot a pheasant nicely, to see
-it shut its eyes and die in the air--a subject of rapture with them,
-they expatiate to women upon that--than gaze on the Niagara Falls--nay,
-they would sooner shoot it anyhow. Were it a collection of old masters
-that swept into their plantations, to flutter their darlings, they
-would wish to destroy them too--unless indeed they could sell them:
-there would be nothing to _look at_. Pheasants are their true gods.
-To kill them last, they would kill everything else first--dogs, men,
-yea women and children--but not liking, perhaps, to say so, they talk,
-now, about the song-birds. The starlings, forsooth, disturb them. Oh
-hypocrites who, for a sordid pound or two, which your pockets could
-well spare, would cut down the finest oak or elm that ever gladdened
-a whole countryside--yes, and have often done so--would you pretend
-to an _aesthetic_ motive? This wretched false plea, with an appeal
-for guidance in the matter of smoking out or otherwise expelling the
-starlings from their sleeping-places, appeared lately in the _Daily
-Telegraph_. In answer to it I wrote as follows--for I wish to embody my
-opinion on the matter with the rest of this chapter, nor can I do so in
-any better way:--
-
-“SIR,--Will you allow me to make a hasty protest--for I have
-little time, and write in the railway-train--against the cruel and
-ignorant proposition to destroy the starlings, or otherwise interfere
-with their sleeping arrangements, under the mistaken idea that they
-do harm to song-birds? I live within a few miles of a wood where a
-great host of these birds roost, every night. The wood is small, yet
-in spite of their enormous numbers, they occupy only a very small
-portion of it, for they sleep closely packed--and consider the size
-of a starling. In that small wood are as many song-birds as it is
-common to find in others of similar size belonging to the district,
-and they are as indifferent to the starlings as the starlings are
-to them--or, if they feel anything as they come sailing up, it is
-probably a sympathetic excitement; for small birds, as I have seen and
-elsewhere recorded,[19] will sometimes associate themselves joyously
-with the flight out of rooks from their woods in the morning, and I
-know not why they should more fear the one than the other. That they
-do not care to roost amidst such crowds may be true; but what of that?
-Were their--the song-birds’--numbers multiplied by a thousand, there
-would still be plenty of room for them, even in the same small wood or
-plantation; and, if not, there is no lack of others. What, then, is the
-injury done them? It exists but in imagination. How many of those who
-lightly urge the smoking out of these poor birds from their dormitories
-(must they not sleep, then?) have seen starlings fly in to roost?
-Night after night I have watched them sail up, a sight of surpassing
-grandeur and interest--nay, of wonder too; morning after morning I
-have seen them burst forth from that dark spot, all joyous with their
-voices, in regular, successive hurricanes--a thing to make the heart
-of all but Philistines rejoice exceedingly. Moreover, these gatherings
-present us with a problem of deep interest. Who can explain those
-varied, ordered movements, those marvellous aerial manœuvrings, that,
-at times, absolute simultaneousness, as well as identity of motion and
-action amidst vast crowded masses of birds, flying thick as flakes in a
-snow-storm? Is there nothing to observe here, nothing to study? Are we
-only to disturb and destroy? Our island offers no finer, no more grand
-and soul-exalting sight than these nightly gatherings of the starlings
-to their roosting-places. Who is the barbarian that would do away with
-them? Why, it would take a Turner to depict what I have seen, to give
-those grand effects--those living clouds and storms, those skies of
-beating breasts and hurrying wings. Will no artist lift up his voice?
-Will no life-and-nature lover speak? I call upon all naturalists with
-souls (as Darwin says somewhere, feeling the need of a distinction),
-upon all who can see beauty and poetry where these exist, upon all
-who love birds and hate their slayers and wearers, to protest against
-this threatened infamy, the destruction of our starling-roosts. How
-should these gatherings interfere with the song-birds? The latter must
-be numerous indeed if some small corner of a wood--or even some small
-wood itself--to which all the starlings for ten or twenty miles around
-repair, can at all crowd them for room. Such an idea is, of course,
-utterly ridiculous, and in what other way can they be incommoded? In
-none. They do not fear the starlings. Why should they? They are not
-hawks, not predaceous birds, but their familiar friends and neighbours.
-The whole thing is a chimera, or, rather, a piece of unconscious
-hypocrisy, born of that thirst for blood, that itching to destroy,
-which, instead of interest and appreciation, seems to fill the breasts
-of the great majority of people--men, and women, too, those tender
-exterminators--as soon as they see bird or beast in any numbers. It is
-so, at least, in the country. How well I know the spirit! How well I
-know (and hate) the kind of person in which it most resides. They would
-be killing, these people--so they talk of ‘pests,’ and ‘keeping down.’”
-
-Ever since I came to live in the west of England, I have watched the
-starlings as opportunity presented, and I believe, of all birds,
-they are the greatest benefactors to the farmer, and to agriculture
-generally. Spread over the face of the entire country, they, all day
-long, search the fields for grubs, yet because, at night, they roost
-together in an inconsiderable space, they “infest” and are to be got
-rid of. As to the smallness of the space required, and the wide area of
-country from which the birds who sleep in it are drawn, I may refer to
-a letter which appeared, some time ago, in the _Standard_,[20] in which
-the opinions of Mr. Mellersh, author of “The Birds of Gloucestershire,”
-are referred to. That starlings eat a certain amount of orchard
-fruit is true--that is a more showy performance than the constant,
-quiet devouring of grubs and larvæ. Such as it is, I have watched it
-carefully, and know how small is the amount taken, compared with the
-size of the orchards and the abundance of the fruit. Starlings begin
-to congregate some time before they fly to their roosting-place. They
-then crowd into trees--often high elm-trees, but often, too, into
-those of orchards. The non-investigating person takes it for granted
-that they are there, all for plunder, and that all are eating--but
-this is a wrong idea. The greater number--full of another kind of
-excitement--touch nothing, and dead barkless trees may be seen as
-crowded as those which are loaded with fruit. Some fruit, as I say,
-they do destroy, and this, in actual quantity, may amount to a good
-deal. But let anybody see the orchards in the west of England--where
-starlings are most abundant--during the gathering-time, and he may
-judge as to the proportion of harm that the birds do. It is, in fact,
-infinitesimal, not worth the thinking of, a negligeable quantity. Yet
-in the same year that mountains of fruit are thrown away, or left
-ungathered, when it may rot rather than that the poor--or indeed
-anybody--should buy it cheap, you will hear men talk of the starlings.
-
-Why, then, do the starlings “infest”? Why should they be persecuted?
-Because they sleep together, in the space of, perhaps, a quarter of an
-acre here and there--one sole dormitory in a large tract of country? Is
-that their crime? For myself I see not where the harm of this can lie,
-but supposing that a thimbleful does lie somewhere, that a pheasant or
-two--for whose accommodation the country groans--is displaced, is not
-the pleasure of having the birds, and their grub-collecting all day
-long, sufficient to outweigh it? Is there nothing to love and admire
-in these handsome, lively, friendly, vivacious birds? They do much
-good, little harm, and none of that little to song-birds. Indeed they
-are song-birds too, or very nearly. How pleasant are their cheery,
-sing-talking voices! How greatly would we miss them--the better part
-of us, I mean--were they once gone! Harm to the song-birds! Why, when
-do these grand assemblages take place? Not till the spring is over, and
-our migratory warblers gone or thinking of going. They are autumn and
-winter sights. Are our thrushes and blackbirds alarmed, then?--or bold
-robin? Perish the calumny! “Infest!” No, it is not the starlings--loved
-of all save clods--who infest the country. It is rather, our country
-gentlemen. “Song-birds!” No, _they_ have nothing to do with it. “Will
-you ha’ the truth on’t?” To see life, and to wish to take it, is one
-and the same thing with the many, so that the greater the numbers, the
-greater seems the need to destroy.
-
-[Illustration: PEEWITS AND NEST]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-Peewits, besides those aerial antics which are of love, or appertaining
-to love, have some other and very strange ones, of the same nature,
-which they go through with on the ground. A bird, indulging in these,
-presses his breast upon the ground, and uses it as a pivot upon which
-he sways or rolls, more or less violently, from side to side. The
-legs, during this process, are hardly to be seen, but must, I suppose,
-support the body, which is inclined sharply upwards from the breast.
-The wings project like two horns on either side of the tail, which
-is bent down between them, in a nervous, virile manner. All at once,
-a spasm or wave of energy seems to pass through the bird, the tail
-is bent, still more forcibly, down, the body and wings remaining as
-before; and, with some most energetic waggles of it, from side to
-side, the generative act appears to be performed. That, at any rate, is
-what it looks like--the resemblance could hardly be more exact.
-
-What is the meaning of this strange performance? The cock bird, say
-the handbooks, is displaying before the hen. But where is the hen? In
-nine cases out of ten she is not there; and this, and, still more, the
-peculiarity of the actions, have convinced me that a wish to please
-is not the real motive of them. Again, it is assumed that the cock
-bird, only, rolls in this way. But is this the case? Some further
-observations, as recorded by me in my field notes, may serve to answer
-this question. “Two peewits have just paired.” I noticed no prior
-antics, but, immediately after coition, one of the two--I am not quick
-enough with the glasses to say which--runs a little way over the sand,
-and commences to roll. In a moment or two, the other runs up, looking
-most interested, and, on the first one’s rising and standing aside,
-immediately sits along, in the exact spot where it was, and in the same
-sort of attitude, though without rolling. Then this bird rises also,
-and both stand looking at the place where they have just lain, and
-making little pecks at it--or just beside it--with their bills. One of
-the two then walks a little away, so that I lose her, whilst the other
-one, on which I keep the glasses, and which I now feel sure is the
-male, rolls, again, in the same place, and in the most marked manner.
-Then, rising, he runs, for some way, with very short precise little
-steps, which have a peculiar character about them. His whole pose and
-attitude is, also, peculiar. The head and beak are pointed straight
-forward, in a line with the neck, which is stretched straight out, to
-its fullest extent, the crest lying flat down upon it. In this strange,
-set attitude, and with these funny little set, formal steps, he
-advances, without a pause, for some dozen or twenty yards, then stops,
-resumes his ordinary demeanour, and, shortly, flies off. In a little
-while the same thing occurs again, and, though still not quick enough
-with the glasses to be quite certain which bird it is that leads the
-way, immediately after the nuptial rite has been accomplished, I yet
-think it is the male; and he rolls now in two different places, making
-a run to some distance, in the way described, after the first time of
-doing so. It is only on the second occasion that the other bird runs up
-to him. The actions of the two are, then, as before, except that the
-last comer--the female, as I think--rolls this time, slightly, also. It
-is in a very imperfect and, as one may say, rudimentary manner, but I
-catch the characteristic, though subdued, motion with the tail.
-
-My glass is now upon a peewit standing negligently on the warrens,
-when another one, entering its field, flies right down upon and pairs
-with this bird, without having previously alighted on the ground.
-Immediately afterwards he (the male) makes his funny little run
-forward, starting from by the side of the female, and, at the end of
-it, pitches forward and commences to roll. The female, shortly, comes
-up to him, with the same interested manner as on the other occasions,
-and, on his moving his length forward, and sinking down again, she sits
-in the spot where he has just rolled, pecking on the ground, as before
-described, whilst he rolls, again, just in front of her. The two birds
-then rise, and stand together, making little desultory pecks. After a
-while the hen walks away, leaving the cock, who rolls a little more
-before following her. A strange performance this rolling is, when seen
-quite plainly through the glasses. The whole body is lifted up, so that
-the bird often looks not so much sitting as standing on his breast,
-the rest of him being in the air. The breast is, thus, pressed into
-the sand, whilst a rolling or side-to-side movement of it, varying in
-force, helps to make a cup-shaped hollow. This curious raised attitude,
-however, alternates with a more ordinary sitting posture, nor is the
-rolling motion always apparent. After each raising of the wings and
-tail, they are depressed, then again raised, and so on, whilst, at
-intervals, there is the curious waggle of the tail, before described,
-suggesting actual copulation.
-
-In none of the above instances did I walk to examine the place where
-the birds had rolled after they had left them. They would, indeed,
-have been difficult to find, but upon another occasion, when the
-circumstances made this easy, I did so, and found just such a little
-round basin in the sand as the eggs are laid in. No eggs, however,
-were ever laid here, whilst the bird was afterwards to be seen rolling
-in other parts. It is easy, under such circumstances, to keep one
-peewit--or at least one pair of them--distinct from others, for they
-appropriate a little territory to themselves, which they come back to
-and stand about in, however much they may fly abroad. And here the
-birds return, in my experience, spring-time after spring-time, to lay
-their eggs, so that I judge them to pair for life. It is well known
-that the peewit does produce hollows in the way described--as, indeed,
-he could hardly avoid doing--and as he is constantly rolling in various
-places numbers of such little empty cups are to be found about the
-bird’s breeding haunts. Mr. Howard Saunders, in his “Manual of British
-Birds,” says, alluding to the spring-tide activities of the peewit,
-“The ‘false nests’ often found are scraped out by the cock in turning
-round, when showing off to the female.” I have shown what the bird’s
-movements on these occasions really are. They have upon them, in my
-opinion, the plain stamp of the primary sexual impulse, and it is out
-of this that anything which can be looked upon as in the nature of a
-conscious display must have grown. There is, indeed, evidence to show
-that one bird performing these actions may be of interest to another,
-but in spite of this and of the bright colour of the under tail-coverts
-(which I have seen apparently examined, even touched, by one peewit,
-whilst another, their owner, was rolling), it may be said that, in the
-greater number of cases, the performing bird is paid no attention to,
-and does not, itself, appear to wish to be, being often, to all intents
-and purposes, alone. What relation, then, do such actions, which are
-not confined to the peewit, bear to the more pronounced and undoubted
-cases of sexual display? They are, I believe, the raw material out of
-which these latter have arisen--sometimes, at least, if not always. I
-have, also, shown that it is not the male peewit, only, that rolls.
-As usual, it has been assumed that this is so, because here, as in
-other cases, it is impossible, in field observation, to distinguish
-the one sex from the other, and to assume is a much easier process
-than to find out. Immediately after coition, however, one has both the
-male and the female bird before one, and under these circumstances
-I have seen them both act in the same way, as just described. It is
-true that the actions of the female were less pronounced than those of
-the male, but it does not follow that this is always the case, and,
-moreover, it is of no great importance if it is. The essential fact
-is that both the sexes go through the same movements, and, therefore,
-if these movements are, as I believe them to be, the basis of sexual
-display, one can see why, in some cases, there might be an inter-sexual
-display, and, as a consequence, an inter-sexual selection. But I
-leave this question, which has been profoundly neglected, to come to
-another. In the passage I have quoted, the term “false nest” is put in
-inverted commas, showing, I suppose, that it has often been used, and,
-consequently, that the close resemblance of the false nest to the real
-one has been generally recognised. I suggest that the false nest _is_
-the real one--by which I mean that there is no essential difference in
-the process by which each is produced; and, further, that the origin of
-nest-building generally, amongst birds, has been the excited nervous
-actions to which the warmth of the sexual feelings give rise, and the
-activity of the generative organs.
-
-My theory is based upon two assumptions, neither of which, I think, is
-in itself improbable. The first of these assumptions is that birds,
-in early times, made no nests, and the second that the eggs were
-originally laid upon the ground only. Assuming this, and that these
-ancient birds, like many modern ones, gave themselves up, during the
-breeding time, to all sorts of strange, frenzied movements over the
-ground, I suppose the eggs to have been laid in some place which had
-been the scene of such movements. For, by a natural tendency, birds,
-like other animals, get to connect a certain act with a certain place,
-or with certain places. Thus they are wont to roost in the same tree,
-and often on the same bough of it, to bathe in the same pool or bend
-of the stream, &c. &c. In accordance with this disposition, their
-antics, or love-frenzies, would have tended to become localised also;
-the places where they had been most frequently indulged in would have
-called up, by association, the nuptial feelings, and, consequently,
-the eggs would have been more likely to have been laid in such places
-than in other ones having no special significance. Like every other act
-that is often repeated, this one of laying in a certain spot would have
-passed into a habit, and thus the place of mutual dalliance--perhaps
-of pairing, also--would have become the place of laying, therefore
-the potential nest. Having got thus far, let us now suppose that one
-chief form of these frenzied movements, which I suppose to have been
-indulged in by both sexes, was a rolling, buzzing, or spinning round
-upon the ground, by which means the bird so acting produced, like the
-peewit, a greater or lesser depression in it. If the eggs were laid in
-the depression so formed, they would then have been laid in a nest,
-but such nest would not have been made with any idea of receiving the
-eggs, or sheltering the young. Its existence would have been due to
-excited and non-purposive movements, springing out of the violence of
-the sexual emotions. Now, however, comes a further stage, which, it
-might well be thought, could only have grown out of deliberate and
-intelligent action--I mean at every slight step in the process--on
-the part of the bird. I allude to the lining of grass, moss, sticks,
-or even stones or fragments of shells, with which many birds that lay
-their eggs in a hollow, made by them in the ground, further improve
-this. That the nature and object of this process is now, through
-memory, more or less understood by many birds, I, for one, do not
-doubt; but, as every evolutionist will admit, it is the beginnings of
-anything, which best explain, and are most fraught with significance.
-Is it possible that even the actual building of the nest may have had a
-nervous--a frenzied--origin? Lions and other fierce carnivorous animals
-will, when wounded, bite at sticks, or anything else lying within their
-reach. That a bird, as accustomed to peck as a dog or a lion is to
-bite, should, whilst in a state of the most intense nervous excitement,
-do the same, does not appear to me to be more strange, or, indeed, in
-any way peculiar; and that such a trick would be inherited, and, if
-beneficial, increased and modified, who that has Darwin in his soul can
-doubt? Now if a bird, whilst ecstatically rolling on the ground, were
-to pick up and throw aside either small sticks or any other loose-lying
-and easily-seized objects--such as bits of grass or fibrous roots--I
-can see no reason why it should not, by stretching out its neck to such
-as lay just within its reach, and dropping them, again, when in an
-easier attitude, make a sort of collection of them close about it--of
-which, indeed, I will quote an instance farther on. Then if the eggs
-were laid where the bird had rolled, they would be laid in the midst of
-such a collection.
-
-Now, I submit that these curious actions of the peewit, during the
-breeding time, support the theory of the origin of nest-building, which
-I have here roughly sketched, if not entirely, at least to a certain
-extent. They point in that direction. Here we have movements, on the
-part of both the male and female bird, which are, obviously, of a
-sexual character, having upon them, I would say, the plain stamp of
-the primary sexual instinct. They are most marked--or, at any rate,
-most elaborate--immediately after the actual pairing, commencing,
-then, in the curious little run and set attitude of the male. Out
-of, and as a result of, these movements, a depression in the ground,
-greatly resembling--if not, as I believe, identical with--that in
-which the eggs are laid, is evolved, and in or about this is shown a
-tendency to collect sticks, grass, or other loose substances. But how
-different are these collecting movements to those which we see in a
-bird whose nest-building instinct has become more highly developed!
-They seem to be but just emerging from the region of blind forces, to
-be only half-designed, not yet fully guided by a distinct idea of doing
-something for a definite end. Yet it is just _these_ actions that most
-resemble those which seem so purposive, in the ordinary building of a
-nest. All the others seem to me to belong to that large and important
-class of avine movements, which may be called the sexually ecstatic, or
-love-mad, group. Nor can these two classes of actions be separated from
-each other. The motion by which the hollow is produced is accompanied
-by--if it may not rather be said to be a part of--that most pronounced,
-peculiar, and, as it seems to me, purely sexual one of the tail, or
-rather of the anal parts; and there is, moreover, the very marked and
-distinctive run, with the set, rigid attitude--that salient feature of
-a bird’s nuptial antics--which immediately precedes the rolling, in the
-same way that the run precedes the jump in athletics. All this set of
-actions must be looked upon as so many parts of one and the same whole
-thing, and to explain such whole thing we must call in some cause which
-will equally account for all its parts. The deliberate intention of
-making a nest will not do this, for many of the actions noted do not
-in the least further such a plan. On the other hand, sexual excitement
-may just as well produce rolling on the ground--as, indeed, it does
-in some other birds--and, perhaps, even pecking round about on it, as
-it may the stiff, set run, and those other peculiar movements. And if
-some of many movements, the cause of all of which is sexual excitement,
-should be of such a nature as that, out of them, good might accrue to
-the species, why should not natural selection seize hold of these, and
-gradually shape them, making them, at last, through the individual
-memory, intelligent and purposive? since, by becoming so, their ability
-might be largely increased, and their improvement proceed at a quicker
-rate. I believe that in these actions of the peewit, which sometimes
-appear to me to stand in the place of copulation, and at other times
-commence immediately after it, with a peculiar run, and then go on,
-without pause or break, to other motions, all of which--even the
-curious pecking which I have noticed--have, more or less, the stamp
-of sexual excitement upon them, though some may, in their effects,
-be serviceable--I believe, I say, that in all these actions we see
-this process actually at work; and I believe, also, that in the
-nest-building of species comparatively advanced in the art, we may
-still see traces of its early sexual origin. I have been, for instance,
-extremely struck with the movements of a hen blackbird upon the nest
-that she was in course of constructing. These appeared to me to partake
-largely of an ecstatic--one might almost say a beatific--nature, so
-that there was a large margin of energy, over and above the actual
-business of building--at least it struck me so--to be accounted for. I
-was not in the least expecting to see this, and I well remember how it
-surprised and struck me. The wings of this blackbird were half spread
-out, and would, I think, have drooped--an action most characteristic
-of sexual excitement in birds--had not the edge of the nest supported
-them, and I particularly noted the spasmodic manner in which the tail
-was, from time to time, suddenly bent down. It is true that it then
-tightly clasped--as one may almost call it--the rim of the nest,
-pressing hard against it on the outer side. But though such action
-may now have become part of a shaping process, yet it was impossible
-for me, when I saw it, not to think of the peewit, in which something
-markedly similar could have answered no purpose of this kind. Were the
-latter bird, instead of rolling on the ground, to do so in a properly
-constructed nest, of a size suitable to its bulk, the tail, being bent
-forcibly down in the way I have described, would compress the rim of
-it, just as did that of the blackbird. And were the blackbird to do
-what I have seen it do, on the bare ground, and side by side with the
-peewit, a curious parallel would, I think, be exhibited. As far as
-I have been able to see, the actions of rooks on the nest are very
-similar to those of the blackbird, and a black Australian swan, that I
-watched in the Pittville Gardens at Cheltenham, went through movements,
-upon the great heap of leaves flung down for it, which much resembled
-those of the peewit upon the ground. By what I understand from the
-swan-keeper at Abbotsbury, the male of the mute swan acts in much the
-same way. Of course what is wanted is extended observation of the way
-in which birds build their nests--that is to say, of their intimate
-actions when on them, either placing the materials or shaping the
-structure. If the origin of the habit has been as I imagine, one might
-expect, here, to see traces of it, in movements more or less resembling
-those to which I have drawn attention.
-
-I have noticed the curious way in which both the male and female
-peewit--after movements which appear to me to differ considerably from
-the more characteristic love-antics of birds in general--peck about
-at bits of grass, or any other such object growing or lying within
-their reach; and I have speculated on the possibility of actions like
-these, though at first of a nervous and merely mechanical character,
-having grown, at last, into the deliberate and intentional building
-of a nest. Whether, in the case of the peewit, we see quite the first
-stage of the process, I will not be certain; but we see it, I believe,
-in another of our common British birds, viz. the wheat-ear. My notes on
-the extraordinary behaviour of two males of this bird, whilst courting
-the female, I have published in my work, “Bird Watching,”[21] from
-which I will now quote a few lines bearing upon this point: “Instead of
-fighting, however, which both the champions seem to be chary of, one
-of them again runs into a hollow, this time a very shallow one, but in
-a manner slightly different. He now hardly rises from the ground, over
-which he seems more to spin, in a strange sort of way, than to fly; to
-buzz, as it were, in a confined area, and with a tendency to go round
-and round. Having done this a little, he runs from the hollow, plucks a
-few little bits of grass, returns with them into it, drops them there,
-comes out again, hops about as before, flies up into the air, descends,
-and again dances about.” Now, here, a bird brings to a certain spot,
-not unlike such a one as the nest is usually built in--approaching
-it, at any rate--some of the actual materials of which the nest is
-composed, and I ask if, under the circumstances, it can possibly be
-imagined that such bird really is building its nest, in the ordinary
-purpose-implying sense of the term. As well might one suppose--so it
-seems to me--that a man, in the pauses of a fierce sword-and-dagger
-fight with a rival suitor, should set seriously to work house-hunting
-or furniture-buying. These wheat-ears, I should mention, had been
-following each other about, for the greater part of the afternoon,
-and though, as hinted, not exactly fire-eaters, had yet several times
-closed in fierce conflict. The manner in which the grass was plucked by
-one of them, partook of the frenzied character of their whole conduct.
-How difficult, therefore, to suppose that here, all at once, was a
-deliberate act, having to do with the building of a nest, before,
-apparently, either of the two rivals had been definitely chosen by the
-hen bird! Yet, when once the object had been seized, associations may
-have been aroused by it.
-
-Facts of this kind appear to me to prove, at least, the possibility
-of a process so elaborate, and, seemingly, so purposive as that of
-building a nest, having commenced in mere mechanical, unintelligent
-actions. As further evidence of this, and also of the passing of such
-actions into a further stage--that of actual construction, more or
-less combined with intelligence--I will now quote from an interesting
-account, by Mr. Cronwright Schreiner, of the habits of the ostrich,
-as farmed in South Africa, which was published in the _Zoologist_ for
-March 1897, but which I had not read at the time these ideas first
-occurred to me:--
-
-“_The Nest Made by the Pair Together._--The cock goes down on to his
-breast, scraping or kicking the sand out, backwards, with his feet....
-The hen stands by, often fluttering and clicking her wings, and helps
-by picking up the sand, with her beak, and dropping it, irregularly,
-near the edge of the growing depression.” (Compare the actions, as I
-have noted them, of both the male and female peewit.)
-
-“_The Little Embankment Round the Nest._--The sitting bird, whilst on
-the nest, sometimes pecks the sand up, with its beak, nearly as far
-from the nest as it can reach, and drops it around the body. A little
-embankment is thus, gradually, formed.... The formation ... is aided
-by a peculiar habit of the birds. When the bird on the nest is much
-excited (as by the approach of other birds, or people) it snaps up the
-sand, spasmodically, without rising from the nest, and without lifting
-its head more than a few inches from the ground. The bank is raised
-by such sand as falls inward. The original nest is, merely, a shallow
-depression.”
-
-Remarks follow on the use of the bank, which has become a part--and
-an important part--of the nest. We, however, are concerned with
-the origin both of it and the depression. It seems clear, from the
-account, that the former is made, in part at least, without the bird
-having the intention of doing so; whilst, to make the latter, the
-cock assumes the attitude of sexual frenzy (described in the same
-paper, and often witnessed by myself), an attitude which does not
-seem necessary for mere scratching, nor, indeed, adapted for it. Why
-should a bird, possessing such tremendous power in its legs--moving
-them so freely, and accustomed to kick and stamp with them--have to
-sink upon its breast in order to scratch a shallow depression? Surely,
-considering their length, they could be much less conveniently used,
-for such a purpose, in this position, than if the bird stood up. If
-the scratching, however, has grown out of the sexual frenzy, we can,
-then, well understand the characteristic posture of the latter being
-continued. I suspect, myself, that the breast of the bird still helps
-to make the depression, as in courtship it must almost necessarily
-do--for the ostrich rolls, on such occasions, in much the same way as
-the peewit.
-
-These nesting habits of the ostrich[22] seem to me to support my idea
-of the origin of nest-making. How strange, if “spasmodic” and “excited”
-actions have had nothing to do with it, that they should yet help,
-here, to make the nest! How strange that the cock ostrich, only, should
-make the depression, assuming that attitude in which he rolls when
-courting--or, rather, desiring--the hen, if this has no connection with
-the fact that it is he only (or he pre-eminently) who, in the breeding
-time, acts in this manner! In most birds, probably--though this has
-been taken too much for granted--those frenzied movements arising out
-of the violence of sexual desire, are more violent and frenzied in the
-male than in the female. In this way we may see, upon my theory, the
-reason why the cock bird so often helps the hen in making the nest; nor
-is it more difficult to suppose that the hen, in most cases, may have
-been led to imitate him, than it is to suppose the converse of this.
-We might expect, however, that as the process became more and more
-elaborate and intelligent, the chief part in it would, in the majority
-of instances, be taken by the female, as is the case; for as soon as a
-nest had come to be connected, in the bird’s mind, with eggs and young,
-then her parental affection (the “στοργἡ” of Gilbert White), by being
-stronger than that of the male, would have prompted her to take the
-lead. I can see no reason why acts which were, originally, nervous,
-merely--spasmodic, frenzied--should not have become, gradually, more
-and more rational. Natural selection would have accomplished this; for,
-beneficent as actions, blindly performed, might be to an animal, they
-would, surely, be more so, if such animal were able, by the exercise of
-its intelligence, to guide and shape them, in however small a degree.
-Thus, not only would those individuals be selected, who performed an
-act which was advantageous, but those, also, whose intelligence best
-enabled them to see to what end this act tended, and, so, to improve
-upon it, would be selected out of these. Such a process of selection
-would tend to develop, not only the general intelligence, but, in a
-more especial degree, intelligence directed along certain channels, so
-that the latter might be out of proportion to the former, and this is
-what one often seems to see in animals.
-
-Thus, as it appears to me, instead of instinct having commenced in
-intelligence, which has subsequently lapsed, the latter may often have
-grown gradually out of the former, blind movements, as we may call
-them, coming, at length, to have an aim and object, and so to be
-rational ones. It may be asked, by what door could this intelligence,
-in regard to actions originally not guided by it, have entered? I
-reply, by that of memory. A bird does not make a nest or lay eggs once
-only, but many times. Therefore, though the actions by which the nest
-is produced, on the first occasion, may have no object in them, yet
-memory, on the next and subsequent ones, will keep telling the bird
-for what purpose they have served. Such individuals as remembered
-this most strongly, and could best apply their recollections, would
-have an advantage over the others, for their actions would now be
-rational, and, being so, they would be able to modify and improve
-them. Their offspring would inherit this stronger memory and these
-superior powers, and also, probably, a tendency to use them both, in
-the same special direction. Whether knowledge itself may not, in some
-sort of way, be inherited, is, also, a question to be asked. If a bird
-instinctively builds a nest, may it not instinctively know why it does
-so? If there is any truth in these views, we ought to see, in some
-of the more specialised actions of animals--and, more particularly,
-of birds--a mingling, in various proportions, of intelligence and
-blind, unreasoning impulse. This, to my mind, is just what we do see,
-in many such; as, for instance, in the courting or nuptial antics,
-in those other ones, perhaps more extraordinary, which serve to
-draw one’s attention from the nest or young, and, finally, in the
-building of the nest. Not only do the two elements seem mingled and
-blended together, in all of these, but they are mingled in varying
-proportions, according to the species. No one who has seen both a snipe
-and a wild duck “feign,” as it is commonly called, being disabled,
-can have helped noticing that far more of intelligence seems to
-enter into the performance of the latter bird, than into that of the
-former. The moor-hen is not a bird that is known in connection with
-any special ruse or device for enticing intruders from its young, but
-I have seen one fall into a sort of convulsion, on the water, upon my
-appearing, very suddenly, on the bank of a little stream where she
-was swimming, with her young brood. The actions of a snipe, startled
-from its eggs, were much more extraordinary, and equally, as it seemed
-to me, of a purely nervous character.[23] Here, surely, we must have
-the raw material for that remarkable instinct, so highly developed in
-some birds, by which they attract attention from their young, towards
-themselves. But, if so, this instinct is not lapsed intelligence,
-but, rather, hysteria become half-intelligent. The part which mere
-muscular-nervous movements may have played, under the agency of natural
-selection, in the formation of some instincts, has not, I think, been
-sufficiently considered.
-
-There is another class of facts which, I think, may be explained on
-the above view of the origin of the nest-building instinct. Some birds
-pair, habitually, on the nest, whilst a few make runs, or bowers, for
-the express purpose, apparently, of courting, and where pairing, not
-improbably, may also take place. Now, if the ancient nest had been,
-before everything, the place of sexual intercourse, we can understand
-why it should, in some cases, have retained its original character, in
-this respect.
-
-What, now, is the real nature of those frenzied motions in birds,
-during the breeding season, before they have passed, either into what
-may properly be called courting antics, or the process of building a
-nest? I have described what the peewit actually does, and I suggest
-that the rolling of a single bird differs only, in its essential
-character, from actual coition, by the fact of its being singly
-performed, and that, thus, the primary sexual instinct (_der thierische
-Trieb_) directly gives birth to the secondary, nest-building one. It
-is true that the pairing, when I saw it, did not take place on the
-same spot where the rolling afterwards did. Nevertheless, the distance
-was not great, and it varied considerably. The run, which preceded
-the rolling, commenced immediately on the consummation of the nuptial
-rite, as though arising from the excitation of it--as may be seen with
-other birds; and if this run, which varied in length, were to become
-shorter and ultimately to be eliminated altogether, the bird would
-then be pairing, rolling, and at last, as I believe, laying its eggs
-in one and the same place.[24] Supposing this to have been originally
-the case, then the early nest would have been put to two uses, that of
-a thalamum and that of a cradle, and to these two uses it is in some
-cases put now, as I have myself seen. That out of one thing having
-two uses--“the bed contrived a double debt to pay”--there should have
-come to be two things, each having one of these uses--as, _e.g._, the
-nest proper and the bower--or that the one use should have tended to
-eclipse and do away with the other, is, to my idea, all in the natural
-order of events; but this I have touched upon in a previous chapter.
-To conclude, in the peewit movements of a highly curious nature
-immediately succeed, and seem thus to be related to, the generative
-act, and whilst these movements in part resemble that act, and bear,
-as a whole, a peculiar stamp, expressed by the word “sexual,” some of
-them, not separable from the _tout ensemble_, of which they form a
-part, suggest, also, the making of a nest; and, moreover, something
-much resembling a peewit’s nest is, by such movements, actually made.
-
-Taking all this together, and in conjunction with the breeding and
-nesting habits of the ostrich and some other birds, we have here, as
-it seems to me, an indication of some such origin of nest-building,
-amongst birds, as that which I have imagined. That the art is now,
-speaking generally, in such a greatly advanced state is no argument
-against its having thus originated, since there is no limit to what
-natural selection, acting in relation to the varying habits of each
-particular species, may have been able to effect. Certainly, the actual
-evidence on which I found my theory, though it does not appear to me
-to be weak in kind, is very scanty in amount. To remedy this, more
-observation is wanted, and what I would suggest is that observant men,
-with a taste for natural history, should, all over the world, pay
-closer attention to the actual manner in which birds do all that they
-do do, in the way of courting, displaying, anticking, nest-building,
-enticing one from their young, fighting, &c. &c.--all those activities,
-in fact, which are displayed most strongly during the breeding season.
-I do not at all agree with a certain reviewer of mine, that the
-scientific value of such observations has been discounted by Darwin--as
-if any man, however great, could tear all the heart out of nature!
-On the contrary, I believe that the more we pry the more will truth
-appear, and I look upon mere general references, such as one finds in
-the ordinary natural history books, as mere play-work and most sorry
-reading for an intellectual man. What is the use of knowing that some
-bird or other goes through “very extraordinary antics in the season of
-love”? This is not nearly enough. One requires to know what, exactly,
-these antics are, the exact movements of which they consist--the
-minutest details, in fact, gathered from a number of observations. When
-one knows this one may be able to speculate a little, and what interest
-is there, either in natural history or anything else, if one cannot
-do that? _Mere_ facts are for children only. As they begin to point
-towards conclusions they become food for men.
-
-In the study of bird-life nothing perhaps is more interesting than
-the antics of one sort or another which we see performed by different
-species, and the nature and origin of which it is often difficult to
-understand. As has been seen, I account for some of these through
-natural selection acting upon violent nervous movements, the result
-either of sexual or some other kind of emotion--as, for instance,
-sudden fright when the bird is disturbed on the nest, or elsewhere,
-with its young, producing a sort of hysteria or convulsion; others I
-believe to be due to what instinct, generally, is often supposed to
-be, namely, to the lapse of intelligence. I believe that if a certain
-action or set of actions is very frequently repeated, it comes to
-be performed unintelligently; nay, more, that there is an imperious
-necessity of performing it, independently of any good which it may do.
-It is watching birds fighting which has led me to this conclusion. Far
-from doing the best thing under the circumstances, they often appear
-to me to do things which lead to no particular result, neglecting,
-through them, very salient opportunities. A striking instance of
-this, though not quite of the kind that I mean, is offered by the
-stock-dove, for when these birds fight, they constantly interrupt
-the flow of the combat, by bowing in the most absurd way, not to one
-another, but generally, so to speak, for no object or purpose whatever,
-apparently, but only because they must do so. The fact is, the bow
-has become a formula of courtship, and as courting and fighting are
-intimately connected, the one suggests the other in the mind of the
-bird, who bows, all at once, under a misconception, and as not being
-able to help it. But though there is no utility here, it may be said
-that there is a real purpose, though a mistaken one, so that the bird
-is not acting automatically. It is in the actual movements of the
-fight itself--in the cut and thrust, so to speak--that I have been
-struck by the automatic character impressed upon some of them. This
-was especially the case with a pair of snipes that I watched fighting,
-by the little streamlet here, one morning, perhaps for half-an-hour.
-They stood facing each other, drawn up to their full height, and, at
-or about the same instant, each would give a little spring into the
-air, and violently flap the wings. I would say that they struck with
-them--that manifestly was what they should have done, the _rationale_
-of the action--but the curious point is that this did not seem to be
-necessary, or, at any rate, it was often, for a considerable space of
-time, in abeyance. The great thing appeared to be to jump, and, at
-the same time, to flap the wings, and as long as the birds did this,
-they seemed satisfied, though there was often a foot or more of space
-between them. Sometimes, indeed, they got closer together, and then
-they had the appearance of consciously striking at one another; but
-having watched them attentively, from beginning to end, I came to the
-conclusion that this was more apparent than real, and that, provided
-the wings were waved, it mattered little whether they came in contact
-with the adversary’s person, or not. For when these snipes jumped wide
-apart, or, at any rate, at such a distance that each was quite beyond
-the other’s reach, they did not seem to be struck with the futility
-of hitting out, under these circumstances, or to be greatly bent on
-closing, and putting an end to such a fiasco. Far from this, they went
-on in just the same way, and, for one leap in which they smote each
-other, there were, perhaps, a dozen in which they only beat the air. I
-do not mean to suggest that the birds were not actually and consciously
-fighting, but it certainly did seem to me that their principal
-fighting action--the blow, with the leap in the air, namely--had
-become stereotyped and, to some extent, dissociated from the idea
-of doing injury, in which it had originated. It seemed, in fact, to
-be rather an end in itself, than a means to an end. Another and very
-noticeable point, which helped to lead me to this view, was that,
-except in this way, which, as I have said, was mostly ineffective,
-the birds seemed to have no idea of doing each other harm. Often they
-would be side by side, or the beak of the one almost touching the back
-or shoulder of the other. Yet in this close contiguity, where the one
-bird was often in a position very favourable, as it seemed, for a
-non-specialised attack, no such attack was ever made; on the contrary,
-to go by appearances, one might have thought them both actuated by a
-quite friendly spirit. After about half-an-hour’s conflict of this
-description, these snipes flew much nearer to me, so that I could see
-them even more distinctly than I had done before. I thought, now,
-that I saw a perplexed, almost a foolish, look on the part of both of
-them, as though they had forgotten what, exactly, was the object which
-had brought them into such close proximity; and then, each seeming to
-remember that to jump and flap the wings was the orthodox thing to do,
-they both did it, in a random and purposeless sort of way, as though
-merely to save the situation. This was the last jump made, and then the
-_affaire_ appeared to end by the parties to it forgetting what it was
-about, or why there had been one. My idea is that such oblivion may
-prevail, at times, during the actual combat, which becomes, then, a
-mere set figure, an irrational dance or display, into which it might,
-by degrees, wholly pass.
-
-There was another point of interest in this interesting spectacle. The
-birds, when they were not actually springing or flapping, mutually
-chased, or, rather, followed and were followed by, each other. But
-this, too, seemed to have become a mere form, for I never saw either of
-them make the slightest effort to dash at and seize the other, though
-they were often quite at close quarters and never very far apart. When
-almost touching, the foremost bird would turn, upon which the other
-did also, as a matter of course, but instead of running, walked away
-in a formal manner, and with but slightly quicker steps. The whole
-thing had a strange, formal look about it. When this following or
-dogging--chasing it cannot properly be called--passed into the kind of
-combat which I have described, it was always in the following manner.
-The bird behind, having pressed a little upon the one in front, instead
-of making a dash at him--as would have seemed natural, but which I
-never once saw--jumped straight into the air, flapping its wings, and
-the other, turning at the same instant, did likewise, neither blow,
-if it could indeed be called one, taking effect. The two thus fronted
-one another again, and the springing and flapping, having recommenced,
-would continue for a longer or shorter period. When these snipes
-leaped, their tails were a little fanned, but not conspicuously so.
-Another thing I noticed was, that the bird retreating often had its
-tail cocked up perpendicularly, whereas this was not the case with the
-one following.
-
-Both the two points that struck me in the fighting of these snipes,
-viz. the apparent inability to fight in any but one set way, and the
-formal, alternate following of, and retreating from one another, I have
-noticed, also, in the fighting of blackbirds, and other birds, whilst
-the last has been pushed to quite a remarkable extreme in the case of
-the partridge. Pairs of these birds may be seen, as early as January,
-running up and down the fields--often along a hedge, or, here, a row
-of pine trees--as though to warm themselves, but really in pursuit of
-one another, though the interval between them is often so great that,
-but for both turning at the same precise instant of time, one would
-think they were acting independently. This interval may be as much as
-a hundred yards, or even more, and it is often exactly maintained for
-a very long time. At any moment the two birds, whilst thus running at
-full speed, may turn, and the chase is then continued in exactly the
-same way, except that it is now in an opposite direction, and that the
-pursuer and pursued have changed parts. Apollo--one might say, were
-the sport of an amorous nature--has become Daphne, Daphne Apollo; for
-as each turns, each becomes actuated by the spirit that, but a second
-before, had filled the other--a complete _volte face_ upon either
-side, both spiritually and corporeally. Keepers have, in fact, told me
-that it is the male and female partridge, who thus chase one another;
-but this, from my own observation, I do not believe. Often, indeed,
-the birds will get out of sight before the interval between them
-has been lessened, or the pursued one will fly off, followed by his
-pursuer, without anything in the nature of a combat having occurred.
-At other times, however, the distance separating the two is gradually
-diminished, the turns, as it lessens, become more and more frequent,
-and, at length, a sort of sparring scuffle takes place, in which beak
-as well as claw is used. One of the birds has been run down, in fact,
-but the odd thing is that, as soon as it escapes, it turns round again,
-upon which the other does also, and the scene that I have described
-recommences. Now why should a bird that has just had the disadvantage
-in a struggle, and is being pursued by the victor, turn so boldly round
-upon him, and why--this in a much higher degree--should that victor,
-with the prestige of his victory full upon him, turn, the instant the
-bird he has vanquished does, and run away from him like a hare? In
-all this there appears to me to be something unusual, suggesting that
-what was, originally, an act of volition, is now no longer so, but
-has become an automatic reaction to an equally automatic stimulus.
-The will, as it appears to me, except, of course, in _los primeros
-movimientos_, has almost dropped out of use, so that when the drama has
-once commenced, all the rest follows of itself. I have said that the
-two birds turn simultaneously. Strictly speaking, I suppose that one
-of them--the pursued one probably--makes the initial movement towards
-doing so: but so immediate is the action of the other upon it, that
-it often looks as though both had swung round at the same instant of
-time. This, surely, at a distance of fifty or a hundred yards, is, in
-itself, a very remarkable thing, though, as far as I can make out,
-these curious chases have not attracted much attention. If we wish to
-see their real origin, we must watch the fighting of other species.
-In all, or nearly all, birds, there is a mixture of pugnacity and
-timidity. The former urges them to rush upon the foe, the latter to
-turn tail and retreat, whenever they are, themselves, rushed upon.
-Thus, in most combats, there is a good deal of alternate advancing and
-retreating, but this is no more than what one might expect, and has a
-quite natural appearance. In various species, however, the tendency
-is exaggerated in a greater or less degree, until, in the partridge,
-we find it developed to a quite extraordinary extent; whilst there is
-something--a sort of clockwork appearance in the bird’s actions, due,
-I suppose, to the wonderful simultaneousness with which they turn, and
-the length of time for which they keep at just the same distance from
-one another, with a wide gap between them--which strikes one as very
-peculiar.
-
-Do we not see in these varying degrees of one and the same thing,
-commencing with what is scarce noticeable, and ending in something
-extremely pronounced, the passage, through habit and repetition, of a
-rational action into a formal one? Do we not, in fact, see one kind of
-_antic_, with the cause of it? A natural tendency has led to a certain
-act being so frequently performed that it has become, at last, a sort
-of set figure that can no longer be shaken off. As, in the case of the
-partridge, this figure is gone through over and over again, sometimes
-for an hour or more together, I believe that it will, some day, either
-quite take the place of fighting, with this species, or become a thing
-distinct and apart from it; so that its original meaning being no
-longer recognisable, it will be alluded to as “one of those odd and
-inexplicable impulses which seem, sometimes, to possess birds,” &c.
-&c.--so difficult to explain, in fact, that some naturalists would
-prefer not to try to. For myself, I like trying, and I see, in the
-curiously set and formal-looking combats of many birds, a possible
-origin of some of those so-called dances or antics which do not seem
-to bear any special relation to the attracting or charming of the
-one sex by the other. The whole thing, I believe, is this. Anything
-constantly gone through, in a particular manner, becomes a routine,
-and a routine becomes, in time, automatical, the more so, probably, as
-we descend lower in the scale of life. Whilst the actions get more and
-more fixed, the clear purpose that originally dictated them, becomes,
-first, subordinated, then obscured, finally forgotten, and intelligence
-has lapsed. We have, then, an antic, but when this has come about,
-change is likely to begin. For the actions being not, now, of any
-special use, there will be nothing to keep them fixed, and as muscular
-activity goes hand in hand with mental excitement, such excitement
-will, probably, give rise to other actions, which, having no definite
-object, and being of an energetic character, must often seem grotesque.
-Movements, indeed, appear odd in proportion as we can see no meaning
-in them. There being, now, such antics, accompanied with excitement,
-it is probable that excitement of any kind will tend to produce them,
-and, the strongest kind of excitement being the sexual one, they are
-likely to become a feature of the season of love. Moreover, the most
-vigorous birds will be the best performers in this kind, and if these
-be the males, then, whether they win the females by their vigour, or
-whether the females choose them for the result of it--their antics
-namely--in either case these will increase. For my part, I believe that
-the one sex will, generally, take an interest in what the other does,
-which would lead to more and more emulation, and more and more choice.
-Thus, however any antic may have originated, it seems to me very
-probable that it will, ultimately, become a sexual one, and it will
-then often be indistinguishable from such as have been entirely sexual
-in their origin. Examples of the latter would be, in my view, those
-frenzied motions, springing from the violence of the sexual passion,
-which, by their becoming pleasing to the one sex, when indulged in
-by the other, have been moulded, by this influence, into a conscious
-display. Inasmuch, however, as, upon my supposition, almost any action
-can become an antic, and as a long time may then elapse before it is
-employed sexually, it is natural that we should find, amongst birds, a
-number of antics which are not sexual ones, and which neither add to,
-nor detract from, the evidence for or against sexual selection.
-
-It may be said that the snipes which I saw fighting were only one pair.
-Still they were a pair of snipes, and as representative, I suppose,
-as any other pair of the same bird. No doubt there would be degrees
-of efficiency and formality, but this would not affect the general
-argument. Wherever, in nature, any process is going on, some of the
-individuals of those species affected by it will be more affected than
-others.
-
-[Illustration: COAL-TIT]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-Tits, as I think I have said, or implied, are a feature of
-Icklingham. They like the fir plantations, which, though of no great
-dimensions--for they only make a patch here and there--are to them, by
-virtue of their tininess, as the wide-stretching forests of Brazil.
-Sitting here, in the spring-time, on the look-out, with a general
-alertness for anything, but not thinking of tits in particular, one
-may become, gradually, aware--for their softness sinks upon one, one
-never sees them suddenly--of one of these little birds dropping, every
-few minutes, from the branches of a fir to the ground, and there
-disappearing. In a lazy sort of way you watch--to be more direct I once
-watched--and soon I saw there were a pair. They crossed one another,
-sometimes, going or coming, and, each time, the one that came had
-something very small in its bill. Walking to the tree, I found, at only
-a foot or two from its trunk, a perfectly circular little hole, opening
-smoothly from amongst the carpet of pine-needles, with which the ground
-was covered. Against this I laid my ear, but there were no chitterings
-from inside, all was silent in the little, future nursery--for
-evidently the nest was a-making. But how, now, was I to watch the birds
-closely? When I sat quite near they would not come, the cover being
-not very good; when I lay, at full length, behind a fir-trunk, and
-peeped round it, I could see, indeed, the ground where the hole was,
-but not the hole itself, which was just what I wanted to, inasmuch
-as, otherwise, I could not see the birds enter it. How they did so
-was something of a mystery, for they just flew down and disappeared,
-without ever perching or hopping about--at least I had never seen them
-do so. Here, then, was a difficulty--to lie, and yet see the hole, or
-to sit or stand, and look at it, without frightening the birds away.
-But Alexander cut the Gordian knot, and I, under these circumstances,
-climbed a fir-tree. There was one almost by the side of the one they
-flew to, and the closeness of its branches, as well as my elevated
-situation amongst them--birds never look for one up aloft--would, I
-thought, prevent their noticing me. Up, therefore, I got, to a point
-from which I looked down, directly and comfortably, on their little
-rotunda. Soon one of the coal-tits flew into its tree--the same one
-always--and dropping, softly, from branch to branch, till it got to the
-right one, dived from it right into the tiny aperture, and disappeared
-through that, in a feather-flash. It was wonderful. There was no
-pause or stay, not one light little perch on the smooth brink, not a
-flutter above it even, no twist or twirl in the air, nothing at all;
-but he just flew right through it, as though on through the wide fields
-of air. I doubt if he touched the sides of it, even, though the hole
-looks as small as himself. And it is the same every time. With absolute
-precision of aim each bird comes down on that dark little portal, and
-vanishes through it, like a ball disappearing through its cup. If they
-touch it at all, they fit it like that.
-
-For upwards of an hour, now, the two birds pass and repass one another,
-popping in and out and carrying something in with them each time,
-but such a small something that I can never make out what it is--a
-little pinch of stuff, one may call it, only just showing in the beak.
-Sometimes it is green, as though the birds had picked off tiny pieces
-of the growing pine-needles, and sometimes it looks brown, which may
-mean that they have pulled off some bark--but always very small. An
-attempt to follow the birds on their collecting journeys, and see what
-they get, is unsuccessful. They fly, very quickly, into the tops of the
-firs, which stand dark and thick all around, and are immediately lost
-to view. Whatever the material is, they come to the nest with it every
-five or six minutes, nor do they once make their entrance except by
-flying directly through the aperture. They would be ashamed, I think,
-to perch and hop down into it. Very pretty it was to see these little
-birds coming and going--especially coming. Sometimes they would be
-with me quite suddenly, and yet so quietly, so mousily, they never
-gave me a start. At other times I used to see them coming, fluttering
-through the sun-chequered lanes of the fir-trees, till, reaching their
-very own one, they would sink, as it were, through its frondage, full
-of caution and quietude, descending, each time, by the same or nearly
-the same little staircase of boughs, from the bottom step of which
-they flew down. Some days afterwards, they were still building their
-nest, but after that I had to leave. The nest itself I pulled up and
-examined, a year afterwards, and it disproved all my theories as to
-what the birds had been building it with. It was of considerable
-size--round, as was the cavern in which it lay--and composed, almost
-wholly, of three substances, viz. moss, wool, and rabbits’ fur. The two
-latter had been employed to form the actual cup or bed--the blankets,
-so to speak--whilst the moss made the mattress. All three were in great
-abundance, and no royal personage, I think--not even Hans Andersen’s
-real princess--can ever have slept in a softer or warmer bed. It seems
-wonderful--almost incredible--that these two tiny birds, carrying,
-each time, such a tiny little piece, in their bills, could ever have
-got so great a mass of materials together. There it was, however, one
-more example of the great results which spring from constantly repeated
-small causes. The cavity in which the nest was placed, was, no doubt,
-a natural one, but the hole by which the birds entered it was so very
-round, that it must, I think, have been their own work, or, at least,
-modified by them. It looked just as if a woodpecker had made it.
-
-It was in a hedge opposite to a plantation like this--a hedge made
-of planted branches of the Scotch fir, such as are common in these
-parts--that I once watched a pair of long-tailed tits building their
-much more wonderful nest. Like the coal-tits they are joint-labourers,
-and both seem equally zealous. Often they arrive together, each with
-something in its bill. One only enters, the other stays outside and
-waits for it to come out, before going in itself. This, at least, is
-the usual régime. Occasionally, if the bird inside stays there a very
-long time, the other gets impatient, and goes in too, so that both are
-in the nest together--but this one does not often see. It is a prettier
-sight to see one hang at the entrance with a feather in his bill,
-which is received by the other--just popping out its head--upon which
-he flies away. This is in the later stages, when the nest is being
-lined, and when the birds come, time after time, at intervals of a few
-minutes, each with a feather in its bill. White these feathers often
-are, and of some size (so that they look very conspicuous). I have seen
-a bird, once, with two--two broad, soft, white ones that curled round,
-backwards, on each side of its head, so as almost to hide it. Such
-feathers must be brought from some particular place--a poultry-yard
-most probably--and both birds arriving with them, at the same time, is
-proof, or at least strong evidence, that they do their collecting in
-company. I have noticed, too, that if one bird comes with a feather of
-a different kind--for instance, a long straight one instead of a soft
-curled one--the other does too, showing how close is the association.
-At other times they bring lichen--with which the whole of the nest,
-outside, is stuck over--and so tiny are the pieces they carry, that I
-have, time after time, been unable to see them, even though sitting
-near and using the glasses. I have been so struck with this, that,
-sometimes, I have thought the lichen was carried rather in the mouth
-than in the bill, by which means it would be moistened, and so stick
-the easier on the outside surface of the nest.
-
-[Illustration: A PRETTY PAIR
-
-_Long-Tailed Tits Building_]
-
-It is most interesting to see the nest growing under the joint labours
-of the two little architects, and it does so at a quicker pace than
-one would have thought possible. At first it is a cup, merely, like
-most other nests--those of the chaffinch, goldfinch, linnet, &c.--and
-it is because the birds will not leave off working, but continue to
-build, that the cup becomes deeper and deeper till it is a purse or
-sack. Here, as I imagine, we see the origin of the domed nest. It was
-not helped forward by successive little steps of intelligence, but
-only by the strength of the building instinct, which would not let the
-birds make an end. The same cause has produced also, as I believe, the
-supernumerary nests which so many birds make, and which are such a
-puzzle to many people, who wonder at what seems to them extra labour,
-rather than extra delight. Even naturalists are always talking about
-the labour and toil of a bird, when building, but this, in my opinion,
-is an utterly erroneous way of looking at it. As Shakespeare says, “the
-labour we delight in physics pain,” and what delight can be greater
-than that of satisfying an imperious and deep-seated instinct? It is in
-this that our own greatest happiness lies, whilst the inability, from
-various causes, to do so, constitutes misery. But with the building
-bird there is no real labour, nothing that really makes toil, only a
-fine exhilarating exercise which must be a pleasure in itself, and to
-which is added that pleasure which ease and excellence in anything
-we do and wish to do, confers. The best human equivalent for the joy
-which a bird must feel in building its nest, is, I think, that of a
-great artist or sculptor, whose soul is entirely absorbed in his work.
-Those who pity the toils of such men in producing their masterpieces
-may, with equal propriety, pity the bird; but here, too, the latter has
-the advantage, for not even the sway of genius can be so o’ermastering
-as that of a genuine instinct, the strength of which we must estimate
-by those few primary ones--we call them passions--which are left in
-ourselves.
-
-It is this mighty joy in the breast of the little tit, which, by the
-help of natural selection, has produced, as I believe, his wonderful
-little nest, and if we watch him building we may get a hint as to how
-the charming little round door that gives admission to it, has come
-about. He did not contrive it, but by having, always, his one way in
-and out, and continuing to build, it grew to be there; for even when
-the nest is but a shallow cup, open all round, the birds enter and
-leave it by one uniform way, so that this way must be left, right up to
-the very last, by which time it has become that neat little aperture,
-which looks so nicely thought out. Something like design may, perhaps,
-now have entered into the construction, which would account for the
-hole getting, gradually, higher, in the side of the nest--though this,
-too, I am inclined to attribute to the mere love of building. The bird
-builds everywhere that it can, and thus the place where it enters
-gets higher, with the rest of the nest. When, however, the top of the
-nest, on one side, is pulled over, so as to meet the other side,[25]
-where the entrance is, it can go no higher, since, if it did, the bird
-would either be kept in or out. Thus, as it appears to me, the exact
-position of the hole in the nest, which is a somewhat curious one, is
-philosophically accounted for.
-
-When one of a pair of long-tailed tits enters the nest, he first
-pays attention to that part of it which is exactly opposite to him,
-as he does so. This he raises with his beak, and, also, by pushing
-with his head and breast. He then, often, disappears in the depths
-of the cup, and you see the sides of it swell out, now in one place
-and now in another, as he butts and rams at them, which he does not
-only with his head, but by kicking with his legs, behind him. Then he
-turns round, the long tail appearing where the head has lately been,
-whilst the head emerges, projecting over the rim in exactly the same
-place as where he entered, but looking, now, outwards. This part he
-now pushes down with his chin, just as he raised the other with his
-head and beak, and having done this, he comes out. But often, sitting
-in the nest as he entered it, he turns his head right round, on one
-side or another, examining and manipulating the edges; and sometimes,
-bending it down over the rim, he presses or arranges a lichen, on the
-outside. This, however, he does more rarely than one would think, his
-best attention being given to the interior. Sometimes, too, he flutters
-his wings in the nest, as though to aid in the moulding of it. There
-is one extraordinary power which these tits possess, which is that of
-turning their bodies quite round in the nest, whilst keeping the tail
-motionless, and in exactly the same place all the time. I have often
-seen--or seemed to see--them do this, but as the tail sticks upright,
-and is--till the cup gets too deep--a very conspicuous object, it would
-not be easy to be mistaken. How they do it I know not--they are little
-contortionists--but I have often noticed how loosely and flexibly the
-long tail feathers of these birds seem just stuck into the body. There
-is another thing that I have seen them do, viz. turn the head entirely
-round without any part of the body seeming to share in the movement;
-but here, I think, there must have been some hocus-pocus.
-
-I have spoken of these tits having but one way of entering and leaving
-the nest, even when all ways lie open to them: but, more than this,
-they have one set path, by which they approach and retire from it. You
-first notice this when one of the birds passes, inadvertently, on the
-wrong side of some twig or bough, which makes a conspicuous feature in
-its accustomed path. The eye is caught by the novelty, and you realise,
-then, that it is one. This happens but rarely, and, when it does, it
-has sometimes struck me that the bird feels a little confused, or not
-quite easy, in consequence. It has such a feeling, I feel sure, which,
-though slight, yet just marks its consciousness of having deviated
-from a routine. Possibly the feeling is stronger than I am imagining,
-for on one occasion, at least, I have seen a bird that had got the
-wrong side of a twig palisade, so to speak, in approaching its nest,
-turn back and pass it, on the right side. The nest, in this instance
-also, was in one of those fine, open hedges, made of the branches of
-the Scotch fir--planted and growing--which are common in this part of
-Suffolk, and through these there was a regular “approach” to the house,
-not straight, but in a crescent, as though for a carriage to drive
-up--the “sweep” of the days of Jane Austen--and the birds always went
-up and down it like dear little orthodox things as they are. During
-the later stages of construction, the hole in the side of the nest
-becomes so small and tight, that even these _petite_ little creatures
-have, often, to struggle quite violently, in order to force themselves
-through it; and this, I think, also, is evidence that the door is not
-due to design--that the bird never has the thought in its mind, “There
-must be a door to get in and out by.” Instead of that, it keeps getting
-in and out, and this, of necessity, makes the door. These tits, when
-building, seem to rest, for a little, in the nest, before leaving it,
-and sometimes one will sit, for some minutes, quite still, with its
-head projecting through the aperture, looking like a cleverly-painted
-miniature in a round frame. At other times the tail projects, and
-that, though not quite such a picture, has still a charm of its own.
-Nothing can look prettier than these soft, little pinky, feathery
-things, as they creep, mousily, into their soft little purse of a nest:
-nothing can look prettier than they do, as they sit inside it, pulling,
-pushing, ramming, patting, and arranging: finally, nothing can look
-prettier than they look, as they again creep out of it, and fly away.
-It is a joy to watch them building, and their perpetual feat of turning
-in a way which ought to dislocate their tail, without dislocating it,
-is an ever-recurring miracle. Charming in and about the nest, they are;
-charming, too, in the way they approach it. They come up so softly and
-quietly, creeping from one tree or bush to another, seeming almost to
-steal through the air. They have a pretty, soft note, too, a low little
-“chit, chit,” which they utter, at intervals, and which often tells
-you they are there, before you catch sight of them. To hear that soft
-chittery note, and then to catch a soft pinkiness, with it, are two
-very pleasant sensations. Another is to see the one bird working in the
-nest, and to hear the other chittering in the neighbourhood, whilst it
-waits for it to come out.
-
-In the absence of both the owners from the nest they were building, I
-have seen a wren creep very quietly into it, and, after remaining there
-for a little, creep as quietly out again. He carried nothing away with
-him, that I could see, so that pillage may not have been his object,
-though I know not what else it could have been. Perhaps it was simple
-curiosity, or, again, it may have been but a part of his routine work.
-Such a nest, with its hole of entrance, may have seemed to him like
-any other chink or cavity, which he would have been prepared to enter
-on general principles of investigation. Nests, however, in process
-of building by one bird, are looked at by others as useful supplies
-of material for their own--little depôts scattered over the country.
-I have seen a pair of hedge-sparrows fly straight to a blackbird’s,
-and then on, with grass in their bills. Another blackbird’s nest,
-the building of which I was watching, supplied a blue tit with moss,
-whilst, in the very same tree, a pair of golden-crested wrens had
-theirs entirely demolished by an unfeeling hen chaffinch.
-
-In my own experience it is the hen chaffinch, alone, that builds the
-nest, and I have even seen her driving away a cock bird, which I took
-to be her mate. After putting him to flight, this particular hen made
-fifteen visits to the nest, at intervals of about ten minutes, bringing
-something in her beak each time, and worked at it, singly, with great
-fervour and energy. To the actions which I have been describing in the
-long-tailed tits--viz. pressing herself down in it, ramming forward
-with her breast, kicking out with her feet, behind, and so on--actions,
-I suppose, common to most nest-building birds--she added that one of
-clasping the rim tightly with her tail, bent strongly down for the
-purpose, which I have referred to, before, in the blackbird. I could
-not, however, repeat the comments which I have made when describing
-it in her case. Whatever may have been the origin of the habit, it
-has become, in the chaffinch, a mere business-like affair--purely
-utilitarian, doubtless, in its inception and object. Though upon
-this and other occasions of the nest-building, the hen chaffinch,
-alone, has seemed to be the architect, it by no means follows that
-this is always the case. A process of transition is, as I believe,
-taking place in this respect with the males of various birds. With
-the long-tailed tits, for instance, we have just seen how prettily
-husband and wife can work together; and that they do so in the great
-majority of instances, I have little doubt. Yet the first time that
-I ever watched these birds building, it was only one of the pair who
-did anything; the other--doubtless the male--though he came each time
-with his mate, never brought anything with him, and did not once enter
-the nest. He did not even go very near it, but merely stayed about, in
-the neighbourhood, till the worker came out, on which the two flew off
-together. This has been exactly the behaviour of the cock blackbird
-during nidification, in such cases as have fallen under my observation;
-and here I have been a very close watcher, for hours at a time, and
-for several days in succession. Yet I have, myself, seen the cock
-flying off with grass, from a field, whilst Mr. Dewar has seen him fly
-up with some into the ivy on a wall, where a nest was known to be in
-construction. The cock nightingale attends the hen, when building, in
-just the same way that the cock blackbird does, but I have not yet seen
-him take a part in its construction. Now to take the blackbird--since
-here we have a clear case of individual difference--is it a process
-of transition from one state of things to another, that we see, or
-has the transition been made, and are the exceptional instances due
-to reversion merely? But then, which are the exceptional instances,
-or in which direction is the change proceeding? Is the male becoming,
-or was he once, a builder or a non-builder? For myself, I incline to
-the transitional view, and inasmuch as the lapse of such a habit as
-nest-building must be consequent upon a loss of interest in it--which
-would mean a decay of the instinct--this does not seem to me consistent
-with the extremely attentive manner in which the cock follows the hen
-about, and the manifest interest which he takes in all she does. It
-seems to me more likely, therefore, that he is learning the art than
-losing it. Still, as an instinct might weaken very gradually, it is
-impossible to do more than conjecture which way the stream is running,
-if we look only at a single species. The true way would be to take all
-the species of the genus to which the one in question belongs, and
-find out the habits of the majority, in regard to this special point.
-If both the male and female of the genus _Turdidæ_ help, as a rule,
-in building the nest, then this, no doubt, was the ancient state of
-things, and _vice versâ_.
-
-One might suppose--it would seem likely on a _primâ facie_ view of
-it--that where the cock bird took no part in the building of the
-nest, he would take none, either, in incubating the eggs. This is
-so with the blackbird--at least I have never come upon the male
-sitting, and whenever I have watched a nest where eggs were being
-incubated, there has never been any change upon it; the birds, that
-is to say, have never relieved one another, but the hen, having gone
-off, has always returned, the nest being empty in the interval. But
-if the suppression, in the male bird, of these two activities--of
-nest-building and incubation--are related, by a parity of reasoning one
-would suppose that he would take no part in the feeding of the young.
-This, however, with the blackbird, is by no means the case, for the
-cock is as active, here, and interested as the hen--or nearly so. At
-least he recognises a duty, and performs it to the best of his ability.
-It is the same with the wagtail, and, no doubt, with numbers of other
-birds--a fact which seems to suggest that the instinct of incubation,
-and that of parental love, are differentiated, the second not making
-its appearance till after the eggs are hatched. This, at first sight,
-seems likely, and then--if one considers it a little--unlikely, or,
-perhaps, impossible. It is from birth that the maternal love, the
-στοργἡ dates, and birth, here, is represented by the egg. True, there
-is a second birth when the egg is hatched, which makes it possible
-that the true στοργἡ has waited for this. Yet the mother continues to
-brood upon the young in the same way that she has been doing on her
-eggs, and, except for the feeding, which does not commence immediately,
-the whole pretty picture looks so much the same that it is difficult
-to think a new element has been projected into it. No one, whilst the
-young are still tiny, could tell whether they or the eggs were being
-brooded over by the parent bird. An interesting point occurs here.
-When incubation is shared by the two sexes, the hatching of the eggs
-must frequently, one would think, take place whilst the male bird is
-sitting. What, then, are his feelings when this happens? By what,
-if any, instinct is he swayed? If we suppose that the true στοργἡ
-dates, in the mother’s breast, from the hatching of the egg, and the
-appearance of the formed young, does, now, a similar feeling take
-possession of the male? Does he too feel the στοργἡ, seeing that the
-young have been born from the egg, under his breast? If so, we could
-understand his subsequent devotion to the young, as shown by his
-feeding them with the same assiduity as the mother. But what, then,
-of the mother? She has been away at this second birth, so that if her
-psychology would have been affected, in any way, by the act--if it
-can be called an act--of hatching out the eggs, it ought not to be so
-affected now; she should be less a mother, in fact, than the cock.
-This, however--unless the eggs always are hatched out under the hen--is
-contradicted by facts, so that it seems plain that whatever special
-tie there may be between the female bird, as distinct from the male,
-and the young, must date from the laying of the eggs. But if this be
-so--and it seems the plain way of nature--what is it that makes the
-cock bird incubate? Is he moved by a feeling of the same nature, if
-weaker, as that which animates the hen, or has he, merely, caught the
-habit from her? The fact that some male birds leave the whole duty
-of incubation to the hen, and yet help to feed the young, seems to
-point in the latter direction, since imitation might well have acted
-capriciously, whereas one would suppose that feelings analogous, in
-their nature, in the two sexes, would show themselves at the same
-time. It would, however, be a stronger evidence for imitation, as the
-cause of the parental activities of the male, were he to take his
-part in incubation, but leave the young to the female. I do not know
-if there is any species of bird, where the cock acts in this way.
-Perhaps it may be impossible to answer these, or similar, questions,
-but light might, conceivably, be thrown upon them by a more extensive
-knowledge of the relative parts played by the male and female bird in
-nidification, incubation, and the rearing of the young, throughout
-a large number of species. These, however, are not the questions
-with which ornithologists busy themselves. By turning to a natural
-history of British birds, one can always find how many eggs are
-laid by any species, their coloration--often illustrated by costly
-plates--and when and where the laying takes place; but in regard to
-the matters above-mentioned--or, indeed, most other matters--little or
-no information is forthcoming. One might think that such works were
-written for the assistance of bird-nesters only, and whether they are
-or not, that is the end which they, principally, fulfil. I believe,
-myself, that if the habits--especially the breeding habits--of but one
-species in every group or genus had been thoroughly studied, so that we
-knew, not only what it did, but how it did it, the result would make an
-infinitely more valuable work, even in regard to British birds only,
-than any now in existence, though all the other species were left out
-of it, and little or nothing was said about the number of eggs, their
-coloration, and the time at which they were laid.
-
-If the male bird has only caught the habit of feeding the young from
-the female, we can the better understand why, in so many species,
-the cock feeds the hen, and this without any reference to whether
-she is able or unable to feed herself. As the young birds grow up in
-the nest, they resemble their parents more and more, and it would be
-easier for the male to confuse them with the female, and thus take to
-feeding her too, or to transfer the habit from the one to the other,
-than it would be for the female, with a maternal instinct to guide
-her, to do the same by the male. Yet this, too, would be possible, and
-if, in any species, the female is accustomed to feed the male also, I
-would account for it in a similar way. This habit, on the part of the
-cock bird, has become, in some cases, a part of his ordinary courting
-attentions to the hen; and here, I believe, we have the true meaning
-of that billing, or “nebbing,” as it is called, which so many birds
-indulge in at this season. This habit, with its grotesque resemblance
-to kissing, has always struck me as both curious and interesting, but
-one seldom, in works of ornithology, meets with a reference to it,
-much less with any attempt to explain its philosophy. Where birds,
-now, merely, bill, they once, in my opinion, fed each other--or the
-male fed the female--but pleasure came to be experienced in the
-contact alone, and the passage of food, which was never necessary,
-gradually became obsolete. I think it by no means improbable that our
-own kissing may have originated in much the same way; and that birds,
-when thus billing, experience the same sort of pleasure that we do,
-when we kiss, must be obvious to any one who has watched them. With
-pigeons, to go no further, the act is simply an impassioned one. It
-would be strong evidence of the origin of this habit having been
-as I suppose, if we only found it amongst birds the young of which
-are fed by their parents. As far as I know, I believe this to be the
-case, but my knowledge does not enable me to speak decidedly, nor
-have I been able to add to it, in this particular, by consulting the
-standard works. Birds whose young are not fed from the bill, by their
-parents, are, as I think--for I am not certain in regard to all--the
-gallinaceous or game birds, the rapacious ones (_accipitres_), the
-plovers and stilt-walkers, the bustards, the ostriches, &c. In none of
-these, so far as I know, do the male and female either feed or “neb”
-one another--there is neither the thing, nor the form, or symbol, of
-it. Birds where there is either the one or the other, or both, belong,
-amongst others, to the crow, parrot, gull, puffin, tit or finch tribes,
-and all these feed the young. In the grebe family, too, the two customs
-obtain, but whether they are combined in any one species of it, I
-cannot with certainty say. It would not, of course, follow that a bird
-which fed its young, should, also, feed its mate, or that the pair,
-when caressing, should seize each other’s bills; but is there any
-species belonging to those orders where the chick shifts for itself,
-as soon as it is hatched, or, at the least, does not receive food from
-the parent’s beak or crop, which does either, or both, of these things?
-In conclusion, I can only wonder that a habit so salient, and which,
-to me, seems so curious--especially in the case of the caress merely,
-for a caress it certainly is--should not, apparently, have been thought
-worth consideration--hardly, even, worth notice. Of all beings, man,
-alone, is supposed to kiss. Birds, I assert, do, in the proper and
-true meaning of the word, kiss, also, and I believe that the origin
-of the custom has been the same, or approximately[26] the same, in
-each instance. To take food from one’s mouth, and put it into some one
-else’s, is an act of attention, I believe, amongst some savage tribes.
-
-I am not quite sure, now I come to think of it, that the hen wagtail
-does do all the incubation--as I said, some lines back, she did--but
-I think that this is the case, as when I watched a pair I never saw
-the two birds together, either at or near the nest, and only once in
-the neighbourhood of it, all the time the eggs were being hatched. The
-nest, in this case, had been built, very prettily, in the last year’s
-one of a thrush, which it quite filled, and which made a splendid cup
-for it. It was interesting to see the hen bird at work. Each time,
-after flying down from the ivied wall of my garden, in which the nest
-was situated, she would feed, a little, making little runs over the
-lawn, after insects, with often a little fly, but just above the grass,
-at the end of the little run, the tail still flirting up and down.
-Then she would fly off for more materials, appear on the lawn, again,
-in a few minutes, with some in her bill, run, with them, to under the
-wall, fly up into the ivy, and, upon coming out, go through it all
-again. Thus, the wagtail makes building and eating alternate with one
-another, unlike the house-martins, which build, says White, “only in
-the morning, and dedicate the rest of the day to food and amusement.”
-The yellow, widely-gaping bills of the fledgling wagtails, as they hold
-their four heads straight up, in the nest, together, look just like
-delicate little vases of Venetian glass, made by Salviati; or, treating
-them all as one, they resemble an artistic central table-ornament, of
-the same manufacture. It is the inside that one sees. Just round the
-edge, is a thin rim of light, bright yellow, whilst all the rest is a
-deep, shining gamboge--not as it looks when painted on anything, but
-the colour of a cake of it--“all transfigured with celestial light.”
-No prettier design than this could be found, I am sure, for a beaker.
-Wagtails--I am speaking, always, of the water-wagtail--collect a number
-of flies, or other insects, as they run about, over the grass, before
-swallowing them, or flying, with them, to feed their young--that
-pretty office, which has been dwelt upon only from one point of view.
-Marry! when a tigress carries off a man to her cubs, and watches them
-play with him--an account of which, I believe a true one, I have
-read--we see it from another, such shallow, partial twitterers as we
-are. There is as much of beneficence in the one thing, I suppose,
-as the other--the flies, at least, would think so, creatures that,
-but a moment ago, were as bright, happy, and ethereal as the bird
-itself--their tiger.
-
-    “Oh yet we trust that, somehow, good
-      Will be the final goal of ill.”
-
-Why, yes, one must go on trusting, I suppose (nothing else for it), but
-meanwhile one of this pair of wagtails has a good-sized something in
-his bill, to which he keeps adding, and as he sometimes, also, drops a
-portion of it, and again picks it up, it must be composed of a number
-of different entities. This living bundle he deposits, after a time,
-on the lawn, and then eats it piecemeal, after which he runs over the
-grass, making little darts, and eating at once, on secural. Shortly
-afterwards, however, I see him, again, with such another fardel, and
-with this he keeps walking about, or standing still, for quite a long
-time, without swallowing it--indeed, he has now stood still for so long
-that I am tired of watching him. This is interesting, I think, for as
-I have never seen birds collect insects, like this, except when young
-were in the nest, I have no doubt this wagtail’s idea is to feed his.
-But, first, his own appetite prevents him from doing so, and, then, it
-is as though there were a conflict between the two impulses, producing
-a sort of paralysis, by which nothing is done. I make sure that this
-is the male bird; but now appears the other--the female, “for a
-ducat”--carrying what I can make out, with the glasses, to be a bundle
-of flies, to which she keeps adding, and, shortly, she repairs, with
-them, to the nest. The male now comes again, and runs about, collecting
-a similar packet; and I can notice how, sometimes, he is embarrassed
-to pick up one fly more, without losing any he has, and how he secures
-it, sometimes, sideways in the beak, when he would, otherwise, have
-made a straightforward peck at it. Not only this, but, with his beak
-full of booty, he will--I have just seen him--pursue insects in the
-air. Whether he secures them, under these circumstances, I cannot, with
-assurance, say, but he turns and zigzags about, as does a fly-catcher,
-and certainly seems to be doing so. There is the attempt, at least, and
-would he attempt what he was not equal to? I have no doubt, myself,
-that he performs this feat, and yet what a wonderful feat it is! Both
-birds now feed the young--for the female has been collecting, for some
-time, again. Now, instead of, or besides, flies, each bird has in its
-bill a number of long, slender, white things, which hang down on each
-side of it, and must, I think, be grubs of some sort, though I do not
-know what. But stay--beneficence again!--are they--not flies in their
-entirety indeed, but--oh optimism and general satisfactoriness!--fly
-entrails, protruding, bursting, hanging, forced out by the cruel beak?
-Yes, that is it, it is plain now--too plain--and some of the flies
-are moving. I have seen a wasp tear open and devour a bluebottle--a
-savage sight--and it looked something the same. But all hail, maternal
-affection!--and appetite! to bring in the wasp. “Banquo and Macbeth,
-all hail!”
-
-I believe that most birds that feed their young with insects brought
-in the bill, collect them in this way. Indeed the habit is common
-throughout the bird-world, and may be observed, equally, in the
-blackbird or thrush, with worms, and in the puffin, with fish--in this
-last case, perhaps, we see the feat in its perfection. The smallest
-of our woodpeckers I have watched bringing cargo after cargo of
-live, struggling things to his hole, but the green woodpecker, for a
-reason which, for aught I know, I shall be the first to make known,
-does not do this. From behind some bushes which quite hid me, and
-which commanded the nest, I have watched the domestic economy of two
-pairs of these birds as closely as, in such a species, it well can be
-watched. The glasses, turned full upon the hole, I fixed on a little
-stick platform, just on a level with my eyes, as I sat. Thus no time
-was lost in getting them to bear, but the instant one of the birds flew
-in, I had it, as it were, almost upon the platform in front of me. In
-this luxurious manner I have seen scores and scores of visits made
-to the nest, but never once, before the bird made its entry, through
-the hole, have I been able to detect anything held by it in the beak,
-which was always fast closed. Had anything in the shape of an insect
-projected from it, I must certainly have seen it, but this was never
-the case, and I can, therefore, say with confidence, that the green
-woodpecker does not feed its young by bringing them insects in its
-bill, as does the lesser spotted, and, no doubt, the greater spotted
-one also--all the woodpeckers, probably, that have not changed their
-habits, in relation to their food and manner of feeding. I am the more
-sure of this, because, as the little woodpecker collected a number of
-insects, each time, there can be little doubt that the green one would
-do this, likewise, were he accustomed to feed the young in the same
-way. How, then, does he feed them? I give the answer from my notes.
-
-“At 12.10 the male woodpecker flies to the hole, and, almost
-immediately, enters. In a few minutes he looks out, cautiously, turning
-his head from side to side. I can make out nothing in the bill, but I
-notice that he works the mandibles, just a very little. Then he draws
-in his head, but projecting it, again, almost immediately, something
-is now evident, protruding from the mandibles, on both sides. It
-is white, brilliantly white, and looks like a mash of something. It
-reminds me of what I have seen oozing or flowing from the bills of
-rooks, as they left the nest after feeding their young--but even
-whiter, it seemed, as the sun shone on it. Insects it does not in
-the least resemble, except, by possibility, a pulp of their white
-interiors. If so, however, it must represent multitudes of them. But
-where are the wings, legs, and crushed bodies? It is formless, and
-seems to well out of the bill.” On a subsequent occasion, I saw the
-same outflow--“a thick, milky fluid,” I this time describe it as--from
-the bill of the female; so that, principally through this, but, also,
-because of many other little indications, such as that working by the
-bird of its mandibles--as before noticed--in leaving the nest, and
-an occasional little gulp or less pronounced motion of the throatal
-muscles, as though it were swallowing something down, the head being at
-the same time raised, I came to the conclusion that these woodpeckers
-feed their young by some process of regurgitation. This confirms an
-opinion which has long been gaining ground with me, viz. that the green
-woodpecker is now almost wholly an ant-eater. Here, at least, where
-the country is open and sandy, and where, till lately, there has been
-a great and happy dearth of posts and palings, I believe that this is
-the case. I have often watched the bird, in trees, and have seen it
-give, now and again, a spear with the bill against the trunk; but this
-has never been continued for long, and that eager and absorbed manner
-which a bird has when actively feeding, has never, in my experience,
-gone along with it. I doubt, myself, whether insects are really secured
-on these occasions, for there is something so nonchalant and lazy in
-the way the stabs are delivered, that they have more the appearance of
-a mere habit than of a means to an end. Sometimes there is a little
-more animation, but it soon flags, and the bird desists and sits idle.
-Very different are its actions, and its whole look and appearance,
-when feeding on the ground. Now its interest--its _keenness_--is
-manifest, whilst a certain careful, systematic, and methodical way of
-proceeding, shows it to be occupied in the main daily business of life.
-There are four clearly marked stages in the process by which a green
-woodpecker extracts ants from the nest. First there is a preliminary
-probing of the ground, the beak being inserted--always, I think, in
-the same place--gently, and with great delicacy--tenderly as it were,
-and as Walton would recommend; next comes a sharp, quick hammering, or
-pickaxing, with the beak, into the soil, after which the bird throws
-the loosened earth from side to side, with so quick a motion that the
-head seems almost to move in a circle. Finally, there is the quiet and
-satisfied insertion of the bill, many times in succession, into the
-excavation that has been made, followed, each time, by its leisurely
-withdrawal. At each of these withdrawals the head is thrown up, and the
-bird seems to swallow down, and enjoy, what it has just been filling
-its beak with--as no doubt is the case.
-
-The greater part of both the morning and afternoon seems to be spent
-by these woodpeckers in thus depopulating ants’ nests, so that the
-negligent and desultory nature of any further foraging operations,
-which they may carry on amongst the trees, is amply accounted for. The
-bird is full of ants, which it has been swallowing wholesale, without
-any effort of searching. It cannot still be hungry, and, when it is, it
-will repair to those Elysian fields again. The tree, in fact, is now
-used more as a resting-place than for any other purpose, except that of
-breeding; and thus this species, with its marvellous tongue, specially
-adapted for extracting insects from chinks in the bark of trees, is on
-the road to becoming as salient an instance of changed habits, as is
-Darwin’s ground-feeding woodpecker, in the open plains of La Plata.
-Sure I am that here, at any rate, the green woodpecker feeds, almost
-wholly, upon ants, but if there be a doubt on the matter, ought not the
-contents of the excrements to decide it? I have examined numbers of
-these, which were picked up by me both in the open and at the foot of
-trees, and, in every case, the long narrow sac, of which the outer part
-consists, was filled, entirely, with the remains of ants. These I have
-turned out upon a sheet of white paper, and examined under a magnifying
-glass, but I have never been able to find the smallest part or particle
-of any other insect. This has surprised me, indeed, nor is it quite in
-accordance with the contents of other excrements which I have looked at
-in other parts of the country--for instance in Dorsetshire. There, the
-shards of a small beetle were sometimes mixed, in a small proportion,
-with the remains of the ants, and, once or twice, these formed the bulk
-of the excrement. These shards, however, seemed to me to be those of a
-ground-going species of beetle. What I have called the remains of the
-ants, contained in these excrements, were, or seemed to be, almost the
-whole of them--head, thorax, abdomen, legs, &c.--everything, in fact,
-except the soft parts, and juices of the body. Whether these, in the
-bird’s crop or stomach, would help to make a white milky fluid I do not
-know, but I think that they must do.
-
-If the great staple of the green woodpecker’s food has come, now, to
-consist of ants, as I am sure is the case, the reason of its feeding
-its young, not as do other woodpeckers--the lesser spotted one, for
-instance--but by regurgitation, is at once apparent. Ants are too
-minute to be carried in the beak, and must, therefore, be brought up
-_en masse_, if the young are not to starve. We might, therefore, have
-surmised that, if ants were the sole or chief diet, the young must be
-fed in this way, and the fact that they are fed in this way is evidence
-of the thing which would account for it. In the green woodpecker we
-have an interesting example of a species that has broken from the
-traditions of its family, and is changing under our eyes; but it does
-not seem to attract much attention--only the inevitable number of the
-eggs, their colour, the time at which they are laid, &c. &c.
-
-These woodpeckers must mate, I think, for life--as most birds, in my
-opinion, do--for they nest in the same tree, year after year, and go in
-pairs during the winter. It is very interesting, then, to see a pair
-resting together, after they have had their fill of ant-eating. First,
-one will fly into the nearest plantation, or small clump of trees, on
-the trunk of one of which it alights, and there clings, motionless.
-Shortly afterwards, the other comes flying in, perhaps with the wild
-laugh, but, instead of settling on the same tree, it chooses one close
-beside it, and there, side by side, and each on its own, the two hang
-motionless for a quarter of an hour, perhaps, or twenty minutes. Then,
-suddenly, there is a green and scarlet flash, as one flies off. The
-other stays, still motionless, as though she cared not. “Let him e’en
-go”--but, all at once, there is another flash, and she is gone, too,
-with equal suddenness--the dark trees darker without them. I have,
-more than once, seen a pair resting, like this, on two small birches,
-or firs, near each other, each about the same height from the ground,
-quite still, and seeming to doze. It seems, therefore, to be their
-regular habit, as though they did not care to sleep on the same tree,
-but preferred adjoining rooms, so to speak. The birds’ tails, when thus
-resting, are not fanned out, and although they are, sometimes, pressed
-against the tree, at other times they will not be touching it at all,
-so that the whole weight is supported by the claws, evidently with the
-greatest ease. I have taken particular notice of this, and from the
-length of time that a bird has sometimes remained, thus hanging, and
-the restful state that it was, all the while, in, I cannot think that
-the tail is of very much value as a support, though stress is often
-laid upon its being so. I do not know how it is, but a little close
-observation in natural history will give the lie to most of what one
-hears or reads, and has hitherto taken for granted. It all looks very
-plausible in books, but one book, when you ever do get hold of it,
-seems to disagree with all the other books, and that one is the book of
-nature.
-
-There is another point, in which the green woodpecker either differs
-from its family, or shows that its family has not been sufficiently
-observed. I have read, somewhere--I am not quite sure where, but it was
-a good work, and one of authority--this sentence: “Some birds, such
-as woodpeckers and (I forget the other) are supposed never to fight.”
-I can understand how this idea has got about, because thrushes, which
-are commoner birds than woodpeckers, and easier to watch, are, also,
-thought not to fight. Of the thrush, and his doughty deeds, of an early
-morning, I shall have no space to speak in this volume, but I here
-offer my evidence that the green woodpecker, at any rate, is “a good
-fellow, and will strike.” As, however, I shall have to quote, at some
-length, from my notes, I will defer doing so to the following chapter.
-Perhaps I shall be saying a little too much about the green woodpecker,
-but let it be taken in excuse that, feeling all his charm, and having
-made a special study of him, I yet say less than I know.
-
-[Illustration: GREEN WOODPECKER]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-It was on a 13th of April, that, having spent some hours in the woods,
-to no purpose, I at length climbed the hill, up which they ran, and
-came out upon a smooth slope of turf, from which I had a good view down
-amongst the trees, which did not grow very thickly. As I emerged, I saw
-a woodpecker feeding on the grass, and shortly afterwards two, pursuing
-each other, flew down upon it, from the wood, but, seeing me, flew back
-again. It instantly struck me that here was an ideal spot to study the
-habits of these birds. A penetrable wood which was evidently haunted
-by them, to look down into, an open down right against it, and good
-cover, from which I had an equally good view of both. I, therefore,
-ensconced myself, and soon had the pleasure of making some observations
-new to myself, and, as far as I know, to ornithology. These two same
-birds that I had startled pursued each other about amidst the trees,
-for some time, uttering not only their usual cry--unusually loud as I
-thought--but another, of one note, quickly repeated, like “too, too,
-too, too, too,” changing, at the end, or becoming modulated, into
-“too-i, too-i, too-i, too-i, too-i.” All at once two other ones flew
-out from the enclosure, and, alighting together upon the greensward,
-a curious play, which I took to be of a nuptial character, commenced
-between them. They both half extended the wings, at the same time
-drooping them on to the ground, and standing thus, fronting each other,
-they swung not only their heads, but the upper part of their bodies,
-strenuously from side to side, in a very excited manner. If there was
-any upshot to this, I did not see it, as the birds shifted a little so
-as to become hidden by a ridge, and the next I saw of them was when
-they flew away. A little while after this, I saw either the same or
-another pair of green woodpeckers, pursuing each other from tree to
-tree, and, all at once, they closed together, in the air, as though in
-combat; almost immediately, however, separating again and flying to
-different trees. Soon they came down on to the turf, and were probing
-it for ants, when one of them, desisting from this occupation, went
-close up to the other--they had been near before--and, again, went
-through the action which I have just described. Now, I saw that it was
-a hostile demonstration, but the bird against whom it was directed
-seemed in no hurry to respond to it, and merely went on feeding. At
-length, however, he turned, and went through with it also, and the two
-then fought, jumping and pecking at one another. It was not, however,
-a very bloody combat. It seemed, I thought, rather half-hearted, and I
-particularly noted that the bird which had been challenged soon left
-off, and began to feed again, on which his opponent desisted also,
-making no attempt to take him at a disadvantage, which, it seemed, he
-could easily have done, any more than he had in the first instance.
-
-This chasing and coming down on to the grass, to feed and skirmish,
-continued during the afternoon, but there were two fights which were
-of a fiercer and more interesting character. I have spoken, before,
-of these woodpeckers’ upright attitude, when they fronted each other,
-swinging their heads from side to side. This, however, was not at all
-the case here. Instead of standing upright, they sat crouched--almost
-lay--on the ground, with their wings half-spread out upon it, and
-in this position--beak to beak--they jerked their heads in the most
-vivacious manner, each one seeming to meditate a deadly spear-thrust.
-Then there were some quick mutual darts, of a very light and graceful
-nature, and, at last, each seizing hold of the other’s beak, they
-pulled, tugged, jumped, and dragged one another about, with the
-greatest violence. One might suppose that each bird sought to use his
-own beak as a weapon of offence, in the usual manner, and seized his
-adversary’s, as it were, to disarm him, and that, then, each tried to
-disengage, but was held by the other. In the second and still more
-violent encounter, however, I noticed a very curious feature. After the
-first light fencing, the birds seemed to lock beaks gently, as though
-by a mutual intention to do so, and, indeed, so markedly was this the
-case that, for a moment, I thought I must have been mistaken, and that,
-instead of two males, they were male and female. Then, the instant they
-had interlocked them, they set to pulling, with a sudden violence,
-as though the real serious business had now commenced. They pulled,
-tugged, and struggled most mightily, and each bird was, several times,
-half pulled and half thrown over the other’s back, springing up into
-the air, at the same time, but neither letting go, nor being let go of.
-There was a good bout of this before they became separated, after which
-some fierce pecks were delivered.
-
-As with some other actions, performed by various birds, when fighting,
-so, here, with these woodpeckers, I believe that the locking of the
-bills has been such a constant result of the necessities of the case,
-that it has now passed, or is passing, into a formal thing, without
-which the duel could hardly be fought. The birds lock them--so it
-seems to me--almost as we put on boxing-gloves, or take the foils,
-and, after this, tug and pull, not so much with the object of getting
-free, as because this has become their idea of fighting. The fight,
-in fact, must proceed in a formal routine, and without this, either
-combatant is at a loss. How else is it that neither bird seems able to
-begin the fight unless the other fronts him, nor to take--as I have
-noticed in other cases--an advantage of his adversary, by springing
-upon him, unawares? In the first combat, for instance, the one bird fed
-quietly, whilst the other moved his head in the orthodox manner, just
-beside him, and it was not till the feeding one responded, by doing the
-same, that hostilities went further. Equally apparent was it that the
-challenged bird felt himself quite safe, as long as he did not take the
-matter up, by going through the established form. Again, this throwing
-of the head from side to side, which seems to represent the attempt of
-either combatant to avoid the beak of his adversary, has, likewise,
-become more or less stereotyped, for not only may the one bird act in
-this way, whilst the other is feeding, as we have just seen, but even
-when both do, as we shall see directly, they may be at such a distance
-from one another as to make the action a quite useless one. On the
-other hand, when the two stand beak to beak, and commence a spirited
-fight, in this manner, the object and rationale of the movement seems
-as obvious as it can be. We see, here, the swords actually crossed,
-whilst, in the other cases, the birds fence at a distance, or the
-one without the other, and this is so obviously formal, that, for
-myself, I doubt the motive of the same movement, even where it seems
-most apparent. What I last saw will, still further, illustrate these
-points. A woodpecker that had been quietly feeding by itself, at some
-distance from any other one, began, all at once, to move its head about
-in this way, in a very excited manner, and to utter a little, sharp,
-twittering cry, being one note several times repeated. I then saw that
-another woodpecker was advancing towards him, with precisely similar
-gestures, though, as yet, he was a good way off. As he came nearer,
-the threatened bird first retreated, and then, again, returned, until
-the two stood fronting one another, some two or three feet apart,
-continuing, all the while, to swing and jerk--for it is a combination
-of the two--their heads and bodies to this side and that, as in every
-other instance. Thus they continued, for some little time, neither
-increasing nor decreasing the distance between them, after which there
-were several half retreats, whereby the one bird, passing the other
-obliquely, exposed itself to a flank attack, its beak being turned
-away. This, however, was never taken advantage of by the other, and,
-finally, the more timid of the two made a low flight over the grass, to
-some distance, thus declining the combat. Some other odd motions and
-contortions were exhibited by these birds, but they were occasional,
-and, I think, unimportant, whereas the main one was constant, and the
-keynote of all. In this last instance, as at the first, both birds held
-themselves upright, with their heads thrown up, which gave them a half
-absurd, and wholly indescribable appearance.
-
-We see, in these cases, a certain fighting action, which can only
-be of use when the birds are at the closest quarters--in actual
-contact, that is to say--performed, either by both of them, when at
-a considerable distance one from another, or by one only, when the
-other is paying no attention to, or does not even see him. How shall
-we define such an action, performed in such a way? To me it appears to
-be a formal one--so much a necessity, that is to say, under a certain
-mental stimulus, that its original end and object is becoming merged
-in the satisfaction felt by the bird in going through with it. It is
-on the way to becoming an ultimate end, instead of only a proximate
-one. Intelligence would lapse in such a process, but it might revive
-again, as I believe, under the influence of natural selection. I should
-record, however, in connection with the above remarks, that at the end
-of the most violent fight the bills of the birds became disengaged. It
-then became more of a rough and tumble--a παγκρατιον--between them,
-and I noticed that one did, then, dart upon and peck the other, from
-behind. In other cases, too, I have remarked that when fighting birds
-once close and grapple, formality is at an end. What has struck me as
-peculiar, is the way in which they will _not_ close, but seem content
-to make, over and over again, certain movements that have an oddly
-stereotyped and formal appearance. Here, as it appears to me, we see
-the hardening of the surface of the lava-stream, above the molten fluid
-beneath. Through this cooled crust the latter must be reached; but
-the lava-stream may become all crust, and the battle lose itself in
-formality.
-
-The time during which I watched from my bush, and in which all these
-doings were included, was about four hours--from 3, or thereabouts,
-to 7 namely--and during the whole of it, woodpeckers, when not thus
-fighting, fed quietly upon the greensward, probing and hammering
-it with their bills for the ants. What a terrible calamity to fall
-upon thousands of such little intellectual entities! Fancy the
-same sort of thing happening to ourselves--a monster, of landscape
-proportions, trundling down London, say, or Pekin, and englutting
-everybody--philosophers and cricketers, honest men and thieves, quiet
-peaceable people and Cabinet Ministers--dozens at a time! Would that
-change our ideas, at all, I wonder? Would it modify popular conceptions
-of the Deity? Would it make optimists less assured, pessimists less
-“shallow”? Or would it do nothing? Would Tennyson, till he was gobbled,
-still go on “trusting”? and would the very thing itself, that appeared
-so all wrong, be taken as evidence that it was, really, all right?
-This last, I feel sure, would be the case. How many a song has been
-sung to that old, old tune, and what a mass of such “evidence” there
-is! Historians are never tired of it--the Hunnish invasion, the end of
-the Peloponnesian war, the conquest of everybody by Rome, and then,
-again, the conquest of Rome by everybody: all right, all for the best,
-if you start with being an optimist, that is to say, with a cheerful
-constitution--a good thing, certainly, but mistaken by many for a good
-argument. True it is that disasters, almost, or even quite, as great
-as the above, do sometimes overtake humanity, upon this earth of ours;
-but they are, both, less frequent, as I suppose, than with the ants,
-and the great difference is, that, with us, there is no woodpecker, its
-part being taken by inanimate nature, or by ourselves, to whom we are
-partial. Yet I know not why a scheme that is well for one, or for a few
-only, should be thought a good scheme, all through, and the reason why
-we, as a species, are not as ants to woodpeckers, is not that nature
-is too pitiful, but that we are too strong, and woodpeckers not strong
-enough--which is not a satisfactory reason.
-
-An eminent naturalist and spiritualist thinks that immortality (of
-one species only, apparently) with eternal progress, would justify
-all, and turn seeming wrong into right. For myself, I cannot see how
-one single pang, upon this earth, can ever be justified, seeing that,
-on any adequate conception of a deity, it both never need, and never
-ought to have been felt. This very progress, too, with which we are to
-comfort ourselves, must be accompanied with--indeed is made dependent
-upon--great, almost infinite, suffering, lasting through enormous
-periods of time. The sin-seared soul does, indeed, rise, at last, and
-become purified--but through what? Through the horrible tortures of
-remorse. That, no doubt, is better than another view. It is the best,
-perhaps, that can be conceived of, things being as we know them to
-be. It makes the best of a bad job--but there is still the bad job.
-The eternal stumbling-block of evil and misery remains. If these
-need not have been, where is all-goodness, seeing that they are? If
-they need, where, then, is infinite power, and where, without it, is
-justice? I do not say that these questions cannot be satisfactorily
-answered (though I think they never will be by us, here), but I say
-that the spiritualistic doctrine does not answer them. Numbers of other
-difficulties, more graspable by our reason, appear to me to attend
-the conception of spiritual progress, and especially of spiritual
-suffering, in a future state, as taught by many spiritualists--say by
-the late Stainton-Moses; but perhaps a discussion of these does not,
-strictly speaking, fall within the province of field natural history.
-
-_Revenons à nos moutons_, therefore. The green woodpecker, we have
-now seen, both fights and has a marked manner of doing so, which
-seems better adapted to the ground than to trees, where one would,
-_primâ facie_, have expected its combats to take place. The birds
-stand directly fronting one another, but to do this upon a tree-trunk,
-or a branch that sloped at all steeply, they would have to stand,
-or rather cling, sideways, since they never--that is to say, I have
-never seen them--descend head downwards, though they do backwards,
-or backward-sideways, with ease. Such duels, therefore, as I have
-here described, would have to be fought upon a horizontal branch,
-but neither would this, perhaps, be very convenient, or much in
-accordance with the bird’s habits. The ground alone--especially the
-greensward--would seem quite suitable for such tourneys, and since they
-are sometimes held there, the probability, to my mind, is that they
-always, or nearly always, are. Nor is this all, for the nuptial rite
-itself is performed by these woodpeckers upon the ground--a strange
-thing, surely, in a bird belonging to so arboreal a family. Here,
-again, I will describe what I have seen, for, the next day, I came to
-watch in the same place, getting there about 7 in the morning, from
-before which time--for they were there when I came--up to 8.30, when
-I left, three or four birds--the same ones doubtless--fed quietly on
-the green. In the afternoon I came again, and whilst watching one that
-was still feeding busily, another flew down, some way off it, and
-after considering the ways of the ant, for a little, and being wise in
-regard to them, came up in a series of rapid hops and short pauses,
-till just in front of the feeding bird--a male--when she crouched down,
-and pairing took place. It was accompanied--at least I think so--by a
-peculiar guttural note, uttered either by one or both the birds. Some
-time afterwards I again saw this. I am not sure whether it was the same
-pair of birds as before, but the actions and relative parts played by
-the male and female were the same. In either case the male was the more
-indifferent of the two, and had to be courted, or rather solicited, by
-the female--a fact which I have noted in various birds, and which does
-not appear to me to accord very well with that universal law of nature,
-as laid down by Hunter and endorsed by Darwin, that the male is more
-eager, and has stronger passions than, the female. No doubt this is the
-rule, but the exceptions or qualifications of it do not seem to me to
-have received sufficient attention. These woodpeckers could not have
-been long mated--except that in my opinion they mate for life--since
-the males were fighting desperately only the day before.
-
-Let the fighting of male birds be ever so strong evidence of their
-sexual desires, yet the actual solicitation of either sex by the other
-must, surely, be a stronger one, and this, as we have just seen, is
-not always on the side of the male. Darwin gives several instances
-of female birds courting the male, contrary to the general rule in
-the species to which they belonged, and many more might be collected.
-Amongst pigeons it is not an unknown thing for married happiness to be
-disturbed by the machinations of a wanton hen: the male gull is often
-quite pestered by the affectionate behaviour of the female: and at
-the very same time that the male eider-ducks are constantly fighting,
-and often quite mob the females, one may see one of these females go
-through quite frantic actions, on the water, first before one male,
-and then another, which actions, though they seem to point all in one
-direction, yet meet with no response. Yet the eider-duck is one of
-those birds the male of which is highly adorned, and the female quite
-plain. There is, I think, a strong tendency to ignore or forget things
-which are not in harmony with what seems a plain, straightforward law,
-that one has never thought of doubting. But every fact ought to be
-noted and its proper value accorded it. The sexual relations of birds
-are, I think, full of interest, and it is, particularly, in regard to
-those species, the sexes of which are alike, or nearly so, that these
-ought to be studied. There is a distinct reason, as it appears to me,
-why, in the contrary case, the males should be the more eager, which
-reason does not exist in the other, and it is just in this other, where
-one cannot, as a rule, in field observation, tell the male from the
-female, that it is most difficult to know what really goes on. Fighting
-amongst male birds, in whatever fact--physical or psychological--it may
-have originated, is, in itself, distinct from the sexual passion, and
-in it, moreover, a large amount of energy is expended. It seems just
-possible, therefore, that some male birds, as they have become more and
-more habitual fighters, have, owing to that very cause, lost, rather
-than gained, in the strength of the primary sexual impulse, whereas the
-female, having nothing to divert her from this, may be, really, more
-amorous, and more the wooer, sometimes, than one thinks. No doubt this
-would, in time, lead to fighting amongst the females too, and I have
-seen two hen blackbirds fight most desperately, on account of a cock
-that stood by. Rival women, however, do not fight, and the same general
-principle might show itself amongst birds, the hens contending, rather,
-with enticements, allurings, and general assiduity, which, again, need
-not pass into a formal display. Eagerness, in fact, might show itself
-in a way more consonant with the feminine constitution, and therefore
-less easy to observe.
-
-Be all this as it may, the female woodpecker, in the above two
-instances, was certainly the _agente provocatrice_. I saw no more
-fighting, either on this day, or afterwards. It seemed as though I had
-been just in time to see the birds’ mating arrangements settled. But
-since these woodpeckers go in pairs, during the winter, and build, each
-year, in the same tree, they must, I think, be assumed to mate for
-life. Why, therefore, should the males fight, each spring?--and the
-same question may be asked in regard to hundreds of other birds. Does
-not this, in itself, go to show that such fighting may not always stand
-in such direct relation to the sexual passions as one is accustomed
-to think that it does? But to leave questions and come to facts, the
-habits of our green woodpecker are, already, very different, in several
-by no means unimportant respects, from those of the family to which it
-belongs. Its general--and in some parts of the country, as I believe,
-its almost exclusive--diet is, now, ants, which it procures on the
-ground, by digging into their nests. As the ants are too small for
-it to hold in its bill, it is obliged to swallow them, and this has
-led to its feeding the young by a process of regurgitation, as does
-the nightjar, owing, I believe, to a similar reason. In the breeding
-season the males become pugnacious, and fight in a specialised manner,
-also on the ground, and here, too, the marriage rite is consummated.
-From this to laying the eggs in a hole, or depression, of the earth--a
-rabbit-burrow, for instance, as does the stockdove, though still
-sometimes building in trees, as it, no doubt, once always did--does not
-appear to me to be a very far cry, and I believe that, if trees were to
-disappear in our island, the green woodpecker, instead of disappearing
-with them, would stay on, as a ground-living species, entirely. On
-one point of the bird’s habits I have not yet satisfied myself. Does
-it pass the entire night, clinging, perpendicularly, to the trunk of
-a tree--sleeping like this? From what I have seen, I believe it does,
-and this, sometimes, without the support of its tail. But I am not
-sure, and should like to make sure. How I should love to watch a pair
-of green woodpeckers, settled, for the night, on their two trees--as
-I have seen them resting--till darkness made it no longer possible to
-do so, and then to creep silently away, and come as silently again,
-before daylight, on the following morning! How sweet to steal, thus
-innocently, upon their “secure hour”: to see them commence the day: to
-watch their first movements: to hear their first cries to each other:
-to sit and see the darkness slowly leave them, till a grey something
-grew into a bird, and then another, both clinging there in the very
-same place and position you had left them in overnight! Then to watch
-them off; and returning, once more, on the same afternoon, well in
-time, to see if they came back to the same trees, or not! To be able to
-do this--and a few other things of this sort--without a world of cares
-to distract one--
-
-    “Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!”
-
-[Illustration: MARTINS BUILDING NEST]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-Shakespeare’s “guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet,” makes
-“his pendent bed and procreant cradle,” year after year, on the flint
-walls of my house in Icklingham, thus offering me every facility
-for a full observation of its domestic habits. For long I have been
-intending to make these a study, but the very proximity which seemed
-to be such an advantage, has proved a hindrance; for it is one thing
-to steal silently into a lonely plantation, or lie, at full length,
-on the wild waste of the warrens, and another to sit in a chair, in
-one’s own garden, or look out of a window in one’s own house. So,
-though the martins were always most interesting, I never could keep
-long near them; yet some very inadequate notings, forming a scrappy
-and widely-sundered journal, I have made, and will here give in their
-entirety, since they concern a bird so loved.
-
-“_May 25, 1900._--This morning I watched a pair of martlets building
-their nest against the wall of my house.
-
-“5.55.--Both birds fly to the nest, and one, that is much the handsomer
-and more purple of the two, makes several pecks at the other, in a
-manner half playful, half authoritative. I take this one to be the
-male, and the other, who is greyer, the female. She, in return for
-her husband’s friendly pecking, cossets him, a little, with her beak,
-nibbling his head. Neither of the two are working at the nest. The
-throat of the male seems very much swelled, yet he deposits nothing,
-and, in a little while, flies off, leaving the female, who, however,
-soon follows him. The male, as I believe him to be, now comes and goes,
-several times. Each time, he just touches the edge of the nest with his
-bill, flying off almost immediately afterwards, nor can I discover that
-he adds to the mud of it, on any one occasion.
-
-“6.10.--Now, however, he has put--is still putting--a little piece
-there. Bending down over the nest’s edge, which he just touches with
-his bill, he communicates a little quivering motion to his head,
-during which, as it would seem, something is pushed out of the beak. I
-cannot make out the process, but now that he is gone, I see a little
-wet-looking area, which may be either fresh mud that has just been
-brought, or a moistened bit of the old. I think, however, it is the
-first. Now, again, he comes as before, flies off and returns, and
-thus continues, never bringing anything in the bill that I can see,
-but, each time, giving himself a little press down in the nest, and,
-simultaneously, stretching his neck outwards, and a little up, so
-that the rounded, swollen-looking throat just touches its edge. After
-doing this twice or thrice, he makes a dip down, out of the nest, and
-flies off. I can never make out that he either brings or deposits
-anything. The other bird comes, also, two or three times, to the nest,
-but neither does she seem to do anything, except sit in it and just
-touch its edge with her bill. One bird, coming whilst the other is thus
-sitting in the little mud cradle, hangs, fluttering, outside it, for
-awhile, with a little chirrupy screaming, and then darts off. There
-must have been, by now, a dozen visits, yet the birds, apparently,
-bring nothing, and do little, or nothing, each time. Another visit of
-this sort, the bird just touching the rim with its swollen throat--not
-the beak--and then dropping off--a light little Ariel. And now another:
-and, this time, the partner bird hovers, chirruping, in front of the
-nest, as the first one lies in it--but nothing is brought, and nothing
-done that I can see. It now seems plain that, for some time during the
-nest-building--or what one would think was the nest-building--the birds
-visit the nest, either by turns, or together, yet do nothing, or next
-to nothing, to it. Two more of these make-believes, but now, at last,
-mud is plainly deposited by the visiting bird; but I cannot quite make
-out if it is carried in the bill, or disgorged out of the throat.
-
-“6.50.--Both birds to the nest. One has a piece of mud in the bill,
-which it keeps working about. Yet it is half in the throat, too, it
-would seem, and often as though on the point of being swallowed. At
-last, however, it is dropped on the rim--that part of it so often
-touched. Then the bird begins to feel and touch this mud, and I see a
-gleam of something white between the mandibles, which, I think, is the
-tongue feeling, perhaps shaping, it. The other bird now flies off, and
-I see this one, quite plainly, pick up a pellet of mud and swallow it.
-This, with the swollen and globular-looking throat, which I have kept
-remarking, seems to make it likely that the mud used in building is
-swallowed and disgorged. Another visit, now, but I cannot quite make
-things out. I see a bit of mud held in the beak, and after, if not
-before, this, the bird has made actions as though trying to bring up
-something out of its throat. However, I cannot sit longer against the
-wall of my own house.
-
-“_26th._--At 6 A.M. one of the martlets comes to the nest,
-and, as he settles down upon it, he utters notes that are like a
-little song, and very pretty to hear. Lying, thus, in the nest, he
-just touches the edge of it with the beak, but, though the throat
-looks quite globular, no mud, that I can see, is deposited. He shifts,
-then, so as to lie the opposite way, and, soon after, flies off,
-making his pretty little parachute drop from the brink, as usual. Soon
-he returns--for I watch him circling--and stays a very short time,
-during which no mud is deposited. The nest, too, I notice, seems to
-have advanced very little since I left it yesterday, though this was
-no later than 7 A.M. Another musical meeting, now, and the
-arriving bird, finding the musician on the nest, clings against it,
-and there is a sort of twittering, loving expostulation, before she
-leaves him in possession. This second bird is not nearly so handsome,
-the back not purple like that of the other, and the white throat is
-stained and dirty-looking. It is this one that swallowed the mud
-yesterday, and, I think, does the greater part of the work--the hen,
-I feel pretty sure. During another visit, the bird applies its bill,
-very delicately, to the mud-work of the nest--always its edge or
-parapet--and there is that quick, vibratory motion of the whole head,
-which I have before mentioned. It appears to me that, during this, mud
-must be deposited, but in such a thin, small stream, that I can see
-nothing of it. Sparrows--out on them!--have taken possession of the
-first-built of my martins’ nests, and the dispossessed birds--if they
-are, indeed, the same ones--have commenced another, close beside it.
-But I must go.”
-
-Gilbert White, in his classic, alludes to the slow rate at which
-house-martins build, and also gives a reason for it. He says: “About
-half an inch seems to be a sufficient layer for a day.” To me it seems
-that, at some stage of the construction, they must build even slower
-than this, and the curious thing is, that, at the proper building-time,
-and when, to casual observation, the birds seem actively building, they
-come and come and come again, and yet do nothing, each time. Well,
-“_tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis_,” but it is pleasant to
-think that all this was going on in White’s days, on the walls of his
-house, no doubt, as of mine now. When everything else has been swept
-away, yet in nature we still have some link with past times. These
-martins, the rooks, a robin, any of the familiar _homy_ birds, can
-be fitted into any home, with any person about it. Yet that is not
-much--or rather it is too difficult. Let any one try, and see how far
-he gets with it.
-
-“_May 17, 1901._--These birds may have intercommunal marriages--or
-something a little _outré_. There are the nests of two, under the eaves
-of one wall of my house, and their owners go, constantly, from one of
-them to another, entering both. When I say ‘constantly,’ I mean that
-I have seen it several times. There was always another bird in the
-nest from which the one flew, and sometimes, if not always, in the one
-to which he went. Thus there are three birds to the two nests, for I
-cannot make out a fourth. Also there is entire amicableness, for the
-same bird, when it enters each nest, in turn, is received with a glad
-twitter by the one inside. What, then, is the meaning of this? Are
-two hens mated with one male bird, and has each made a nest, at which
-he has helped, in turn? Or is there a second male, not yet flown in,
-but who will resent the intrusion of the other, when he does? _Nous
-verrons._ It is one of these two nests that is in process of being
-taken possession of by the sparrows; for the deed is not done all at
-once--‘_nemo repente fuit turpissimus_.’ A martin is in this one, now,
-when the hen sparrow flies up, and, as she clings to the entrance, out
-he flies. She fastens upon him, and keeps her hold, for some time,
-in the air. The martin, as far as I can see, makes no attempt to
-retaliate, but only flies and struggles to be loose. When he is, his
-powers of flight soon carry him out of the sparrow’s danger, though
-the latter, at first, attempts a pursuit, which, however, she soon
-gives up.
-
-“_18th._--At 6.30 A.M. there is a pair of martins in each
-of the nests, and the sparrows do not seem to have prevailed. These
-two pairs of birds, then, must, I suppose, have entered one another’s
-nests, and they appear to be on the friendliest terms, a friendly
-twitter from the one nest being, often, answered by a friendly twitter
-from the other. At least it sounds friendly, and there have been these
-double entries. During the time that the sparrow was besieging the
-martin’s nest, she had all the appearance of real proprietorship. A
-true grievance, a just indignation, was in her every look and motion.
-She felt so, no doubt, and therein lies the irony of it. Nature is full
-of irony.
-
-“_22nd._--One or other of the two martins has, more than once, entered
-the nest usurped by the sparrows, so that I begin to doubt if the
-latter have really succeeded. As against this, however, I see both the
-sparrows, on the roof near, and the cock bird has twigs and grass in
-his bill. Yet, as long as I see them, they do not come to the nest.
-Nevertheless, another nest is now being begun, about a foot from the
-one they have invaded, and the birds building this, must, I feel sure,
-be the owners of the latter.
-
-“_23rd._--At 7 this morning the building of the new nest is going
-rapidly forward, but the hen sparrow, with a sinister look, sits near,
-in the gutter running round the roof. She has a little grass in her
-bill, and with this, after a while, she flies to the abandoned nest.
-She clings outside it, for a little, then, all at once, instead of
-entering, attacks the two martins building their new one, flying at
-each, in turn, and pecking them venomously. The martins do not resist,
-and soon take to flight, but once again the sparrow attacks them, with
-the grass still in her bill, before entering the old nest with it, as
-finally she does. Undeterred by these two attacks, the martins continue
-to ply backwards and forwards, ever building their nest. The hen
-sparrow soon flies out of her ill-gotten one, and away, and, shortly
-afterwards, the cock comes and sits on the piping, with a small tuft of
-moss and grass in his bill. For a most inordinate time he sits there,
-with these materials, and then, time and time again, he flies into a
-neighbouring tree, and returns with them, going off, still holding
-them, at last, without once having been to the nest. Meanwhile the hen
-has returned with a much more considerable supply, which she takes into
-the nest, at once. Afterwards she comes with more, but again her anger
-is aroused by the sight of the two poor martins, always building, and
-she flies at them, laden as she is, just as before. They take flight,
-as usual, but soon return, and continue industriously to build. Both
-are now doing so in the prettiest manner, lying side by side, but
-turned in opposite directions, so that each works at a different part
-of the nest. Then one of them flies eight times (if not more) to the
-nest, and away again, with a large piece of black mud protruding, all
-the while, from his bill, which is forced considerably open by it. He
-seems, each time, unable to bring it out, but, on the ninth return,
-succeeds in doing so--if, indeed, this is the explanation. When he
-flies in, this last time, it does not look such a bulk in the mouth as
-before. It may be--and this, perhaps, is more probable--that it had not
-before been sufficiently worked up with the salivary secretions, and
-that the bird was doing this, all the time, though making its little
-visits as a matter of custom. During the earlier ones he had the nest
-to himself, but, on the last, his partner was there, and he almost
-pushed her out of it, with a little haste-pleading twittering, seeming
-to say, ‘Mine is the greater need.’ Both the sparrows have been,
-several times, in and out of the old nest, during this, and sometimes
-sitting in it together. The hen is building in good, workmanlike
-fashion, whereas the cock contributes but little. The mud which these
-martins used to build with, was brought, by them, from a little puddle
-in the village street, till this became dry, after which I did not see
-where they went. I have seen quite a number of them, including some
-swallows, collecting it at a pond in a village near here. A very pretty
-sight it was, to see them all so busy, and doing something dirty so
-cleanly--for, after all, swallowing mud is dirty if looked at in a
-commonplace kind of way, though not at all so, really, if we consider
-the end to which it is done.
-
-“_30th._--Two more martlets are beginning a nest just above my
-bedroom window, and on the very mud-stains of their last one. Others
-seem choosing a site, for two pairs of them hang upon certain spots,
-twittering together, in a most talking manner, flying away, then,
-and returning to talk again, as if they were--not house-, but
-foundation-hunting. I notice that these birds, when they fly from the
-proposed or contemplated site, will often, after making a circle round,
-wheel in to the nest nearest to it, and, poised in the air, beneath
-the portal, take, as it were, a little friendly peep in. Yet it is not
-all friendly, for I have just seen a bird struggling for entrance,
-and expelled by the proprietor of the nest--by the one proprietor, I
-think, but both were at home, and my impression is that if only one had
-been, the visitor might have been well received, as, indeed, I have
-seen and recorded. Now, too, I have seen a fight in the air between two
-martins, _à propos_ of an intended entrance on the part of one of them.
-House-martins, therefore, fight amongst themselves--as do sand-martins,
-very violently--and this makes their apparent total inability to defend
-themselves against the attacks of sparrows, the more remarkable. No
-doubt the sparrow is a stronger bird, but the martins, with their
-superior powers of flight, might annoy it incessantly when in the
-vicinity of the nest, to the extent, perhaps, of driving it away. That
-they should all combine for this purpose is, perhaps, too much to
-expect, but when one sparrow, only, attacks a pair of them, one might
-think that both would retaliate. As we have seen, however, a pair of
-martins, when attacked in this way upon three occasions quite failed
-to do so. Probably the period of fighting and striving has long ago
-been passed through, and the sparrow, having come the victor out of
-it, is now recognised as an inevitability. It is better for any pair
-of house-martins--and consequently for the race--to give up and build
-another nest, than to waste their time in efforts which, even if at
-last successful, would make them the parents of fewer offspring.
-
-“_June 1st._--The nest above my window has been built at a great rate,
-and is now almost finished. Compare this with the very slow building
-of some martins last year, and with Gilbert White’s general statement.
-There is no finality in natural history, and any one observation may
-be contradicted by any other. This nest, the day before yesterday, was
-only just beginning, and now it is almost finished. A layer of half
-an inch a day, therefore, is quite inadequate to the result, and so
-the supposed reason for the slow rate of advance, when the nest is
-built slowly, falls to the ground.[27] Late in the year, the nests
-do, sometimes, drop--by which I have made acquaintance with the grown
-young, and the curious parasitic fly upon them--but this, I think,
-belongs to the chapter of accidents, and is not to be avoided by any
-art or foresight of the bird. Other nests have now been begun, and
-these, like all the rest, as far as I can be sure of it, are on the
-exact sites of so many old ones. What interests me, however, is that,
-on two of these sites, nests, for some reason, were not built last
-year, though they were the year before. Possibly they were begun there
-last year, but destroyed without my knowledge (women and gardeners
-would do away with birds, between them), in which case no further
-attempt was made to build there. But this I do not think was the case.
-The birds, therefore--supposing them to be the same ones--missed a
-year, and then built in the same place as two years ago. There were
-only the stains of the old structures left, but these were covered by
-the fresh mud, as a head is by a skull-cap. These martins, therefore,
-assuming them to have been the same, must either not have built, last
-year, or, having had to build somewhere else, they must yet have
-remembered their old place of the year before, and come back to it.
-
-“_5th._--This evening I watched my martins from the landing window, at
-only a few yards’ distance. Two had made nests on a wall that stood, at
-an angle, just outside, and in either one or both of these nests, one
-of the two birds was usually sitting. Thus, either two or three more,
-as the case might be, were wanted to make up the two pairs that owned
-the two nests. But instead of two or three, often six or eight, at a
-time, would be fluttering under the nests, and a still greater number
-circled round about, from which these came, at intervals, to flutter
-there. That every one of these birds was interested, in some way and
-to some degree, in the two nests, was quite obvious. They seemed,
-often, on the point of clinging to one, with a view to entering it,
-and to be stopped, only, by the bird inside giving, each time, a funny
-little bubbling twitter, which seemed, by its effect, to mean, ‘No,
-not you; you’re not the right one.’ But whenever a bird did enter one
-of the nests, he flew straight at it, and was in, in a moment, being
-received--if the other one was at home--with a shriller and louder
-note, something like a scream. The harsher sound meant welcome, and
-the softer one, unwillingness.
-
-“That there is some interest taken by the martins of a
-neighbourhood--or, at least, of any little colony--in the nests built
-by their fellows, seems clear, and I have recorded, both the friendly
-entries of one bird into two nests, each of which was occupied by
-another, and the struggles of two, to enter one, where, also, the
-partner bird, either of one or the other, was sitting. All these facts
-together seem best explained by supposing that the female house-martin
-is something of a light-o’-love, and that when she builds her nest,
-more than one male holds himself entitled to claim both it and her,
-as his own. If, for some reasons, we feel unable to adopt this view,
-we may fall back upon that of a social or communistic feeling, as yet
-imperfectly developed, and wavering, sometimes, between friendliness
-and hostility. Be it as it may, the facts which I have noted appear
-to me to be of interest. In regard to the last-mentioned one--the
-interest, namely, manifested by several birds, in nests not their
-own--White of Selborne says: ‘The young of this species do not quit
-their abodes all together; but the more forward birds get abroad some
-days before the rest. These, approaching the eaves of buildings, and
-playing about before them, make people think that several old ones
-attend one nest.’ How does this apply here? ‘Nohow,’ I reply (with
-Tweedledee), for no young birds could possibly have left the nests,
-at this date (June 5). I doubt, indeed, whether any eggs had been
-hatched. White, living in a southern county, says elsewhere (Letter
-LV.): ‘About the middle of May, if the weather be fine, the martin
-begins to think in earnest of providing a mansion for its family.’
-This is my experience too, and in East Anglia, at any rate, where May
-is generally like a bad March, and often colder, I am sure he never
-thinks about it sooner. Neither in Dorsetshire, too, when I was last
-there, did any martins begin building, in a village where they build
-all down the street, before about the middle of May, as White says,
-and when I inquired for them, a week or ten days sooner, the cottage
-people, who must know their habits in this respect, told me it was
-too early for them yet. Elsewhere, ’tis true, we read that the martin
-‘sets about building very soon after its return, which may be about the
-middle of April,’ though I never remember them here before May. This is
-not my experience, nor was it White’s, who says--and, I believe, with
-great correctness--‘For some time after they appear, the _hirundines_
-in general pay no attention to the business of nidification, but play
-and sport about, either to recruit from the fatigue of their journey,
-or,’ &c. &c. (Letter LV.) (the rest of the sentence is historically
-interesting). However, let some young martins, in some places, be
-as precocious as they like, this I know, that none were abroad in
-Icklingham, in the year 1901, upon the 5th of June. The several birds,
-therefore, that attended one nest in the way I have described, were
-old, and not young, birds, and I connect their conduct with those other
-cases I have mentioned, which point towards a socialistic tendency in
-this species.
-
-“_24th._--Watching from the landing window, this morning, I saw a
-house-martin attacked by another one, whilst entering its nest with
-some feathers. I called to our Hannah to bring my son’s fishing-rod,
-and never took my eyes off the nest, whilst she was coming with it.
-Meanwhile, one martin had come out, and, on my touching the nest with
-the rod, a second did, also. One of a pair, therefore, had, by making
-its nest, excited the anger of a third bird, and this I have seen more
-than once. Is the angry bird, in such cases, a mere stranger, or is it
-a rival, in some way? If the last--and the other seems unlikely--does
-one hen consort with two or more cocks, or _vice versâ_? I have
-noticed, however, with more than one kind of bird, that the hens seem
-jealous of each other collecting materials for the nest.[28]
-
-“_August 3rd._--It is customary for two of the young martins to sit
-with their heads looking out at the door of the nest--very pretty they
-look--and ever and anon one of the parent birds will fly in to them,
-as she circles round, and hanging there, just for a moment, there is a
-little twittering chorus--mostly I think from the chicks--and off she
-flies again. It is difficult to be quite sure whether, in these short
-flying visits, the chicks are really fed. Sometimes they are so short
-that this seems hardly possible. At others something does seem to pass,
-and the mouth of one of the chicks may be seen opened, just after the
-parent flies off. Yet it hardly seems like serious feeding. But at
-this very moment a bird has, thus, flown in to the young, and one of
-them, I am sure, was, this time, fed. This has happened again--and yet
-again--but now, this last time, the parent bird has entered the nest.
-The time before, whilst the one parent was hanging there, and, I think,
-giving the chick something, the other flew in to the wall, and clung
-there, about six inches off, seeming to watch the scene with pleased
-attention. Yet, though food does, as I now feel sure, sometimes pass in
-these visits, at others, as it seems to me, only remarks do. At this
-stage of the argument, one of the young birds projects its tail through
-the entrance-hole, and voids its excrement. Under this nest and another
-one, about two feet from it, there is a heap of excrement on the
-slanting roof of the greenhouse below; an interesting thing to see, and
-cleanly if rightly considered, yet unsightly I must confess--that part
-of it, alone, exists for the feminine eye. Out comes another tail, now,
-and the heap is increased. In this pretty way the nest is kept pure and
-wholesome.
-
-“Now I have had a fine view of the feeding, having moved into a better
-position. The parent bird clung to the nest, and one of the chicks,
-thrusting out its head from the aperture, opened its mouth, so that it
-looked like a little round funnel. Into this the parent bird thrust
-not only her bill, but the upper part of her head as well, and the
-chick’s mouth closing upon it, there instantly began, on the part of
-both, those motions which accompany the process of regurgitation, as
-it may be witnessed with pigeons, and as I have witnessed it with
-nightjars. These becoming more and more violent, the parent bird was,
-at last, drawn by the chick, who kept pulling back upon her, into the
-nest--that, at least, was the appearance presented. For some moments
-only the posterior part of the dam’s body could be seen projecting
-through the aperture, and this continued to work violently, in the
-manner indicated. Then she disappeared altogether. A few minutes
-afterwards, another and much more lengthy visit is paid, by one of the
-old birds, to the nest, but, this time, though a young one looks out
-with open mouth, no feeding takes place.
-
-“I have now to record that a bird about to enter the next nest to this,
-from which another, whose snowy throat proclaims it to be full-grown,
-has just looked out, is attacked, as it clings to the mud, and driven
-off, by a third bird. In the course of some few minutes this occurs
-twice again, the attack, each time, being very fierce, and the struggle
-more prolonged. And now, but shortly afterwards, the same two birds
-(as I make no doubt) fly, together, on to the nest, and both enter it,
-shouldering and pushing one another. They are in it some time, during
-which I can make nothing out clearly. Then one emerges, and I can see
-that the other has hold of him with the beak, detaining him slightly,
-as he flies away. This other, in a moment, flies out too, and then the
-head of a third--the one, no doubt, that has been in the nest, all the
-time--appears at the entrance, as before. Now this nest, though so late
-in the season, has the appearance of being a new one. It even seems not
-yet entirely finished, though nearly so. Perhaps it has been repaired,
-but, in any case, there are no young birds in it, nor do I think the
-old ones are sitting again, yet--for probably there have been earlier
-broods. If we assume this, and that two out of the three birds are the
-mated pair, then we must suppose either that, all the while, a rival
-male has continued to fight for the possession of the nest and the
-female, or that two females lay claim to the nest, and have, perhaps,
-helped to build it. If this latter be the case, we may, perhaps, see
-in it an extension of that spirit of jealousy or rivalry which I have
-often observed in female birds, whilst collecting materials for their
-respective nests. Is it possible that such feelings may have led to
-that habit which the females of some birds have (or are supposed to
-have) of laying their eggs in one common nest? But I do not suppose so.
-In this case, as before, it appears that one of the rival birds--male
-or female--is preferred by the bird in the nest, for this one, now, as
-the prevailing party flies in and clings on the parapet, breaks into a
-perfect jubilee of twitterings, and fuller, croodling notes, that may
-almost be called song--very pretty indeed, and extremely pleasing to
-hear. Evidently either two males have fought for access to a female--or
-two females to a male--in a nest which one, or both, or all three have
-helped to make; but the difficulty in distinguishing the sexes prevents
-one from saying which of these two it is. Meanwhile the parent bird
-has, for long, clung to the other nest, without feeding the young.
-
-“_5th._--A young martlet has just been fed, leaning its head far out of
-the nest. The process was quick, this time. Still, it must, I think,
-have been a regurgitatory one. Two chicks, looking out from their
-nest, have been, for some time, uttering a little piping twitter.
-Suddenly, with a few louder, more excited tweets, they stretch out
-both their heads, and their two widely-opened mouths look like little
-perfectly round craters, as the dam flies up and pops her head--as it
-were--as far as it will go, right into one of them. Almost instantly
-she is away again. Still, from what I have seen before, and from never
-catching anything projecting from the parent’s beak, I think the food
-must have been brought up from the crop, or at least from somewhere
-inside--for I am not writing as a physiologist. The first case which I
-have recorded should, I think, be conclusive, and it was very carefully
-observed. There have just been two visits in such quick succession that
-I think it must have been the two parents. No doubt they both feed
-the young, but it is not so easy to actually see that they do. One of
-them flies in again, now, plunging its bill instantly right into the
-centre of the open mouth of the chick. Withdrawing it, almost at once,
-nothing is seen in the chick’s mouth, though it is evident it has
-swallowed something. In another visit, a few minutes afterwards, the
-finger-in-a-finger-stall appearance of the parent’s and chick’s bills,
-and the motions of the latter, as though sucking in something, are much
-more apparent.
-
-“Whether the dam always, or only sometimes, disgorges food that it has
-swallowed, or partially swallowed, or, at least, that it has brought
-inside the mouth, I cannot be sure; but I believe that the insects on
-which the young are fed, are never just carried in the beak, in the
-way that a thrush, robin, wagtail, &c., brings worms or flies to its
-young. When one thinks of the bird’s building habits and its swollen
-throat, bulged out with mud--as I think it must be--one may surmise
-that it finds it equally natural to hold a mash of insects in this way.
-I believe that all the swallow tribe, as well as nightjars, engulf
-their food in the way that a whale does infusoria, instead of seizing
-it, first, with the bill--at least that this is their more habitual
-practice. Thus, I was watching some swallows, once, flying close over
-the ground, when a large white butterfly (the common cabbage one, I
-think) suddenly disappeared, entombed, as it were, in one of them. Now,
-had a sparrow seized the butterfly the effect would have been quite
-different, and so would the process have been. It _would_ have seized
-it, in fact, but the swallow must have opened its gape, and, in spite
-of the size of the butterfly, it went down so quickly that, to the eye,
-it looked as if it had been at once enclosed. Possibly, on account
-of its size, it was, perforce, held just for a moment, till another
-gulp helped it down. But the process, as I say, was very different to
-the more usual one, and I doubt if an ordinary passerine bird could
-have swallowed a butterfly on the wing, at all. It is rare, I think,
-for anything so large as this to be hawked at by swallows or martins.
-Small insects are their habitual food, and of these the air is often
-full. That numbers should be swallowed down which are too small to hold
-in the bill, seems almost a necessity, and that the house-martin, in
-particular, does this, and brings them up again for the young, in the
-form of a mash or pulp, I think likely from what I have seen, and,
-also, from the bird’s habit of swallowing and disgorging mud. That
-they, also, sometimes bring in insects in the bill may very well be
-the case, but I have not yet seen them do so, and, especially, I have
-missed that little collected bundle which, from analogy, I should have
-expected to see. The most interesting point, to me, however, about the
-domestic life of these birds, is their social and sexual relations,
-which I think are deserving of a more serious investigation than is
-contained in the scanty record which I here offer.”
-
-Another entry, which I cannot now find, referred to the sudden late
-appearance of several sand-martins, who ought--had they read their
-authorities--to have known better. I cannot help thinking that Gilbert
-White has been treated very unfairly about that theory of his. If
-certain of the swallow tribe are sometimes seen, on sunny days, in
-winter, then that is an interesting circumstance, and one which has
-to be accounted for. White, in drawing attention to it, has done his
-duty as a field naturalist, and the explanation which he has offered
-is one which seems to meet the facts of the case. If a swallow is here
-at Christmas, it cannot be in Africa, and as it cannot feed here, and
-is not, as a rule, seen about, it becomes highly probable that it is
-hibernating. It is not the rule for swallows to do this--nor do I
-understand White to say that it is--but it is the exception, here, that
-should interest us, especially at this time of day, when we know that
-what is the exception, now, may become the rule later on. The whole
-interest, therefore, lies in the question whether swifts, swallows,
-martins, &c., ever do stay with us during the winter, instead of
-migrating, and, in regard to this, White offers some evidence. What he
-deserves except praise for so doing I cannot, for the life of me, see,
-but what he gets--from a good many quarters, at any rate--is a sort of
-dull, pompous, patronising taking to task--“_Good_ boy, but mustn’t do
-that.”
-
-[Illustration: MOORHEN AND NEST]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-The Lark, which is our river here, and more particularly the little
-stream that runs into it, are, like most rivers and streams in England,
-much haunted by moorhens and dabchicks, especially by the former,
-though in winter I have seen as many as eleven of the latter--the
-little dabchicks--swimming, dipping, and skimming over the water,
-together. There is a fascination in making oneself acquainted with the
-ways of these little birds. They are not so easy to watch, and yet
-they are not so very very difficult. They seem made for concealment
-and retirement, which makes it all the more piquant when they come,
-plainly, into view, and remain there, at but a few yards’ distance,
-which, with patience, can be brought about. The whole thing lies in
-sitting still for an hour--or a few more hours--waiting for the
-dabchick to come to you, for as to your trying to go to him, that is
-no good whatever--“that way madness lies.” In watching birds, though
-it may not be quite true--certainly I have not found it so--that “all
-things come to him who knows how to wait,” this at least may be said,
-that nothing, as a rule, comes to him who does not know how to--least
-of all a dabchick.
-
-Long before one sees the little bird--long before one could see it were
-it right in front of one, if one comes at the proper time--one hears
-its curious little note--accompanied, often, with scufflings and other
-sounds that make one long to be there--amongst the reeds and rushes,
-in the darkness. This note--which, until one knows all about it, fills
-one with a strange curiosity--is a thin chirrupy chatter, high and
-reed-like, rapidly repeated, and with a weak vibration in it. It is
-like no other bird-cry that I am acquainted with, but it resembles,
-or suggests, two things--first, the neigh or hinny of a horse heard
-very faintly in the distance (for which I have often mistaken it),
-and, again, if a tittering young lady were to be changed, or modified,
-into a grasshopper, but beg, as a favour, to be allowed still to
-titter--_as_ a grasshopper--this would be it. Sometimes, too, when
-it comes, low and faint, in the near distance, one might think the
-fairies were laughing. This is the commonest of the dabchick’s notes,
-and though it has some other ones, they are uttered, for the most part,
-in combination with it, and, especially, lead up to, and usher it in,
-so that it becomes, through them, of more importance, as the _grande
-finale_ of all, in which the bird rises to its emotional apogee, and
-then stops, because anything would be tame after that. Thus, when a
-pair of dabchicks play about in each other’s company--which they will
-do in December as well as in spring--their note, at first, may be a
-quiet “Chu, chu, chu,” “Queek, queek, queek,” or some other ineffective
-sound. Then, side by side, and with their heads close together, they
-burst suddenly forth with “Chēēlee, lēēlee, lēēlee, lēēlee, lēēlee,
-lēēlee”--one thought, and both of one mind--
-
-    “A timely utterance gives that thought relief.”
-
-It is as though they said, “Shall we? Well then--_Now_ then”--and
-started. Who that sees a pair do this in the winter--in the very depth
-of it, only a few days before Christmas--can doubt that the birds are
-mated, and will be constant through life? They are like an old couple
-by the fireside, now. As the spring comes round their youth will be
-renewed, and the same duet will express the warmer emotions. Now it
-is the bird’s contentment note. You know what it means, directly. It
-expresses satisfaction with what has been, already, accomplished,
-present complacency, and a robust determination to continue, for the
-future, to walk--or swim--in the combined path of duty and pleasure.
-What a pretty little scene it is!--and one may watch these little
-cool-dipping, reed-haunting things, so dapper and circumspect, as
-near as one’s _vis-à-vis_ in a quadrille--nearer even--and tear out
-the heart of their mystery, with not a dabchick the wiser. No doubt
-about what they say for the future, for when a most authoritative work
-says “the note is a ‘whit, whit,’” and so passes on, it is time to
-bestir oneself. “Whit!” No. I deny it. Even when it ends there, when
-there is nothing more than that in the bird’s mind, it is not “whit,”
-but “queek” that it says--“queek, queek, queek, queek,” a quavering
-little note, with a sharp sound--the long ē--always. “Queek,” then,
-_“pas ‘whit,’ Monsieur Fleurant. Whit! Ah, Monsieur Fleurant, c’est se
-moquer. Mettez, mettez ‘queek,’ s’il vous plaît._” But what is this
-“queek”--though repeated more than twice--compared with such a jubilee
-as I have just described, and which the birds are constantly making?
-Express it syllabically as one may, it is something very uncommon and
-striking--a little thin burst of rejoicing--and it lasts for some time:
-not to be passed off as a mere desultory remark or so, therefore--call
-it what one will--which almost any bird might make.
-
-Besides, it is not merely what a bird says, that one would like
-to know, but what it means, and how it says it. One would like a
-description, where there is anything to describe, and no one, I am
-sure, could see a pair of dabchicks put their heads together and break
-out like this, and then say, _tout court_--without comment, even, much
-less enthusiasm, as though it exhausted the matter--“the note is a
-whit, whit.” No, no one could be so cold-blooded. Though an alphabet
-of letters may follow his name, the dabchick is a sealed book to any
-one who writes of it like that. So now, coming again to the meaning of
-this little duet, there can, as I say, be no doubt that it expresses
-contentment, but this contentment is not of a quiet kind. It is raised,
-for the moment, to a pitch of exaltation that throws a sort of triumph
-into it. It is an access, an overflowing, of happiness, and the note
-of love, though, now, in winter, a little subdued, must be there too,
-for, as I say, these birds mate for life. So, at least, I feel sure,
-and so I believe it to be with most other birds. Permanent union, with
-recurrent incentive to unite, matrimony always and courtship every
-spring--as one aerates, at intervals, the water in an aquarium--that,
-I believe, is the way of it; a good way, too--the next best plan to
-changing the water is not to let it get stagnant.
-
-Whenever I can catch at evidence in regard to the sexual relations of
-birds, it always seems to point in this direction. Take, for instance,
-that species to which I now devote the rest of this chapter, the
-moorhen, namely--_Gallinula chloropus_--for the dabchick has been an
-encroachment. A very small pond in my orchard of some three half-dead
-fruit-trees was tenanted by a single pair, who built their nest there
-yearly. Had it not been for a cat, whose influence and position in the
-family was fixed beyond my power of shaking, I should have made, one
-year, a very close study, indeed, of the domestic economy of these
-two birds; but this tiresome creature, either by the aid of a clump
-of rushes, amidst which it was situated, or by jumping out boldly
-from the bank, got at the nest, though it was at some distance, and
-upset the eggs into the water. As a consequence, the birds deserted
-both nest and pond, nor did the lost opportunity ever return. A few
-points of interest, however, I had been able to observe, before the
-cat intervened. The year before, I had noticed two slight nests in the
-pond, in neither of which were any eggs laid, whilst the pond itself
-remained always, as far as I could see, in possession of this one pair
-of birds only. In the following spring I again noted two moorhens’
-nests, in approximately the same situations as before, and now I
-observed further. During the greater part of the day no moorhens were
-to be seen in the pond, but, as evening began to fall, first one and
-then another of these two birds would either steal silently into it,
-through a little channel communicating with the river, or else out of
-the clump of rushes where one of these nests had been built. The other
-one was amongst the half-submerged branches of a fallen tree, the trunk
-of which arched a corner of the pond. Over to here the birds would
-swim, and one of them, ascending and running along the tree-trunk,
-would enter the nest, and sit in it quietly, for a little while. Then
-it would creep, quietly, out of it, run down the trunk, again, into
-the water, and swim over to this same clump of rushes, from which,
-in some cases, it had come. Whether it then sat in the nest there,
-also, I cannot so positively affirm, but I have no doubt that it did,
-for I could see it, for some time, through the glasses, a perfectly
-still, dark object, somewhat raised above the surface of the water.
-Assuming it to have been sitting in this nest, then it had, certainly,
-just left the other one, and, moreover, there were the two nests,
-and only the one pair of birds. For, as I say, I never saw more than
-two moorhens, at a time, in this pond, which, being very small, was,
-probably, considered by these as their property. Intrusion on the part
-of any other bird would, no doubt, have been resented, but I never
-saw or heard any brawling. The pretty scene of peaceful, calm, loving
-proprietorship, was not once disturbed.
-
-When the two birds were together, one swam, commonly, but just behind
-the other, and kept pressing against it in a series of little, soft
-impulses--a quietly amorous manner, much for edification to see.
-Each night, from a little before the darkness closed in, one of
-these moorhens--I believe always the same one--would climb out on a
-particular branch of the fallen tree, and standing there, just on the
-edge of the black water, bathe and preen itself till I could see it no
-longer. It never varied from just this one place on the branch, which,
-though a thin one, made there a sort of loop in the water, where it
-could stand, or sit, very comfortably. The other of the two had, no
-doubt, a tiring-place of its own--I judge so, at least, because it
-would, probably, have bathed and preened about the same time, but, if
-so, it did so somewhere where I could not see it. Moorhens have special
-bathing-places, to which one may see several come, one after the other.
-This is at various times of the day, but I have noticed, too, this
-special last bathe and preening, before retiring for the night; and
-here I do not remember seeing two birds resort to the same spot. There
-would seem, therefore, to be a general bathing-place for the daytime,
-and a private one for the evening.
-
-Here, then, we have two nests built by one and the same pair
-of moorhens, both of which were sat in--whether as a matter of
-convenience, by both parties, or by the female, only, in order to
-lay, I cannot be sure--some days before the eggs appeared. But, two
-days afterwards, I found two other nests, or nest-like structures, at
-different points of the same pond, and these, for the reasons before
-given, must most certainly have been made by the same pair of birds;
-for they were moorhens’ nests, and to imagine that four pairs of
-moorhens had been building in so confined an area, without my ever
-having seen more than two birds together, within it, though watching
-morning and evening, and for hours at a time, is to _pensar en lo
-imposible_, as Don Quijote is fond of saying. On the next day, I found
-the first egg, in one of the two nests last noticed--not in either of
-those, therefore, that I had seen the bird sitting in. This was on the
-5th of May, and in as many days six more were added, making seven,
-after which came the cat, and my record, which I had hoped would be a
-very close and full one, came to an end. During this time, however,
-I had remarked yet a fifth nest, built against the trunk of a young
-fir-tree, that had fallen into the same small clump of rushes where the
-one with the eggs, and another, were: and all these five had sprung
-up within the last few weeks, for they had certainly not been there
-before. The number of moorhens’ nests along the little stream, here,
-had often struck me with surprise, though knowing it to be much haunted
-by these birds. After these observations, I paid more particular
-attention, and found, in one place, four nests so close together as
-to make it very unlikely they could have been the work of different
-birds; and, of these, all but one remained permanently empty. Moreover,
-the three others, though obviously, as it seemed to me, the work of
-moorhens, had a very unfinished appearance compared to the one that
-fulfilled its legitimate purpose. Less material had been used--though
-they varied in regard to this--and they seemed to have been formed, to
-a more exclusive extent, by the bending over of the growing rushes. As
-I say, no eggs were ever laid in these three nests, but in one of them
-I once found the moorhen who had laid in the other, sitting with her
-brood of young chicks. I have little doubt but that she had made the
-four, and was accustomed thus to sit in all of them. Whether she had
-made the supernumerary ones with any definite object of the sort, it
-is more difficult to say. For myself, I doubt this; but, at any rate,
-the moorhen would seem to stand prominent amongst the birds which have
-this habit of over-building, as one may call it--a much larger body, I
-believe, than is generally supposed.
-
-With the above habit, a much stranger one, which, from a single
-observation, I believe this species to have, is, perhaps, indirectly
-connected. Moorhens, as a rule, lay a good many eggs--from seven
-to eleven, if not, sometimes, more. I have, however, upon various
-occasions, found them sitting on a much smaller number--on four once,
-and once, even, upon only three--notwithstanding that these represented
-the first brood. The nest with only three eggs I had watched for
-some days before the hatching took place. It could hardly have been,
-therefore, that others had been hatched out before, and the chicks
-gone; nor had it ever occurred to me that the original number might
-have been artificially diminished, by the birds themselves. One day,
-however, I happened to be watching a pair of moorhens, by a lake in
-a certain park, when I noticed one of them walking away from the
-nest--to which, though it appeared quite built, they had both been
-adding--with some large thing, of a rounded shape, in its bill. Before
-I had time to make out what this thing was, the bird, still carrying
-it, became hidden behind some foliage, and this happened again on a
-second occasion, much to my disappointment, since my curiosity was now
-aroused. Resolved not to miss another opportunity if I could help it,
-I kept the glasses turned upon this bird whenever it was visible, and
-very soon I saw it go again to the nest, and, standing just outside it,
-with its head craned over the rim, spear down suddenly into it, and
-then walk away, with an egg transfixed on its bill. The nest was on a
-mudbank in the midst of shallow water, through which the bird waded to
-the shore, and deposited the egg there, somewhere where I could not
-see it. Twice, now, at short intervals, the same bird returned to the
-nest, speared down with its bill, withdrew it with an egg spitted on
-its point, and walked away with it, as before. Instead of landing with
-it, however, it, each of these times, dropped it in the muddy water,
-and I saw as clearly through the glasses as if I had been there, that
-the egg, each time, sank. This shows that they were fresh, for one can
-test eggs in this manner. Had it been, not the whole egg, but only the
-greater part of its shell that the bird was carrying, this would have
-floated, a conspicuous object on the black, stagnant water. That it
-was the whole egg, and transfixed, as I say, not carried, I am quite
-certain, for I caught, through the glasses, the full oval outline, and
-could see, where the beak pierced it, a thin, transparent streamer
-of the albumen depending from the hole, and being blown about by the
-wind. As birds remove the shells of their hatched eggs from the nest,
-I took particular pains not to be mistaken on this point, the result
-being absolute certainty as far as my own mind is concerned. The
-circumstances, however, were not such as to allow me to verify them
-by walking to the spot. Early on the following morning I returned to
-my post of observation, and now I at once saw, on using the glasses,
-the empty egg-shell, as it appeared to be, floating on the water
-just where I had seen it sink the day before. No doubt the yelk-sac
-had been pierced by the bill of the bird, so that the contents had
-gradually escaped, and the shell risen to the surface as a consequence.
-This moorhen, then, had destroyed, at the very least, as I now feel
-certain, five of its own eggs, for that, on the first two occasions,
-it had acted in the same way as on the last three, there can be no
-reasonable doubt, nor is it wonderful that I should not, then, have
-quite made out what it was doing, considering its quick disappearance
-and the hurried view of it that I got. Afterwards, I saw the whole
-thing from the beginning, and had a very good view throughout. At the
-nest, especially, the bird was both nearer to me, and stood in a good
-position for observation.
-
-Here, then, we seem introduced to a new possibility in bird
-life--parental prudence, or something analogous to it, purposely
-limiting the number of offspring to be reared. I can conceive, myself,
-how a habit of this sort might become developed in a bird, for the
-number of eggs that can be comfortably sat upon must depend upon the
-size of the nest; and this might tend to decrease, not at all on
-account of a bird’s laziness, but owing to that very habit of building
-supernumerary nests, which appears to be so developed in the moorhen.
-That a second nest should, through eagerness, be begun before the
-first was finished, is what one might expect, and also that the nest,
-under these circumstances, would get gradually smaller--for what the
-bird was always doing would soon seem to it the right thing to do. As
-a matter of fact, the size of moorhens’ nests does vary very greatly,
-some being thick, deep, and massive, with a large circumference, whilst
-others are a mere shallow shell that the bird, when sitting, almost
-covers. Such a one was that which I have mentioned, as containing only
-four eggs--for they quite filled the nest, so that it would not have
-been easy for the bird to have incubated a larger number. The one from
-which the five eggs were carried, was, however, quite a bulky one. But
-whatever the explanation may be, this particular moorhen that I saw
-certainly did destroy five of its own eggs, carrying them off, speared
-on its bill, in the way I have described. Either it was an individual
-eccentricity on the part of one bird, or others are accustomed to do
-the same, which last, I think, is quite possible, when we consider how
-rarely it is that birds are seen removing the shells of the hatched
-eggs from their nests, which, however, they always do. Certain of the
-cow-birds of America have, it seems, the habit of pecking holes both in
-their own eggs and those of the bird in whose nest they are laid.[29]
-The cow-bird is a very prolific layer, and it is possible that we may
-see, in this proceeding, the survival of a means which it once employed
-to avoid the discomfort attendant on the rearing of too large a family,
-before it had hit upon a still better way out of the difficulty. The
-way in which the moorhen carried the eggs is interesting, since it is
-that employed by ravens in the Shetlands, when they rob the sea-fowl.
-It would seem, indeed, the only way in which a bird could carry an egg
-of any size, without crushing it up.
-
-As bearing on the strongly developed nest-building instinct of the
-moorhen, leading it, sometimes, to make four or five when only one is
-required, it is interesting to find that, in some cases, the building
-is continued all the while the eggs are being hatched, or even whilst
-the young are sitting in the nest--in fact as long as the nest is in
-regular occupation. The one bird swims up with reeds or rushes in his
-bill--sometimes with a long flag that trails far behind him on the
-water--and these are received and put into position by the other, in
-the nest. Thus the shape of the nest may vary, something, from day to
-day, and from a point where, yesterday, the eggs, as one stood, were
-quite visible, to-day they will be completely hidden by a sconce, or
-parapet that has since been thrown up. It may be thought, from this,
-that the birds have some definite object in thus continuing their
-labours, but, for myself, I believe that it is merely in deference
-to a blind impulse, which is its own pleasure and reward. It is a
-pretty thing to see a pair of moorhens building. During the later
-stages they will run about, together, on the land, their necks
-stretched eagerly out, the whole body craned forward, searching,
-examining, sometimes both seizing on something at the same time--the
-one a twig, the other a brown leaf--and then running with them, cheek
-by jowl, to the nest, on which both climb, and place them, standing
-side by side. On their next going forth, they may start in different
-directions, or become separated, so that when one goes back to the
-nest he may find the other already upon it. It is interesting, then,
-to see him reach up, with whatever he has brought, and present it to
-his partner’s bill, who takes it of him, and at once arranges it. The
-look, the general appearance of interest and tender solicitude, which
-the bird, particularly, that presents his offering, has, must be seen
-to be appreciated. Not that the other is deficient in this respect--a
-gracious, pleased acceptance, with an interest all as keen, speaks
-in each feather, too. The expression of a bird is given by its whole
-attitude--everything about it, from beak to toe and tail--and, by dint
-of this, it often appears to me to have as much as an intelligent
-human being has, by the play of feature; in which, of course, birds
-are deficient--at least to our eyes. Certain I am that no _dressed_
-human being could express more, in offering something to another, than
-a bird sometimes does; and if it be said that we cannot be sure of
-this, that it is mere inference based on analogy, it may be answered
-that, equally, we cannot be _sure_, in the other case--nor, indeed, in
-anything.
-
-When the male and female moorhen stand, together, on the nest, it is
-impossible to distinguish one from the other. The legs, which in the
-male, alone, are gartered, are generally hidden, whilst the splendid
-scarlet cere--making a little conflagration amongst the rushes--and
-the coloration of the plumage, are alike in both--at least for field
-observation. In the early autumn, and onwards, one sees numbers
-of moorhens that have a green cere, instead of a red one, and the
-plumage of whose back and wings is of a very plain, sober brown,
-much lighter than we have known it hitherto. These are the young
-birds of the preceding spring and summer, and everything in regard
-to their different coloration would be simple enough, if it were not
-for a curious fact--or one which seems to me to be curious--viz.
-this, that the moorhen chicks have, when first hatched, and for some
-time afterwards, a red cere, as at maturity. It seems very strange
-that, being born with what is, probably, a sexual adornment, they
-should afterwards lose it, to reacquire it, again, later on. Darwin
-explains the difference between the young and the parent form, upon
-the principle that “at whatever period of life a peculiarity first
-appears, it tends to reappear in the offspring, at a corresponding
-age, though sometimes earlier.” Thus, in the plumage of the young
-and female pheasant, or the young green woodpecker, we may suppose
-ourselves to see the ancestral unadorned states of these birds. But
-what should we think if the young male pheasant was, at first, as
-brilliant as the mature bird, then became plain, like the female, and
-afterwards reassumed its original brilliancy, or if the woodpecker
-of either sex were first green, then brown, and then green again.
-If the young moorhen, having exchanged its scarlet cere for a much
-less showy one, kept this latter through life, we should, I suppose,
-assume that the first had been acquired long ago, and then lost for
-some reason, possibly because change of habits, or circumstances, had
-made it more of a disadvantage, by being conspicuous, than it had
-remained an advantage, by being attractive. Are we, now, to think that,
-having acquired, and then lost, the crimson, the bird has subsequently
-reacquired it? If so, what has been the reason for this? Were green
-ceres, for some time, preferred to scarlet ones? This hardly seems
-probable, since the green, in this instance, is pale and dull. However,
-birds are but birds, and even amongst ourselves anything may be
-fashionable, even downright ugliness, as is almost equally well seen
-in a milliner’s shop or a picture gallery. As far as the mere loss of
-beauty is concerned, a parallel example is offered by the coot, which,
-in its young state, is all-glorious, about the head, with orange and
-purple, which changes, later, to a uniform, sooty black. But the coot
-stops there; it does not get back, later on, the colours it has lost.
-
-Young moorhens are almost, if not quite, as precocious as chickens.
-Out of three that were in the egg, the day before, I found two, once,
-sitting in the nest, from which the shells had already been removed.
-The nest was on a snag in the midst of a small pond, or, rather, pool,
-so that I could not get to it; but, as I walked up to the water’s
-edge, both the chicks evinced anxiety, though in varying degrees. One
-kept where it was, at the bottom of the nest, the other crawled to the
-edge and lay with its head partly over it, as though ready to take the
-water, which, no doubt, both would have done, had I been able to come
-nearer. Yet, in all probability, as the pool lay in a deep hollow,
-seldom visited, I was the first human being they had either of them
-ever seen. The third egg was, as yet, unhatched; but coming, again, on
-the following day, the nest was entirely empty, and I now found pieces
-of the egg-shells, lying high and dry upon the bank of the pool, to
-which they had evidently been carried by the parent birds. In the same
-way, it will be remembered, the moorhen that destroyed its eggs, walked
-with them through the water, to the bank, on which it placed three out
-of the five--two at some distance away.
-
-Though so precocious, yet the young moorhens are, for some time, fed
-by their dams. I have seen them run to them, with their wings up, over
-a raft of water-plants, and then crouch and lift their heads to one
-of their parents, from whom they received a modicum of weed. Or they
-will sit down beside their mother, and look up in her face in a pretty,
-beseeching way. When frightened or disturbed, they utter a little
-wheezy, querulous note, like “kew-ee, kew-ee,” which has a wonderful
-volume of sound in it, for such little things. The mother soon appears,
-and gives a little purring croon, after which the cries cease; or she
-may answer them with a cry something like that of a partridge. She
-calls them to her with a clucking note, uttered two or three times
-together, and repeated at longer or shorter intervals. When one sees
-this, one would never doubt but that here is the special call-note of
-the mother to the chicks. Nevertheless, I have heard her thus clucking,
-whilst sitting on a first brood of eggs, and this shows how careful
-one ought to be in attributing a special and definite significance to
-any cry uttered by an animal. Besides the one which I have mentioned,
-young moorhens make a little shrilly sound that has something, almost,
-of a cackle in it. There is also a little “chillip, chillip”; nor does
-this exhaust their repertory. In fact they have considerable variety
-of expression, even at this early age. They swim as “to the manner
-born,” nid-nodding like their parents, but cannot progress against a
-stream that is at all swift. One paddling with all its might, neither
-advancing nor receding, and uttering, all the while, its little
-querulous cry, is a common sight. Up a steep bank they can climb with
-ease, and they have a manner of leaning forward, when running, to an
-extent which makes them seem always on the point of overbalancing, that
-is very funny to see. For some time, they are accustomed to return to
-the nest, after leaving it, and sit there with one of the parent birds.
-When surprised, under these circumstances, the mother (presumably),
-utters a short, sharp, shrilly note, which is instantly followed by
-another, equally short and much lower. As she utters them she retreats,
-and the chicks, with this warning, are left to themselves--to stay or
-to follow her, as best they can.
-
-Having often disturbed birds under these or similar conditions, I can
-say confidently that the moorhen employs no ruse, to divert attention
-from its young. The following circumstance, therefore, as bearing on
-my theory of the origin of such stratagems, especially interested me.
-In this case I came suddenly upon a point of the stream where the bank
-was precipitous, on which a moorhen flew out upon the water, with a
-loud clacking note, and then, after some very disturbed motions, swam
-to the opposite shore, giving constant, violent flirts of the tail, the
-white feathers of which were, each time, broadened out, as when two
-male birds fight, or threaten one another. In this state she went but
-slowly, though most birds in her position would have flown right off.
-On my coming closer to the edge of the bank, six or seven young chicks
-started out, all in different directions, as though from a central
-point where they had been sitting together on the water, as, no doubt,
-they had been, the mother with them, just as though upon the nest. No
-one could have thought that this moorhen had any idea of diverting
-attention from her young to herself. Sudden alarm, producing, at first,
-a nervous shock, and then distress and apprehension, seemed to me,
-clearly, the cause of her actions, which yet bore a rude resemblance
-to highly specialised ones, and had much the same effect. From such
-beginnings, in my opinion, and not from successive “small doses of
-reason,” have the most elaborate “ruses” been evolved and perfected.
-
-In one or two other instances--in a wood-pigeon, for example, and a
-pheasant--I have noticed the strange effect--amounting, for a few
-moments, to a sort of paralysis--which a very sudden surprise may
-produce in a bird, even when its young do not come into question.
-Moorhens, too, are excitable, even as birds. Their nerves, I think, are
-highly strung. I have often noticed that the report of a gun in the
-distance--even in the far distance--will be followed by half-a-dozen
-clanging cries from as many birds--in fact, from as many as are about.
-Especially is the hen moorhen of a nervous and sensitive temperament,
-open to “thick-coming fancies,” varying from minute to minute. How
-often have I watched her pacing, like a bride, on cold, winter
-mornings, along the banks of our little stream. Easy, elastic steps;
-head nodding and tail flirting in unison. She nestles, a moment, on
-the frosted grass, then rises and paces, as before, stops now, stands
-on one leg a little, puts the other down, again makes a step or two,
-then another pause, glances about, thinks she will preen herself, but
-does not, nestles once more, gives a glance over her shoulder, half
-spies a danger, rises and tip-toes out of sight. What a little bundle
-of caprices and apprehensions! But they all become her, “all her acts
-are queens.” Some special savour lies in each motion, in each frequent
-flirt of the tail. Though this flirtation of the tail is very habitual
-with moorhens, though nine times out of ten, almost, when you see them
-either on land or water, they are flirting it, still they do not always
-do so. “_Nonnunquam dormitat bonus Homerus_”--“_Non semper tendit arcum
-Apollo._” It _can_ be quite still, that tail. I have seen it so--even
-twenty together, whose owners were reposefully browsing. But let there
-be _any_ kind of emotion, almost, and heavens! how it flirts!
-
-Moorhens are pugnacious birds, even in the winter. At any time, one
-amongst several browsing over the meadow-land, may make a sudden,
-bull-like rush--its head down and held straight out--at another, and
-this, often, from a considerable distance. The bird thus suddenly
-attacked generally takes flight, and afterwards, as a solace to its
-feelings, runs at some other one, and drives it about, in its turn.
-This second bird will do the same by a third, and thus, in wild nature,
-we have a curious reproduction--much to the credit of Sheridan--of that
-scene in “The Rivals” where Sir Anthony bullies his son, his son the
-servant, and the servant the page. “It is still the sport” in natural
-history, to see poor humanity aped. Such likenesses are humiliating but
-humorous, and, by making us less proud, may do good. But chases like
-this are not in the grand style. There is nothing stately about them,
-no “pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war”--little, perhaps,
-of its true spirit. As the spring comes on it is different. Then male
-birds that, at three yards apart, have been quietly feeding, walk,
-if they come a yard nearer, with wary, measured steps, in a crouched
-attitude, holding their heads low, and with their tails swelled out.
-On the water these mannerisms are still more marked, and then it is
-that the bird’s true beauty--for beauty it is, and of no mean order--is
-displayed. Two will lie all along, facing each other, with the neck
-stretched out, and the head and bill, which are in one line with it,
-pointing straight forward, like the ram of a war-ship. Their tails,
-however, are turned straight up, in bold contrast with all the rest
-of them, so that, with the white feathers which this part bears, and
-which are now finely displayed, they have a most striking and handsome
-appearance. There is a little bunch of these feathers--the under
-tail-coverts--on either side of the true tail, and each of these is
-frilled and expanded outwards, to the utmost possible extent, which
-gives it the shape and appearance of one half, or almost half, of a
-palm-leaf fan. The tail is the whole fan, so that, what with its size,
-and the graceful form that it has now assumed, and the pure white
-contrasting with the rich brown in the centre, it has become quite
-beautiful, more so, I think, than the fan of any fan-tail pigeon.
-Indeed the whole bird seems to be different, and looks more than twice
-as handsome as it does under ordinary circumstances. Its spirit, which
-is now exalted and warlike, “shines through” it, and, with its rich
-crimson bill, it glows and burns on the water, like Cleopatra’s barge.
-A fierce and fiery little prow this bill makes, indeed, and there
-is the poop, too, for the elevated tail, with the part of the body
-adjoining, which has, also, a bold upward curve, has very much that
-appearance. Thus, in this most salient of attitudes, with tail erect,
-and with beak and throat laid, equally with the whole body, along the
-water, with proud and swelling port the birds make little impetuous
-rushes at one another, driving, each, their little ripple before
-them, from the vermilion prow-point. They circle one about another,
-approach and then glide away again, looking, for all the world, like
-two miniature war-ships of proud opposing nations: for their pride
-seems more than belongs to individuals--it is like a national pride.
-Yet even so, and just as great deeds seem about to be achieved, the two
-may turn and swim off in a stately manner, their tails still fanned,
-their heads, now, proudly erect, each scorning, yet, also, respecting
-the other, each seeming to say, “Satan, I know thy strength, and thou
-know’st mine.” Otherwise, however, as the upshot of all this warlike
-pomp, they close in fierce and doubtful conflict. This is extremely
-interesting to see. After lying, for some time, with the points of
-their beaks almost touching, both the birds make a spring, and, in a
-moment, are sitting upright in the water, on their tails, so to speak,
-and clawing forwards and downwards with their feet. The object of each
-bird seems to be to drag his adversary down in the water, so as to
-drown him, but what always happens is that the long claws interlock,
-and then, holding and pulling, both of them fall backwards from their
-previously upright position, and would be soon lying right on their
-backs, were it not that, to prevent this, they spread their wings on
-the water, so that they act as a prop and support, which, together with
-their hold on one another, prevents their sinking farther. Their heads
-are still directed as much as possible forward, and in this singular
-attitude they glare at each other, presenting an appearance which
-one would never have thought it possible they could do, from seeing
-them in their more usual, everyday life. They may sit thus, leaning
-backwards, as though in an arm-chair, and inactive from necessity, for
-a time which sometimes seems like several minutes, but which is, more
-probably, several seconds. Then, at length, with violent strugglings,
-they get loose, and either instantly grapple again, or, as is more
-usual, float about with the same proud display as before, each seeming
-to breathe out menace for the future, with present indignation at what
-has just taken place.
-
-Moorhens fight in just the same manner as coots, and seeing what a
-very curious and uncommon-looking manner this is, it might be thought
-that it was specially adapted to the aquatic habits of the two
-species. It is not. It is related to their terrestrial ancestry, and
-the terrestrial portion of their own lives. One has only to see them
-fighting on land to become, at once, aware that they are doing so in
-exactly the same way as they do in the water, and, also, that this way,
-on land, is by no means peculiar, but very much that in which cocks,
-pheasants, partridges, and, indeed, most birds, fight. For, jumping
-up against one another, moorhens, like these, strike down with the
-feet, but, having no spurs, use their long claws and toes in the way
-most natural to them. And this, no doubt, their fathers did before
-them, in deeper and deeper water, as from land-rails they passed into
-water-rails, until, at last, they were doing it when bottom was not to
-be touched, and they had only water to leap up from. Even the falling
-back with the claws interlocked has nothing specially aquatic in it. I
-have seen moorhens do so in the meadows, and they then spread out their
-wings, to support themselves on the ground, just as they do in the
-water. The continual leaping up from the water, as from the ground, is
-extremely noticeable, especially in the coot, and, in fact, the strange
-appearance presented by the whole thing--its _bizarrerie_, which is
-very great--is entirely due to our seeing something which belongs,
-essentially, to the land, carried on in another element, for which it
-is not really fitted. How differently do the grebes fight--by diving,
-and using the beak under water! Yet they, like the coot, are only
-fin-footed, whilst the coot is almost as good a diver as themselves.
-No one, however, comparing the structure and general habits of the two
-families, can doubt that the one is much more distantly separated from
-its land ancestry than the other. In both the coot and the moorhen,
-indeed, we see an interesting example of the early stages of an
-evolution, but the coot has gone farther than the moorhen, for besides
-that it dives much better, and swims out farther from the shore, it
-bathes floating on the water, whilst the moorhen does so only where it
-is shallow enough to stand.
-
-Readers of “The Naturalist in La Plata,” may remember the account there
-given of the curious screaming-dances--social, not sexual--of the
-Ypecaha rails. “First one bird among the rushes emits a powerful cry,
-thrice repeated; and this is a note of invitation, quickly responded
-to by other birds from all sides, as they hurriedly repair to the
-usual place.... While screaming, the birds rush from side to side,
-as if possessed with madness, the wings spread and vibrating, the
-long beak wide open and raised vertically.” Do moorhens do anything
-analogous to this, anything that might in time grow into it, or into
-something like it? In my opinion they do, for I think that I have seen
-a hint of it, on a few occasions, and on one in particular, of which
-I made a note. Two birds, in this case, had been floating, for some
-time, quietly on the water, when one of them, suddenly, threw up its
-wings, waved them violently and excitedly, and scudded, thus, rather
-than flew, along the surface, into a reed-bed not far off. Before it
-had got there the other moorhen, first making a quick turn or two in
-the water, threw up its wings also, and scudded after its friend,
-in just the same way. Then came from the reeds, and was continued
-for a little time, that melancholy-sounding, wailing, clucking note
-that I have so often listened to, wondering what it might mean, and
-convinced that it meant something interesting. But if “the heart of man
-at a foot’s distance is unknowable,” as a Chinese proverb says--and
-doubtless rightly--that it is, so is the whole of a moorhen, when it
-has got as far as that, amongst reeds and rushes. Here, however--and
-I have seen something very similar, which began on the land--we have
-the sudden, contagious excitement, _à propos de rien_ it would seem,
-the motion of the wings--not so very common with moorhens, under
-ordinary circumstances--and the darting to a certain spot, with the
-cries immediately proceeding from it: all which, together, bears a not
-inconsiderable resemblance to the more finished performance of the
-Ypecaha rail, a bird belonging to the same family as the moorhen.
-
-It is a pity, I think, that our commoner birds, when related to foreign
-ones in which some strikingly peculiar habit has long been matter for
-wonder, should not be more carefully and continuously observed, with
-a view to detecting something in their own daily routine, which might
-throw light on the origin of such eccentricities--something either
-just starting along, or already some way on the road to, the wonderful
-house at which their kinsfolk have arrived. Unfortunately, whilst the
-end arouses great interest, the beginnings, or, even, something more
-than the beginnings, either escape observation altogether, or are not
-observed properly. When a thing, by its saliency, has been forced upon
-our notice, it is comparatively easy to find out more about it; but
-when it is not known whether there is anything or not, but only that,
-if there is, it cannot be very remarkable, the initial incentive to
-investigation seems wanting. Yet the starting-place and the half-way
-house are as interesting as the final goal, and our efforts to find
-the former, in particular, ought to be unremitting. In a previous
-chapter, I have given my reasons for thinking that we might learn
-something in regard to the origin of the bower-building instinct--that
-crowning wonder, perhaps, of all that is wonderful in birds--by making
-a closer study of rooks. But for this proper observatories are needed,
-and whilst those who possess both the means of making these and the
-rookeries in which to make them, are not, as a rule, interested, those
-who are have too often neither the one nor the other--I, at least,
-stand in this predicament.
-
-It may be thought that the above-described sudden excitement and
-activity on the part of these two moorhens was, more probably, of a
-nuptial character; but I do not myself think so, for the nuptial
-antics--or, rather, the nuptial pose--of the bird, is of a quite
-different character, being slow and stiff, a sort of solemn formality.
-It belongs to the land and not the water, where, indeed, it could
-hardly be carried out. In making it, the two birds advance, for a
-little--one behind the other--with a certain something peculiar and
-highly strung in their gait and general appearance. Then the foremost
-one stops, and whilst a strange rigidity seems to possess every part of
-him, he slowly bends the head downwards, till the beak, almost touching
-the ground, points inwards towards himself. Meantime the other bird
-walks on, with an increasingly stilted, and, withal, stealthy-looking
-step, and when a little way in front of its companion, makes the same
-pose in even an exaggerated manner, curving the bill so much inwards,
-with the head held so low down, that it may even overbalance and have
-to make a quick step forward, or two, in order to recover itself. Here
-we have another example--and there are many--of a nuptial pose--between
-which and true sexual display it is hard, even if it be possible, to
-fix a line of demarcation--common to both the sexes; and, just as
-with the peewit, it is seen to the greatest advantage, not before,
-but immediately after, coition, in the act, or, rather, the two acts
-of which, the male and female play interchangeable parts. There is
-hermaphroditism, in fact, which must be real, emotionally, if not
-functionally--for what else is its _raison d’être_?
-
-Surely facts such as these deserve more attention than they seem to
-have received. To me it appears that not only must they have a most
-important bearing on the question of the nature and origin of sexual
-display, and whether there is or is not, amongst certain birds, an
-intersexual selection, but that some of those odd facts, such as dual
-or multiplex personality, which have been made too exclusively the
-subject of psychical research--or rather of psychical societies--may
-receive, through them, a truer explanation than that suggested by the
-hypothesis of the subliminal self, in that they may help us to see the
-true nature of that part of us to which this name has been applied.
-Surely if both the male and the female bird act, in an important office
-for the performance of which they are structurally distinct, as though
-they were one and the same, this proves that the nature of either sex,
-though, for the most part, it may lie latent in the opposite one, must
-yet reside equally in each. Here, then, we have a subliminal element,
-but as this can only have been passed on, through individuals in the
-bird’s ancestral line, by the ordinary laws of inheritance, is it not
-likely that other characteristics which seldom, or perhaps never,
-emerge, have also been passed on, in the same way, thus making many
-subliminal _selves_, instead of one subliminal _self_, merely? Of
-what, indeed, is any self--is any personality--made up, but of those
-countless ones which have gone before it, in the direct line of its
-ancestry? What is any bird or beast but a blend between its parents,
-their parents, and the parents before those parents, going back to
-the beginnings of life? But that much--more, probably, than nineteen
-twentieths--of this complicated mosaic lies latent, is an admitted fact
-both in physiology and psychology, to justify which assertion the
-very naming of the word “reversion” is sufficient. But if this be a
-true explanation for the animal, what excuse have we for disregarding
-it, and dragging in a transcendental element, in our own case? None
-whatever that I can see; but by excluding from their _purview_--to
-use their own favourite word--every species except the human one,
-the Psychical Society, in my opinion, are making a gigantic error,
-through which all their conclusions suffer more or less, so that the
-whole speculative structure, reared on too narrow a basis of fact and
-observation, will, one day, come tumbling to the ground.
-
-Why should so much be postulated, on the strength of mysterious
-faculties existing in ourselves, when equally mysterious, though less
-abnormal ones, exist in various animals? Can we, for instance, say
-that the sense of direction (and this is common to savage man and
-animals)[30] is less extraordinary than what we call clairvoyance,
-or that the one is essentially different from the other? And what is
-more mysterious than this (which I have on good authority), that a
-certain spot should, year after year for some forty years, be chosen
-as a nesting-site by a pair of sparrow-hawks, although, during many
-of these years, not _one_ only of the breeding birds, but _both of
-them_, have been shot by the game-keepers? What is it tells the
-new pair, next year, that, somewhere or other in the wide world, a
-certain spot is left vacant for them? Again, I have brought forward
-evidence to show that the same thought or desire can communicate
-itself, instantaneously, to a number of birds, in a way difficult to
-account for, other than on the hypothesis of thought-transference,
-or, as I should prefer to call it, collective thinking. Who can
-imagine, however--or, rather, why should we imagine--that faculties
-which, though we may not be able to understand them, yet do exist in
-animals, have become developed in them by other than the ordinary
-earth-laws of heredity and natural selection? It is, indeed, easy
-to imagine, that the power of conveying and receiving impressions,
-otherwise than through specialised sense-organs, may have been--and
-still be--of great advantage to creatures not possessing these; and
-how can such structures have come into being, except in relation to a
-certain generalised capacity which was there before them? Darwin, for
-instance, in speculating on the origin of the eye, has to presuppose
-a sensitiveness to light in the, as yet, eyeless organism. Again,
-it does not seem impossible that the hypnotic state--or something
-resembling it--may be the normal one in low forms of life, and this
-would make ordinary sleep, which occurs for the most part when the
-waking faculties are not needed, a return to that early semiconscious
-condition out of which a waking consciousness has been evolved. Be
-this as it may, we ought surely to assume that any sense or capacity,
-however mysterious, with which animals are endowed, was acquired by
-them on the same principles that others which we better understand
-were; and, moreover, where all is mystery--for ultimately we can
-explain nothing--why should one thing in nature be deemed more
-mysterious than another? It seems foolish to make a wonder out of our
-own ignorance; which, however, we are always doing. But, now, if such
-powers and faculties as we have been considering, transmitted, in a
-more or less latent condition, through millions of generations that no
-longer needed them, had come, at last, to man, they could, it seems
-probable, only manifest themselves in him, through and in connection
-with his own higher psychology; just, in fact, as sexual love does, for
-this, of course, is essentially the same in man and beast. Yet we have
-our novels and our plays. Thus, such endowments, answering no longer
-to the lowly needs which had brought them into being, would present,
-when wrought into the skein of our human mentality, a far higher
-and more exalted appearance, well calculated to put us in love with
-ourselves--never a very difficult business--to the tune of such lines
-as “We feel that we are greater than we know,” “Out of the deep, my
-child, out of the deep,” and many another _d’este jaez_, which, though
-they issue from the lips of great poets, may be born, none the less, of
-mere human pride and complacency. Yet, all the time, animal reversion,
-as opposed to godlike development, might be, as I believe it is, the
-_vera causa_ of what seems so high and so holy.
-
-Were the late Mr. Myers’ conception of the subliminal self--a part of
-us belonging, as far as one can understand the idea, not to this earth
-but to a spiritual state of things beyond and without it, and bringing
-with it intuitive knowledge and enlarged powers, from this outer sea,
-these extra-territorial waters--were, I say, this conception a true
-one, it is difficult to see why such knowledge and such powers should
-always have stood in an ordered relation to the various culture-states
-through which man--the terrestrial or supraliminal part of him, that
-is to say--has passed, and to his earthly advantages and means of
-acquiring knowledge. It is difficult to see why the subliminal part
-of such a gifted race as the Greeks, though proportionately high,
-yet knew, apparently, so much less than this same sleeping partner
-in the joint-firm, so to speak, of far less gifted, but later-living
-peoples: why genius, which is “a welling-up of the subliminal into the
-supraliminal region,” should bear, always, the impress of its age,
-race, and country: why it is governed by the law of deviation from an
-average, as laid down by Galton: why it should so often be ignorant
-in matters which ought to be well known to the subliminal ego, as
-thus conceived of: why it asserts what is false as frequently as what
-is true, and with the same inspired eloquence:[31] why “the _dæmon_
-of Socrates” was either ignorant of its own nature, or else deceived
-Socrates, who of all men, surely, was fitted to know the truth: why
-Aristotle perceived less than Darwin: why Pythagoras grasped only
-imperfectly what Copernicus saw fully: why no other Greek astronomer
-had an inkling of the same truths: why Shakespeares and Newtons do
-not spring out of low savage tribes: why the negro race has produced
-no man higher than Toussaint l’Ouverture, who to the giants of the
-Aryan stock is as Ben Nevis to Mount Everest: and so on, and so on--a
-multitude of difficulties, as it appears to me, which the theory has
-neither answered, nor, as far as I know, has yet been called upon to
-answer.
-
-I really do wish that writers upon psychical subjects would sometimes
-make an allusion to the animal world--the very existence of which one
-might, almost, suppose they had forgotten. The perpetual ignoring
-of so vast a matter--as though one were to go about, affecting not
-to breathe--is not only irritating, but calculated to produce a bad
-impression. Surely the originator or maintainer of any view or doctrine
-of the nature and immortal destinies of man, ought to be delighted
-to enforce his arguments by showing that they are applicable, not to
-man only, but to millions of animals, to whom, as we all now very
-well know, he is more or less closely related. When, therefore,
-we constantly miss this most natural and necessary extension, it
-is difficult not to think that some flaw, some weak point in the
-hypothesis--and, if so, _what_ a weak one!--is being carefully avoided.
-It is amusing to contrast the space which animals occupy in such a
-work as Darwin’s “Descent of Man” with that allotted to them--to be
-counted not by pages, but lines--in those two huge volumes of the late
-Mr. Myers’ “Human Personality and its Survival of Physical Death.”
-Yet, as clearly as man’s body, in the former work, is shown to have
-been evolved out of the bodies of animals, so clearly is his mind
-demonstrated to have come to him through their minds. That, mentally
-and corporeally, we are no more nor less than the chief animal in
-this world, is now indeed, a proven and, scientifically speaking, an
-admitted thing; and I think it is time that those who, with scientific
-pretensions, seem yearning, more and more, to spell man with a capital
-M, should be called upon to state their views in regard to that mighty
-assemblage of beings, but for which he (or He) would never have
-appeared here at all, yet which, notwithstanding, they seem determined
-to ignore.
-
-[Illustration: DABCHICKS AND NEST]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-One evening in June 1901--the 6th, to be precise--I was walking near
-Tuddenham, where a big lane crosses a little stream by a rustic bridge,
-and stopped to lean against the palings on one side. Looking along the
-water, I saw, but hardly noticed, what looked like a snag or stump,
-round which some weeds and débris had accumulated. All at once, my
-eye caught something move on this, and, turning the glasses upon it,
-I at once saw that a dabchick was sitting on its nest. I watched it,
-for a little, and as it had built within full view of the roadside, so
-it was evident that it was not in the smallest degree alarmed by my
-presence, though, under other circumstances, it would certainly have
-stolen away before I was within the distance. This was about 7.15, and
-at 7.30 I saw another dabchick--the male, as I will assume, and which,
-I think, is probable--swimming up to the nest. It brought some weeds
-in its bill, which it gave to the sitting bird, who took and laid them
-on the nest; and now the male commenced diving, in a quick, active,
-brisk little way, each time, upon coming up, bringing a little more
-weed to the nest, which he sometimes placed himself, sometimes gave to
-the female. Several times he passed right under the nest, from side
-to side. I now made a slight détour, and creeping up behind a hedge,
-found, when I raised my head, that both the birds had disappeared. Yet
-I was only a few paces nearer than the roadway, which shows how much
-habit had to do with making the birds feel secure. Walking, now, along
-the bank of the stream, I examined the nest more closely. It was built,
-I found, on the but just emerging end of a water-logged branch, the
-butt of which rested on the bottom. No eggs were visible, but I could
-see, very well, where they had been most efficiently covered over,
-according to the bird’s usual, but by no means invariable, habit. Upon
-my going back to the roadway, and standing where I had been before, one
-of the birds almost immediately reappeared, and swimming boldly up to
-the nest, leapt on to it as does the great crested grebe, but in a less
-lithe, and more dumpy manner. Then, still standing, it removed, with
-its bill, the weeds lately placed there, putting a bit here and a bit
-there, with a quick side-to-side motion of the head, and then sank down
-amongst them, evidently on the eggs. I left at 8.15. There had been no
-change on the nest, but I may have missed this, by alarming the birds,
-nor can I be quite sure whether it was the same bird that went back to
-it. The nest of these dabchicks seemed to me to be a larger structure,
-in proportion to their size, than those of the crested grebes which
-I had watched last year. It rose, I thought, higher above the water,
-and was less flat, having more a gourd or cocoa-nut shape. Towards the
-summit it narrowed, so that the bird sat upon a round, blunt pinnacle.
-
-At 7 next morning I found the bird--that is to say, one of them--still
-upon the nest, and, shortly afterwards, a boy drove some cows along
-a broad margin of meadow, skirting the stream opposite to where it
-was, so that he passed a good deal nearer to it than I had crept up
-yesterday. It, however, did not move, and was quite unnoticed by the
-boy. Afterwards, I walked along the same margin, myself, and sat down
-upon a willow stump, in full view of the bird, in hopes to see it cover
-its eggs, should it grow nervous and leave them. For a few minutes, it
-sat still on the nest, and then, all at once, jumped up and took the
-water, without arranging the weeds at all, leaving the eggs, therefore,
-uncovered. Instantly on entering the water, it dived, and I saw nothing
-more of it whilst I remained seated on the stump. But as soon as I went
-back to my place--almost the moment I was there--up it came quite close
-to the nest, dived again, emerged on the other side, and then, swimming
-back to it, jumped on, and reseated itself, without first removing any
-weeds--thus confirming my previous observation. Shortly afterwards the
-partner bird appeared, dipping up, suddenly, not very far from the
-nest, and, for some little time, he dived and brought weeds to it, as
-he did the other night. Then the female--who had, probably, sat all
-night, and would not have left till now, had I not disturbed her--came
-off, diving as she entered the water, and disappearing from that
-moment. The male, who was not far from the nest, swam to it, and took
-her place, where I left him, shortly afterwards, at 8.35. The eggs had
-been left uncovered by the female when she went, this last time, and
-this seems natural, as she, no doubt, knew the male had come to relieve
-her.
-
-Next morning I approached the stream from the Herringswell direction,
-and crept up behind the bushes, on the bank, without having once--so it
-seemed to me--been in view of the bird, which I had no doubt would be
-in its accustomed place. However, as soon as, peeping through, I could
-see the nest, I saw that it was empty. On going to the gate and waiting
-for some ten minutes, the bird appeared as before, and, jumping up,
-commenced rapidly to remove the weeds from the eggs, standing up like
-a penguin, and with the same hurried, excited little manner that I had
-noticed on the first occasion of its doing so. Not only had it seen me,
-therefore, or become aware of my presence, but it had had time to cover
-its eggs, and this very efficiently, to judge by the amount of weed it
-threw aside. After this I was nearly a week away, and, on visiting the
-nest again, nothing fresh happened, except that the two birds made, in
-the water, that little rejoicing together which I have described in
-the last chapter. The same note is uttered, therefore, and the same
-little scene enacted between them, summer and winter, and in whatever
-occupation they are engaged. Both on this and another occasion, the
-sitting bird, when I walked down the bank, went off the nest without
-covering the eggs, the first time letting me get quite near, before
-going, and, the next, taking alarm whilst I was still at some distance.
-It seems odd that it did not, in either instance, conceal the eggs and
-steal off without waiting. To suppose that it thought itself observed,
-and that, therefore, concealment was of no use, would be to credit
-it with greater powers of reflection than I feel inclined to do. I
-rather look upon the habit as a fluctuating and unintelligent one, and
-in the continuation of the building and arranging of the nest, after
-incubation has begun, we probably see its origin. As bearing upon this
-view, it is, I think, worth recording that upon this last occasion
-of their change on the nest, the bird that relieved its partner--the
-male, as I fancy--pulled about and arranged the weeds, after jumping
-up, though the eggs had been left uncovered, the female, as usual,
-going off suddenly, without the smallest halt or pause. Once let the
-birds become accustomed to pull about the weeds of the nest, before
-leaving and settling down upon the eggs, and natural selection would
-do the rest. The eggs which were most often covered would have the
-best chance of being hatched, and the uncovering them would be a
-matter of necessity. Here, again, I can see no room for those little
-steps or pinches of intelligence, on which instincts, according to the
-prevailing view, are supposed to have been built up. The prevalence
-and strength of mere meaningless habits amongst animals, as well as
-amongst ourselves, seems to me to have been too much overlooked. That
-the additions made by the dabchick--as well as the crested grebe--to
-the nest, during incubation, and the frequent pulling of it about,
-answer no real purpose, and might well be dispensed with, I have,
-myself, no doubt.
-
-On the last of these two visits, the male bird jumped once upon the
-nest, whilst the female was still sitting, and took his place as she
-went off. Next day, I noticed something quite small move upon the nest,
-against, and partly under, the sitting bird. With the glasses I at once
-made this out to be a chick, which was sitting beneath the rump and
-between the wing-tips of the dam, with its head looking the contrary
-way to hers. As the male, now, swam up, the chick leaned forward and
-stretched out its neck, whilst he, doing the same upwards over the
-nest’s rim, the tips of their two bills just touched, or seemed to me
-to do so. The old bird had just been dipping for weeds, and may have
-had a little in his bill, but I could not, actually, see that any
-feeding took place. Possibly that was not the idea. The male then swam
-out, and continued, for some time, to dip about for weed, and to place
-it on the nest. Then, again, he stretched his neck up--inquiringly, as
-it were--towards the little chick, who leaned out and down to him, as
-before--but, this time, the bills did not touch. This was on the 18th.
-On the 15th the eggs were still unhatched, as I had seen all four of
-them lying quite exposed in the nest; but some may have been hatched on
-the 17th, when the male, for the first time that I had seen, jumped
-up on the nest whilst the female was still there. On the 20th, coming
-again at 8 in the evening, I find the bird on the nest, but on going
-and sitting down on the willow-stump I have mentioned, it takes the
-water and dives. I see no young ones on the water, and, on going to
-the nest, find it empty, with the exception of one uncovered egg. The
-shells of the others lie at the bottom of the stream. Going to the
-gate, again, the bird soon returns, dives, puts some weed on the nest,
-then swims away, and, as a joyous little hinny arises, I see the other
-swimming up, and it is, instantly, apparent that the chicks are on this
-one’s back, for it shows unnaturally big, and high above the water. She
-comes to the nest, and, in leaping on to it, shakes them off--three,
-as I think--into the water, from which, after having paddled about, a
-little, they climb up and join her. In a few minutes, the partner bird
-swims up again, and stretching up its neck, in the gentle little way
-that it has before done, I feel sure that the chicks are being fed,
-though I cannot actually see that they are, owing to their being on the
-wrong side of their dam.
-
-Next day I come at 4 in the morning, and it is as though there had been
-no interval between this and my last entry, for the one bird still sits
-on the nest with the chicks, whilst the other goes to and fro from it,
-feeding them. This time I see it do so, once, quite clearly. A little
-morsel of weed is presented on the tip of the bill, which the chick
-receives and eats, but just after this it goes off, with the others,
-on the back of the mother. The latter does not go far, but soon stops,
-and remains quite still on the weeds and water, as though upon the
-nest--a thing which I have seen before. In about a quarter of an hour,
-the other bird emerges from some rushes, and then, the two swimming to
-meet each other, there is a most joyous and long-lasting little hinny
-between them--as pretty a little scene of rejoicing as ever one saw. It
-is a family scene, for the chicks are still on the back of the mother,
-which they have not once left. Having fully expressed themselves, the
-two parents separate, and the mother, swimming, still with her burden,
-to the nest, springs up on it, and, in her usual quick and active
-manner, goes through the weed-removing process, during the whole of
-which the chicks still cling to her, for they have not been flung
-off in her violent ascent. There are two of them--perhaps three--but
-of this I cannot be sure. The fourth egg, at any rate, must be still
-unhatched, for from what else can the weeds have just been removed?
-
-At 5.20 the bird goes off, and, for a moment, the two chicks are
-swimming by her. One of them goes out to a tiny distance, but
-returns immediately, as though drawn in by a string--quite a curious
-appearance. They then press to, and crawl upon the mother, in an almost
-parasitical way, and, when on, I cannot distinguish them from her,
-though there is an unusual bigness and fluffiness at the extremity of
-her back, where they both cling, one at each side, projecting, I think,
-a little beyond her body. Now, too, I fancy I can detect a third,
-higher up towards her neck. The nest has been left uncovered, and at
-6, no bird having come to it again, I go to look at it, and find, as
-before, one brown egg lying in the cup, and perfectly exposed. All
-three chicks, therefore, must have been on the back of the mother,
-who, it is clear now, does not invariably cover the eggs, when leaving
-them, even though she is quite at her ease, and does not mean to
-return for some time. This can have nothing to do with three out of
-the four eggs having been hatched, for, as we have just seen, the one
-egg was covered by the bird when she left the nest the time before.
-I have settled it, I think, now, by my observations, that, neither
-with the great crested grebe nor the dabchick, is the covering of the
-eggs, on leaving the nest, invariable. In walking up the stream, after
-this, I got a glimpse of both the dabchicks, before they dived, one
-after the other. If the chicks were still upon the back of one--as I
-make no doubt they were--they must have been taken down with it. Next
-day I watched the family during the greater part of the morning, and
-was fortunate in seeing one of the chicks fed from the water, whilst
-sitting in the nest, on the back of its other parent. This was a
-delightfully distinct view. There was a small piece of light green weed
-at the tip of the parent’s bill, and this the chick first tasted, as
-it were, and then swallowed. There were several changes on the nest,
-and the birds, between them, left it five times, but only covered the
-egg twice. However, on two of the occasions when it was left bare, the
-other bird quickly appeared and mounted the nest, whilst, on the third,
-the bird leaving remained close to it, till she went on again. Always,
-or almost always, the chicks were on the back of one or other of the
-birds, mostly that of one, which I took to be the female. When she
-jumped up, they had to do the best they could, and once, whilst the
-one was flung off, the other kept its place like a good rider leaping
-a horse, and did so all the while the weeds were being cleared away,
-in spite of the mother’s upright attitude--for, between each jerk from
-side to side, she stood as straight as a little penguin. I was unable
-to make out more than two chicks. Though, mostly, on the parental back,
-they sometimes swam for a little, and, once, I saw the black little
-leg of one of them come out of the water, and waggle in the air, in
-the way in which the adult crested grebe is so fond of doing. When the
-mother sat quite motionless in the water, with her head thrown back,
-and her chicks upon her, she looked exactly as when sitting on the
-nest, so that one might have thought she was, and that it was slightly
-submerged. The male, on these occasions, would sometimes pay her a
-visit, and the chicks, getting down, would swim up to him, and then
-would come the little thin, pan-piping, joyous duet between their two
-dams--a pretty, peaceful scene this, whilst statesmen (save the mark!)
-are making wars and devastating countries.
-
-    “Clanging fights and flaming towns, and sinking ships and praying
-        hands.”
-
-How much good might be done in the world, could such people, all at
-once, when about to be mischievous, be turned into dabchicks![32] Soon
-after this the birds got away from the nest, leaving the one egg in it
-unhatched, and my observations came, in consequence, to an end. The one
-egg, doubtless, was addled, and as I never could clearly make out more
-than two chicks together, I suppose this must have been the case with
-another of them, too. If so, however, it seems strange that this one
-should have disappeared, whilst the birds continued, for some time, to
-sit on the other.
-
-On the 18th of the following August I found another nest, in which was
-one chick, together with three eggs still unhatched. It lay but just
-off the bank, and cover was afforded by some spreading willow-bushes.
-It was only by standing amidst these, however, that I could just see
-the nest, beyond a thin fringe of reeds, which guarded it. This was
-not very comfortable, so as the willows were too thin and flexible to
-climb, and my house was not very far off, I walked back, and came,
-again, after dark, with a pair of Hatherley steps, which I set up
-amongst the willows, where it remained for the next three weeks, and
-made a capital tower of observation, from which I could look right
-down into the nest, at only a few yards distance. At these very close
-quarters, and never once suspected, I was witness, day by day, of such
-little scenes as I have described, so that if I had been one of the
-birds themselves, I could hardly have gained a more intimate knowledge
-of them, as far as seeing was concerned. My near horizon was, indeed,
-limited almost to the nest itself, but by mounting the steps higher,
-or by standing on them, I could get a very good view, both up and
-down the stream, and was yet so well concealed that once a flock of
-doves flew into the bushes, just about me, and remained there quite
-unsuspicious. These steps, indeed, placed overnight, make a capital
-observatory, for, as they stand upright, they do not need to be leant
-against anything, and their thin, open wood-work is indistinguishable
-amidst any growth that attains their own height. They are, moreover,
-comfortable either to sit or stand on.
-
-Returning to the dabchicks, two out of the three remaining eggs were
-hatched out in as many days, but the last one, as in the case of the
-first nest I had watched, remained as it was for several days longer,
-nor can I, from my notes, make out whether it was finally hatched,
-or not.[33] However, as I say that I feel sure it was, it must, I
-suppose, have disappeared from the nest, but I never saw more than
-three chicks together, either with one or both of the old birds. Later
-on, the parents became more separated, and I then never saw more than
-two chicks with either, which makes me think that, at this stage, they
-divide the care of the young between them. They had then, for some
-time, ceased to resort to the nest, but as long as they continued to do
-so, they shared their responsibilities in another way, for whilst one
-of them, which I took to be the female, generally sat in the nest with
-the chicks upon her back, the other--the male--used to come to it and
-feed them. This he did more assiduously than any bird that I have ever
-seen discharge the office, for between 6 and 7, one evening, he had fed
-them forty times. After that I ceased to count, but he continued his
-ministrations in the same eager manner, for another three-quarters of
-an hour. To get the weed, he generally dived, and, on approaching the
-nest, with it, would make a little “peep, peeping” note, on which two
-or three little red bills would be thrust out from under the mother’s
-wings, followed by their respective heads and bodies, as all, or some,
-of them came scrambling down. The instant the weed had been given them,
-they all scrambled up again, to disappear entirely under the little
-tent of the wings. As this took place, on an average, every minute
-and a half, and often much more quickly, the animation and charm of
-the scene may be imagined. The male showed the greatest eagerness in
-performing this prime duty, and if ever he was unable, as sometimes
-happened, to reach any of the chicks over the rounded bastion of the
-nest, he would get quite excited, and make little darts up at it,
-stretching to the utmost, and uttering his little “peep, peep.” If this
-proved unsuccessful, he would go anxiously round to another side of the
-nest, and feed them from there. At other times the chicks were fed in
-the water, on which the weed was sometimes dropped for them, the parent
-having first helped to soften it--as it seemed to me--by biting it
-about in the end of his bill. Sometimes, too, the weed was laid on the
-edge of the nest, but, as a rule, the chick received it from the tip of
-the parent’s beak. As I say, I never saw more than the three chicks,
-and if the fourth was hatched, the birds must have left the nest
-immediately afterwards, as is, I believe, their custom. Of the three,
-two would generally sit together, under the one wing of the mother,
-the third being under the other, from which one may be sure that she
-carries all four of them, two under each. It struck me, several times,
-that there was a sort of natural cavity, or hollow, in the old bird’s
-back, under each wing, with a corresponding arch in the wing itself,
-making, as it were, a little tent or domed chamber, for the chicks
-to sit in. Of this, however, I cannot be quite sure, but it is such
-a confirmed habit of the chicks to sit on the mother’s back, beneath
-her wings, that there would be nothing, I think, very surprising in
-it. Never, one may almost say--but, at any rate, “hardly ever”--do the
-chicks sit beside the mother, in the nest in which they were born (the
-limitation, as it will be seen later on, is a necessary one). It is as
-proper to them to sit on the mother as it is to her to sit on the nest.
-
-When off duty--that is to say, when not feeding the chicks--the male
-would sometimes make pretty lengthy excursions up the stream, as would
-the mother, too, when not sitting--up stream, I say, because they never
-seemed to go far down it. More often, however, he would stay about,
-in the neighbourhood of the nest, and then the sitting bird would
-sometimes call him up to it, by uttering a very soft and low note. He
-would then appear, stealing amongst the reeds with a look of gentle
-inquiry, and, on gaining the nest, both birds together would make a
-curious little soft clucking, or rather chucking, noise, expressive of
-love and content. “Dearest chuck!” they always seemed to me to say, and
-whether they did or not, that, I am sure, is what they meant. Coming,
-every day, to my little watch-tower, and sitting there, sometimes,
-for hours together, I thought, at the end of a week, that I had seen
-everything in connection with these birds’ care of their young, but
-there was one matter which I had yet to learn. I had, indeed, already
-had a hint of it, with the last pair of birds, besides that it seemed
-to me, on general principles, to be likely, but the optical proof had
-been wanting. One day, however, whilst walking quietly up the stream,
-I met one of my pair of dabchicks--the mother, as I think--swimming
-down it. She saw me at the same time as I did her, and swam to
-shelter, but she was not much alarmed, and bending amongst the reeds
-till my face was only on a level with their tops, I waited to see her
-again. Soon she appeared, coming softly towards me, but seeming to
-scrutinise the bank sharply, and, all at once, spying me, down she
-went, with extraordinary force and velocity, so that a little shower
-of spray--and, indeed, more than spray--was flung quite high into the
-air. I had not seen a sign of the chicks, and it seemed hardly possible
-that they could be on her back, all the time--but we shall see. Coming
-up, after her dive, turned round the other way, she swam steadily up
-the stream, and I soon lost her, round a bend of it. In order to see
-her again, and as a means of allaying her fears, I now climbed into a
-willow-tree, and from here I saw her, resting, in a pretty little pool
-of the stream. For ten minutes or more, now, with the glasses full upon
-her, I could see no sign of a chick, except, perhaps, that the wings
-were a trifle raised--but nothing appeared underneath them. All at
-once, however, I caught something; there was a motion, a struggling,
-and then a little red bill and round black head appeared, thrust out
-between the two wings, in the dip of the neck. Then a second head
-showed itself, and, at last, with a peep here, and a scramble there,
-I made out all three. I am not quite sure of this, however, when the
-partner bird--the male, as I think him--swims into the pool, and
-instantly, as he appears, a chick tumbles down the mother, and comes
-swimming towards him. It is fed on the water, and, directly, afterwards
-the old bird dives several times in succession, at the end of which he
-has a piece of weed in his bill, which he reaches to the chick. The
-chick is thus fed several times, and then climbs on to his father’s
-back, who, almost before he is under the wing, dives with him. On
-coming up, again, he rises a little in the water, and shakes himself
-violently, but the chick is not thrown off--he sits tight all the
-time. A second chick now swims up from the mother, and is fed in just
-the same way. Then, as the male dives again, the first chick becomes
-detached, and the two are on the water together. Both are soon fed, the
-male diving for them as he did before, and, whilst this is going on, I
-see the third chick, looking out between the wings of its mother. All
-three, then, have been on her back, and there, without the smallest
-doubt, they were, when she dived down in that tremendously sudden
-manner. It is a pity I had not seen them get up, first, as in the case
-of the male, and, also, that I lost sight of the female for a few
-moments, but it is quite improbable that the chicks should have been
-waiting, somewhere, for the mother, and taken their seats during the
-one little break in the continuity of my observations. At this early
-age the chicks are hardly ever to be seen without one of the parents,
-even in the nest--I doubt, indeed, if I have ever seen them there alone.
-
-The dabchick, therefore, is in the habit, not only of swimming with
-all its family on its back, and quite invisible, but of diving with
-them thus, too, and so accustomed are the chicks to be carried, or
-to sit, in this way, that during the early days of their life they
-may almost be said to lead a parasitical existence. Though they mount
-upon either parent, yet it has seemed to me that they prefer one to
-the other, and I think it more likely, on the whole, that the one who
-sits habitually with them, thus perched, in the nest, is the mother
-rather than the father, though, if so, it is the latter who does most
-of the feeding. It has appeared to me, too, though it may be mere
-fancy, that the chicks not only prefer the mother’s back, but that they
-find more difficulty in getting upon the male’s. Thus, upon the last
-occasion mentioned, when two out of the three left the mother, to go
-to the father, the first one to get up on him only succeeded in doing
-so after a great deal of exertion, whilst the last was struggling for
-such a very long time that I began to think he never would succeed,
-and when, at last, he did, he lay, for a little, in full view, as
-though exhausted. It is natural, of course, that the chicks should
-leave either parent, to be fed by the other, but I remember, once, when
-they happened to be sitting on the male’s back, in the nest--which was
-unusual--at one soft sound from the mother, they all flung themselves
-off it, into the nest, and scrambled up with equal haste on to hers, as
-soon as she had taken her place there, which she did directly. Possibly
-they thought they would be fed, and were hungry, but they did not
-seem disappointed, though they were not, nor had I ever seen so much
-enthusiasm shown before. However, as I say, this may be mere fancy,
-but whether they prefer it or not, they certainly do seem to sit much
-more on one parent, than on the other. It would be difficult to imagine
-a more comfortable seat than the back of either must be. It is like a
-large, flat powder-puff--but a frightened powder-puff, with its fluff
-standing all on end--whilst right upon it, though, of course, far back,
-a tiny little brush of a tail stands bolt upright. The wings, as a
-rule, cover most of this, and it is under their awning that the chicks,
-mostly, live. The chicks are pretty little things. At first they look
-black all over, but, on closer inspection, they are seen to be striped
-longitudinally, like little tigers--black and a soft, greyish yellow
-or buff--the beak being a mahogany red. The young of the great crested
-grebe are striped like this, also. Probably it is a family pattern, and
-represents the ancestral coloration, like the tartan of a Highlander,
-which, however, lasts through life--or used to.
-
-On the 13th of August, after having watched them from the 8th, I made
-a discovery in regard to this pair of dabchicks, and thus, through
-them, the species, similar to that I had made with the moorhens, in
-my pond--similar, but not, I think, quite the same--and when I say a
-discovery, I mean, of course, that it was one for myself, which is,
-indeed, all I care about. I had got to my watch-tower before it was
-light, and could not, for some time, make out the nest. At length, when
-I could see it, I saw the one white egg lying in it, which showed
-me that the bird was not there. Shortly afterwards, I heard both of
-them near the nest, and thought they would soon appear. As they did
-not, however, but seemed to keep in a spot which, though only a few
-paces off, was yet invisible from where I sat, I came down and climbed
-a willow-tree, commanding a view of it. I then saw the female (as I
-think) floating, or, rather, sitting, on the water, and, after a while,
-the male came up, and one of the chicks, going to him from off her
-back, was fed in the usual way. The female then--owing, perhaps, to
-the noise which I could not help making, for I was most uncomfortably
-situated, and the willow, though thin, was full of dead branches
-which kept snapping--swam up the stream. The male, however, remains,
-and, all at once, greatly to my surprise and interest, jumps up upon
-what I now see to be another nest, or nest-like structure, though I
-have not noticed it there before. Hardly is he on, when he jumps off
-again, and this he does two or three times more, at short intervals,
-in a restless, nervous sort of way. Having jumped down for the last
-time, he swims a little out, and appears, to my alarmed imagination,
-to keep glancing up into the tree, where I now, however, though it is
-very difficult to do so, keep perfectly still. At length, losing his
-suspicions, he floats again on the water, whilst the chick swims out
-from him, and then climbs again on his back. Then comes an interchange
-of ideas, or, at any rate, feelings, between him and his mate. He
-gives a little “chook-a-chook-a-chook-a,” and this is answered,
-from the neighbourhood of the nest, by a similar note. Pleased, he
-rejoins, is again responded to, the “chook-a-chook-a” becomes quicker,
-higher, shriller, and, all at once, both birds--each at its separate
-place--break into that little glad duet which I have mentioned so
-often, but cannot help mentioning here again. Then, swimming once more
-to the pseudo-nest, the male again jumps up on to, or, rather, into
-it, and remains sitting there, for some little time. The little chick
-has swum beside him to it, and now makes strenuous efforts to climb
-up after his dam, but he does not quite succeed, though I think, in
-time, he would have done, had not the latter come off, when he, at
-once, follows him. The chicks, however, had never had any difficulty in
-getting on to the real nest.
-
-The discomfort of my position approaching, now, to the dignity of
-torture, I was obliged to get out of it, and, in doing so, made so much
-noise that the bird swam off, up the stream. Upon this I came down
-and examined the new nest, which was close to the bank. It was quite
-different to the other, being six or eight inches high, round the edge,
-with a deep depression in the centre, and seemed made, altogether,
-of the flags amongst which it was situated, some of the growing ones
-being bent inwards, so as to enter into its construction. But this
-is a moorhen’s nest and not a dabchick’s, which latter is formed of
-dank and rotten weeds, fished up by the birds from the bottom of the
-water. It is made flatter, moreover, and does not rise so high above
-the surface of the stream, though in both these points there is, no
-doubt, considerable variation. Here, then, was something new in the
-domestic life of the dabchick. For two days after this I was too busy
-elsewhere to come to the stream, but on the morning of the third I
-got there about 6.30, and climbed into the same tree as before. I did
-not see either of the dabchicks, but heard them dipping about, some
-way lower down the stream, as I had before, when they did not come
-to the nest. I therefore came down and climbed another tree, and, as
-soon as I had done so, I saw a little beyond me--about as far from the
-first pseudo-nest as the latter was from the nest itself--two other
-structures, a few feet from each other, both of which had more or
-less the look of a moorhen’s nest. In one of these sat, with an air
-of absolute proprietorship, a dabchick with one chick, and here they
-remained till the partner bird swam up, a little while afterwards, when
-they came off, and there was the usual pretty scene. The chick had been
-sitting, not, as it appeared to me, in the basket or depression of
-the nest, but only just beyond the edge of it, as though--and this I
-had noticed on the former occasion--it had struggled up as high as it
-could, and there remained.
-
-From now till about a quarter to 9, when they all went off, and I came
-down, both the old birds frequently ascended and sat in this nest,
-whilst one or other of the chicks--for there were now two, if not
-three--tried to do so too, but never succeeded in getting quite over
-the edge of it, though struggling to accomplish this feat. The old
-birds, too, had necessarily to make a much more vigorous and higher
-jump than they were accustomed to take when getting into their real
-nest. All this seemed to point to its being a moorhen’s and not a
-dabchick’s nest, and when I came down and looked at it more closely--it
-being only a few feet from the bank--that is what it seemed to be.
-The other nest near it seemed, still more obviously, a moorhen’s, but
-this only because it was newly made, and had not yet been pressed
-down. In both, the growing flags had been turned down, to aid in the
-construction. Now, both these nests were near to the one which I had
-been watching, and one of them was not more than a few paces off. If we
-say a dozen--and I do not think it could have been more--then the three
-lay along a length of twenty-four paces of the stream, nor was there
-anything in the configuration of the latter, to cut off the owners of
-the one from those of the others. It seems, indeed, quite impossible
-that in this tiny little stream, which I was constantly scanning, up
-and down, I should never have seen more than one pair of dabchicks, at
-the same time, had three, or even two, pairs of them built within so
-limited an area. There was, indeed, one other pair--and, I think, from
-having watched the place through the winter, only one--in this lower
-part of the stream, but in another reach of it, some little way off,
-where they had a nest of their own. In this nest I had seen one of
-them sitting with its chick, which was about half-grown, and therefore
-more than twice the size of the largest of my own birds’ brood. I can,
-therefore, have no doubt that the birds I saw in these two later-used
-extra nests, were the same that I had watched hatching out their eggs
-in the original one, nor did I ever see them on the latter, after they
-had once left it for the others.
-
-It seems, then, either that the dabchick must make, besides the true
-nest in which the eggs are laid, one or more other ones of a different
-type, and which are put to a different use; or else, that it habitually
-uses those of the moorhen, for this purpose--to sit in, namely, after
-leaving its own--thus taking advantage of the latter bird’s habit of
-building several nests. I believe, myself, that the two extra nests,
-in which I saw my dabchicks, were moorhen’s nests, for not only did
-they look like them, but once, when their usurpers were away, I saw two
-large moorhen chicks climb, first into one, and then the other; and, on
-another occasion, they were driven away from both of them by the mother
-dabchick, who pursued them in fierce little rushes through the water,
-with her family on her back. Some may think that I have taken a long
-time to make out a simple matter. What more natural than that a mass of
-reeds and rushes--which is all a moorhen’s nest is--should sometimes
-serve as a resting-place for other reed-haunting birds? But there is
-a difference between something casual and something habitual, and
-everything I saw in the case of these two dabchicks suggested a regular
-practice. Parasitism in one species of bird, in regard to the nest of
-another, though not extending to the loss of the building or incubatory
-instinct, is almost as interesting as if it did, for we see in it a
-possible stage in a process by which this might be reached.
-
-Why should the dabchick, after the hatching of its eggs, leave its own
-nest, in which it has hitherto sat, and sit in those of another bird? I
-examined the nest thus deserted, and found it to be sinking down in the
-water, which was still more the case with some other and older ones.
-This, I believe, is the answer to the above question. The bird’s own
-nest is no longer quite comfortable, and others are to hand which are
-more so. Having stayed, therefore, as long as its incubatory instinct
-prompts it to, it resorts to these, and being no longer tied to one,
-uses several. But a habit at one time of the year, might be extended to
-another time, and if certain dabchicks were to take to sitting in the
-nests of moorhens, before they had made their own, some of these birds,
-whose nest-building instinct was weaker than in most, or who, finding
-themselves in a nest, imagined that they had made it themselves--which,
-I think, is possible--might conceivably lay their eggs there. It would
-then, in my opinion, be more likely that the usurping bird should
-remain, and hatch out, possibly, with its own, some one or more eggs
-of the bird it had dispossessed, than that the contrary process should
-come about.[34] However, the first business of a field naturalist (“and
-such a one do I profess myself”) is to make out what does occur, and
-this I have tried to do.
-
-I think it curious that neither of the two pairs of birds that I
-watched, hatched out, apparently, more than three of their eggs. The
-first pair certainly did not, and I saw the fourth egg in the nest of
-the second, after the birds had left it for another one, though my
-notes do not make it clear if it continued to lie there or not. I think
-it did not, but, at any rate, I never could make out more than three
-chicks together, with either one or both of the birds. It struck me
-that, after the family had left the nest, there was a tendency for the
-parents to divide, one taking two chicks, and the other the remaining
-one, since they could not take them two and two. It interested me,
-therefore, to come, now and again, on one of another pair of dabchicks,
-sitting in the nest--or _a_ nest--with one half-grown chick only.
-Whenever I saw them, this dabchick and one chick were always by
-themselves. The question arises whether it is usual for only three out
-of the dabchick’s four eggs to be hatched out. But whether this is
-possible, or why, if it is, it should be so, I do not know.
-
-
-
-
-INDEX
-
-
-
-
-INDEX
-
-
-  Animals, mysterious faculties possessed by, 290, 291
-
-  Animal world, the, its existence ignored by writers on psychical
-      subjects, 294
-
-  Antics, possible origin of some kinds of, 184, 185, 191-193
-
-  Artists, leave the fenlands alone, 3
-
-  Australian parrakeet (_Melopsittacus undulatus_), roosting habits
-      of, 5, 6
-
-  Australian swan, nest-building actions of the, 174
-
-
-  Birds, roosting habits of, 5, 6
-    Song of, at dawn, 74, 75
-    Chases _à trois_ of, 109, 110
-    Nuptial rite performed habitually on nest by some, 181
-    Some peculiarities in the fighting of, 185
-    Mixture of pugnacity and timidity in, 191
-    Their delight in nest-building, 199, 200;
-      false ideas on this subject, 199, 200
-    Parental love in; from what period does it date? 208, 209
-    Parental affection and instinct of incubation; are they distinct? 208
-    Performance of parental duties by male; in what originating? 208-211
-    Male feeding female, remarks on, 210, 211
-    Nebbing or billing, origin of habit in, 211-213
-    More interesting questions in regard to, avoided by ornithologists, 210
-    Kiss in proper sense of the word, 211-213
-    Collect insects, &c., to feed young, 216
-    Sexual relations of, 234-236
-    Permanent unions of, 265
-    Power of expression in, 274
-    Cries of, definite significance falsely attributed to, 278
-    Maternal ruses practised by, 279;
-      suggested origin of these, 181, 279, 280
-    Our commoner ones related to foreign species with interesting habits
-        should be more closely observed, 286, 287
-
-  “Bird Watching,” referred to, 127, 128, 158, 175, 181, 253
-
-  Blackbirds, roosting note of, 4, 5
-    Variety of notes of, 4, 5
-    Alarm-note, so-called, of, 5
-    Strange actions of, in construction of nest, 173, 174
-    Hen alone observed to build by author, 206;
-      cock seen to, also, by Mr. Dewar, 206;
-      transition process probable; but which way? 206, 207
-    Cock does not incubate, 207
-    But helps feed the young, 208
-
-  Blue-Tit, movements of, compared with those of long-tailed tit, 17
-    Note of, 18
-    Steals materials from blackbird’s nest, to build with, 205
-
-  Bower, the, may have grown out of the nest, 70;
-    or out of the cleared space where some birds meet to court, &c., 70
-
-  Bower-Birds, possible origin of bowers, &c., of, 64-70
-
-
-  Cat, effects of a, on author’s observations, 265, 268
-
-  Chaffinch, hen demolishes the nest of golden-crested wren, 205
-    Hen alone observed to make nest, 205
-    Nest-building actions of hen, 205, 206
-
-  Cheerful constitution, a, a good thing but not a good argument, 231
-
-  Children, death of, in quantity not affecting, 153
-
-  Cinnabar moth caterpillar, pupating habits of, 15
-    Ignored by fowls, 15
-    May offer example of warning coloration, 15
-
-  Coal-Tit, feeds on spruce-buds, 16;
-    and on larch-buds, 16
-    Note of, 16
-    Motions of, 16
-    Extracts seeds from fir-cones, 18, 19
-    Possible origin of name, 19, 20
-    Nesting habits of, 194-197
-    Flies directly into nest, 195, 196
-    Composition of nest of, 197
-    Size of nest of, 197
-
-  Commensalism, possible origin of, 120, 121
-
-  Coot, change of coloration in the, 276
-    Has become more aquatic than moorhen, 285
-    Dives better than moorhen, 285
-    Bathes floating on water, 285
-
-  Cow-birds, their habit of destroying their own, and foster-parents’,
-      eggs, 273
-
-  Cuckoo, comes late in April, 92
-    Playground of, 93, 94, 97, 98
-    Nuptial and social sportings of, 93-95
-    Various notes of, 95, 96
-    Does the male only say “cuckoo”? 96, 102, 103;
-      difficulty of making sure of this, 102, 103;
-      some evidence on the subject, 104, 105
-    Tune of, changed before June, 96;
-      the old rhyme about, not trustworthy, 96
-    Manner of feeding of, 98, 99
-    Becoming nocturnal, 99, 100
-    Persecuted by small birds, 100, 101
-    Possible relations to, of small birds, 100, 101
-    Not confounded by small birds with hawk, 101, 102
-
-  Dabchicks, haunt the river Lark, 261
-    Eleven together seen on Lark in winter, 261
-    Fascination in becoming acquainted with, 261
-    Curious note of, 262-264;
-      and what it suggests, 262;
-      is not “whit” but “queek,” 263, 264
-    _Grande Finale_ of, 262, 263
-    Matrimonial duet of, 263, 299, 300, 303, 305, 314, 315;
-      and what it expresses, 263-265;
-      is performed summer and winter, 299, 300
-    Mate for life, 263, 265
-    Observations on a pair of, at Tuddenham, 296-306
-    Domestic habits of, 296-320
-    Additions to nest by, after apparent completion and during
-        incubation, 297-299, 301
-    Such additions seem unnecessary, 301
-    Leap on to nest of, 297, 302
-    Removal of weed from eggs by, 297, 299, 303
-    Nest of, described, 298
-    Close sitting of, on occasions, 298
-    Eggs sometimes left uncovered by, 298, 299, 300, 303, 304
-    Change on the nest of the, 299, 301, 304
-    Difficulty in eluding observation of, 299
-    Habit of covering eggs of, seems fluctuating and unintelligent, 300;
-      probable origin of the habit, 300
-    Chicks fed by parents with weed, 301, 302, 304, 307, 308, 311
-    Chicks ride on parent’s back, 302, 303, 304
-    Jump up on to nest, with young on back, 302, 303, 305
-    Sit still in water as though on nest, 303, 305
-    Family scenes, 303, 305, 311
-    Three chicks on parent’s back, 304
-    One egg out of the four laid by, left unhatched, 305, 306, 307, 319,
-        320
-    Pair of, observed from pair of Hatherley steps, 306
-    Chicks divided between parents after leaving nest for good, 307, 320
-    Subdivision of parental labour in, 307
-    Assiduous feeding of chicks by male, 307
-    “Peep, peep” of, whilst feeding young, 308
-    Chicks sit under parent’s wing, on back, 308, 309, 313
-    Natural hollow on back of, for chicks to sit in, 308, 309
-    Chicks rarely sit in true nest with parent except on back, 309
-    “Dearest chuck,” note of, 309
-    Invisibility of chicks on parent’s back, 310
-    Parent dives with three chicks on back, 310-312
-    Chicks prefer mother’s back, 312, 313;
-      and mount male’s with more difficulty, 312
-    Back of, as seat for young, 313
-    Chicks striped like tigers, 313
-    Discovery made in regard to, 313
-    “Chook-a, chook-a,” note of, 314
-    Moorhen’s nest used by, to sit in with chicks, 314-318;
-      probable origin of this habit, 319
-
-  Darwin, views of, as to origin of music, 10, 11;
-      ignored by the late Mr. F. W. H. Myers, 10
-    Attributes colours of tiger, leopard, jaguar, &c., to sexual selection,
-        44, 45
-    “_Laudetur et alget_,” 45
-
-
-  Fenlands, charm of the, 3
-
-  Fieldfare, scolding of, 4
-
-  Firs, planted near Icklingham fifty years ago, 4
-
-  Frank Buckland, his brown paper parcel, 85
-    His half-part edition of White’s “Selborne,” 85
-
-
-  Gilbert White on House-Martins, 243, 249, 251, 252;
-      unfair treatment of, 259, 260
-
-  Great Crested Grebe, consummates nuptial rite on the nest, 68
-
-  Great Tit, movements of, compared to those of long-tailed tit, 17
-
-  Green Woodpecker, nest of, often seized by the starling, 129;
-      is not much the worse for this, 130, 131;
-      possible result of such deprivation, 131, 132
-    Feeds on ants, 31
-    Ants, how procured by, 219, 230
-    Young of, fed by regurgitation, 31, 217, 218
-    Does not bring insects in beak to young, 216, 217
-    Almost wholly an ant eater, 218-221
-    Contents of excrements of, 220, 221
-    Almost as salient an instance of changed habits as Darwin’s La Plata
-        woodpecker, 220
-    Ant diet of, related to regurgitation of food in feeding young, 221
-    Must mate for life, 221
-    Conjugal habits in winter, 221, 222
-    Tail not required as support, 222
-    A fighter, though the contrary has been stated, 223
-    Spring tide activities of, account of, 224-238
-    Hostile demonstrations of, 225
-    Its method of fighting, 226-230, 233, 237
-    Fighting actions of, have become stereotyped, 227-230
-    Sexual relations of, 233, 234, 236, 237
-    Divergence of habits of, from those of the family, 236, 237
-    Ant-eating habits of, 236, 237
-    How does it roost? 237
-
-
-  Hatherley steps make good observatory for watching birds, 306, 307
-
-  Heart of man, Chinese proverb in regard to, 286
-
-  Hedge-Sparrow, steals building material from blackbird’s nest, 205
-
-  Heron, cries, &c., uttered by, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 79
-    Nuptial flight of, 73, 80, 81
-    Uncouth appearance of, 73, 74, 81, 82
-    Ordinary flight of, 74
-    Domestic habits of, 72-80
-    Change on the nest, the, 75-78
-    Sits firm in a hurricane, 78, 79
-    A close sitter, 79
-    Watchfulness of, 79, 80
-    Descent of pair on to nest, 80
-    Can rise with single flap, 82
-    Eats frogs, moles, mice, shrews, &c., 82, 83
-    Its manner of catching and eating fish, 83, 84, 119
-    Delicacy of beak, 84
-    Beak of, compared with human hand, 84
-    Serratures in beak, 84
-    Serrated claw of, how used, 84-86
-    Management of large eel by, 85, 86
-    Supposed filament of, 86
-    Stalks his prey, 87
-    Settling on nest, 87, 88
-    Sometimes overbalances in catching fish, &c., 83
-
-  Heronry, a, near Icklingham, 72
-    The awakening of the, 72, 73
-
-  Historians, their song to an old tune, 231
-
-  Hooded-Crow, common in West Suffolk during winter, 51
-    Called “carrion crow” by the people, 51
-    Feeding habits of, 51, 52, 55
-    Haunt open warren lands, 51
-    Mingle with rooks, 52, 58
-    Disagreements of, with rooks, 52-54
-    Fighting methods of, 54
-    Rules of precedence of, when feeding in company, 53
-    Gregarious instincts of, compared with those of rooks, 54, 55
-    May sometimes roost with rooks, 55
-    Eats thistle roots, 56
-    Mysterious relations of, with rooks, 58-60
-    One seen flying with peewits, 127
-
-  House-Martin, domestic habits of, 239-259
-    Nest building of, 240-243, 246-248
-    Musical meetings of, 242-244, 253, 256
-    Gilbert White’s reference to slow rate of building of, 243, 249;
-      his explanation of this not the true one, 243, 249
-    Possible intercommunal marriages of, 244, 245
-    Sexual relations of, 244, 245, 252, 253, 255, 256, 259
-    Oppressed by sparrows, 243-246, 248
-    Quick building of nest of, 245, 249
-    Social and communistic relations of, 248, 250, 251, 252, 259
-    Fighting of, 248
-    Apparent inability to resist sparrows, 248
-    Suggested explanation of this, 248, 249
-    Builds nest on site of old one, 249;
-      curious fact in relation to this, 249, 250
-    Young, feeding of, 253-257
-    Young, fed by regurgitation, 254-258
-    Insects, how caught by, 258;
-      and how brought to young, 257-259
-
-
-  Icklingham, where situated, 1, 3
-    The country about, 1, 2, 4
-    Some seven miles from the fenlands, 56
-
-  Incubation, is instinct of, differentiated from parental love? 208
-
-  Instinct, may sometimes have grown out of mere mechanical movements,
-        179-180, 184, 185, 300, 301;
-      evidence in regard to this, 180, 181
-  Resulting from lapsed intelligence, 185
-
-  “Intimations of immortality,” supposed, 10
-
-
-  Jackdaws, seem conscious of their superiority when with rooks, 54
-    Decorate their nests, 68
-
-  Jaguar, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, 43, 44
-
-
-  Kestrel flying with peewits, 127
-
-  Kissing, origin of, in man probably utilitarian, 211-213
-    In relation to birds, 211-213
-
-
-  Landseer, false criticism of, 88, 89
-    Masterpiece of, removed from the National Gallery, 89
-
-  Larks, various ways of mounting and descending of, 107, 108
-    Individual variety in flight of, 108
-    Winter ways of, 108, 109
-    Piping note in winter of, 109
-    Song in February of, 109
-    Chases _à trois_ of, 109
-    Change locality according to season, 110
-
-  Leopard, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, 43, 44
-
-  Lesser Spotted Woodpecker brings collection of insects in beak to feed
-      young, 216
-
-  Lion, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, 43
-
-  Long-tailed Tit, roosting habits of, 6
-    Movements of, 16-18;
-      compared with those of blue tit, 17, 18
-    Aerial forced march of, 17
-    Note of, 18
-    Nest-building habits of, 198-204
-    Origin of dome of nest of, 199;
-      and of entrance to, 200, 201, 203
-    Uniform way of entering and leaving nest of, 200
-    Contortionist powers of, 202, 204
-    Approaches and leaves nest by one set path, 202, 203
-    The “sweep” up to nest of, 203
-
-  Man, the chief animal in this world only, 295
-
-  Maternal affection, beauty of, 214
-    All hail to, 216
-
-  Mellersh, Mr., letter of, to _Standard_ about starlings referred
-      to, 160
-
-  Migration, facts of, marginal reference to, 290
-
-  Missel-Thrush, harsh strident note of, 4
-    Puts a peewit to flight, 123
-    Skirmishes of, with stone-curlews, 123, 124
-    Retreats with honour, 124
-
-  Moorhen, haunts the river Lark, 261
-    Pair of, built yearly in author’s pond, 265
-    Supernumerary nests made by, 265-269
-    Sits in two or more nests, 266-269
-    Bathing habits of, 267
-    Special bathing-places of, public and private, 267
-    Pronounced habit of over-building of, 269
-    Destruction of its own eggs by, 269-273;
-      possible explanation of this habit, 272, 273;
-      may be compared with that of the cow-birds of America, 273
-    Continued building of nest by, during incubation and rearing
-      of young, 273
-    Due, probably, to a blind impulse, 273, 274
-    Legs of, gartered in male alone, 275
-    Triple successive coloration of the cere in, 275
-    Difficulty of explaining this, 275, 276
-    Precocity of young, 276, 277
-    Fear of man in the newly-hatched chick, 277
-    Carries shell of hatched egg to shore, 277
-    Young, fed by dams, 277
-    Young, notes of, 277, 278
-    Maternal cries of, 277, 278
-    Clucking note of, to call young, 277, 278;
-      and for other uses, 278
-    Variety of expression in cries of young, 278
-    Young, sit in nest with one parent, 278
-    No maternal ruse employed by, 181, 278, 279;
-      material for the evolution of one possibly observed, 279
-    Nerves of, highly strung, 280
-    Effect of report of gun on, 280
-    Motions, actions, &c., of, 280
-    A bundle of caprices, 280
-    Habit of flirting tail of, 280
-    Pugnacity of, 281
-    Scene in “The Rivals” acted by, 281
-    Warlike display of, 281-283
-    Method of fighting of, 283-285;
-      is essentially unaquatic, 284, 285
-    Pugnacity of, even in winter, 281
-    Bathes only in shallow water, 285
-    Analogy between some actions of, and more developed ones of Ypecaha
-        rail, 285, 286
-    Nuptial antic or pose of, 287, 288
-    Emotional hermaphroditism of, 288
-    Interchangeable performance of nuptial rite in sexes of, 288;
-      bearing of this on questions of nature and origin of sexual display,
-          and of inter-sexual selection, 288, 289;
-      as, also, on the subliminal self theory, 289
-
-  Myers, the late Mr. F. W. H., has ignored Darwin’s views as to origin
-      of musical faculty in man, 10
-
-
-  Natural history, no finality in, 249
-
-  Nature, sometimes looks unnatural, 88
-    Two voices of, 110
-    Full of irony, 245
-
-  Nest, false, of peewit, the, 166-168;
-      is the real nest, 168
-    Of birds, suggested origin of the, 168-180
-    May have been originally a _thalamum_ more especially, 181, 182
-    Was once put to two uses habitually, 181, 182;
-      as it still is in some instances, 182
-
-  Nest-building instinct, suggested origin of, in birds, 168-184
-
-  Nightingale, hen alone seen to build, 206
-
-  Nightjar, common about Icklingham, 21
-    Sits on extreme tip-top of spruce or larch, 21
-    Its habit of clapping its wings, 21-23;
-      sometimes a great many times consecutively, 22, 23
-    “Quaw-ee,” note of, 21
-    Beauty of flight and aerial mastery of, 22
-    A new sensation obtained by seeing it, 22
-    Domestic habits of, 23-37
-    Change on the nest of, 24
-    Churring note uttered by both sexes, 25
-    Expressive power of the churr, 26
-    Incubation shared by male and female, 23, 24, 26
-    Sexes hard to distinguish, 26
-    Male less skilful in incubation than female, 26
-    Hen, the more assiduous sitter, 26
-    Interesting scene observed, 26-29
-    Method of moving eggs adopted by, 27
-    Mahomet and the mountain, 28
-    Both parents feed chicks, 29
-    Low querulous note of, whilst in unharassed circumstances, 29
-    Chicks fed by regurgitation, 29-32, 34
-    Probable mode of catching insects of, 30-33
-    Kind of insects, &c., mostly eaten by, 31-33
-    An aerial whale, 33, 258
-    Difference in size between the two chicks of, 35
-    Early quiescence and later activity of chicks, 35, 36
-    Nesting site gradually deserted, 35
-    Chicks called up by parents, 35, 36
-    Maternal ruse practised by, 36
-    Anxiety of parents in regard to chicks, 36, 37
-    Chicks walk or run easily, 37;
-      as do also the grown birds, 37
-    Nuptial rite may be performed on the ground, 37
-    Variety of notes of, 37-39;
-      no special limited meaning assignable to these, 37-39
-    Resemblance of, to piece of fir-bark, 40, 41;
-      possible meaning of such resemblance, 41, 42
-    Generally protective colouring in relation to incubative, &c., habits
-        of, 42, 43
-    Returns, each year, to same locality, 50
-    Has favourite trees and branches, 50
-    Does not always nest in same spot, 50
-
-  Nuptial antics, suggested origin of, 180, 181
-
-
-  Optimists, as reasoners, 231
-
-  Ostrich, nesting habits of, as described by Mr. Cronwright Schreiner,
-         176-178;
-      suggestions as to the meaning and origin of these, 177-179
-    Rolling of, in courtship, 178
-    Two kinds of, 178
-
-  Ornithologists, works of seem written to assist bird-nesters, 210
-
-
-  Parasitic instinct, in birds, possible origin of, 132
-
-  Parental ruses, suggested origin of, 180, 181
-
-  Partridges, curious chasings of one another of, 188-191;
-      nature and suggested explanation of, 189-192
-
-  Peewits, repair to fens towards end of October for the winter, 3, 116
-    Return in February, 116
-    Appearance, &c., of, 117
-    Their way of bathing, 117, 118;
-      and of feeding, 119
-    Chased by missel-thrush, 124
-    Rolling and other strange sexual antics of, 163-166, 174, 175;
-      nature of such movements, 167, 168, 171-173;
-      theory founded upon them as to origin of nest-building amongst birds,
-          166-184
-    “False nests” of, 166-168;
-      not essentially differing from the real nest, 168
-
-  “_Pesses_,” formerly used in Icklingham church, 56
-
-  Pheasant, at roosting time, 5
-    Roosting habits of, 6
-    Trumpety note of, 7
-    Soft note of, at roosting, 7
-    Partial paralysis produced in, by sudden fright, 279, 280
-    A cock, put to flight by stone-curlew, 123
-
-  Philistines, the, bloodthirsty shouts of, 156
-    False plea of the, 156, 157
-    Having no appreciation of anything, can destroy everything with
-        impunity, 156, 157
-    Hypocritical pretence of, to an æsthetic motive, 157
-
-  Poet, the, not a teacher, 11
-    His aptitude to feel and express, 12
-
-  Protective coloration theory, unsatisfactory in regard to tiger, leopard,
-        jaguar, &c., 43-49
-    Inapplicable to animals that hunt at night by scent, 47
-    Versus sexual selection, 43-50
-
-  Psychical Research Society, great mistake made by, 143-145
-    Its man-worshipping attitude, 143-145
-    Its neglect of the comparative method, 143-145
-    Indifferent to field natural history, 145
-    Should let the dogs into church, 145
-    Conclusions of, reared on too narrow a basis of fact and observation,
-        290
-
-
-  Rabbits, the stamping of, with hind legs may have various meanings, 38
-    Theory in regard to white tail of, unsubstantiated, 46, 47
-    Browse lichen, 92
-    One warming his paws at camp fire, 93
-
-  Rhyme, old, about cuckoo changing its tune in June not trustworthy, 96
-    Truth sacrificed for sake of, 96, 97
-    So-called cockney, the, the bugbear of pedants and purists, 97
-    Fetters of, should be loosened, not tightened, 97
-
-  River Lark, description of, 2
-
-  Rooks, feeding habits of, 52
-    Mingle with hooded crows, 52, 58
-    Disagreements of, with hooded crows, 52-54
-    Rules of precedence of, when feeding in company, 53
-    Fighting methods of, 54
-    Partial reversion of some, to less social state, 55
-    Gregarious instinct of, sometimes in abeyance, 55, 56
-    Eat roots of thistles, 56
-    May sometimes roost singly, 57
-    Are more civilised than the hooded crow, 57
-    Mysterious relations of, with the hooded crow, 58-60
-    Visits of, to nesting-trees during winter, 60-63;
-      reasons for, and suggested origin of these visits, 63-70
-    Compared to bower-birds, 64-70
-    Often pair on nest, 68
-    Are swayed by love in winter as well as in summer, 70
-    Their round of life during winter, 70, 71
-
-
-  Sand-martins, fight violently, 248
-    Late appearance of several, 259
-
-  Schiller, his two great forces “hunger and love,” 70
-    Has forgotten sleep, 71
-
-  Scott, his style not appreciated by the inappreciative, 82
-
-  Sense of direction referred to, 290
-
-  Sexual selection, prejudice in regard to theory of, 45;
-      the reason for this, 45
-    May account for white tail in rabbit, 47
-    And for posterior markings, colours, &c., generally, 47
-    Stripes and spots of tiger, leopard, jaguar, zebra, &c., probably due
-        to, 43-50
-
-  Shag, decorates its nest with flowers, &c., 68
-
-  “She oaks,” characteristic of country round Icklingham, 3, 4
-    Of the poplar tribe, 3
-    Their great size, 3
-    Are, fortunately, valueless, 3
-
-  Sleep, a third ruling power, forgotten by Schiller, 71
-
-  Snipe, one as part of picturesque scene, 119
-    Their odd, stereotyped way of fighting, 185-189;
-      and of pursuing one another, 188;
-      suggested explanation of these and similar phenomena exhibited by
-          other birds, 190-193
-
-  Song-Thrush, a fighter, though said not to be, 223
-
-  Sparrow with a grievance, a, 245
-    Nest-building habits of, 245-247
-    Oppression of house-martins by, 243-246, 248
-
-  Spiders, one answers query, 14
-    Hibernate under bark of trees, 14
-
-  Spiritualism, doctrine of, does not answer certain questions, 232
-    Makes best of bad job, but the bad job remains, 232
-    Presents many difficulties, 232
-
-  Spur-winged lapwing, antics, _à trois_ of, 110;
-    suggested origin of, 109, 110
-
-  Starlings, bathing, 119
-    Feeding over the land, 119
-    Enjoy company of peewits, 120
-    A single one flying with peewits, 120
-    One welcomed back by another, 120, 121
-    Have hearts even in winter, 121, 122
-    Imitate note of peewit, 122
-    Relations of, with green woodpecker, 129-132;
-      may lead to one or other acquiring parasitic instinct, 131, 132
-    As architects, 133-136
-    Their nests in sand-pits, 133-135
-    How made? 133-136
-    Social nesting habits of, 136-138
-    Make morality seem a bore, 137
-    Roosting habits of, 138-154
-    Flocking of, before roosting, 138, 139
-    _Susurrus_, or sing-song of, 138
-    Erratic descent into trees of, 139
-    Simultaneous aerial movement amongst large bodies of, 140, 142, 143;
-      some form of thought-transference seems necessary to explain
-          these, 143
-    Distinctive note uttered by, whilst flying, 145, 146
-    Twitter whilst flying, 146
-    Varied entry of, into roosting place, 146
-    Exodus of, from wood in regiments, 147-152;
-      back regiments fly first, 150
-    Breaking back of, during exodus, 150, 151
-    Increase altitude when passing hedges, &c., 152
-    Great flights of, a study for Turner, 152
-    Poetry in numbers of, 152
-    Actions of, in the roosting place, 153, 154;
-      a disseminating process observable, 153;
-      slow diminution of the sing-song, 153;
-      sudden flights and scurryings, 153, 154;
-      silence not till long after nightfall, 154
-    Morning flight out from roosting-place, 154, 155;
-      takes place by successive bands or regiments, 154, 155
-    Kind of bushes, &c., chosen to roost in, 155, 156;
-      possible explanation of this, 155, 156
-    Letter written to _Daily Telegraph_ about, 157-160
-    Good done by, 160, 161
-    Harm done by, to fruit inconsiderable, 160, 161
-    Small space occupied by, to sleep in, 157-161
-    Do no harm to song-birds, 158, 159, 161, 162
-    Do not “infest,” but country gentlemen do, 162
-
-  Statesmen, good that might be done by “translation” of, into
-      dabchicks, 305
-
-  Stevenson, style of, preferred by Stevenson to Scott’s, 82
-    But not by author, 82
-
-  Stock-dove, odd formalities in combats of, 185;
-      explanation of these, 185
-
-  Stone-chat, his motions, &c., 115, 116
-    An angry bird, 115
-    His tail flirted at you, 116;
-      his certain answer if questioned on the subject, 116
-    Variation in appearance of, 116
-
-  Stone-curlew, a special feature of country round Icklingham, 124
-    Often feeds with peewits, 122
-    A fighter, 122, 123
-    Puts a cock pheasant to flight, 123
-    Skirmishes of, with missel-thrushes, 123, 124
-    Warlike display of rival males, 123;
-      not employed when attacking another species, 123;
-      suggested explanation of this, 123
-    Sad cry of, 124, 125
-    The _clamour_ of, 125
-    Other notes of, 125, 126
-    Cry of, recalling piping of oyster-catcher, 126
-    The gathering of the clans, 125
-    Pursued by sparrow-hawk, 126
-    The _Heimkehr_ of, in the early morning, 127
-    Is _di-nocturnal_, 128
-    More active during the day in spring, 128
-    Crouching habits of, 128
-    Evening dances of, in autumn, 128
-    Migration of, 128
-
-  Subliminal self, theory of the, a criticism of, 289-294
-    Numerous objections to, 292-294
-    Author’s counter hypothesis to, of innumerable ancestral subliminal
-        _selves_, 289, 290
-
-  Swallow tribe, the, insects, how caught and swallowed by, 258
-
-  Swan, nest-building actions of the male, 174
-
-
-  “Test of time,” the, a misleading expression, 89-92
-
-  Tiger, protective coloration theory in regard to, questioned, 43-45
-    Beauty of the, Darwin’s view as to how acquired, 44-46
-    Coloration of, in relation to man, 47, 48
-    Chinese proverb in regard to Coreans and the, 48
-    Eye-witness’s account of the stalking of a cow by a, 48, 49
-
-  Titlark, mounting and descent of, 110, 111
-    More like a lark than a wagtail, 111, 112;
-      resembles a wagtail also, 113
-
-  Tits, a feature of Icklingham, 194
-
-  Tree-pipit, voice of, like the skylark’s, 112
-
-  Tuddenham, observations on pair of dabchicks at, 296-306
-
-
-  Voice, importance of the, in classification, 112, 113
-
-
-  Water-wagtail, courting actions of male, 113, 114;
-      similarity in, to those of pheasant, 114
-    Nest of, in that of song-thrush, 213
-    Hen alone seems to incubate, 213
-    Alternates eating with building, 213, 214
-    Open bills of young, like Venetian glass vases, 214
-    Collects a number of flies, &c., for young, 214
-    Beauty of maternal love as exemplified by, 214
-    Skill of, in collecting flies, 215, 216
-
-  Weather, the, and the cries of birds, 6, 7
-
-  Wheatear, characteristic of the steppes of Icklingham, 106
-    Arrival of first pair of, 106
-    Arrives in splendid plumage, 106
-    Ways of the male, 106, 107
-    Plumage of male, 114, 115
-    Courtship of male, 107, 114
-    Curious sexual actions of male, 175, 176
-
-  Wood-pigeons, cooing of, 8, 9
-    Roosting of, 9, 10, 12, 13
-    Emotions raised by rushing sound of wings of, 9, 10;
-      remarks as to this, 10-12
-    Numbers of, in West Suffolk, 12, 13
-    _Pigeon-trees_ made by, 13
-    Less characteristic coo of, 74, 75
-    Single one flying with starlings, 127
-    Partial paralysis produced in, by sudden fright, 279, 280
-
-  Wordsworth, his “intimations of immortality” due to the laws of
-        inheritance, 10, 11
-    No evidence contained in the famous ode of, 11, 12
-
-  Wren, house-hunting of, 13, 14
-    Food of, in winter, 14
-    Seen to enter long-tailed tit’s nest in absence of owner, 204, 205
-
-
-  Ypecaha rails, screaming dances of, referred to, 285
-
-
-  Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
-  Edinburgh & London
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  GEORGE ALLEN
-  PUBLISHER LONDON
-  RUSKIN HOUSE
-  156 CHARING CROSS ROAD]
-
-
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[1] The late F. W. H. Myers explains music in his own way--in
-forced accordance, that is to say, with his subliminal self
-hypothesis--without even a reference to Darwin! Did he not know
-Darwin’s views, or did he think himself justified in ignoring them?
-
-[2] As reported in “Proceedings,” March 1902. Part xliii.
-
-[3] Or in The Tempest as produced and acted at Stratford-on-Avon during
-the last anniversary.
-
-[4] The accuracy of Jenner’s observations on this point, was
-questioned, not long since, by his enemies: but most triumphantly was
-it vindicated.
-
-[5] Or some days later.
-
-[6] The pursuit, namely, just alluded to; but the birds were soon lost
-amongst the nettles.
-
-[7] I can see no reason why those who think the leopard’s spots and the
-tiger’s stripes protective, should hold the same theory in regard to
-the quiet and uniform colouring of the lion. To others, however, this
-and the obscure markings on the young animal certainly suggest that,
-here, sexual adornment has given place to harmony with the surrounding
-landscape. The male lion, however, has developed a mane, and this, by
-becoming fashionable at the expense of colour and pattern, may have
-led to the deterioration of the latter. The aboriginal colouring of
-all these creatures was, probably, dull, and to this the lion may
-have reverted. But if _he_ is protected by his colouring, how can the
-leopard--in the same country and with similar habits--also be? The
-same question may be asked in regard to the puma and jaguar, who roam
-together, seeking the same prey, over a vast expanse of territory.
-Again, if the lion was once spotted, and if his spots, like the
-leopard’s, were a protection, why has he lost them?
-
-[8] In Indian sporting works one more often reads of tigers being
-located in “nullahs” or patches of jungle than amongst bamboos. The
-tiger, moreover, ranges into Siberia, and to the shores of the Caspian,
-where bamboos, presumably, do not grow, or are not common.
-
-[9] “Descent of Man,” pp. 543, 545.
-
-[10] Darwin mentions one conspicuous instance.
-
-[11]
-
-    “As the pine shakes off the snow-flakes
-    From the midnight of its branches.”
-
-    --_Hiawatha_, xix.
-
-
-[12] By inappreciative _asses_.
-
-[13] Or the man he quotes--and absorbs.
-
-[14] “Bird Watching,” p. 28.
-
-[15] “Bird Watching,” pp. 9-15.
-
-[16] The _nakedness_ in this case rather; but I use the term
-conventionally.
-
-[17] Or might be, if any one cared to witness them. Nobody does.
-
-[18] “The Descent of Man,” pp. 41, 42.
-
-[19] “Bird Watching,” p. 284.
-
-[20] December 8, 1904, I think, or thereabouts.
-
-[21] Page 72.
-
-[22] There are two kinds of ostriches--the scientific, or professorial
-kind, that behaves in a way peculiar to itself, because it is “a
-_ratite_ bird,” and the common, vulgar kind, as known to people in
-South Africa, who have observed its habits on the ostrich-farms. For
-the first, see various authorities, and for the second, Mr. Cronwright
-Schreiner, in the _Zoologist_, as mentioned above.
-
-[23] “Bird Watching,” pp. 60, 61.
-
-[24] The female peewit, it must be remembered, acted in much the
-same way as the male, and the sexual antics of many birds seem to be
-identical in both sexes.
-
-[25] This, in itself, has the appearance of design only. The bird,
-however, works from within, and, if I mistake not, there would be a
-growing tendency for the structure, as it rose in height, to bend over
-inwards rather than outwards.
-
-[26] Something, that is to say, of a _utilitarian_ nature. One should
-watch monkeys also.
-
-[27] As, were it the true one, this nest should have done--but did not,
-as I remember. Instead, it stood firm through the time of sitting and
-rearing.
-
-[28] “Bird Watching,” pp. 104, 105.
-
-[29] Hudson’s “Argentine Ornithology,” vol. i., pp. 72-79.
-
-[30] The facts of migration should be studied in regard to this. See
-Professor Newton’s “A Dictionary of Birds,” pp. 562-570.
-
-[31] Compare, for instance, with the “Out of the Deeps,” &c., these
-lines of Catullus--
-
-    “Soles occidere, et redire possunt,
-    Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux
-    Nox est perpetua una dormenda.”
-
-
-[32] “Translated,” like Bottom--but more radically.
-
-[33] But see pp. 319, 320.
-
-[34] See _ante_, pp. 131, 132.
-
-
-
-
-      *      *      *      *      *      *
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber’s note:
-
-Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.
-
-
-
-***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES***
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