"Tilting,
Point to point at one another's breasts,"
they are ready to seize hold of each other should the opportunity occur, and when the fight is fierce, and the birds in their eagerness press in upon each other, they then strike smartly with their wings. Sometimes, too, each tries to seize the other's beak, but this is not usual, as I imagine it to be with herring-gulls and cormorants. These single combats rarely become mêlées, though, if one bird is forced to retreat, those amongst whom he pushes will be ready to peck at him and at each other. Of course, a bird, if really in distress, can always fly down from the ledge into the sea, and this it is often forced to do if it has been standing near the edge when the combat broke out. The better-placed bird seems then to recognise its advantage, and presses boldly forward upon the other. There is a short retreat, a recognition of the danger and vigorous rally, another forced step backwards, an ineffectual whirring of wings on the extreme brink, and, turning in the moment of falling, the discomfited one renounces all further effort and plunges into the abyss. And, no doubt, the little lice who crawl about upon the ledge and see such mighty doings, would, were they poets, write long epics telling of the wars and falls of angels. But only combats on the brink have such dramatic terminations, and farther inland a fight must be of an exceptionally violent kind to make the birds not think of preening themselves, and thus bring it to an end.
Birds that are incubating will fight as well as the others, and no respect seems to be paid to them on this account. Often one thus occupied may be seen
