FLAMINGOES
THE QUEST FOR THEIR "INCUNABULA"
[Illustration: A TYPICAL SIGHT IN THE MARISMA]
The flamingo stands in a class apart. Allied to no other
bird-form--hardly so much as related--it may be regarded almost as a
separate act of creation. Its nesting habits, and the method by which a
bird of such abnormal build could incubate its eggs, formed for
generations a "vexed question" in bird-life. The story of the efforts
made by British naturalists to solve the problem ranks among the
classics of ornithology. The marismas of Guadalquivir were early known
to be one of the few European _incunabula_ of the flamingo; but their
vast extent--"as big as our eastern counties," Howard Saunders
wrote--and the irregularity of the seasons (since flamingoes only remain
to nest in the wettest years) combined to frustrate exploration. First
in the field was Lord Lilford--as early as 1856; and both during that
and the two succeeding decades he and Saunders (who appeared on the
scene in 1864) undertook repeated journeys--all in vain. The record of
these makes splendid reading, and will be found as follows:--
Lord Lilford, "On the Breeding of the Flamingo in Spain," _Proceedings
Zoological Society of London_, 1880, pp. 446-50; Howard Saunders,
_ibid._, 1869, and the same authority in the _Ibis_, 1871, pp. 394 _et
seq._
The late Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria, who visited Spain in May 1879,
likewise failed to reach the nesting spot--apparently through the usual
cause, not going far enough--though a few eggs were found scattered on
the wet mud of the marisma. (Recorded by Lord Lilford as above.)
Thus the question remained unsettled till 1883, when a favouring season
enabled the present authors to succeed where greater ornithologists had
striven in vain.
[Illustration]
A venerable apologue attaches to the nesting habit of the flamingo.
Owing to the length of its legs, it was assumed that the bird could not
incubate in the ordinary manner of birds, and that, therefore, it stood
astraddle on a nest built up to the requisite height--a combination of
unproved assumption with inconsequential deduction. 'Twere ungracious to
be wise after the event, yet, in fact, this fable passed current as
"Natural History" for precisely two centuries--from 1683, when Dampier
so described the nesting of flamingoes on the Cape de Verde Islands,[48]
till 1883, when the present authors had opportunity of observing a
flamingo-colony in southern Spain.
Flamingoes do not nest every year in the Spanish marismas. Their doing
so depends on the season, and only in very wet years is the attempt
made. Rarely, even then, are young hatched off, so persistently are the
wastes raided by egg-lifters, who sweep up by wholesale every edible
thing, and to whom a "Flamingo City," with its hundreds of big eggs all
massed together--a boat-load for the gathering--represents an El Dorado.
As early as 1872 eggs were brought to us--taken by our own marshmen on
May 24--but it was not till 1883 that we enjoyed seeing an occupied
nest-colony ourselves.
More than a quarter-century has sped since then, yet we cannot do better
than substantially transcribe the narrative as recorded in _Wild Spain_.
During the month of April we searched the marismas systematically for
the nesting-places of flamingoes, but, though exploring large
areas--riding many leagues in all directions through mud and water
varying from a few inches to full three feet in depth--yet no sign of
nests was then encountered. Flamingoes there were in thousands, together
with a wealth of aquatic bird-life that we will not stop here to
describe. But the water was still too deep, the mud-flats and new-born
islets not yet sufficiently dried for purposes of nidification. The only
species that actually commenced to lay in April were the coots, purple
herons, peewits, Kentish plovers, stilts, redshanks, and a few more.
April was clearly too early, and the writer lost nearly a week through
an attack of ague, brought on by constant splashing about in
comparatively cold water while a fierce sun always beat down on one's
head. In May the luck improved. Far away to the eastward flamingoes had
always been most numerous, and once or twice we observed (early in May)
signs that resembled the first rude beginnings of architecture, and
encouraged us to persevere in what had begun to appear an almost
hopeless quest.
_May 9_ (1883).--The effects of dawn over the vast desolations of the
marisma were specially lovely this morning. Before sunrise the distant
peaks of the Serranía de Ronda (seventy miles away) lay flooded in a
blood-red light, and appearing quite twice their usual height. Half an
hour later the mountains sank back in a golden glow, and long before
noon had utterly vanished in quivering heat-haze and the atmospheric
fantasies of infinite space. Amidst chaotic confusion of mirage effects
we rode out across the wilderness: at first over dry mud-flats sparsely
carpeted with dwarf scrub of marsh plants, or in places bare and naked,
the sun-scorched surface cracked into rhomboids and parallelograms, and
honeycombed with yawning cattle-tracks made long ago when the mud was
moist and plastic; then through shallow marsh and stagnant waters
gradually deepening. Here from a patch of rush hard by sprang three
hinds with their fawns and splashed away through the shallows, their
russet pelts gleaming in the early sunlight. Gradually the water
deepened; "mucha agua, mucho fango!" groaned our companion, Felipe; but
this morning we meant to reach the very heart of the marisma, and before
ten o'clock were cooking our breakfast on a far-away islet whereon never
British foot had trod before, and which was literally strewn with
avocets' eggs, while nests of stilts, redshanks, pratincoles, and many
more lay scattered around.
[Illustration: STILTS DISTURBED AT THEIR NESTING-PLACE]
During this day we discovered two nests of the slender-billed gull
(_Larus gelastes_), not previously known to breed in Spain; also, we
then believed, those of the Mediterranean black-headed gull (_L.
melanocephalus_), though the latter were afterwards ascribed by
oological experts (perhaps correctly) to the gull-billed tern (_Sterna
anglica_), a species whose eggs we also found by the dozen.
The immense aggregations of flamingoes which, in wet seasons, throng the
middle marismas can scarce be described. Our bird-islets lay so remote
from the low-lying shores that no land whatever was in sight; but the
desolate horizon that surrounded them was adorned by an almost unbroken
line of pink and white that separated sea and sky over the greater part
of the circle. On examining the different herds narrowly through
binoculars, an obvious dissimilarity was discovered in the appearance of
certain groups. One or two in particular seemed so much denser than the
others; the narrow white line looked three times as thick, and in the
centre gave the idea that the birds were literally piled upon each
other. Felipe suggested that these flamingoes must be at their
_pajeréra_, or breeding-place, and after a long wet ride we found that
this was the case. The water was very deep, the bottom clinging mud; at
intervals the laboured plunging of the mule was exchanged for an easier,
gliding motion--he was swimming. The change was a welcome relief to man
and beast; but the labours undergone during these aquatic rides
eventuated in the loss of one fine mule, a powerful beast worth £60.
[Illustration: FLAMINGOES AND THEIR NESTS]
On approach, the cause of the peculiar appearance of the flamingo city
from a distance became clearly discernible. Hundreds of birds were
sitting down on a low mud-island, hundreds more were standing erect
thereon, while others stood in the water alongside. Thus the different
elevations of their bodies formed what had appeared a triple or
quadruple line.
On reaching the spot, we found a perfect mass of nests. The low, flat
mud-plateau was crowded with them as thickly as its space permitted. The
nests had little or no height above the dead-level mud--some were raised
an inch or two, a few might reach four or five inches in height, but the
majority were merely circular bulwarks of mud barely raised above the
general level, and bearing the impression of the bird's legs distinctly
marked upon the periphery. The general aspect of the plateau might be
likened to a large table covered with plates. In the centre was a deep
hole full of muddy water, which, from the gouged appearance of its
sides, had probably supplied the birds with building material.
[Illustration]
Scattered round the main colony were many single nests, rising out of
the water and evidently built up from the bottom. Here and there two or
three of these were joined together--"semi-detached," so to speak. These
isolated nests stood some eight inches above water-level, and as the
depth exceeded a foot, their total height would be two feet or
thereabouts, and their width across the hollowed top, some fifteen
inches. None of the nests as yet contained eggs, and though we returned
to the _pajeréra_ on the latest day we were in its neighbourhood (May
11), they still remained empty. On both occasions many hundreds of
flamingoes were sitting on the nests, and on the 11th we enjoyed
excellent views at close quarters. Linked arm-in-arm with Felipe, and
crouching low on the water to look as little human as possible, we had
approached within seventy yards before the sentries first showed signs
of alarm; and at that distance, with binoculars, observed the sitting
flamingoes as distinctly as one need wish. The long red legs doubled
under their bodies, the knees projecting slightly beyond the tail, and
the graceful necks neatly curled away among their back feathers like a
sitting swan, some heads resting on the breasts--all these points were
unmistakable. Indeed, as regards the disposition of the legs in an
incubating flamingo, no other attitude was possible since, in the great
majority of cases, the nests were barely raised above the level of the
mud-plateau. To sit _astride_ on a _flat_ surface is out of the
question.
Inexplicable it seems that the flamingo, a bird that spends its life
half knee-deep in water, should so long delay the period of incubation.
For long ere eggs could be hatched, and young reared, the full summer
heats of June and July would already have set in, water would have
utterly disappeared, and the flamingoes be left stranded in a scorching
desert of sun-baked mud.
[Illustration]
Being unable ourselves to return to the marisma, we sent Felipe back on
May 26, when he obtained eggs--long, white, and chalky, some specimens
extremely rugged. Two is the number laid in each nest. In 1872 we had
obtained six eggs taken on May 24, which may therefore, probably, be
taken as the average date of laying. There remains, nevertheless, the
bare possibility that eggs had been laid before our visit on May 9, but
swept up meanwhile by egg-raiders.
The flamingo city "in being" above described was the first seen by
ornithologists, and the observations we were enabled to make settled at
last the position and mode of incubation of the flamingo.[49]
Science is impersonal, the impulsion of a naturalist springs from
devotion to his subject, and from no extrinsic motive--such as personal
kudos. Nevertheless, we make this categoric claim for ourselves simply
because the credit, _quantum valeat_, has since been (not claimed
straight away, but rather) insinuated on behalf of others who didn't
earn it--analogous with the case of Dr. Cook and the North Pole.
Where do these thousands of Spanish flamingoes breed, and how do they
maintain their numbers, when Spain, three years out of five, is _too
dry_ for nesting purposes? The only obvious answer is, Africa. And,
though incapable yet of direct proof, that answer is clearly correct.
For flamingoes are essentially denizens of the tropic zone. The few that
ever overlap into southern Europe are but a fraction of their swarming
millions farther south. During our own expeditions into British East
Africa, we found flamingoes in vast abundance on all the equatorial
lakes we visited--Baringo, Nakuru, Elmenteita, Naivasha, and,
especially, Lake Hannington, where, during past ages, they have so
polluted the foreshores as to preclude human occupation. These were the
same flamingoes, a few of which "slop over" into Europe; we shot two
specimens with the rifle in Nakuru to prove that.[50]
Flamingoes are not migratory in an ordinary sense--birds born on the
equator seldom are. Their movements have no seasonal character, but
depend on the rainfall and the varying condition of the lagoons at
different points within their range. Here, in Spain, we see them coming
and going, to and fro, at all seasons according to the state of the
marisma--and a striking colour-study they present when pink battalions
contrast with dark-green pine beneath and set off by deepest azure
above.
In 1907 flamingoes attempted to establish a nesting-colony at a spot
called Las Albacias in the marisma of Hinojos. A mass of nests was
already half built, then suddenly abandoned. "If the shadow of a cloud
passes over them, they forsake," say the herdsmen of the wilderness.
[Illustration: FLAMINGOES ON THEIR NESTS.]
Quantities of drift grass and weed are always found floating where a
herd has been feeding, which at first led us to suppose that their food
consisted of water-plants (as with geese), but that is not the case.
The floating grasses are only incidentally uprooted by the birds while
delving in the mud. The Spanish marshmen say flamingoes "live on mud,"
and truly an examination of their crops appears to confirm this. But the
mud is only taken in because of the masses of minute creatures
(_animalculae_) which it contains, and which form the food of the
flamingo. What precisely these living atoms are would require both a
microscopical examination and a knowledge of zoophites to determine. The
tongue of a flamingo is a thick, fleshy organ filling the whole cavity
of the mandibles, and furnished with a series of flexible bony spikes,
or hooks, nearly half an inch long and curving inwards. Flamingoes'
tongues are said to have formed, an epicurean dish in Roman days.
However that may be, we found them, on trial, quite uneatable--tough as
india-rubber; even our dogs refused the "delicacy." This bird's flesh is
dark-red and rank, quite uneatable.
In the New World the mystery of the nesting habits of the flamingo
(_Phoenicopterus ruber_) was solved just three years later, and in a
precisely similar sense.
[Illustration: HEAD OF FLAMINGO
Showing the spikes on tongue and lamellae on mandibles.
[The beak had to be forced open.]]
We will close this chapter with a reference to a recent and most
complete demonstration of our subject--that of our namesake, Mr. Frank
M. Chapman, of the American Museum, New York, in his _Camps and Cruises
of an Ornithologist_. Therein is set forth, in Chapter IV., the last
word on this topic. In America, as in Spain, the final solution of the
problem was only attained after years of patient effort and many
disappointments. With the thoroughness of thought and honesty of purpose
that marks our transatlantic progeny while treating of natural
phenomena, this book sets forth the life-history and domestic economy of
the flamingo, from egg to maturity, illustrated by a series of
photographs that are absolutely unique.[51] We conclude by quoting our
bird-friend's opening sentence: "There are larger birds than the
flamingo, and birds with more brilliant plumage, but no other large
bird is so brightly coloured, and no other brightly coloured bird is so
large. In brief, size and beauty of plume united reach their maximum
development in this remarkable bird, while the open nature of its haunts
and its gregarious habit seem specially designed to display its marked
characteristics of form and colour to the most striking advantage. When
to these superficial attractions is added the fact that little or
nothing has hitherto been known of its nesting habits, one may realise
the intense longing of a naturalist, not only to behold a flamingo
city--itself the most remarkable sight in the bird-world--but to lift
the veil through which the flamingo's home-life has been but dimly
seen."
[Illustration]