Of all the interesting points on which Mr. Dixon touches in his
"Curiosities of Bird Life," perhaps none is more remarkable than the
strange antics in which some birds indulge, especially at the pairing
season. With what odd gestures will a smartly dressed Cock sparrow, for
instance, endeavor to cut a good figure in the eyes of his demure and
sober-tinted lady-love!
To a similar performance, though with more of dignity and action about
it, the Blackcock treats his wives, for, unlike the better conducted
though often much calumniated sparrow, he is not satisfied with a single
mate. One of the most characteristic of spring sounds on Exmoor, as
evening darkens, or, still more, in the early hours of the morning, is
the challenge of the Blackcock. In the month of April he who is abroad
early enough may watch, upon the russet slopes of Dunkery, a little
party of Blackcock at one of their recognized and probably ancestral
meeting-places, by one of the little moorland streams, or on the wet
edge of some swampy hollow. Each bird crouches on a hillock, in the
oddest of attitudes--its head down, its wings a-droop, its beautiful
tail raised--and utters at intervals strange, almost weird notes,
sometimes suggestive of the purr of a Turtle-dove, and sometimes more
like the cry of chamois.
Presently an old cock, grand in his new black coat, will get up and
march backward and forward with his neck stretched out and his wings
trailing on the ground. Now he leaps into the air, sometimes turning
right round before he alights, and now again he crouches close upon his
hillock. It is said that in places where black game are few a single
cock will go through all this by himself, or at least with only his
wives for witnesses. But if there are more cocks than one, the
proceedings generally end with a fight. Where the birds are numerous the
young cocks, who are not allowed to enter the arena with their elders,
hold unauthorized celebrations of their own.
There are many birds which thus, like higher mortals, have their fits
of madness in the days of courtship. But there are some, such as the
spur-winged Lapwing of La Plata, which are, like the lady in the song,
so fond of dancing, especially of what the natives call their serious
dance, meaning a square one, that they indulge in such performances all
the year, not in the daytime only, but even on moonlight nights. "If,"
says Mr. Hudson, who tells the story, "a person watches any two birds
for some time--for they live in pairs--he will see another Lapwing, one
of a neighboring couple, rise up and fly to them, leaving his own mate
to guard their chosen ground, and instead of resenting this visit as an
unwarranted intrusion on their domain, as they would certainly resent
the approach of almost any other bird, they welcome it with notes and
signs of pleasure. Advancing to the visitor, they place themselves
behind it; then all three keeping step, begin a rapid march, uttering
resonant drumming notes in time with their movements; the notes of the
pair behind them being emitted in a stream, like a drum roll, while the
leader utters loud single notes at regular intervals. The march ceases;
the leader elevates his wings and stands motionless and erect, still
uttering loud notes, while the other two with puffed-out plumage, and
standing exactly abreast, stoop forward and downward until the top of
their beaks touch the ground, and, sinking their rhythmical voices to a
murmur, remain for some time in this posture. The performance is then
over and the visitor goes back to his own ground and mate, to receive a
visitor himself later on."--_London Daily News._
[Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.
PURPLE FINCH.
Copyright by
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.]