From North Pole to Equator: Studies of Wild Life and Scenes in Many Lands

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

Although it cannot be said that the female coquettishly repels any advances and declarations of love, it is only in cases of necessity that she accepts a suitor without exercising selection. At first she listens to the tenderest love-songs apparently with the greatest indifference, and looks on unconcernedly at all the play of wings, the dances executed in her honour, and all the beauty displayed to do her homage. For the most part she behaves as if all the display of fascinations on the part of the males had no relation to her at all. Leisurely, and seemingly quite uninterested in their doings, she goes about her daily business of seeking food. In many, though by no means in all cases, she is ultimately enticed by the song in her glorification, the dances to her praise, but by no action does she give a sign of complaisant response. Many female birds, especially the hens of all polygamous species, do not even come to the “playing” grounds of the cocks, though they are anything but coy, and often by their inviting cries inflame the strutting cocks to the height of passion. If a male becomes more importunate than is agreeable to the female she takes refuge in flight. In very rare cases this may perhaps be meant in earnest, but it is usually continued with such energy and persistence that it is not always easy to determine whether it takes place without any secondary intention or whether it is merely a pretence. If it aims at nothing, it certainly achieves something: a heightening of the desire, a straining to the utmost of all the powers and resources of the wooing male. More excited than ever, regardless of all considerations, and bent only on attaining his object, he pursues the flying female as if he meant to force her to grant his suit; he sings with more fire, struts, dances, and plays with more agility than ever, and exercises his arts of flight whenever the female stops to rest, and more eagerly than ever he follows her if she takes to fresh flight.

Probably the females would be more compliant than they generally are if one male were the only suitor. But the fact that the males are in most species in the majority gives the female bird the boon of freedom of choice. Several males, sometimes even a considerable number of them, pay court to her at the same time, and thus justify her deliberation and selectiveness. Intentionally or unintentionally, she obeys the law of selection; among several she tries to pick out the best, the strongest, the healthiest, the most excellent in every respect.[63] She can afford to be fastidious. The reaction of her conduct on the males finds expression in boundless jealousy, which results, not unnaturally, in prolonged, often mortal, combat. Every bird, harmless as he may appear to us, is a hero in fighting for his loved one, and everyone understands so well how to use the weapons he is provided with, whether bill, claws, spurred feet, or even wings armed with horny spines, that the battle in many cases comes to an end only with the death of one of the combatants.

The combat takes place in the air, on the ground, among the branches, or in the water, according to the species of bird. Eagles and falcons fight their adversaries in the air with beak and talons. Magnificent curves, rival flights to attain to a height suitable for attack, swift thrust, brilliant parry, mutual persecution and courageous persistence are the chief features of such duels. If one of the kingly champions succeeds in seizing his foe, the latter strikes his talons into his opponent’s breast, and both, unable properly to use their wings, fall whirling through the air. When the ground is reached the fight is, of course, interrupted; but, as soon as one rises, the other follows him, and hostilities begin anew. If one becomes exhausted, perhaps in consequence of wounds received, he beats a retreat, and, hotly pursued by the victor, flies hastily and without attempting resistance, beyond the limits of the domain which the female bird has chosen for herself; but, in spite of defeat, he does not finally relinquish the strife until she has declared decidedly in favour of the conqueror. Such duels sometimes, though not very often, have a fatal issue, for the eagle, whose jealousy is provoked by love and ambition, shows no mercy towards a conquered foe, but remorselessly kills the adversary who has been incapacitated for further combat or for flight. Even those apparently most harmless creatures, the swifts, occasionally kill their rivals, for in their struggles, which are precisely like those of the eagles and falcons, they strike their sharp claws into the breasts of their foes, and tear the flesh so that the death of the wounded one often results.

Among all birds with voices the combat is preceded by a definite challenge. Even the song of a singing bird is a weapon with which he may gain a bloodless victory; the pairing-cry, which so well expresses wooing, always excites jealousy. Whoever can imitate the call of the cuckoo may entice the usually cautious bird to the very tree under which he is standing. Whoever can adequately mimic the complex whistle of the golden oriole, the cooing of the wild pigeon and turtle-dove, the drumming of the woodpeckers—in a word, the wooing song or call-note of any bird—may achieve a similar result. When a second suitor appears on the scene he announces his arrival by calling or singing. But he soon proceeds to action; and thenceforward there rages between him and his rival a strife as violent as those already described. In mad fury, calling, screaming, and screeching, one chases the other hither and thither, high in mid-air or in lower strata of the atmosphere, between tree-tops or among the bushes, and just as in the pursuit of the female, so in this chase one male provokes the other to passionate rage by challenging calls, and even by song, by displaying his decorations, and by other mocking behaviour. If the pursuer succeeds in catching his flying foe, he pecks him so hard with his bill that the feathers fly about; if he lets him go, the pursued one turns in a trice and renews the attack; if neither gives way they maul one another thoroughly, whether they are in the air, among the branches, or on the ground. Among them, too, the struggle is finally abandoned only when the female declares for one or other of the combatants.

Fig. 41.—Cock Chaffinches Fighting.

Ground-birds always fight on the ground, swimming-birds only in the water. How obstinately the gallinaceous birds may do battle is known to everyone who has watched two cocks fighting. Their duels, too, are a matter of life and death, though a fatal result does not often take place except when the natural weapons have been sharpened and the means of protection weakened by man’s cruel interference. Rival ostriches fight with their strong legs, and, striking forwards, tear deep wounds with their sharp toe-nails in the breast, body, and legs of their opponent. Jealous bustards, after spending a long time challenging each other with throat inflated, wings and tail outspread, and much grumbling and hissing, make use of their bills with very considerable effect. Sandpipers and other shore-birds, particularly the fighting ruffs, which fight about everything, about a mate or about a fly, about sun and light, or about their standing-ground, run against each other with bills like poised lances, and receive the thrusts among their breast-feathers, which in the case of the ruffs are developed into what serves as a shield. Coots rush at each other on an unsteady surface of water-plants, and strike each other with their legs. Swans, geese, and ducks chase each other till one of the combatants succeeds in seizing the other by the head and holding him under water, till he is in danger of suffocating, or at least until he is so much exhausted that he is unable to continue the struggle. Swans, like spur-winged birds, seem also to use the hard, sharp, thorn-like horny quills at the angle of the wing to give effective strokes.

As long as the female has not decided for either of the combatants, she takes no part in such struggles, does not appear even to be interested, though she must observe them closely, as she usually declares for the winner, or at least accepts his suit. How her decision or declaration is actually brought about I cannot say, I cannot even guess. While the battles described are in progress she makes her choice, and from thenceforward she gives herself unreservedly to the favoured male, follows him wherever he goes, accepts his demonstrations of affection with obvious pleasure, and returns his caresses with the most self-forgetting tenderness. She calls longingly after him, greets him joyously, and submits unresistingly to his desires and fondlings. Parrot pairs sit with their bodies closely pressed together, though hundreds may have settled on the same tree; the most complete unison is observable in all their doings; they are as if guided by one will. Does the husband take food, the wife takes it too; does he seek a new perch, she follows him; does he utter a cry, she joins her voice to his. Caressingly they nestle in each other’s plumage, and the passive female willingly offers head and neck to the eager male, thus to receive proofs of his tenderness. Every other female bird receives the caresses of her mate with similar, if somewhat less obvious devotion. She knows neither moods nor vexatious humours, neither sulking nor anger, neither scolding nor upbraiding, neither displeasure nor discontent—nothing but love, tenderness, and devotion, while the male thinks of nothing but his happiness in his newly-acquired treasure, and has no desire but to retain it. While he sometimes arranges or decides for her, he yields to the wishes of his mate; when she rises, he, too, leaves his perch; when she wanders abroad, he follows her; when she returns, he also comes back to the home of his youth. Little wonder that the wedlock of birds is happy and blameless. If the birds united for life grow old themselves, their love does not grow old with them, but remains ever young; and every spring-time fresh oil is poured upon the flame; their mutual tenderness does not diminish during the longest wedded life. Both mates faithfully take their share of the domestic cares at the time of nest-building, hatching the eggs, and bringing up the young. The male devotedly assists the female in all the labours required by their brood; he defends her courageously, and will unhesitatingly rush into obvious danger, even to death, to rescue her. In a word, from the beginning of their union they share each other’s joys and sorrows, and, except in unusual circumstances, this intimate bond lasts throughout life. There is no lack of direct evidence in proof of this. Keen-eyed naturalists, who have observed certain birds for many successive years, and have at length come to know them so well that they could not confuse them with others of the same species, have given us their guarantee for the birds’ devotion, and all of us who have given special attention to the birds which have come under our notice must be led to the same conclusion. A pair of storks on the roof of a house give the owner so many opportunities for observing them and distinguishing them from other storks that error is almost out of the question; and whoever watches his storks will find that the same pair occupy the nest every year as long as both live. And every naturalist or sportsman, who carefully notes wandering bird-pairs, or shoots them if the differences of sex are not readily distinguishable, will find that they are really male and female. In the course of my travels in Africa I often saw pairs of migrating birds which there, too, lived in the close fellowship so characteristic of bird-wedlock, and were as inseparable as in the thicket at home, doing all and enduring all in common. Pairs of booted eagles were easily recognizable as mates even when they travelled or took shelter in company with others of their species; the whistling swans which I saw on the Menzaleh Lake in Egypt appeared in pairs and flew away again in pairs; all the other united pairs which I observed on my way illustrated the same habit. That they share misfortunes as well as pleasures together, I learned from a pair of storks I observed on a pool in South Nubia, to whom my attention was attracted because they were there at a time long after all others of their species had sought a refuge in the interior of Africa. To discover the cause of this prolonged stay I had them shot, and I found that the female had a broken wing which prevented her travelling farther, and that the male, himself thoroughly sound, had remained, for love of her, in a region where all the conditions of comfortable wintering were awanting. The close and faithful bond between pairing birds is severed only by death.

This is the rule, but it is subject to exceptions. Even among monogamous birds unfaithfulness occurs sometimes, though rarely. Firmly as the females are wont to keep faith with their mates, and little as they are inclined to cast furtive glances at other males, or even to accept them as friends when they obtrude themselves, the specially brilliant gifts of some stranger may exercise a seductive influence. A master-singer who far surpasses the husband in song, an eagle who excels in all or at least in many respects the one selected by a female, may seriously disturb the happiness of a nightingale or eagle marriage, may perhaps even entice the female away from her rightful spouse. This is evidenced by the bachelors who fly about before and during the brooding-time, intruding audaciously into the domain of a wedded pair and boldly sueing for the favour of the female, and by the jealous fights which begin at once between the lawful husband and the intruder, and which are usually fought out without the aid of the female. The conduct of a suddenly widowed female, who not only immediately consoles herself by pairing again, but sometimes even accepts the assassin of her first mate, points, at least to a certain extent, in the same direction. On the roof of the manor of Ebensee, near Erfürt, there brooded for years a pair of storks who, though they lived in complete harmony, were never without contests, suffering perpetually from the intrusion of strangers, who attempted to get possession of nest and female. One spring there came upon the scene a male who far surpassed all previous suitors in assertiveness and persistence, and forced the paterfamilias to be always fighting, or at least to be constantly on the watch. One day, wearied with his struggles, he sat upon the nest apparently asleep, with his head under his wing, when suddenly the intruder swooped down upon him, transfixed him with his bill, and hurled him lifeless from the roof. And the widow? She did not drive the infamous assassin from her, but unhesitatingly allowed him to fill his victim’s place, and went on with her brooding as if nothing had happened.

This and the facts already mentioned are not to the credit of the females, but I should like to emphasize that they are so much outweighed by the evidence on the other side, that they must be considered as exceptions which prove the rule. And if the females should be judged apparently or actually guilty, it must not be forgotten that the males, with far more reason to be faithful than the less numerous females, sometimes forget their conjugal ties. Whoever thoroughly knows pigeons, which are erroneously regarded as the type of all conceivable virtues, is aware that they are far from deserving the reputation which has been handed down in the legends of the ancients. Their tenderness is captivating, but it is not constant; their faithfulness to wife and children is extolled, but it does not stand a test. Quite apart from their unfatherliness, the male pigeons are only too often guilty of transgressions against the inviolable laws of marriage, and not seldom employ the time in which their mates are brooding in dallying with other females. Drakes are even more blamable, and the male red-legged partridges are no better. As soon as the ducks have settled down to brood, the drakes assemble and pass the time together as best they can, leaving their mates to toil, and worry, and undertake all the cares for the coming generation, and only returning to the ducks, perhaps not to their own mates, when the young have grown big and self-reliant and no longer need their help. But the red-legged partridges, and probably our partridges also, during the pairing-time, put in an appearance wherever another cock announces himself in order to fight a round with him, and they are often allured and killed by the Spaniards, with the help of tame cocks of their own species. Later, however, when brooding has begun and they have no longer any inclination to fight, they respond to the call of the hens, if possible, more readily than before.