FIVE JAYS AT A NEST It was rather generally known that occasionally more than the two parent birds attended a nest, but until 1935, when Alexander Skutch, the authority on the biology of Central American birds, published his paper "Helpers at the Nest," few of us realized how widespread this was. Since most birds of a species are difficult to identify individually, one must actually see the extra, unmated helpers at the nest along with the parents to be sure they are there. In the brown jays of Central America that Skutch studied closely the colors of the soft parts, bill, feet, and eye rings were variable and he was able to recognize many individual birds. At five nests he watched he found at least one helper at each nest, and at one there were five helpers, all bringing food. Sometimes, if between an incoming, food-laden bird and the young, they would take the food and pass it on to the nestling. At one nest the unmated helper was more zealous in guarding the nest than were the rightful parents. Sometimes, perhaps, these helpers were unmated young of the parents' previous year's brood, but this could hardly have been the case where there were five helpers, for the brown jay ordinarily raises no more than three young a year. A black-eared bush tit of Central America seems to have a great preponderance of males and at one nest in addition to the parents there were three other males bringing food to the young.

MATERNAL PENGUINS Perhaps the most striking example among birds is the emperor penguin. These birds breed in the dark and cold of the antarctic winter, on the edge of the ice shelf. The single egg is carried on the feet of the brooding bird; indeed one wonders what other adaptation for holding the egg would be possible in this land of ice, snow, and water. Only a few of the adults in each colony lay eggs any year, perhaps one in five, or one in twelve. But all the adults in the colony have the urge to incubate and brood. Thus many old birds, rather than merely the two parents, may take turns caring for each egg or chick, leaving the rest ample time to feed. So strong is the urge to brood that struggles may take place over a chick and it may be very roughly handled. Indeed the chicks may so resent this that they may creep away into ice crevices and freeze to death. Another strange turn this behavior may take is that frozen eggs, dead chicks, and even bumps of ice of suitable size are carried on the feet and covered with the birds' feathers by their "would-be fathers and mothers."

A NAME FOR A BOAT

A request for the name of a sea bird, a name to be used for a boat, came to me at my desk in the museum one day. My memory was quickly exhausted with sea gull, sea swallow, and albatross. But I keep within reach the handy guide, Birds of the Ocean, by W. B. Alexander. In the index I found twenty pages of names, two columns to a page. They started with aalge, Uria, and went on down through the alphabet to yelkouan, Puffinus, and to zimmermanni, Sterna.

EUPHONY NEEDED A name should be short, pleasant-sounding, and easy to remember and to say, so obviously such words as Macronectes, Brachyramphus, Aptenodytes, and Coprotheres are ruled out among the scientific names. But further, when choosing a name for a boat from among those of water birds, one should consider the kind of a boat. There should be some appropriateness; some points of resemblance between the boat and the bird, or between the boat owner and the bird. Albatross seems right for a seagoing sailing ship, sailing to southern oceans; tern (or sea swallow) appropriate for light, dainty coastal sailing craft; puffin or auk or murre for power craft, for these birds spend most of their time stolidly on the water and when they fly have a direct buzzing flight. Loon and dabchick would do well for fresh-water boats. But one objection to both them and the various auks for a name is that these birds spend much time swimming underwater. They might better give their names to submarines. The big, stocky sea ducks, called scoters and eiders might suit some stout craft that ply to arctic waters.

SCIENTIFIC NAMES AVAILABLE I reviewed the host of other names. Scientific names need not be ignored either. What is nicer than Gygis, the name of the white, fairy, or love tern of the South Seas for a small summer sail boat? Then going farther afield into austral waters for far traveling craft there's Diomedea, the name of the albatross, and Daption, the medium-sized petrel that also is called pintado for the same reason a white-splashed horse is called a pinto, and Prion, the tiny whalebirds of the antarctic whose blue-gray back is near the ideal ocean-camouflage color. Larus, a good honest name without frills, belonging to the gulls that haunt our harbors, coasts, and lakes, would do for a plain, everyday sort of boat. Kittiwake is another gull that spends more time at sea. Gannets are boldly black and white, strong-flying birds of the North Atlantic, and one could use that, or its scientific equivalent, Moris, for a boat.

Penguin and pelican I'm doubtful about; I can't imagine a boat for either. Skua or jaeger would, of course, be a lovely symbol for a pirate vessel, as would frigate bird; both are birds that practice the stand-and-deliver method of getting food from weaker fisherfolk. The petrels called shearwaters are among the hardiest seagoing birds, but the name has little association for most people beyond wondering if they feed around breakwaters. Petrel itself isn't a bad name, though one might think of the storm petrels, which are also called Mother Carey's chickens, and have been considered the souls of drowned sailors, though their name perhaps refers to Peter, and his attempt to walk on the water, as these birds are continually trying to do.

Phalaropes are snipes of sorts that have taken up a periodic seagoing habit, and their name might often be appropriate. Even their habit of spinning quickly about as they sit on the water might still agree. A Chicago man named his Chris-Craft Sandpiper, after, as he said, the bird that goes hopping along the beach before the waves.

Sula is a good sort of a word, and the name of birds that are strong, swift fliers of the tropics. But in English they're usually called booby, which is an English word meaning simpleton (which name the birds got from stupidly perching on ships). Alle for the little auk or dovekie would do for a tiny boat in northern waters, and I knew of one boat called the Alca, after the razor-billed auk, while Cepphus, the name of the black guillemots, is equally good, as is both Lunda and its equivalent puffin.