Bird Life Glimpses

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

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

About This Book

CHAPTER XII

INDEX

INDEX