But within forty-eight hours of their landing the cows give birth to their “pups.” And it is for this purpose, and not for mating, that they come to land. Within a few days of the birth, however, the females are “in use” again. This is the critical period in the life in the rookery. For the bulls now become frenzied with excitement and fight most viciously one with another, each hoping to possess himself of his opponent’s harem. Each tries to seize the other by the fore flipper, and, failing in this, the fangs are buried in the back. They hold tenaciously, each trying to force the other to relax his hold; but commonly this vice-like grip is maintained till the skin gives way, leaving great bleeding rents. Sometimes the contest rages till one or both is fatally wounded. Often during such duels an idle bull, hitherto unable to secure a harem, will rush in and capture that of one of the combatants!

In the management of the harem the bull is an adept. Whether he has five cows or fifty, he is, says Dr. Lucas, “master of the situation.” His will is law. Not that it is always tamely accepted as such, but the result is the same. If a cow becomes restless, and moves about, a warning growl usually quiets her. If the movement is persisted in and an attempt to escape evident, the bull is up at once with a show of fierceness and in chase. He may simply strike her down with his open mouth. Often in doing so his sharp canines tear a gash in her skin. He may even seize her in his mouth and deliberately throw her, or carry her back into the harem. If the cow thinks she has a chance to get away she may try to outrun him. If she miscalculates the distance he seizes her, after a few swift bounds, by the skin of the back, or by the hind flipper, and tosses her, often torn and bleeding, into the family circle. As a rule, however, she avoids this seizure by turning and facing her lord and master, and biting him in the breast and throat. But all to no purpose. In spite of her violent protests he pushes her backwards before him into the fold.

Sometimes in her efforts to improve her position she runs up to, and is seized by, a rival bull. Her lord speedily asserts his ownership by getting a grip wherever he can on the would-be truant. Then begins a tug-of-war between the two bulls, during which the wretched victim of their rage may be torn in pieces. By the elimination in each generation of the more querulous and discontented, the peculiarly gentle and passive nature so characteristic of the females has been developed.

After the first ten days’ sojourn ashore the female is allowed to go to sea to feed, returning presently to suckle her young. The bull, on the other hand, can enjoy no such privilege. For three long months he must keep watch and ward fasting—at first, in order that he may retain his territory; later, that he may retain his harem. This fast, having regard to the loss of energy and blood which this strenuous period entails, is wonderful; for in the case of all other animals fasts are always associated with absolute rest and sleep. Not so with the Sea-lion; he arrives at the breeding-ground fat and well-liking, he leaves a starved and battered wreck.

The foregoing summary of the habits of these most interesting and much persecuted animals is taken from the exhaustive report of Dr. F. A. Lucas and Mr. Charles Townsend. These two distinguished naturalists accompanied the United States contingent of the Fur-seal International Commission despatched in 1896–97 to inquire into the threatened extermination of these animals. Major Barrett Hamilton accompanied the British contingent, and also made a report. And it is curious to note that on some points he is diametrically opposed, not only to the American naturalists, but to all other writers on this theme. He contends, for example, that “nothing could better illustrate the fact that it is the cows, and not the bulls, which have the real control of the harem-system.” He traced the rapid growth of two harems from four or five to as many as eighty cows. And he tells these were completely out of control and free to move about as they wished. “The bulls, in spite of all their bluster, had the flimsiest of nominal dominion, and the cows were always able to, and frequently did, leave the harems daily to dally with the cowless bulls on the outside. Yet ... as long as they chose to sit massed together on the ground which had been appropriated by the two stronger bulls, no weaker rivals could approach to within ten yards of them. The master of the harem had no control over its occupants, but he was absolute lord of the ground on which they sat.” This is certainly curious, but more so is the fact that these females were allowed to return by the “cowless bulls” outside the charmed circle. Later in the season he tells us he witnessed an even better illustration of this singular behaviour. At this time “the division of the cows into harems was a very unequal one, the smaller bull being only able to keep a very few cows, while the larger one claimed the greater part of the rookery. But the cows could pass over to the smaller bull’s ground as often as they liked; and he probably was father to a great many more of the pups born in 1898 than those of the half-dozen cows over whom he claimed control.” In regard to two other bulls in another cart of the island, there came a time when the inequality of the harems reached such a pitch, that the newly-arriving cows “had to lie in scattered groups outside the main mass, and thus permitted the weaker bulls to form new harems out of the reach of the two strong old bulls.” But perhaps the most singular feature of all was the indifference which one old bull displayed towards a little bachelor, permitting him to enjoy the most intimate relations with one of his cows without displaying the least sign of annoyance, as if he could scarcely regard one so young as a rival.

There is much evidence to show that the erotic side of the male-seal develops early. “I saw,” he says, “the little black pups acting to each other in a way that made it certain that their sexual feelings had already made themselves felt.” This one can well understand, for only animals of strong sexual tendencies could survive the strenuous life which the period of sexual activity entails.

The very different interpretation of the behaviour of these animals at this very important stage of their life-history must be due to the fact that different colonies were studied which were living, too, under somewhat different conditions. It seems clear, for example, that the landing of the females so graphically described by Dr. Lucas was a landing under exceptional circumstances, the master bulls having taken up positions at the only spot where access to the desired breeding quarters was to be found; while Major Barrett Hamilton was probably fortunate in seeing phases which were wanting in the “rookeries” examined by Dr. Lucas. And both these observers again differ in the accounts they give of the life of such “rookeries” with those by Mr. Elliot, who explored these teeming colonies some years earlier when the number of animals forgathered there was far larger and the fighting, apparently in consequence, was far more severe.

In the matter of secondary sexual characters the most remarkable of the seal-tribe are those of the Elephant Seal and the Bladder-nosed Seal, and this because of the extraordinary development of inflatable tissue above the muzzle which these animals display. Of their life-history we know little enough, and this despite the fact that for generations the Elephant Seal was mercilessly hunted and slain for the sake of its oil. Millions were slaughtered during the last century, yet only scraps of information on the economy of the creatures has come down to us. All that is of any value, and especially in regard to the “Courting” period, we owe to Mr. Charles Townsend, of the New York Aquarium, and this in regard to the northern species, Macrorhinus angustirostris of Guadelupe, though it may safely be inferred that the Southern, Antarctic species, M. leoninus, differs in no essential respects.

According to Mr. Townsend, the adult bull, having taken possession of his territory and formed a harem, is constantly called upon to wage duels for both with less fortunate rivals. And the severity of such combats was attested by the deep wounds and festering sores of the necks of these old warriors—which, at their maximum, attained in the days of their prosperity a length of nearly thirty feet and a girth of sixteen feet; but the last survivors of the race to-day seem rarely to exceed twenty-two feet. The weapons used in fighting are the canines, and the only armour they possess is that formed by the thickening of the skin of the neck, which forms a great massive shield, so that really dangerous wounds are rare. The great fleshy proboscis, the most vulnerable part, is carefully guarded by the upturned position of the head. The use of this trunk-like organ, which may attain a length of about fifteen inches, is not clear; it seems to serve mainly as an “ornament,” at times, too, furnishing a very definite indication as to the temper of its owner. While the animal is slowly moving its great carcase from place to place, this remarkable organ is relaxed, and pendent; but when fighting it is closely contracted so as to be out of harm’s way. Whether it plays any useful part in the capture of food is not known; but it is probably much displayed during phases of sexual excitement. In young animals, it is significant to notice, as well as in the adult female this trunk is entirely wanting, which seems to suggest that this peculiar feature has only been recently acquired, the young and the adult female, as is the rule, standing nearer to the early forebears of this strange type. There is an enormous difference, it should be remarked, between the sexes in the matter of size, the female not attaining more than half the bulk of her lord. A further interesting point concerns the coloration of the young, which are black, while the adults are brown. Doubtless this is connected with the requirements of the young, the black coat attracting more heat than the lighter-coloured coat of the adult.

As touching that curious creature, the Crested, or Hooded Seal (Cystophora cristatus), a native of the colder regions of the North Atlantic. This animal is remarkable for the development, in the males alone, of a great crest or casque on the head, which is formed by a large inflatable air-sac over the ridge of the nose, and communicating with the nostrils. When fully inflated, it covers the head as far back as the eye. Its purpose is a matter of conjecture. It seems to be inflated either when he animal is greatly excited, as when challenging rival males, or when threatened with danger from other causes, as when attacked by man. The males are exceedingly pugnacious, and fight with one another for the possession of females with great ferocity, such contests being accompanied by cries which can be heard for miles. From the difficulty which Esquimaux and sealers find in killing the animal with clubs it certainly seems as if this strange wind-bag were more than merely ornamental.

That those extraordinary creatures the Cetacea—the Whales and their kin—are derived from the same common stock as the typical carnivora there can nowadays be no doubt, widely as they have departed from their land-dwelling relatives in almost every possible feature of their organization. In the matter of their “Courtship” we know nothing, but we may infer certain incidents in this critical period of their life-history from the peculiar nature of the secondary sexual characters which some species display. Thus in the Pilot Whale (Globicephalus) and the Bottle-nose Whale (Hyperoödon) the forehead, in the bulls, is enormously swollen by a mass of fibrous tissue so dense as to turn the blade of the sharpest knife, as I know well from attempts to dissect this region. Now the only use, surely, for such a cushion is that of a battering-ram by rival males in charging one another, as rams and other horned animals will do. In the Bottle-nose Whale this cushion is backed up by an enormous mass of solid bone thrown up by the maxillæ. The origin of this bony growth is interesting, for it appears first as a slight swelling in the rare species Berardius; it is seen at a further stage of growth in the female “Bottle-nose” (Hyperoödon), and attains its maximum in the male, where it stands unique. There are two other species which demand notice here. The first is Layard’s Beaked Whale (Mesoplodon); the second the Narwhal. The former is the only vertebrate which in a wild state wears a muzzle! In this species the teeth have totally vanished save for a pair in the lower jaw, which are found towards the end of the jaw. These in the adult, or perhaps we should say senile, male grow upwards and inwards, finally meeting one another above the upper jaw, so as to make it impossible for the animal to open its mouth more than the fraction of an inch! Surely here we have a secondary sexual character carried to an excess, and so proving not only disadvantageous to the animal, but positively disastrous, for it seems clear that so hampered the creature can feed only on the most minute forms of animal life, which could only be captured and swallowed with difficulty. It is true that the Rorquals feed on excessively minute Crustacea, but they are able to take in enormous quantities at a time, the “whalebone” serving the office of a sieve to prevent their escape. The Mesoplodon has no such aids. One is tempted to believe that the skulls displaying this most curious feature are abnormal, comparable to those, say, of rabbits wherein the teeth have grown so excessively long as to close the mouth, on account of the displacement of the cutting surfaces by accident. But there is nothing to afford support to this view, and one must therefore fall back on the suggestion of senility.

The Narwhal has long been celebrated for the enormous size of the canine teeth, the only teeth present in the jaws. As a rule, only one leaves its bony socket, the other, commonly the right, remaining as a mere vestige, seven or eight inches long within the skull. The protruding tooth, which is spirally fluted, may attain a length of nine feet. Occasionally both teeth are developed, and in this case the spiral is the same, differing in a very striking manner from the spiral horns of ruminants, wherein one presents a right, the other left-handed spiral. But what purpose do these teeth serve? This question has never yet been definitely settled. Some hold that it is used to break open breathing holes in the ice, for the animal lives in the far north: others that it is used as a spear in hunting prey. Some aver that it serves as a weapon of offence, being used by rival males in their struggle for mates. Scoresby, the explorer, indeed, says he has seen young males in mock-battle, fencing with these remarkable weapons. But until we have more satisfactory data, we must regard this armature of the Narwhal as affording another instance of a secondary sexual character of doubtful value to its possessor.

CHAPTER VI

COURTSHIP AMONG BIRDS

Generalities—Darwin v. Wallace—The Peacock in his Pride—The “Display” of the Peacock Pheasant—The Splendour of the Argus Pheasant and the Marvel of its Eyes—The Frill of the Amherst Pheasant—Birds of Paradise in the Toils of Love—Inflated Suitors—Ruffs and Reeves—Fearsome Weapons and their Uses—Birds which dance—Musical Birds—The Bird’s Voice-box—The “Lek” of the Capercaillie—Instruments of Percussion—The Curious Performance of the Wood-pecker.

The fact that so little is known about the mammals during that period when the all-important work of securing mates is going on, and of the subsequent events, is largely due to the difficulties which close observation of this phase of their life-history entails. With the birds matters are far otherwise; their haunts are more accessible; they are far more numerous, and much more easily kept under observation. Consequently, we have a tolerably complete knowledge of the lives of some species, at any rate, during the reproductive period; that is to say, as to the sequence of events from the beginning of the reproductive activities onwards; but the interpretation of what is seen is another matter. No attempt which has yet been made to fathom the psychology of sex has yielded more than a slight insight into what is taking place. Nevertheless, this is an aspect of the subject which has a far more important bearing on the problems of evolution than is generally realized. But these pages are concerned rather with the relations between the sexes, than with the subtle forces which have fashioned and control conduct in this regard.

In all that concerns the problems of sex, which is to say of reproduction, birds, speaking generally, display a briefer and more condensed sequence of events than the mammals; and, moreover, many species compel the attention even of the most incurious, to their behaviour at this time, through the development, either of song, or of fantastic displays of their amorous feelings: while others force themselves no less conspicuously under notice by their habit of nesting in large, and often enormous colonies.

In the matter of the development of secondary sexual characters birds stand conspicuous among the Vertebrates, and easily eclipse the mammals; among which bright, strongly contrasted, colours are the exception. Among the birds they may almost be said to be the rule. Also, in this category we have to reckon song, and the production of more or less musical sounds by the agency of internal resonators or of specially modified feathers; as well as quaint forms of posturing which may be included under the head of dances. Further, some species have developed formidable weapons of offence. These things are interesting enough in themselves, but they become still more so when we reflect that they formed the corner-stone of Darwin’s theory of “Sexual Selection,” and that Wallace’s criticisms thereof were inspired by evidence from the same source.

The interests of this chapter will best be served if the evidence on which this theory was founded be first surveyed: when Darwin’s deductions and the criticism which they have aroused will be the more readily appreciated.

Definitions are always liable to exceptions; and concrete cases are better than abstract terms. Birds, then, perhaps better than any other group, illustrate what is meant by the term “secondary sexual characters,” if only because examples are so constantly at hand. Save among experts, sex among birds cannot be determined except by the differences in plumage, or sometimes in size, which the sexes display. But even here, it is only among species which occupy what we may call a mid-evolutionary phase in which this discrimination is possible. Among “generalized” species, wherein the plumage is of sombre hue, there is no external distinguishing mark between male and female; and the same is true with species which have attained to the maximum of resplendent plumage; as for example many Parrots and Kingfishers, where again both sexes, and at all ages, display the same vivid hues. Thus, in the case of either of the two extremes, the study of behaviour during the breeding season is one of great difficulty and no less uncertainty. Where the sexes are sharply distinguished by differences of coloration, however, as with the Peacock, the matter is otherwise. This bird, from time immemorial the symbol of vanity, illustrates in a singularly effective manner the broad features of what is commonly meant by “courtship” among birds, while it furnishes a no less striking example of the development of “secondary sexual characters.”

One might have supposed that birds, under the spell of that irresistible desire for sexual intercourse, would behave differently in regard to their “courtship” according to whether they were monogamous, polygamous, or polyandrous: but while their behaviour during this period of the life-history presents an extraordinary variety, it is only at any rate slightly determined by the plurality or otherwise of mates; and the same rule holds in regard to the brilliancy or otherwise of coloration.

The most common manifestation of sexual desire among birds takes the form of strange posturings which are, in some species, enormously exaggerated by the display of vividly coloured frills, tufts, or other conspicuous modifications of the normal plumage. The Peacock affords a most excellent example of this combination of the contortionist and the beau, though the nature of this display is by no means generally understood. This applies more particularly to artists, who from time immemorial to the present day, in essaying to paint the Peacock in his pride, have invariably fallen into the error of treating the great ocellated train as if it were the tail, placing it where, of course, the tail ought to be, at the end of the body! As a matter of fact it is nothing of the kind; these gorgeous plumes are really exaggerated tail-coverts which, when set on end, appear to arise from an oval shield of metallic green scales—the central back-feathers. When this trailing glory is erected, the bird throws the body forwards and downwards, so that the outermost train-feathers fall downwards on either side in front of the wings, which are more or less trailed: so that from the front only the head and neck are visible, the rest of the body being hidden behind the screen, as may be seen by a reference to the accompanying photographs. The manner of this display is extremely interesting, for the bird seems to be conscious of the effect produced: though it cannot be supposed that this is really the case.

When displaying, the bird gradually approaches the nearest female and slowly erects these extraordinary plumes. So soon as this is accomplished he begins to walk backwards towards the object of his attentions, presenting nothing but a great round shield of dull brown feathers, backed up by the tail-feathers, and the dull-coloured wings. So soon as he judges himself near enough, however, he suddenly swirls round, confronting her in all his splendour, and heightening the effect with a loud scream accompanied by a rapid, vibratory, motion of the train-feathers which produces sounds like the pattering of rain on leaves. Then he stands before her, with bowed head, as if to give her an opportunity of drinking in his splendour to the full. Commonly, however, she appears to be utterly indifferent, and either walks away or continues a real, or affected hunt for food, as if no such thing as a love-sick suitor were within a hundred miles of her! But sooner or later his suggestive attitudes beget an answering response, and pairing takes place.

The display of the beautiful Peacock Pheasant differs conspicuously from that of the Peacock, and recalls that of the Argus Pheasant. In the Peacock Pheasant, as will be seen from the adjoining photograph, the wings, and tail, are alike bedecked with ocelli. The display is made by the bird as it crouches close to the ground, with the wings and tail raised to form a continuous, patterned surface, the head being swiftly moved during the performance; hence its blurred outline in the photograph.

PEACOCK PHEASANT.

The display of this bird differs conspicuously from that of the Peacock and recalls that of the Pigeon in some respects. The “ocelli” on the wings afforded Darwin the interpretation he sought for as to the meaning of the notch in the “eye” of the Peacock’s tail-feather.

The Argus Pheasant is an even more wonderful performer than the two preceding species. In this bird, it should be remarked, the tail and the secondary wing-feathers are enormously lengthened, the latter to an extent met with in no other bird, showing that the struggle for existence cannot be very severe with this species. For if long journeys had to be undertaken in search of food, or to avoid extremes of climate, or enemies had to be swiftly escaped, such cumbersome wings would lead to speedy extermination. But an even more remarkable feature of these wings is their wonderful coloration. The primaries have blue shafts, and a most delicately mottled pattern formed by spots of reddish chocolate on cream-coloured ground, while the secondaries have their broad webs ornamented with large ocelli, to be described in greater detail presently. When under the influence of sexual excitement Darwin tells us, the wings are so spread as to form a deep concavity, an effect which is gained by pressing the primaries close to the ground, and turning the elbows upwards. Within this concavity lie the ocelli, in radiating vertical rows. But to produce this effect the bird has to turn its head under its wing, so that it lies behind the screen. Hence it cannot see the female which is the object of these captivating antics. As a consequence, to discover whether he has an audience for she will often walk disdainfully away—he has constantly to thrust his head through the curtain, and hence many of the feathers in this region get much worn.

By nature it would seem the Argus Pheasant is a very solitary bird, though we must assume it is polygamous. As the breeding season advances, however, the male proceeds to choose some open space in the depths of the forest—which it never leaves—and therefrom to clear all the dead leaves, and twigs, for a space of some six or eight yards square, so that nothing but the bare earth remains, and thereafter this area is kept scrupulously clean. Here, in solitary state, for a short season he remains, calling at frequent intervals to advertise the fact that an eligible male is in the neighbourhood desiring mates. A dozen times in succession he will break the stillness of the forest gloom with a loud, “How-how, how, how, how!” Sooner or later comes a responsive, “How-owoo, how-owoo!” and in a short time, guided by the sound, one or more females discover the object of their quest. But the pairing desire has not yet reached its full intensity, and doubtless to kindle this the display just described is enacted, and not once, but a dozen times probably, before the desired state of frenzy has been aroused. Not seldom another male answers the cry, and this inevitably leads to a duel whereby the fittest and strongest male is speedily discovered.

A word as to these ocelli. This pattern is rare among birds, and Darwin brought to light some extremely interesting facts regarding it. He was led to investigate the matter by his curiosity as to the meaning of the notch in the ocelli of the Peacock’s train-feathers. At last he noticed that among the different species of Peacock Pheasants there was one (Polyplectron chinquis), in which the ocelli were paired, one lying on either side of the shaft, in another (P. malaccense) these approached and partly fused with one another. Now, to get the indented ocellus of the Peacock, we have only to imagine the fusion of two such ocelli, whose long axes inclined obliquely to one another, to get the “eye” of the Peacock with its indented lower edge; for such fusion would give a continuous upper and an indented lower border.

The “eyes” of the Argus Pheasant are more interesting still, for, as Darwin pointed out, these have the appearance, if the feathers are held more or less vertically, of a number of balls lying each within a socket, or cup: for each of these balls has a light area which exactly simulates the light glancing across the upper pole of a sphere, leaving the rest in shadow; and, singularly enough, this effect is produced in the living bird only when the feathers are erected for display. The probable steps in the evolution of these ocelli from simple spots, and through elliptical bars, Darwin traced with his usual skill and insight, and those who would follow this up should turn to that wonderful book, “The Descent of Man.”

It is probable that the erroneous interpretation of the display of the Peacock is due to the more lasting and easily remembered impression of what obtains in the case of the Turkey under like emotions. This bird in his exultant moods, most people have seen. Herein the tail plays a very important part, being raised and spread to form a great half-circle, while at the same time the back-feathers, or at least those of the lower back, are set on end, and the wings are trailed on the ground. The effect is heightened by the suffusion of blood to the bare skin of the head and neck, and the sudden inflation of a long, pendent, fleshy wattle from the forehead, which hangs down over the beak. Great display is made with this, and an additional importance is added by the spasmodic vocal efforts which can best be described by the “gobble” rapidly repeated, as the bird struts about with mincing gait, turning the wheel-like tail now to one side now to the other. But the Turkey possesses yet another “ornament” which commonly escapes notice. This is the curious tuft of long, black, coarse, bristles which projects forward in front of the breast. It is difficult to discern what part this tuft may play, since it is quite inconspicuous. It seems as though this must be added to the number of structural characters which appear to survive without any apparent use.

The game-birds, it is significant to remark—and significant because they are commonly polygamous—afford a quite remarkable series of displays, only some of which can be summarized in these pages. In every case, too, they are accompanied by conspicuous coloration and a more or less excessive development of brightly-coloured plumes, or areas of bare skin. In some, as in those wonderful birds the Tragopans, the development of bare skin, vividly coloured, and produced into pendulous folds, has attained a degree met with nowhere else among this group. These flaps, or finger-like wattles, as the case may be, under the influence of sexual excitement become turgid, and their hues enormously intensified: though beyond this fact but little else is known of their performances. In Swinhoe’s Pheasant the face is bare, the skin being covered, as in the case of the common Pheasant, with tiny villi of a vivid red colour. But when excited by the presence of a female the upper part of this face area rises high above the head like a pair of horns. With these turgid, and erect, the bird makes a series of short, semicircular rushes around his prospective mate, accompanying each of these gyrations with an angry hissing sound. The Golden, and Amherst Pheasants are among the most gorgeously clad of birds. Not their least conspicuous ornament is a cape-like frill of long, highly coloured feathers of which the birds seem to be extremely conscious; for when endeavouring to excite the female nearest him to the necessary pitch of sexual desire, he places himself sideways before her, drawing the frill round to the side facing her, and dropping the wing, in order, as it would seem, that she may miss nothing of his resplendent livery. This side of his nature he reserves for her. Intruding rivals are treated after quite another fashion, for like most of the gallinaceous birds his legs are armed with formidable spurs which can, and do, inflict the most terrible wounds: as, indeed, has been shown from the evidence of the Cock-pit in the case of game-cocks.

By way of contrast with the several displays just described, it would be hard to find a more striking illustration than that afforded by the Lesser Bird of Paradise (Paradisea minor), inasmuch as here the display is associated with rivalry between a number of individuals. For much of our knowledge on this subject we have to depend on the descriptions of natives; but happily this has now been supplemented by observations made by Mr. Ogilvie Grant on a captive in the Gardens of the Zoological Society of London.

Impelled by the surging wave of sexual desire, as yet only seeking consummation, these birds gather together at frequent intervals, on certain of the forest trees of the Aru Islands, selected apparently because they present an immense head of spreading branches, and large but scattered leaves. Here ample space is found for the revels, which take the form of “Sacaleli,” or dancing-parties, comparable to the erotic dances of many barbaric races.

By the time the ball opens, the birds, to the number of twenty or more, have worked themselves up into a state bordering on frenzy, and each commences his performance with quivering wings and loud, penetrating cries which may be syllabled as walk—walk—walk—walk—walk—walk, rapidly repeated. Then the wings are suddenly held out on either side, the tail is bent forward under the branch, and with a quick, barely perceptible rustle, the gorgeous, golden, diaphanous side-plumes are thrust upward and forward on each side of the body, forming an arched cascade above the back. With every muscle tense the performer will remain in this attitude from ten to twenty seconds, slightly quivering the wings, and from time to time imparting a tremor to the upraised plumes. Then follows a second phase. Each bird, seemingly possessed, commences to dance and hop wildly backwards and forwards along the bough, and with head bent forward, wings spread horizontally, and the side plumes raised to their utmost, he gives vent to a series of loud harsh cries—“ca! ca! ca! ca!” For some seconds he remains in a sort of ecstasy, rubbing his beak on the bough, and occasionally glancing backwards below his feet, and with the back fully arched. The climax passed, he reverts once more to the earlier, more erect stage of the display, when the paroxysm either gradually subsides or is renewed.

No less extraordinary is the behaviour of the King-bird of Paradise (Cicinnurus regius), which has been described by Sir William Ingram, who for a time had a captive in his aviaries. As the illustration shows, its posturing is quite remarkable. Before this is described, however, a brief description of its coloration should be given, which, it must be remarked, cannot possibly convey more than a very vague idea of its sumptuous character. Picture a bird no bigger than a thrush, but of a wonderful cinnabar red, with a gloss as of spun glass: the head clothed in short, velvety, orange-hued feathers; and with a white breast, having the softness and sheen of satin, and crossed by a band of deep metallic green, contrasting with the red of the throat. Add a yellow beak, and legs of cobalt blue, and you will have the features which catch the eye at the first glance. But a little closer examination will reveal yet other points for wonderment. Along each side of the body the upper flank-feathers become elongated and delicately tinted, and, furthermore, they are erectile: so that they can be raised up on each side of the body to form an almost circular shield of delicate ash grey, bordered with buff and emerald green. These play a most important part during the sexual frenzy, and the effect thereof is not a little heightened by the middle pair of tail-feathers, which have been modified to form a pair of slender stalks, some ten inches long, bearing at the ends a curious disc of emerald green formed by coiling upon itself—like a watch-spring—the only piece of the vane of the feather which remains.

So much for its fine feathers; now for the manner of their use. “He always commences his display,” writes Sir William Ingram, “by giving forth several short notes and squeaks, sometimes resembling the call of a quail, sometimes the whine of a pet dog. Next he spreads out his wings, occasionally quite hiding his head; at times, stretched upright, he flaps them, as if he intended to take flight, and then, with a sudden movement, gives himself a half turn, so that he faces the spectators, puffing out his silky-white lower feathers; now he bursts into his beautiful melodious warbling song, so enchanting to hear but so difficult to describe. Some weeks ago I was crossing a meadow and heard the song of a skylark high up in the heavens, and I exclaimed at once: ‘That is the love-chant of my King-bird.’ He sings a low bubbling note, displaying all the while his beautiful fan-like side-plumes, which he opens and closes in time with the variations of his song. These fan-plumes can only be expanded when his wings are closed, and during this part of the display he closes his wings and spreads out his short tail, pressing it close over his back, so as to throw the long tail-wires over his head, while he gently swings his body from side to side. The spiral tips of the wires look like small balls of burnished green metal, and the swaying movement gives them the effect of being slowly tossed from one side to the other, so that I have named this part of the display the ‘Juggling.’ The swaying of the body seems to keep time with the song, and at intervals, with a swallowing movement of his throat, the bird raises and lowers his head. Then comes the finale, which lasts only a few seconds. He suddenly turns right round and shows his back, the white fluffy feathers under the tail bristling in his excitement; he bends down on the perch in the attitude of a fighting cock, his widely-opened bill showing distinctly the extraordinary light apple-green colour of the inside of the mouth, and sings the same gurgling notes without once closing his bill, and with a slow dying-away movement of his tail and body. A single drawn-out note is then uttered, the tail and wires are lowered, and the dance and song are over.

“The King-bird has another form of display which he very rarely exhibits, and only on three or four occasions have I seen him go through this performance. Dropping under the perch, the bird walks backwards and forwards in an inverted position with his wings expanded. Suddenly he closes his wings and lets his body fall straight downwards, looking exactly like a crimson pear, his blue legs being stretched out to the full length and his feet clinging to the perch. The effect is very curious and weird, and the performance is so like that of an acrobat suddenly dropping on to his toes on the cross-bar of a trapeze that I have named this the ‘Acrobatic’ display. It has been witnessed on different days to his ‘Juggling’ display. While giving his ‘Acrobatic’ performance he sings the whole time, but never shows his side-plumes, and when he is in the pendulous position his body sways gently as if it were influenced by a fitful breeze. The whole of this performance takes but a very few seconds.”

Naturally one needs to witness such a display to appreciate its beauty and its weirdness; but the wonderful sketches which my friend, Mr. G. E. Lodge, made during one of these performances, should go far towards helping the reader to visualize what really takes place.

While it would be untrue to say that the Birds of Paradise are of a more amorous, or more excitable disposition than other less resplendent birds, one cannot but be impressed with the fact that they exhibit a range of variation in the matter of feather-ornament probably unequalled, and certainly unsurpassed, by any other group of birds. From what has been observed of the few species which have been kept in confinement, they seem to enjoy no less distinction in matters of display. On this latter subject no more of importance can be said, and exigencies of space forbid any attempt to describe the exquisite beauty of coloration which a survey of all the known species reveals. It would be hardly more profitable to attempt to describe the varied character of the shields, crests, frills, streamers, which are to be met with in different species: but a glance at the accompanying illustrations will show that it would be hard, indeed, to exaggerate the splendour of the ornamentation which these birds have developed. Even here, where no indication can be given of the glowing, vivid colours, often indescribably beautiful, it is obvious that these birds well deserve their name. St. John’s imaginary Paradise would probably have been described in far more enticing language had he known of the existence of these wonderful birds.

Among all the known species the dullest is Wallace’s Bird of Paradise, the general coloration being of a dull brown hue; but even here, a pair of wing-coverts are produced into long, broad streamers, unique among birds; while the feathers of the throat and flanks are of a marvellous metallic green, the flank-feathers being produced to form a long, pointed tuft.

To what factors must we attribute the growth of these wonderful colours, these strange outgrowths, frills, and tufts, and streamers, the like of which is almost unparalleled? In a group numbering some fifty or more species there is not one that does not display some strange feature. We cannot attribute it to the environment, for in such case the results should have produced uniformity; nor can we invoke the aid of sexual selection save in a very indirect manner, and in a sense other than generally understood by this term. It seems, then, not unreasonable to suggest that they are the expression points of the internal metabolism: the manifestations of that tendency to vary which is inherent in every fibre of the organism. But no attempt shall be made to elaborate this theory till more evidence has been taken. The humming-birds, and the game-birds, are perhaps the only other groups which exhibit quite such a prodigality of ornament; of the latter, instances have already been cited.

So far the displays which have been described have been such as are confined to the use of more or less resplendent plumage. There are, however, many species which contrive to secure most startling results, not so much by the parade of coats of many colours as by grotesque changes of shape produced by wind-bags of various kinds. The Pouter-pigeon affords a case in point. This bird possesses the power of inflating the gullet to an enormous size, so as to produce a strangely distorted form, at any rate, to our eyes. The “Pouter,” it is hardly necessary to mention, is an artificial product of the “fancier,” who has taken advantage of the natural tendency, seen in the Wild Pigeon, to inflate the neck during moments of excitement. By the selection from each generation of the finest performers in his stock, the Pouter of to-day has been developed. But there are many birds which, while not even remotely related, have developed the same strange device. The most striking illustration of this kind is furnished by the Great Bustard, a bird once common on the fen-lands of Great Britain, but now, unhappily, exterminated within these islands.

The means of inflation in this case is afforded by a large thin-walled sac of a very remarkable character. Opening by a small slit just under the tongue, it is continued down the front of the neck immediately under the skin, which in this region is thickened by an accumulation of fat and blood-vessels. Between the arms of the furcula, or merry-thought, its cavity is constricted, to expand again immediately to form a pear-shaped termination. How it is filled is something of a mystery. But once inflated, the bird draws its neck downwards and backwards, so that the head is brought to rest between the shoulders and is there almost buried, partly by pressure on this curious air-cushion and partly by the erection of a number of bristle-like feathers, which in calmer moments project backwards on each side of the head. At the same time the tail is drawn forwards to lie upon the back, thus exposing a billowy mass of white feathers forming the under tail-coverts. The tips of the wing-feathers are used to hold the tail in position. Meanwhile the scapulars are set on end, and the long inner secondary quills are similarly erected. The feathered contortionist, having completed his preparations, now approaches his partner with a mincing gait, then halts before her and solemnly utters a series of low grunts like “oak, oak, oak.” Having thereby declared his passion, and commonly without gaining any answering response, he returns to his normal shape again!

It is curious that a near relative of this bird, the Great Australian Bustard (Eupodotis australis), also captures the wind to declare his love; but it is disposed of after a quite different fashion, being drawn into the gullet, though the precise manner in which it is manipulated demands further investigation. The display Dr. Murie described many years ago. It begins, he tells us, with a swelling of the throat, while the head is thrown upwards. Immediately after, the neck swells, and the feathers of the lower part of the neck, set all on end, are carried downwards, apparently surrounding a huge bag which reaches nearly to the ground. During all this time the head and neck are held rigid and point skywards, the head surmounting a great feathery column. Meanwhile the tail, as with the Great Bustard, is drawn forwards over the back. In this peculiar attitude the bird struts about in a stiff, waddling manner, the elongated neck-bag swaying to and fro and the feathers of the throat standing out in the shape of a great rounded swelling. The acme of inspiratory effort completed, the bird begins to snap the jaws together, producing loud noises, which are accompanied by a soft dove-like cooing.

The Pectoral Sandpiper in like manner inflates its gullet. But, unlike the Pigeon and the bird just described, the neck is not markedly straightened, nor is the body raised. As the air is drawn in, the gullet expands, till it forms a great spherical drum. Then the excited performer runs along the ground uttering a resonant “too-u tooo-u” repeated seven or eight times in rapid succession, all the while he approaches nearer to the apparently very much-otherwise-engaged female. This effort failing, he will then often rise on quivering wings twenty or thirty feet into the air, and dive gracefully down again immediately afterwards, deflating this curious balloon to await a more favourable opportunity.

In some species where wind-bags are employed as aphrodisiacs the outer skin is brilliantly coloured and exposed during the display. The Prairie-hen affords a case in point. In this species the air-chamber is furnished, not by the gullet, but by the air-sacs of the neck. When these are inflated they appear as two large orange-coloured bodies standing boldly out among the feathers. Their effect is heightened by a tuft of long stiff feathers which are thrust forward like a pair of horns, on each side of the head, while at the same time the feathers of the back are set on end, the tail is spread like a great fan, and the wings are half opened and trailed like those of the Turkey.

The displays take place in the early hours of the morning, when parties of from a dozen to fifty, of both sexes, meet on some slight knolls where the grass is short. Having duly assembled, the more ardent cocks immediately begin to prepare for the morning revels, the first part of the performance apparently being of a comparatively passive nature—the parade of the air-sacs and the erection of the feathers.

Then some “proud cock, in order to complete his triumph, will rush forward at his best speed ... through the midst of the love-sick damsels, pouring out as he goes a booming noise ... which may be heard for at least two miles in the morning air. This sound is by no means harsh or unpleasant. When standing in the open prairie at early dawn listening to hundreds of different voices pitched in different keys, coming from every direction and from various distances, the listener is rather soothed than excited.

“Every few minutes this display is repeated. I have seen not only one, but more than twenty cocks going through this funny operation at once; but then they seem careful not to run against each other, for they have not yet got to the fighting point. After a little while the lady birds begin to show an interest in the proceedings by moving about quickly, a few yards at a time, and then standing still a short time.

“The party breaks up when the sun is half an hour high, to be repeated the next morning, and every morning for a week or two before all make satisfactory matches. It is towards the latter part of the love-season that the fighting takes place among the cocks, probably by two who have fallen in love with the same sweetheart....”

There is much that is extremely interesting in this account and a little that seems to have been misinterpreted. The fact that these antics are repeated during many days until at last the females are moved to display some interest is just what we should expect if this demonstrative behaviour on the part of the males acts, as we believe, as an aphrodisiac. And that actual fighting occurs is highly probable, but there can be no doubt that in such case the whole aspect of the bird must be changed, for anything in the nature of fighting with the delicate air-sacs inflated would greatly endanger the most important aid to success in achieving this object which these birds possess.