109. Young Pelican, wing quills appearing.

Returning to our sketch of the young Pelican’s growth: shortly after the acquisition of the white down, the wing feathers begin to grow. As yet the sprouting feathers are useless, but with them come strength and courage to leave the nest and to clamber about in search of the foes who perhaps have been mocking him for days, from their nest on an adjoining limb. In spite of his broadly webbed toes, he manages to climb about in the bushes with more or less ease;[109] but in this climbing he is greatly aided by his bill. Indeed, if it were not for the safety hook made by the bill, head, and neck, many a young Pelican would have a premature tumble. As it is, this hook is often the only thing that saves him if he chances to lose his footing; catching by the bill and neck he hangs for a moment, and then, like a gymnast, hauls himself up by the aid of his toes.

110. Young Pelicans, stage preceding flight.

If the young Pelican’s home is on the ground, at this age he waddles about playing by himself or fighting all comers. He dabbles in the shallow water, filling his pouch with mud and water, bits of sticks, shells, and weeds; then dropping the point of his bill downward so that the mud and water ooze out, he carefully examines the remainder, piece by piece, as if to see whether it is palatable. Even when alone he sometimes loses his temper. I saw one evidently much annoyed by the appearance of a displaced feather in his wing, and in a vain effort to catch it he whirled about like a kitten chasing its own tail.

But the fast-growing wing plumes soon seem to be a source of inspiration, rather than of annoyance. The young Pelicans feel a new and strange power coming to them, and they stand in the nest and aimlessly wave their now nearly grown wings, until some day an impulse prompts them to spring into the air.[110] The immediate result is a humiliating tumble, for Pelicans, unlike smaller birds, must learn to fly. Once on the ground he has a safer place to practice, and with a hop, skip, and a flap, he makes brave efforts to mount skyward. Finally he succeeds, and the awkward nestling becomes a creature of power and grace, sailing away on broad pinions to join its elders.

With this wonderful gift of flight comes a complete change in the Pelican’s character and behavior. From a noisy, quarrelsome fledgeling, whose days were passed in screaming and squabbling, he is transformed into a dignified, patriarchal-like bird so absolutely voiceless that I have never heard a wild Pelican utter a sound, nor do I know of any one who has; while in disposition he has become so peaceful that under the strongest provocation he shows no desire to protest.

Just what has influenced him—who can say? It is one of Nature’s mysteries. But let us hope that the same charm may be exerted on every noisy, quarrelsome creature.

INDEX