The Zoologist/4th series, vol 6 (1902)/Issue 730/Observational Diary of the Habits of Great Crested Grebe and Peewit, Selous

by Edmund Selous

 

AN OBSERVATIONAL DIARY OF THE HABITS—
MOSTLY DOMESTIC—OF THE GREAT CRESTED
GREBE (PODICIPES CRISTATUS), AND OF THE
PEEWIT (VANELLUS VULGARIS), WITH SOME
GENERAL REMARKS

By Edmund Selous.

(Concluded from vol. v. p. 462.)

 

Coming, now, to my observations on the Peewit (which have, as I suppose, a bearing upon the foregoing remarks), I will premise by saying that anyone who watches these birds during the early spring will see them going through some curious actions on the ground, which I term "rolling," for want of a better word. A bird thus acting presses its breast into the soil, and, by moving from side to side, or turning upon it a little as on a pivot, makes a round cup of just such a nature as—lined with grass or lichen—the eggs, when found, are seen to repose in. Of this fact, and also that many such cups are made by the same bird—who is, in fact, always thus acting—keepers, or some of them, are aware. Whether anybody else is, I do not know, but I have never in any ornithological work, learned or popular, met with any kind of reference to this habit, which may yet, as I believe, throw light upon the origin of nest-building. What is this rolling? What is its essential character and meaning? I can only quote from my notes which were taken at the time, and so, at least, give a minute, and, I trust, accurate description of what I actually saw.

March 8th.—A Peewit rolling, his breast on the ground, his tail up and moving from side to side in a manner suggestive of the generative organs being in activity. But neither this nor the actual roll is so pronounced as I have seen it. Having acted thus for a short while, he rises and runs forward in a series of very short little precise steps, which have a peculiar character about them. His whole pose and attitude is, also, peculiar. The head and beak are pointed straight forward in one line with the neck, which is stretched straight out to its fullest extent, the crest lying flat down upon it. Evidently he is under the sway of some special feeling, which is, as evidently, of a sexual character. In this strange, set attitude, and with these funny little set, formal steps, he advances without a pause for some twenty or thirty yards, then stops, and, without leaning forward on his breast, elevates the tail, waggles it strongly from side to side with the same peculiar action as before, and then flies off.

Another—or it may be the same—bird is now acting in a similar manner, though there are some points of difference. Although his breast is inclined forward, he does not roll, but, standing thus, keeps constantly moving the tail up and down with the same motion—carrying with it the same suggestion—as before; whilst at intervals he turns on his feet, where he stands, round, or nearly round. These actions are certainly sexual, and seem intended to be more than mere nuptial antics. They suggest—and still more is this the case where the bird rolls on the ground with motions of the anal parts precisely similar to those which may be observed whilst pairing is actually taking place—an attempt (conscious or unconscious) to satisfy sexual desire other than by the ordinary channel.

March 9th.—A Peewit rolling on the warrens between 12.30 and 1 p.m. This bird seems to be quite alone. I cannot, with the glasses, see any others either on the land or flying.

March 14th.—A Peewit rolling. The tail and anal parts are moved—wriggled—in an unmistakable manner, which suggests—and only suggests—the actual act of pairing. Another bird is near during this, but does not seem interested in the rolling one, and the latter soon flies away without paying it any attention. Yet it is to be remarked that the under tail-coverts of the Peewit (just that part exposed during the rolling) are of a rich bright chestnut, which becomes, then, very conspicuous.

March 21st.—Have just watched a Peewit rolling in a very conspicuous manner. It was a full back view, and, as the tail was flung up and twisted from side to side, the rich chestnut under tail-coverts were very conspicuous indeed. The wings were, also, a little quivered, being at the same time drooped and somewhat extended from the sides. During this display, or whatever it may be called, I noticed another Peewit on the ground, and advancing towards the one rolling, with a very intent look. It soon appeared, however, that the intentness was only in regard to getting food. The bird, though approaching the other (by chance, I now think),^[1] was merely feeding, and, when fairly near, turned deliberately round, and seemed to take no more notice.

March 25th.—A Peewit is now rolling very pronouncedly, and a strange performance it is. The whole body seems lifted up, so that the bird, though sitting, is resting only on his breast, the rest of him being in the air. The breast is thus pressed into the sand, whilst a rolling or side to side movement of it, varying in force, and by no means always apparent, helps to make a cup-shaped hollow. This curious, raised attitude alternates with a more ordinary sitting posture. After each raising of the wings and tail they are depressed, again raised, and so on, whilst at intervals there is the curious waggle of the tail, as before described, suggesting actual copulation. Another Peewit is near, and, whilst this proceeds, comes nearer and nearer, this time, I think, really actuated by an interest in the performance. As it gets closer the other seems to become more excited. The advancing Peewit stops when only a foot or two off, and seems again indifferent, and the rolling one flies right up from his rolling attitude, without even first rising out of it—as far as I can see. He scuds away, and soon begins to sweep and throw in the air. Another Peewit that I now see rolling rises and makes a long and uninterrupted run, with the funny little mincing steps and curious attitudes once before described, right up to the immediate proximity of three Stock-Doves, and, at hardly a yard off one of them, begins to roll again. The Stock-Doves take no notice, as far as can be judged by appearances, and the Peewit, ceasing suddenly with a little start, as though he recognized his error, flies away.

March 29th.—A Peewit rolling. Another appears close amidst the grass, and comes up to it with the funny little step and head held straight out in a line with the body. As it gets up the rolling bird rises and goes a step or two farther off, then, again, throwing itself forward, stands almost perpendicularly on the breast, at the same time pecking at and, I think, seizing the bits of grass near, in the beak (this pecking during the process of rolling has become, lately, more marked). The other Peewit now comes right up to the rolling bird, and appears to examine its lower tail-coverts or the parts adjacent. I cannot say certainly whether it actually touches them with the bill, but it appears to do so.^[2] Upon this the rolling one flies off, and the other, falling forward, presses with the breast (I think also pecking), not in exactly the same place, but just near it. Two other birds are now rolling in a most marked and violent manner, within a few yards of each other. When I say "marked and violent," what I mean is this: The breast is pressed upon the grass, the whole body inclining sharply up from it. The wings project like two horns on each side of the tail, which is bent down between them in a nervous, virile manner. All at once a spasm or wave of energy seems to pass through the bird; the tail is bent still more forcibly down—the body and wings remaining as before—and, with some most energetic waggles from side to side, the generative act appears to be performed. It may not be so; it may be something essentially different, but it has exactly that appearance.

In speaking, henceforth, of a bird's rolling, I shall always intend to designate these actions—except, of course, to the extent to which I may qualify them.

April 2nd.—Two Peewits have just paired. I had noticed no prior antics. Having paired, one of them—I am not quick enough with the glasses to say which—runs a little way over the ground, and commences to roll. In a moment or two the other one runs up, looking most interested, and immediately sits along on the exact spot, the first one having now risen and standing aside. The last-come bird now rises also, and both stand looking at the place where they have just rolled, and making little pecks at it with their bills. Subsequently one of them does this beside—but not quite on—the spot. Then the last comer walks a little away, so that I lose sight of it; whilst the other one, on which I keep the glasses, rolls again, in the same place (though turned the other way) in the most marked manner. Then, rising, he runs forward in the direction from which he has come, in the curious way before noted, the head lowered to line of back, and beak pointing straight forward.

In a little while the same thing occurs again, but again I am not quick enough with the glasses to be quite certain which bird it is that leads the way in these performances, immediately after the pairing. In each instance, however, I think it was the male. He now rolls in two different places, continuing, after the first time, to run on further in the same direction, before again stopping and rolling. It is only now, on this second occasion, that the other one runs up to him. The actions of the two are then as before, except that the last comer—the female, as I think—rolls this time, slightly, also. It is in a very imperfect and, as one may say, rudimentary manner, but I catch the characteristic, though subdued motion with the tail.

My glass was now upon a Peewit standing negligently on the warrens, when another one, entering its field, flew right down upon it, and either paired, or attempted to do so, without previously alighting on the ground. The time occupied was so short that I should not have supposed more than an attempt had taken place, had not the actions of the two birds immediately afterwards made me conclude that they had paired. They were almost precisely the same as on the first occasion, but I saw them more clearly from the commencement. Immediately after the pairing the male bird made his curious little run forward by the side of the female and a little beyond her, the characteristic features of it being somewhat emphasized.^[3] He then made a short pause, but almost immediately continued straight on—a long run, at the end of which he pitched forward and commenced to roll. The female shortly came up to him in the same manner as on the other occasions, and the male bird now, moving his length forward and sinking down again, she sat in the spot where he had just rolled, pecking, as before described, whilst he rolled again just in front of her. The two birds then rose and stood, looking and pecking in the way that I have before noted. After a little the hen ran (or walked) away, leaving the cock, who rolled a little more before leaving the place.

In the above notes I have laid more stress upon the peculiar movements which precede and accompany the rolling of the bird than upon the actual rolling itself, by which I have named the whole performance. It must be remembered, however, that I watched it through powerful glasses, by which means all the actions become plainly visible, and take their proper proportion. But to the ordinary casual spectator it is different. He is at some distance; he has only his own eyes, and he is quite uninterested. Under these circumstances it is the general features that alone strike him, or, to speak more correctly, are at last by sheer necessity forced upon his observation. The main features, here, are that the bird sits for some time together with its breast pressed into the sand, augmenting the pressure by various more or less pronounced movements of the body, and that many little cup-shaped depressions, but a small proportion of which ever have eggs laid in them, are to be found about over the warrens and other such Peewit-haunted parts that are open and loose-soiled, during the early spring-time. All the rest—the curious little run forward with its strange, set attitude, the peculiar motions of the tail, everything minute and intricate—is unremarked, even though it be actually seen. As for the actual pairing of the birds, with the curious little drama between them which follows, this must be patiently watched for in the early and often bitterly cold morning—that, at least, is the only time that one can be tolerably sure of its taking place.

In none of the above instances did I walk to examine the places where the birds had rolled, after they had left them. They would, indeed, have been difficult to find; but upon another occasion, when the circumstances made this easy, I did so, and found, as I say, just such a little round basin in the sand as the eggs are laid in. No eggs, however, were ever laid here,^[4] whilst the bird was afterwards to be seen rolling in other parts. It is easy, under such circumstances, to keep one Peewit, or, at least, one pair of them, distinct from others, for they appropriate a little territory to themselves, into which they will return and stand, however much they may fly abroad. And here the birds return, in my experience, spring-time after spring-time, so that I judge them to pair for life.

Now I submit that these curious actions of the Peewit during the breeding-time do support that theory of the origin of nestbuilding which I have here roughly sketched—if not entirely, at least to a certain extent. They point in that direction. Here we have movements on the part of both the sexes, which are obviously of a sexual nature, and as to which the word "ecstatic" seems hardly to be misapplied. They are most marked (and only or most generally then dualistic) immediately after the actual pairing, and just where this has taken place they commence in the curious little run and set attitude of the male. Out of and as a result of these movements, a depression in the ground greatly resembling, if not quite similar to, that in which the eggs are laid is evolved, and into or about this is shown a tendency to collect sticks, grass, or other loose substances. How different are these collecting movements to those which we see in a bird whose nest-building instinct has become more highly developed! They seem to be but just emerging from the region of blind forces, to be only half purposive, not yet fully guided by a distinct idea of doing something for some definite end. Yet it is just these actions which most resemble ones which seem so purposive in the ordinary building of a nest. All the others seem to me to belong to that large and important group of avine movement which may be called the sexually ecstatic or love-mad group. It may, indeed, be said that, as the Peewit could not have devised a more effective way of producing a cup-shaped hollow in the ground for its eggs than by rolling or pressing upon it as it does, therefore the intention of producing it is to be deduced from the act itself, and we have no right to read any other motive force into it than this. But (besides that this view bows out instinct) the motion by which such hollow is produced cannot at all be separated from that most pronounced, peculiar, and, as it seems to me, purely sexual one of the tail, or, rather, of the anal parts, and there is, moreover, the very marked and peculiar run with the set, rigid attitude (that salient feature of a bird's nuptial antics) which immediately precedes the rolling, and which, also, cannot properly be separated from it. All this set of actions must be looked upon as so many parts of one and the same whole thing, and to explain such whole thing we must call in some cause which will equally account for all its parts. The deliberate intention of making a nest will not do this, for many of the actions noted do not in the least further such a plan. On the other hand, sexual excitation may just as well produce rolling on the ground (as indeed it does in some other birds^[5]), and perhaps, even, pecking round about on it, as it may the set, stiff run, and those other peculiar movements. And if some of many movements, the cause of all of which is sexual, should be of such a nature that out of them good might accrue to the species, why should not natural selection seize hold upon, increase, and gradually shape them, making them, at last (through the individual memory), intelligent and purposive, since, by becoming so, their utility might be largely increased, and proceed at a much quicker rate? I believe that in these actions of the Peewit—commencing immediately after the excitation of pairing, with a peculiar run (which, or something similar to which, may be observed in various birds), and going on, without pause or break, to other motions having the same plain sexual stamp upon them, though some may, in their effects, be serviceable—we see this process actually at work, and I believe, also, that in the nest-building of species comparatively advanced in the art we may still see traces of its early sexual or ecstatic origin. I have been, for instance, extremely struck with the movements of a hen Blackbird upon the nest that she was in course of constructing. I have not my notes at hand, but these movements appeared to me to partake largely of an ecstatic—one might almost say a beatific—nature, so that there was a large margin of energy over and above the actual business of building, to be accounted for. I was not in the least expecting to see this, and I can, perhaps, best estimate the extent of the thing by recalling how it surprised and struck me. The wings were half-spread out, and would, I think, have drooped,^[6] had not the edge of the nest supported them, and I particularly noted the spasmodic manner in which the tail was from time to time suddenly bent down. It is true that it then tightly clasped—as one may almost call it—the edge of the nest, pressing hard against it on the outer side. But though such action may now have become part of a shaping process, yet it was impossible for me, when I saw it, not to think of the Peewit, in which something markedly similar could have answered no purpose of this kind. Were the latter bird instead of rolling on the ground to do so in a properly constructed nest of a size suitable to its own bulk, the tail, upon being bent forcibly down in the way I have mentioned, would compress the rim of it just as does that of the Blackbird. And were the Blackbird to go through the motions which I witnessed, on the bare ground and side by side with the Peewit, a curious parallel would, I think, be exhibited. To these two I may add the Rook, and—from recent observation—the Australian or Black Swan. Similarity of the cup of many built nests to the cup-shaped hollow in which so many ground-laying birds deposit their eggs, is, indeed, a significant thing, and the significance is increased when we see the same or very similar movements employed in the shaping of both.

In the case of these Peewits it is true that the pairing, when I saw it, did not take place on the same spot where the rolling afterwards did. Nevertheless, the distance was not great, and it varied considerably. The run which preceded the rolling commenced immediately on the consummation of the nuptial rite, and if this run, which varied in length, were to become shorter and ultimately to be eliminated altogether, the bird would then be pairing, rolling, and, at last, as seems to me highly probable, laying its eggs in one and the same place. That these strange activities should succeed, and not precede, the actual pairing is indeed a curious thing; but I suggest that the rolling of a single bird differs only, in its essential character, from actual pairing, by the fact of its being single, and that, thus, the primary sexual instinct contains, and gives birth to, the secondary nest-making one. At any rate, in the Peewit, movements of a highly curious nature immediately succeed, and seem, thus, to be related to, the act of pairing, and whilst these movements, as a whole, bear a peculiar stamp (expressed by the term "sexual "), some of them, not separable from the tout ensemble, suggest, also, the making of a nest, and, moreover, as said before, something much resembling a Peewit's nest is by such movements actually made. Taking all this together, we have here, as it seems to me, an indication of some such origin of nest-building as that which I have imagined.

As this theory supposes some relation between the nest and the place where pairing takes place—that the one in fact gradually becomes the other—it would be interesting to ascertain whether birds that make their nests in a place which is out of character with their ordinary habits, pair here or amidst their more usual surroundings. For instance, if the Nightjar, a most aërial and arboreal species, were nevertheless to pair habitually upon the ground, this would be a somewhat striking fact. I cannot affirm that it does so. Nevertheless, it is my impression that upon one occasion—which I have recorded in a former paper—I but just missed seeing the pairing of two that I was watching upon the ground and in the near vicinity of the nest. Since then I have seen one pursue another in an obviously amorous or "nuptial" flight from the top of a tree to the ground where it (the pursued bird) settled. The nocturnal habits of this species are, however, a great difficulty in the way of observations of this kind.

The male Wheatear indulges, during the breeding season, in very extraordinary movements of a more or less frenzied nature, and, in watching these, one cannot but be struck by the predilection which seems shown for some natural hollow in the ground, within or over which such movements take place. I have given elsewhere^[7] a full account of these actions as exhibited by two rival birds for the greater part of an afternoon, and I will only quote here a few lines which give that incident of the bits of grass which I have already alluded to. I have, it is true, suggested a symbolical explanation, but, however that may be—nor does, perhaps, the one supposition preclude the other—I think what I witnessed shows that a bird may seize something and bring it to a certain spot whilst in a state of violent nervous excitement, and when the intention of building a nest seems pretty well excluded as a cause of such action.^[8] If this be so, then, at least, some part of the difficulty which we might feel in supposing a process now become so elaborate, and (in some cases perhaps) intelligent, to have originated in nervous and non-purposive movements, is removed. My note, taken on the spot and at the time of occurrence, is as follows:—

"Instead of fighting, however, which both the champions seem to be chary of, one of them again runs into a hollow—this time a very shallow one—and begins to dance, but in a manner slightly different. He now hardly rises from the ground, over which he seems more to spin in a strange sort of way, than to fly—to buzz, as it were—in a confined area and with a tendency to go round and round. Having done this a little, he runs quickly from the hollow, plucks a few little bits of grass, returns with them into it, drops them there, comes out again, hops about as before, flies up into the air, descends and again dances about."

Now here a bird brings to a certain spot, not unlike such a one as the nest is usually built in—approaching to it, at any rate—some of the actual material of which that nest is composed, and I ask if, under the circumstances, it can possibly be supposed that such bird really is building its nest when it does so, in the ordinary purpose-implying sense of the term. As well suppose—so it seems to me—that a man, in the pauses of a fierce sword-and-dagger fight with a rival suitor, should set seriously to work house-hunting or furniture-collecting. Such peckings and pluckings seem to me to partake of the general frenzied character of the bird's whole actions. Yet when once the object had been seized, associations might be aroused by it.

Supposing the habit of nest-building to have originated in the way here suggested, it need not surprise us that natural selection, seizing hold of such a prime opportunity, should have entirely altered its original character, so that, now, such pairing on the nest as does take place may be looked upon as a survival of a past state of things. In one particular group of birds—the Bower-Birds of Australia—such survival may have been more than usually pertinacious, and there—on the principle of specialization being always an advantage—the thalamum, or pairing-place, may have become, gradually, quite distinct from the true nest. The habit of building more than one nest^[9] would (as I suggest) have aided in such differentiation and that the pairing-place should ultimately expand into a "bower" would be a result brought about by the high and gradually increasing æsthetic faculties of the birds constructing it. One can understand, too, that as the thalamum passed into a bower, and as the bower became more and more elaborate and complicated, its original purpose might be gradually obscured, superseded, and more or less lost sight of. Such, indeed, has been the case with our own houses and gardens, which in the manifold wants, tastes, and pleasures that they now minister to, have become something very different to their rude originals—beginning with the mere cave—amongst primitive savages. There has, too, been the process of differentiation as between the bedroom and sitting-room or bower. What was the original cave but a sleeping place?

I believe that the key to the unlocking of many of the wonderchambers of bird doings is to be sought in the highly nervous and excitable organization which birds, as a class, possess, and, especially, in the extraordinary development of this during the breeding and rearing time. This nervous sexual or parental excitation produces all sorts of extravagant motions and antics which are at first quite useless, but on the raw material of which both natural and sexual selection have seized and are constantly seizing. By these two powers they have been or are being directed into various useful channels, such as nest-building, ruses to decoy enemies from the young, displays of plumage by one sex to the other, and so forth. On this view the fact of many bird (or other) antics not being attributable to sexual selection should not be used (as it has been used) to throw discredit on that hypothesis. By what agency the raw material has been shaped in any one case is a question of the evidence in and relating to such case. And as the exercise of intelligence in all these matters would be an advantage, intelligence, as I believe, has, by the same means, through memory, been gradually worked and woven into them, giving to some or all species a special intelligence in some special directions, which, though much above the general level of its capacity, yet reacts upon this and tends to raise it. I believe, too, that, if closely watched, many actions of birds which seem now to be altogether intelligent and purposive (and, no doubt, are so to a very large extent) will be found to betray traces of a nervous and non-purposive origin.

 

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1. Subsequent entries, however, make this conclusion of no value.
2. I have lately seen something resembling this, but very much more marked and peculiar, in a pair of our small passeres—a strange affair of which I made a full note.
3. By referring back to p. 134 it will be seen that the actions after (I) rolling, and (2) copulation, which rolling so much resembles, are identical.
4. They would, of course, only be laid in one such depression, which would then become the nest proper.
5. Most notably in the Ostrich.
6. The drooping of the half-spread wings is very characteristic of sexual excitement in birds.
7. In my recent work, 'Bird Watching,' chapter iv.
8. Compare, also, what I have quoted in regard to the Ostrich.
9. Common (as I believe) to many birds, and due to the mere force of the instinct. Building, I am convinced, is a pleasure—not a labour—to the bird.