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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e93dcc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51733 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51733) diff --git a/old/51733-0.txt b/old/51733-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0ccadfe..0000000 --- a/old/51733-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9236 +0,0 @@ -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 -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Bird Life Glimpses - - -Author: Edmund Selous - - - -Release Date: April 11, 2016 [eBook #51733] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES*** - - -E-text prepared by Emmanuel Ackerman, Wayne Hammond, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 51733-h.htm or 51733-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51733/51733-h/51733-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51733/51733-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - https://archive.org/details/birdlifeglimpses00selorich - - - - - -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*** - - -******* This file should be named 51733-0.txt or 51733-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/7/3/51733 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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E. Lodge</h1> -<p>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 whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Bird Life Glimpses</p> -<p>Author: Edmund Selous</p> -<p>Release Date: April 11, 2016 [eBook #51733]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4 class="tdc">E-text prepared by Emmanuel Ackerman, Wayne Hammond,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org/details/americana">https://archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/birdlifeglimpses00selorich"> - https://archive.org/details/birdlifeglimpses00selorich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div id="cover" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p> - -<h1>BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES</h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p> - -<p class="ph1"> -<span class="gesperrt">BIRD LIFE<br /> -GLIMPSES</span><br /> -<span class="xlarge">BY EDMUND SELOUS</span> -</p> - -<p class="ph3"> -WITH 12 HEADINGS AND 6 FULL-PAGE<br /> -ILLUSTRATIONS BY G. E. LODGE</p> - -<p class="ph2"> -LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN, 156<br /> -CHARING CROSS ROAD. MCMV<br /> -<span class="copy">[All rights reserved]</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></p> - -<div id="frontispiece" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">FLINT HOUSE, ICKLINGHAM -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span> -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 <i>per contra</i>, and what that is -I know very well. Of a few such <i>per contras</i>—they -were to me, and I can only hope that some may be -so to the reader—these “Bird Life Glimpses” are -made up.</p> - -<p class="author"> -EDMUND SELOUS.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Cheltenham</span>, <i>May 1905</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p> - -<h2 id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <th colspan="4">FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i008">“<span class="smcap">At the Quiet Evenfall</span>”<br /> - <i>Wood-Pigeons coming in to Roost</i></a></td> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><i>To face page</i></td> - <td class="tdr">8</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i054"><span class="smcap">The Rules of Precedence</span><br /> - <i>Hooded Crows and Rooks Feeding</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdr">54</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i080"><span class="smcap">A Grand Descent</span><br /> - <i>Herons coming down on to Nest</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdr">80</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i119"><span class="smcap">A Statuesque Figure</span><br /> - <i>Snipe, with Starlings Bathing, and Peewits</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdr">119</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i131"><span class="smcap">Indignant</span><br /> - <i>Starling in possession of Woodpecker’s Nesting Hole</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdr">131</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i198"><span class="smcap">A Pretty Pair</span><br /> - <i>Long-Tailed Tits Building</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdr">198</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="4">CHAPTER HEADPIECES</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4" class="tdr small">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i001"><span class="smcap">Pheasant Roosting</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i021"><span class="smcap">Young Nightjars</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">21</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i051"><span class="smcap">Rooks at Nest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">51</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i072"><span class="smcap">Heron Fishing</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">72 - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i106"><span class="smcap">Male Wheat-ear</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">106</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i129"><span class="smcap">A “Murmuration” of Starlings</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">129</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i163"><span class="smcap">Peewits and Nest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">163</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i194"><span class="smcap">Coal-tit</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">194</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i224"><span class="smcap">Green Woodpecker</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">224</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i239"><span class="smcap">Martins Building Nest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">239</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i261"><span class="smcap">Moorhen and Nest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">261</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><a href="#i296"><span class="smcap">Dabchicks and Nest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">296</td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<div id="i001" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i001.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Pheasant Roosting</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="ph1">BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES</p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -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.</p> - -<div id="i008" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i008.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“AT THE QUIET EVENFALL”<br /> - -<i>Wood-Pigeons coming in to Roost</i></p> -</div> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -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?<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> “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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“A monstrous eft was, of old, the Lord and -Master of Earth,” &c.</p> - -<p>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,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -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. <i>Suum cuique</i> therefore. The poet’s aptitude -is to feel and express; not, as a rule, to discover.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -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 <i>all</i> 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 -<i>pigeon</i>-trees, that and nothing else.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Coal-tits, too, feed much—<i>ne m’en parlez point</i>—on -the delicate little buds at the ends of the clusters -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -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. “<i>Aber frag’ -mich nür nicht wie</i>,” he might say, with Heine, if you -asked him about it.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -be <i>blasé</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -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?</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -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 <i>Kohlmeise</i>, however, is -rather against this hypothesis. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<div id="i021" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i021.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Young Nightjars</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -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,<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -I have seen tame doves of mine act in just the same -way, and here, too, both would coo together upon -the nest.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>au fait</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a>—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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -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 <i>has</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a></p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -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 <i>upon</i> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -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 -<i>nox atra colorem abstulit rebus</i>?</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -tiger.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -of the bamboo<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> 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 <i>felis</i> 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.”<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> 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, “<i>‘Darwin’ laudetur et alget</i>.”</p> - -<p>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 <i>bizarre</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> 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?</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -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 -<i>in toto</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -animals are really as scientific as their anatomies, -and professors of them, when once made, would be -as good as their brothers.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span></p> - -<div id="i051" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i051.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Rooks at Nest</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>affaire</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -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.</p> - -<div id="i054" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i054.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE RULES OF PRECEDENCE<br /> - -<i>Hooded Crows and Rooks Feeding</i></p> -</div> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -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 <i>pesses</i>—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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -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 <i>sæcula -sæculorum</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -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 <i>rendezvous</i>? 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Venus then wakes and wakens love”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -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 -(<i>Ptilorhynchus violaceus</i>), 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 -<i>vice versâ</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>Wonderful as is the architecture and ornamentation -of some of the bowers, as we now know them, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -especially the so-called garden of <i>amblyornis</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Thus, in our own rook we see, perhaps, a -bower-bird <i>in posse</i>, 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 <i>Paradiseidæ</i>,” and -Wallace, in his “Malay Archipelago,” tells us that -“the <i>Paradiseidæ</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -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, -<i>e.g.</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Erfüllt sich der Getriebe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Durch Hunger und durch Liebe.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span></p> - -<div id="i072" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i072.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Heron Fishing</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -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, <i>en voyage</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -Then, standing on the nest together, <i>vis-à-vis</i>, 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.”</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -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.</p> - -<div id="i080" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i080.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A GRAND DESCENT<br /> - -<i>Herons coming down on to Nest</i></p> -</div> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -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;<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> but then <i>give</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>From the length of time which herons spend out -on the marshes, or adjoining warrens, they must, I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -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, <i>bizarre</i> 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, <i>en train</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -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 <i>is</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -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 <i>civilised</i> 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 -<i>modern</i>-ancient Greek type has often a snub nose). -However, no one seems to mind.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -and may be better understood as time goes by. But -this better understanding belongs to the <i>élite</i> 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, <i>as he wrote it</i>, -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 <i>per contra</i> against it. At the time when a -man’s reputation is most established, his work may -be quite neglected, showing that there is knowledge, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -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 <i>cannot</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -fall foul of millions in a second, it being sensitive, -itself, only to thousands. We do, indeed, admit the -“<i>Zeitgeist</i>,” 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?</p> - -<p>“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, <i>à bas</i> 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; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>tune</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -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, “<i>de minimis</i>”—yes, -and “<i>de minoribus</i>,” too, here—“<i>non -curat lex</i>.” <i>Mais laissons tout cela.</i></p> - -<p>There can hardly be a better place for observing -the ways of cuckoos than this open amphitheatre -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -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 -<i>l’un n’empêche pas l’autre</i>.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -same extent that cuckoos do. They have always -seemed to me to be pretty indifferent, and the -<i>canaille</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -done. Space does not allow of my giving these two -instances <i>in extenso</i>, 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span></p> - -<div id="i106" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i106.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Male Wheat-ear</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -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</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Occasionally one hears, from amongst them, a little, -short, musical, piping, note—musical, but</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh tamquam mutatus ab illo.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -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 <i>Lobegesang</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -discovered that they only superficially resembled -<i>them</i>, 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 <i>quelque chose</i>, 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>ought</i> 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. -<i>Fas obstat</i>—but fate, in chestnut, is so soft and pretty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -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 <i>at you</i>, 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—<i>knowing</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -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 <i>peewit</i>!” -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -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. -</p> - -<div id="i119" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i119.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A STATUESQUE FIGURE<br /> - -<i>Snipe, with Starlings Bathing, and Peewits</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>jets d’eaux</i> 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—“<i>im Abendsonnenschein</i>.” -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.</p> - -<p>Starlings, as I have often noticed, seem to enjoy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -the class of feelings by which he is dominated. -But how spring-in-winteryfied is all this!—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And on old Hiem’s thin and icy crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is, as in mockery, set.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -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—<i>e.g.</i> 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 <i>à plusieurs -reprises</i> at some mistle-thrushes, who, each time, fly -away, and come down a little farther on. <i>En -revanche</i> a mistle-thrush attacks a peewit, actually -putting it to flight. It then advances three or four -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -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 <i>clamour</i>, 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.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pibroch of Donuil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wake thy wild voice anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Summon Clan-Conuil.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then there is a note like “tur-li-vee, tur-li-vee, -tur-li-vee,” quickly repeated—sometimes very -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -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,<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -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 -<i>Heimkehr</i> 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,<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p> - -<div id="i129" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i129.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A “Murmuration” of Starlings</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p>Starlings are not birds to make part of an <i>olla -podrida</i> 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 <i>oologist</i>, -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; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -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.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> It is something—balm -in Gilead—yet had it not been for the -starling there might have been more.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -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.”</p> - -<div id="i131" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i131.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">INDIGNANT!<br /> - -<i>Starling in possession of Woodpecker’s Nesting Hole</i></p> -</div> - -<p>But there is another possibility. May not either -the woodpecker or the starling be a cuckoo <i>in -posse</i>? 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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 <i>malgré lui</i>. 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -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.</p> - -<p>It is easier to see how, when the chambers are -completed, the starlings build their nests in them; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -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—<i>immer -munter</i>—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 -<i>how</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -come and watch a colony of starlings at work in a -gravel-pit.</p> - -<p>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 <i>susurrus</i>, -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> -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; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -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?<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -“<i>Fervet opus</i>,” 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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? <i>They</i> do not care about grand -sights or picturesque effects. They would sooner -shoot a pheasant nicely, to see it shut its eyes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -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 <i>look at</i>. 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 -<i>aesthetic</i> 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 <i>Daily Telegraph</i>. -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:—</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -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,<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -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.’”</p> - -<p>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 <i>Standard</i>,<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -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, <i>they</i> 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p> - -<div id="i163" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i163.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Peewits and Nest</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -side, the generative act appears to be performed. -That, at any rate, is what it looks like—the resemblance -could hardly be more exact.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -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 <i>is</i> 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.</p> - -<p>My theory is based upon two assumptions, neither -of which, I think, is in itself improbable. The first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -just <i>these</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -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,”<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Zoologist</i> for March 1897, but which -I had not read at the time these ideas first occurred -to me:—</p> - -<p>“<i>The Nest Made by the Pair Together.</i>—The cock -goes down on to his breast, scraping or kicking the -sand out, backwards, with his feet.... The hen -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -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.)</p> - -<p>“<i>The Little Embankment Round the Nest.</i>—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.”</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -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.</p> - -<p>These nesting habits of the ostrich<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">22</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -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.<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">23</a> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -we can understand why it should, in some cases, -have retained its original character, in this respect.</p> - -<p>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 (<i>der -thierische Trieb</i>) 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.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">24</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -one of these uses—as, <i>e.g.</i>, 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 -<i>tout ensemble</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -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? <i>Mere</i> facts are for children -only. As they begin to point towards conclusions -they become food for men.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -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 <i>rationale</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -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 <i>affaire</i> 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Both the two points that struck me in the fighting -of these snipes, viz. the apparent inability to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -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 -<i>volte face</i> 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -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 <i>los primeros movimientos</i>, 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>antic</i>, 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span></p> - -<div id="i194" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i194.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Coal-tit</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span></p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -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.</p> - -<div id="i198" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i198.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A PRETTY PAIR<br /> - -<i>Long-Tailed Tits Building</i></p> -</div> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -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,<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">25</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -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 -<i>petite</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -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 -<i>Turdidæ</i> help, as a rule, in building the nest, then -this, no doubt, was the ancient state of things, and -<i>vice versâ</i>.</p> - -<p>One might suppose—it would seem likely on a -<i>primâ facie</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -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.</p> - -<p>If the male bird has only caught the habit of -feeding the young from the female, we can the better -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -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 (<i>accipitres</i>), -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">26</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh yet we trust that, somehow, good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will be the final goal of ill.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -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 <i>keenness</i>—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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>en masse</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -it, seems to disagree with all the other books, and -that one is the book of nature.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span></p> - -<div id="i224" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i224.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Green Woodpecker</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -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 <i>not</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span></p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span></p> - -<p><i>Revenons à nos moutons</i>, 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, <i>primâ facie</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Be all this as it may, the female woodpecker, in -the above two instances, was certainly the <i>agente -provocatrice</i>. 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -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—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span></p> - -<div id="i239" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i239.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Martins Building Nest</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -here give in their entirety, since they concern a -bird so loved.</p> - -<p>“<i>May 25, 1900.</i>—This morning I watched a -pair of martlets building their nest against the -wall of my house.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“6.50.—Both birds to the nest. One has a piece -of mud in the bill, which it keeps working about. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“<i>26th.</i>—At 6 <span class="small">A.M.</span> 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 <span class="small">A.M.</span> Another musical meeting, now, and -the arriving bird, finding the musician on the nest, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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, “<i>tempora mutantur, et -nos mutamur in illis</i>,” 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -martins, the rooks, a robin, any of the familiar -<i>homy</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“<i>May 17, 1901.</i>—These birds may have intercommunal -marriages—or something a little <i>outré</i>. -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? <i>Nous -verrons.</i> 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—‘<i>nemo -repente fuit turpissimus</i>.’ 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -carry him out of the sparrow’s danger, though the -latter, at first, attempts a pursuit, which, however, -she soon gives up.</p> - -<p>“<i>18th.</i>—At 6.30 <span class="small">A.M.</span> 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.</p> - -<p>“<i>22nd.</i>—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.</p> - -<p>“<i>23rd.</i>—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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“<i>30th.</i>—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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -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, <i>à propos</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -another nest, than to waste their time in efforts -which, even if at last successful, would make them -the parents of fewer offspring.</p> - -<p>“<i>June 1st.</i>—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.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">27</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“<i>5th.</i>—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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -The harsher sound meant welcome, and the softer -one, unwillingness.</p> - -<p>“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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -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 <i>hirundines</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“<i>24th.</i>—Watching from the landing window, this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -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 <i>vice versâ</i>? I have noticed, -however, with more than one kind of bird, that the -hens seem jealous of each other collecting materials -for the nest.<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">28</a></p> - -<p>“<i>August 3rd.</i>—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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“<i>5th.</i>—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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -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 <i>would</i> 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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., -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -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—“<i>Good</i> boy, but mustn’t do that.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span></p> - -<div id="i261" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i261.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Moorhen and Nest</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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—<i>as</i> 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 -<i>grande finale</i> of all, in which the bird rises to its -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -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—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A timely utterance gives that thought relief.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>It is as though they said, “Shall we? Well then—<i>Now</i> -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 <i>vis-à-vis</i> 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -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, <i>“pas ‘whit,’ -Monsieur Fleurant. Whit! Ah, Monsieur Fleurant, -c’est se moquer. Mettez, mettez ‘queek,’ s’il vous -plaît.</i>” 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.</p> - -<p>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, <i>tout court</i>—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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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—<i>Gallinula chloropus</i>—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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -resented, but I never saw or heard any brawling. -The pretty scene of peaceful, calm, loving proprietorship, -was not once disturbed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -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 <i>pensar en lo imposible</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Here, then, we seem introduced to a new -possibility in bird life—parental prudence, or something -analogous to it, purposely limiting the number -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -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.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">29</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -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 <i>dressed</i> 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 <i>sure</i>, in the other case—nor, indeed, in anything. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span></p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Having often disturbed birds under these or -similar conditions, I can say confidently that the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -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. “<i>Nonnunquam -dormitat bonus Homerus</i>”—“<i>Non semper tendit -arcum Apollo.</i>” It <i>can</i> be quite still, that tail. I -have seen it so—even twenty together, whose owners -were reposefully browsing. But let there be <i>any</i> -kind of emotion, almost, and heavens! how it flirts! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span></p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span> -ground, is extremely noticeable, especially in the -coot, and, in fact, the strange appearance presented -by the whole thing—its <i>bizarrerie</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -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, <i>à propos -de rien</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -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 <i>raison d’être</i>?</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -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 <i>selves</i>, instead of one subliminal <i>self</i>, -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -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 -<i>purview</i>—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.</p> - -<p>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)<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">30</a> 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 <i>one</i> only -of the breeding birds, but <i>both of them</i>, 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -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 <i>d’este jaez</i>, 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 <i>vera -causa</i> of what seems so high and so holy.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -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:<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">31</a> why “the -<i>dæmon</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, <i>what</i> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span></p> - -<div id="i296" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i296.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Dabchicks and Nest</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -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?</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Clanging fights and flaming towns, and sinking ships and praying hands.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>How much good might be done in the world, -could such people, all at once, when about to -be mischievous, be turned into dabchicks!<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">32</a> 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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">33</a> 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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span> -one of the parents, even in the nest—I doubt, -indeed, if I have ever seen them there alone.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span></p> - -<p>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.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">34</a> 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.</p> - -<p>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, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -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 -<i>a</i> 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. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span></p> - -<h2>INDEX</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span></p> - -<h2 id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> - -<ul class="index"><li class="ifrst">Animals, mysterious faculties possessed by, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Animal world, the, its existence ignored by writers on psychical subjects, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Antics, possible origin of some kinds of, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191-193</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Artists, leave the fenlands alone, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Australian parrakeet (<i>Melopsittacus undulatus</i>), roosting habits of, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Australian swan, nest-building actions of the, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Birds, roosting habits of, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Song of, at dawn, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chases <i>à trois</i> of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nuptial rite performed habitually on nest by some, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Some peculiarities in the fighting of, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mixture of pugnacity and timidity in, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their delight in nest-building, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">false ideas on this subject, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Parental love in; from what period does it date? <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Parental affection and instinct of incubation; are they distinct? <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Performance of parental duties by male; in what originating? <a href="#Page_208">208-211</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Male feeding female, remarks on, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nebbing or billing, origin of habit in, <a href="#Page_211">211-213</a></li> -<li class="isub1">More interesting questions in regard to, avoided by ornithologists, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Kiss in proper sense of the word, <a href="#Page_211">211-213</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Collect insects, &c., to feed young, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sexual relations of, <a href="#Page_234">234-236</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Permanent unions of, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Power of expression in, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Cries of, definite significance falsely attributed to, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Maternal ruses practised by, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">suggested origin of these, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Our commoner ones related to foreign species with interesting habits should be more closely observed, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Bird Watching,” referred to, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blackbirds, roosting note of, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Variety of notes of, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Alarm-note, so-called, of, <a href="#Page_5">5</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span></li> -<li class="isub1">Strange actions of, in construction of nest, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hen alone observed to build by author, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">cock seen to, also, by Mr. Dewar, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">transition process probable; but which way? <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Cock does not incubate, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li> -<li class="isub1">But helps feed the young, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blue-Tit, movements of, compared with those of long-tailed tit, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Note of, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Steals materials from blackbird’s nest, to build with, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bower, the, may have grown out of the nest, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">or out of the cleared space where some birds meet to court, &c., <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bower-Birds, possible origin of bowers, &c., of, <a href="#Page_64">64-70</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cat, effects of a, on author’s observations, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chaffinch, hen demolishes the nest of golden-crested wren, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hen alone observed to make nest, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest-building actions of hen, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cheerful constitution, a, a good thing but not a good argument, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Children, death of, in quantity not affecting, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cinnabar moth caterpillar, pupating habits of, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ignored by fowls, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> -<li class="isub1">May offer example of warning coloration, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coal-Tit, feeds on spruce-buds, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">and on larch-buds, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Note of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Motions of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Extracts seeds from fir-cones, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Possible origin of name, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nesting habits of, <a href="#Page_194">194-197</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Flies directly into nest, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Composition of nest of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Size of nest of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Commensalism, possible origin of, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coot, change of coloration in the, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Has become more aquatic than moorhen, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Dives better than moorhen, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Bathes floating on water, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cow-birds, their habit of destroying their own, and foster-parents’, eggs, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cuckoo, comes late in April, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Playground of, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nuptial and social sportings of, <a href="#Page_93">93-95</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Various notes of, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Does the male only say “cuckoo”? <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">difficulty of making sure of this, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">some evidence on the subject, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Tune of, changed before June, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">the old rhyme about, not trustworthy, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Manner of feeding of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Becoming nocturnal, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Persecuted by small birds, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Possible relations to, of small birds, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Not confounded by small birds with hawk, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Dabchicks, haunt the river Lark, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eleven together seen on Lark in winter, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fascination in becoming acquainted with, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Curious note of, <a href="#Page_262">262-264</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and what it suggests, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">is not “whit” but “queek,” <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> -<li class="isub1"><i>Grande Finale</i> of, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Matrimonial duet of, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and what it expresses, <a href="#Page_263">263-265</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">is performed summer and winter, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mate for life, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Observations on a pair of, at Tuddenham, <a href="#Page_296">296-306</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Domestic habits of, <a href="#Page_296">296-320</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Additions to nest by, after apparent completion and during incubation, <a href="#Page_297">297-299</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Such additions seem unnecessary, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Leap on to nest of, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Removal of weed from eggs by, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest of, described, <a href="#Page_298">298</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Close sitting of, on occasions, <a href="#Page_298">298</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eggs sometimes left uncovered by, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Change on the nest of the, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Difficulty in eluding observation of, <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Habit of covering eggs of, seems fluctuating and unintelligent, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">probable origin of the habit, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks fed by parents with weed, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks ride on parent’s back, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Jump up on to nest, with young on back, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sit still in water as though on nest, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Family scenes, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Three chicks on parent’s back, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> -<li class="isub1">One egg out of the four laid by, left unhatched, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pair of, observed from pair of Hatherley steps, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks divided between parents after leaving nest for good, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Subdivision of parental labour in, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Assiduous feeding of chicks by male, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Peep, peep” of, whilst feeding young, <a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks sit under parent’s wing, on back, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Natural hollow on back of, for chicks to sit in, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks rarely sit in true nest with parent except on back, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Dearest chuck,” note of, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Invisibility of chicks on parent’s back, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Parent dives with three chicks on back, <a href="#Page_310">310-312</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks prefer mother’s back, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and mount male’s with more difficulty, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Back of, as seat for young, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks striped like tigers, <a href="#Page_313">313</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span></li> -<li class="isub1">Discovery made in regard to, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Chook-a, chook-a,” note of, <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Moorhen’s nest used by, to sit in with chicks, <a href="#Page_314">314-318</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">probable origin of this habit, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Darwin, views of, as to origin of music, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">ignored by the late Mr. F. W. H. Myers, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Attributes colours of tiger, leopard, jaguar, &c., to sexual selection, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“<i>Laudetur et alget</i>,” <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fenlands, charm of the, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fieldfare, scolding of, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Firs, planted near Icklingham fifty years ago, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Frank Buckland, his brown paper parcel, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> -<li class="isub1">His half-part edition of White’s “Selborne,” <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gilbert White on House-Martins, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">unfair treatment of, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Great Crested Grebe, consummates nuptial rite on the nest, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Great Tit, movements of, compared to those of long-tailed tit, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Green Woodpecker, nest of, often seized by the starling, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">is not much the worse for this, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">possible result of such deprivation, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Feeds on ants, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ants, how procured by, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young of, fed by regurgitation, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Does not bring insects in beak to young, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Almost wholly an ant eater, <a href="#Page_218">218-221</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Contents of excrements of, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Almost as salient an instance of changed habits as Darwin’s La Plata woodpecker, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ant diet of, related to regurgitation of food in feeding young, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Must mate for life, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Conjugal habits in winter, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Tail not required as support, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A fighter, though the contrary has been stated, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Spring tide activities of, account of, <a href="#Page_224">224-238</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hostile demonstrations of, <a href="#Page_225">225</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Its method of fighting, <a href="#Page_226">226-230</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fighting actions of, have become stereotyped, <a href="#Page_227">227-230</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sexual relations of, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Divergence of habits of, from those of the family, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ant-eating habits of, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> -<li class="isub1">How does it roost? <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hatherley steps make good observatory for watching birds, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Heart of man, Chinese proverb in regard to, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hedge-Sparrow, steals building material from blackbird’s nest, <a href="#Page_205">205</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Heron, cries, &c., uttered by, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nuptial flight of, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Uncouth appearance of, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ordinary flight of, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Domestic habits of, <a href="#Page_72">72-80</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Change on the nest, the, <a href="#Page_75">75-78</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sits firm in a hurricane, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A close sitter, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Watchfulness of, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Descent of pair on to nest, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Can rise with single flap, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eats frogs, moles, mice, shrews, &c., <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Its manner of catching and eating fish, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Delicacy of beak, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Beak of, compared with human hand, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Serratures in beak, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Serrated claw of, how used, <a href="#Page_84">84-86</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Management of large eel by, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Supposed filament of, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stalks his prey, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Settling on nest, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sometimes overbalances in catching fish, &c., <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Heronry, a, near Icklingham, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The awakening of the, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Historians, their song to an old tune, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hooded-Crow, common in West Suffolk during winter, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Called “carrion crow” by the people, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Feeding habits of, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Haunt open warren lands, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mingle with rooks, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Disagreements of, with rooks, <a href="#Page_52">52-54</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fighting methods of, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Rules of precedence of, when feeding in company, <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Gregarious instincts of, compared with those of rooks, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> -<li class="isub1">May sometimes roost with rooks, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eats thistle roots, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mysterious relations of, with rooks, <a href="#Page_58">58-60</a></li> -<li class="isub1">One seen flying with peewits, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> - -<li class="indx">House-Martin, domestic habits of, <a href="#Page_239">239-259</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest building of, <a href="#Page_240">240-243</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246-248</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Musical meetings of, <a href="#Page_242">242-244</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Gilbert White’s reference to slow rate of building of, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">his explanation of this not the true one, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Possible intercommunal marriages of, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sexual relations of, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Oppressed by sparrows, <a href="#Page_243">243-246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Quick building of nest of, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Social and communistic relations of, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fighting of, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Apparent inability to resist sparrows, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Suggested explanation of this, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Builds nest on site of old one, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">curious fact in relation to this, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young, feeding of, <a href="#Page_253">253-257</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young, fed by regurgitation, <a href="#Page_254">254-258</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Insects, how caught by, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span></li> -<li class="isub2">and how brought to young, <a href="#Page_257">257-259</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Icklingham, where situated, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The country about, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Some seven miles from the fenlands, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Incubation, is instinct of, differentiated from parental love? <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Instinct, may sometimes have grown out of mere mechanical movements, <a href="#Page_179">179-180</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">evidence in regard to this, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Resulting from lapsed intelligence, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Intimations of immortality,” supposed, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Jackdaws, seem conscious of their superiority when with rooks, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Decorate their nests, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jaguar, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kestrel flying with peewits, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kissing, origin of, in man probably utilitarian, <a href="#Page_211">211-213</a></li> -<li class="isub1">In relation to birds, <a href="#Page_211">211-213</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Landseer, false criticism of, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Masterpiece of, removed from the National Gallery, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Larks, various ways of mounting and descending of, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Individual variety in flight of, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Winter ways of, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Piping note in winter of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Song in February of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chases <i>à trois</i> of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Change locality according to season, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Leopard, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lesser Spotted Woodpecker brings collection of insects in beak to feed young, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lion, theory of protective colouring in regard to, questioned, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Long-tailed Tit, roosting habits of, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Movements of, <a href="#Page_16">16-18</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">compared with those of blue tit, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Aerial forced march of, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Note of, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest-building habits of, <a href="#Page_198">198-204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Origin of dome of nest of, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and of entrance to, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Uniform way of entering and leaving nest of, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Contortionist powers of, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Approaches and leaves nest by one set path, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The “sweep” up to nest of, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Man, the chief animal in this world only, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Maternal affection, beauty of, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> -<li class="isub1">All hail to, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mellersh, Mr., letter of, to <i>Standard</i> about starlings referred to, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Migration, facts of, marginal reference to, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Missel-Thrush, harsh strident note of, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Puts a peewit to flight, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Skirmishes of, with stone-curlews, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Retreats with honour, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Moorhen, haunts the river Lark, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pair of, built yearly in author’s pond, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Supernumerary nests made by, <a href="#Page_265">265-269</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sits in two or more nests, <a href="#Page_266">266-269</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Bathing habits of, <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Special bathing-places of, public and private, <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pronounced habit of over-building of, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Destruction of its own eggs by, <a href="#Page_269">269-273</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">possible explanation of this habit, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">may be compared with that of the cow-birds of America, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Continued building of nest by, during incubation and rearing of young, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Due, probably, to a blind impulse, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Legs of, gartered in male alone, <a href="#Page_275">275</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Triple successive coloration of the cere in, <a href="#Page_275">275</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Difficulty of explaining this, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Precocity of young, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fear of man in the newly-hatched chick, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Carries shell of hatched egg to shore, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young, fed by dams, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young, notes of, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Maternal cries of, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Clucking note of, to call young, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and for other uses, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Variety of expression in cries of young, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Young, sit in nest with one parent, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> -<li class="isub1">No maternal ruse employed by, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">material for the evolution of one possibly observed, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nerves of, highly strung, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Effect of report of gun on, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Motions, actions, &c., of, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A bundle of caprices, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Habit of flirting tail of, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pugnacity of, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Scene in “The Rivals” acted by, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Warlike display of, <a href="#Page_281">281-283</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Method of fighting of, <a href="#Page_283">283-285</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">is essentially unaquatic, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pugnacity of, even in winter, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Bathes only in shallow water, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Analogy between some actions of, and more developed ones of Ypecaha rail, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nuptial antic or pose of, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Emotional hermaphroditism of, <a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Interchangeable performance of nuptial rite in sexes of, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">bearing of this on questions of nature and origin of sexual display, and of inter-sexual selection, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">as, also, on the subliminal self theory, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Myers, the late Mr. F. W. H., has ignored Darwin’s views as to origin of musical faculty in man, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Natural history, no finality in, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nature, sometimes looks unnatural, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Two voices of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Full of irony, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nest, false, of peewit, the, <a href="#Page_166">166-168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">is the real nest, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Of birds, suggested origin of the, <a href="#Page_168">168-180</a></li> -<li class="isub1">May have been originally a <i>thalamum</i> more especially, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Was once put to two uses habitually, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">as it still is in some instances, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nest-building instinct, suggested origin of, in birds, <a href="#Page_168">168-184</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nightingale, hen alone seen to build, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nightjar, common about Icklingham, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sits on extreme tip-top of spruce or larch, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Its habit of clapping its wings, <a href="#Page_21">21-23</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">sometimes a great many times consecutively, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Quaw-ee,” note of, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Beauty of flight and aerial mastery of, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A new sensation obtained by seeing it, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Domestic habits of, <a href="#Page_23">23-37</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Change on the nest of, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Churring note uttered by both sexes, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Expressive power of the churr, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Incubation shared by male and female, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sexes hard to distinguish, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Male less skilful in incubation than female, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hen, the more assiduous sitter, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Interesting scene observed, <a href="#Page_26">26-29</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Method of moving eggs adopted by, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mahomet and the mountain, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Both parents feed chicks, <a href="#Page_29">29</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Low querulous note of, whilst in unharassed circumstances, <a href="#Page_29">29</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks fed by regurgitation, <a href="#Page_29">29-32</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Probable mode of catching insects of, <a href="#Page_30">30-33</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Kind of insects, &c., mostly eaten by, <a href="#Page_31">31-33</a></li> -<li class="isub1">An aerial whale, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Difference in size between the two chicks of, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Early quiescence and later activity of chicks, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nesting site gradually deserted, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks called up by parents, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Maternal ruse practised by, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Anxiety of parents in regard to chicks, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chicks walk or run easily, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">as do also the grown birds, <a href="#Page_37">37</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nuptial rite may be performed on the ground, <a href="#Page_37">37</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Variety of notes of, <a href="#Page_37">37-39</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">no special limited meaning assignable to these, <a href="#Page_37">37-39</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Resemblance of, to piece of fir-bark, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">possible meaning of such resemblance, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Generally protective colouring in relation to incubative, &c., habits of, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span></li> -<li class="isub1">Returns, each year, to same locality, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Has favourite trees and branches, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Does not always nest in same spot, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nuptial antics, suggested origin of, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Optimists, as reasoners, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ostrich, nesting habits of, as described by Mr. Cronwright Schreiner, <a href="#Page_176">176-178</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">suggestions as to the meaning and origin of these, <a href="#Page_177">177-179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Rolling of, in courtship, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Two kinds of, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ornithologists, works of seem written to assist bird-nesters, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Parasitic instinct, in birds, possible origin of, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parental ruses, suggested origin of, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Partridges, curious chasings of one another of, <a href="#Page_188">188-191</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">nature and suggested explanation of, <a href="#Page_189">189-192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Peewits, repair to fens towards end of October for the winter, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Return in February, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Appearance, &c., of, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their way of bathing, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and of feeding, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chased by missel-thrush, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Rolling and other strange sexual antics of, <a href="#Page_163">163-166</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">nature of such movements, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171-173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">theory founded upon them as to origin of nest-building amongst birds, <a href="#Page_166">166-184</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“False nests” of, <a href="#Page_166">166-168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">not essentially differing from the real nest, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“<i>Pesses</i>,” formerly used in Icklingham church, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pheasant, at roosting time, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Roosting habits of, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Trumpety note of, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Soft note of, at roosting, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Partial paralysis produced in, by sudden fright, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A cock, put to flight by stone-curlew, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philistines, the, bloodthirsty shouts of, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> -<li class="isub1">False plea of the, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Having no appreciation of anything, can destroy everything with impunity, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hypocritical pretence of, to an æsthetic motive, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poet, the, not a teacher, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> -<li class="isub1">His aptitude to feel and express, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Protective coloration theory, unsatisfactory in regard to tiger, leopard, jaguar, &c., <a href="#Page_43">43-49</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Inapplicable to animals that hunt at night by scent, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Versus sexual selection, <a href="#Page_43">43-50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Psychical Research Society, great mistake made by, <a href="#Page_143">143-145</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Its man-worshipping attitude, <a href="#Page_143">143-145</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Its neglect of the comparative method, <a href="#Page_143">143-145</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Indifferent to field natural history, <a href="#Page_145">145</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Should let the dogs into church, <a href="#Page_145">145</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Conclusions of, reared on too narrow a basis of fact and observation, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Rabbits, the stamping of, with hind legs may have various meanings, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Theory in regard to white tail of, unsubstantiated, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Browse lichen, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li> -<li class="isub1">One warming his paws at camp fire, <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rhyme, old, about cuckoo changing its tune in June not trustworthy, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Truth sacrificed for sake of, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> -<li class="isub1">So-called cockney, the, the bugbear of pedants and purists, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fetters of, should be loosened, not tightened, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> - -<li class="indx">River Lark, description of, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rooks, feeding habits of, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mingle with hooded crows, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Disagreements of, with hooded crows, <a href="#Page_52">52-54</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Rules of precedence of, when feeding in company, <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Fighting methods of, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Partial reversion of some, to less social state, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Gregarious instinct of, sometimes in abeyance, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eat roots of thistles, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> -<li class="isub1">May sometimes roost singly, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Are more civilised than the hooded crow, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mysterious relations of, with the hooded crow, <a href="#Page_58">58-60</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Visits of, to nesting-trees during winter, <a href="#Page_60">60-63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">reasons for, and suggested origin of these visits, <a href="#Page_63">63-70</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compared to bower-birds, <a href="#Page_64">64-70</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Often pair on nest, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Are swayed by love in winter as well as in summer, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their round of life during winter, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sand-martins, fight violently, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Late appearance of several, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Schiller, his two great forces “hunger and love,” <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Has forgotten sleep, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scott, his style not appreciated by the inappreciative, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sense of direction referred to, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sexual selection, prejudice in regard to theory of, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">the reason for this, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> -<li class="isub1">May account for white tail in rabbit, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> -<li class="isub1">And for posterior markings, colours, &c., generally, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stripes and spots of tiger, leopard, jaguar, zebra, &c., probably due to, <a href="#Page_43">43-50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shag, decorates its nest with flowers, &c., <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“She oaks,” characteristic of country round Icklingham, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Of the poplar tribe, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their great size, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Are, fortunately, valueless, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sleep, a third ruling power, forgotten by Schiller, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Snipe, one as part of picturesque scene, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their odd, stereotyped way of fighting, <a href="#Page_185">185-189</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">and of pursuing one another, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">suggested explanation of these and similar phenomena exhibited by other birds, <a href="#Page_190">190-193</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Song-Thrush, a fighter, though said not to be, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sparrow with a grievance, a, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest-building habits of, <a href="#Page_245">245-247</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Oppression of house-martins by, <a href="#Page_243">243-246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spiders, one answers query, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hibernate under bark of trees, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spiritualism, doctrine of, does not answer certain questions, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Makes best of bad job, but the bad job remains, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Presents many difficulties, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spur-winged lapwing, antics, <i>à trois</i> of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suggested origin of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Starlings, bathing, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Feeding over the land, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Enjoy company of peewits, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A single one flying with peewits, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> -<li class="isub1">One welcomed back by another, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Have hearts even in winter, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Imitate note of peewit, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Relations of, with green woodpecker, <a href="#Page_129">129-132</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">may lead to one or other acquiring parasitic instinct, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li> -<li class="isub1">As architects, <a href="#Page_133">133-136</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Their nests in sand-pits, <a href="#Page_133">133-135</a></li> -<li class="isub1">How made? <a href="#Page_133">133-136</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Social nesting habits of, <a href="#Page_136">136-138</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Make morality seem a bore, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Roosting habits of, <a href="#Page_138">138-154</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Flocking of, before roosting, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> -<li class="isub1"><i>Susurrus</i>, or sing-song of, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Erratic descent into trees of, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Simultaneous aerial movement amongst large bodies of, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">some form of thought-transference seems necessary to explain these, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Distinctive note uttered by, whilst flying, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Twitter whilst flying, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Varied entry of, into roosting place, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Exodus of, from wood in regiments, <a href="#Page_147">147-152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">back regiments fly first, <a href="#Page_150">150</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Breaking back of, during exodus, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Increase altitude when passing hedges, &c., <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Great flights of, a study for Turner, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Poetry in numbers of, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Actions of, in the roosting place, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">a disseminating process observable, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">slow diminution of the sing-song, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">sudden flights and scurryings, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">silence not till long after nightfall, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Morning flight out from roosting-place, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">takes place by successive bands or regiments, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Kind of bushes, &c., chosen to roost in, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">possible explanation of this, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Letter written to <i>Daily Telegraph</i> about, <a href="#Page_157">157-160</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span></li> -<li class="isub1">Good done by, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Harm done by, to fruit inconsiderable, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Small space occupied by, to sleep in, <a href="#Page_157">157-161</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Do no harm to song-birds, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Do not “infest,” but country gentlemen do, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Statesmen, good that might be done by “translation” of, into dabchicks, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stevenson, style of, preferred by Stevenson to Scott’s, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> -<li class="isub1">But not by author, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stock-dove, odd formalities in combats of, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">explanation of these, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stone-chat, his motions, &c., <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> -<li class="isub1">An angry bird, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li> -<li class="isub1">His tail flirted at you, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">his certain answer if questioned on the subject, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Variation in appearance of, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stone-curlew, a special feature of country round Icklingham, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Often feeds with peewits, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> -<li class="isub1">A fighter, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Puts a cock pheasant to flight, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Skirmishes of, with missel-thrushes, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Warlike display of rival males, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">not employed when attacking another species, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">suggested explanation of this, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Sad cry of, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The <i>clamour</i> of, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Other notes of, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Cry of, recalling piping of oyster-catcher, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The gathering of the clans, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pursued by sparrow-hawk, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> -<li class="isub1">The <i>Heimkehr</i> of, in the early morning, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Is <i>di-nocturnal</i>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> -<li class="isub1">More active during the day in spring, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Crouching habits of, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Evening dances of, in autumn, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Migration of, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Subliminal self, theory of the, a criticism of, <a href="#Page_289">289-294</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Numerous objections to, <a href="#Page_292">292-294</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Author’s counter hypothesis to, of innumerable ancestral subliminal <i>selves</i>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Swallow tribe, the, insects, how caught and swallowed by, <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Swan, nest-building actions of the male, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Test of time,” the, a misleading expression, <a href="#Page_89">89-92</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tiger, protective coloration theory in regard to, questioned, <a href="#Page_43">43-45</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Beauty of the, Darwin’s view as to how acquired, <a href="#Page_44">44-46</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Coloration of, in relation to man, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chinese proverb in regard to Coreans and the, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Eye-witness’s account of the stalking of a cow by a, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Titlark, mounting and descent of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> -<li class="isub1">More like a lark than a wagtail, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">resembles a wagtail also, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li> -<li><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Tits, a feature of Icklingham, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tree-pipit, voice of, like the skylark’s, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tuddenham, observations on pair of dabchicks at, <a href="#Page_296">296-306</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Voice, importance of the, in classification, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Water-wagtail, courting actions of male, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">similarity in, to those of pheasant, <a href="#Page_114">114</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nest of, in that of song-thrush, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Hen alone seems to incubate, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Alternates eating with building, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Open bills of young, like Venetian glass vases, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Collects a number of flies, &c., for young, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Beauty of maternal love as exemplified by, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Skill of, in collecting flies, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Weather, the, and the cries of birds, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wheatear, characteristic of the steppes of Icklingham, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Arrival of first pair of, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Arrives in splendid plumage, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Ways of the male, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Plumage of male, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Courtship of male, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Curious sexual actions of male, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wood-pigeons, cooing of, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Roosting of, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Emotions raised by rushing sound of wings of, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub2">remarks as to this, <a href="#Page_10">10-12</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Numbers of, in West Suffolk, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> -<li class="isub1"><i>Pigeon-trees</i> made by, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Less characteristic coo of, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Single one flying with starlings, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Partial paralysis produced in, by sudden fright, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wordsworth, his “intimations of immortality” due to the laws of inheritance, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> -<li class="isub1">No evidence contained in the famous ode of, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wren, house-hunting of, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Food of, in winter, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Seen to enter long-tailed tit’s nest in absence of owner, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ypecaha rails, screaming dances of, referred to, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> -</ul> - -<p class="copy"> -Printed by <span class="smcap">Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.</span><br /> -Edinburgh & London<br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span></p> - -<div id="i336" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i336.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"> -GEORGE ALLEN<br /> -PUBLISHER LONDON<br /> -RUSKIN HOUSE<br /> -156 CHARING CROSS ROAD</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h2 id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> -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?</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> -As reported in “Proceedings,” March 1902. Part xliii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> -Or in The Tempest as produced and acted at Stratford-on-Avon -during the last anniversary.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> -The accuracy of Jenner’s observations on this point, was -questioned, not long since, by his enemies: but most triumphantly -was it vindicated.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a> -Or some days later.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> -The pursuit, namely, just alluded to; but the birds were soon -lost amongst the nettles.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> -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 -<i>he</i> 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?</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">8</a> -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.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">9</a> -“Descent of Man,” pp. 543, 545.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">10</a> -Darwin mentions one conspicuous instance.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">11</a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“As the pine shakes off the snow-flakes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the midnight of its branches.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><br /></span> -<span class="i12">—<i>Hiawatha</i>, xix.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">12</a> -By inappreciative <i>asses</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">13</a> -Or the man he quotes—and absorbs.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">14</a> -“Bird Watching,” p. 28.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">15</a> -“Bird Watching,” pp. 9-15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">16</a> -The <i>nakedness</i> in this case rather; but I use the term conventionally.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">17</a> -Or might be, if any one cared to witness them. Nobody does.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">18</a> -“The Descent of Man,” pp. 41, 42.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">19</a> -“Bird Watching,” p. 284.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">20</a> -December 8, 1904, I think, or thereabouts.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">21</a> -Page <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">22</a> -There are two kinds of ostriches—the scientific, or professorial -kind, that behaves in a way peculiar to itself, because it is “a <i>ratite</i> -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 <i>Zoologist</i>, as mentioned above.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">23</a> -“Bird Watching,” pp. 60, 61.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">24</a> -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.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">25</a> -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.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">26</a> -Something, that is to say, of a <i>utilitarian</i> nature. One should -watch monkeys also.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">27</a> -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.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">28</a> -“Bird Watching,” pp. 104, 105.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">29</a> -Hudson’s “Argentine Ornithology,” vol. i., pp. 72-79.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">30</a> -The facts of migration should be studied in regard to this. -See Professor Newton’s “A Dictionary of Birds,” pp. 562-570.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">31</a> -Compare, for instance, with the “Out of the Deeps,” &c., -these lines of Catullus—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Soles occidere, et redire possunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nox est perpetua una dormenda.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">32</a> -“Translated,” like Bottom—but more radically.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">33</a> -But see pp. <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_328">320</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">34</a> -See <i>ante</i>, pp. <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</p></div> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<hr /> -<p> </p> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 51733-h.htm or 51733-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/7/3/51733">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/3/51733</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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