The hen would establish herself on an old nest, or in some cases scoop out a hollow in the ground and sit in or by this, waiting for a mate to propose himself. ([Fig. 26.]) She would not attempt to build while she remained unmated. During the first week of the nesting season, when plenty of fresh arrivals were continually pouring into the rookery, she did not have long to wait as a rule. Later, when the rookery was getting filled up, and only a few birds remained unmated in that vast crowd of some three-quarters of a million, her chances were not so good.
For example, on November 16 on a knoll thickly populated by mated birds, many of which already had eggs, a hen was observed to have scooped a little hollow in the ground and to be sitting in this. Day after day she sat on looking thinner and sadder as time passed and making no attempt to build her nest. At last, on November 27, she had her reward, for I found that a cock had joined her, and she was busily building her nest in the little scoop she had made so long before, her husband steadily working away to provide her with the necessary pebbles. Her forlorn appearance of the past ten days had entirely given place to an air of occupation and happiness.
As time went on I became certain that invariably pairing took place after arrival at the rookery. On October 23 I went to the place where the stream of arrivals was coming up the beach, and presently followed a single bird, which I afterwards found to be a cock, to see what it was going to do. He threaded his way through nearly the whole length of the rookery by himself, avoiding the tenanted knolls where the nests were, by keeping to the emptier hollows. About every hundred yards or so he stopped, ruffled up his feathers, closed his eyes for a moment, then “smoothed himself out” and went on again, thus evidently struggling against desire for sleep after his journey. As he progressed he frequently poked his little head forward and from side to side, peering up at the knolls, evidently in search of something.
Fig. 19. Adélies arriving at the Rookery
Fig. 20. A Cock carrying a Stone to his Nest
Arrived at length at the south end of the rookery, he appeared suddenly to make up his mind, and boldly ascending a knoll which was well tenanted and covered with nests, walked straight up to one of these on which a hen sat. There was a cock standing at her side, but my little friend either did not see him or wished to ignore him altogether. He stuck his beak into the frozen ground in front of the nest, lifted up his head and made as if to place an imaginary stone in front of the hen, a most obvious piece of dumb show. The hen took not the slightest notice nor did her mate.
My friend then turned and walked up to another nest, a yard or so off, where another cock and hen were. The cock flew at him immediately, and after a short fight, in which each used his flippers savagely, he was driven clean down the side of the knoll away from the nests, the victorious cock returning to his hen. The newcomer, with the persistence which characterises his kind, came straight back to the same nest and stood close by it, soon ruffling his feathers and evidently settling himself for a doze, but, I suppose, because he made no further overtures the others took no notice of him at all, as, overcome by sheer weariness, he went to sleep and remained so until I was too cold to await further developments. On my way back to our hut I followed another cock for about thirty yards, when he walked up to another couple at a nest and gave battle to the cock. He, too, was driven off after a short and decisive fight. Soon there were many cocks on the war-path. Little knots of them were to be seen about the rookery, the lust of battle in them, watching and fighting each other with desperate jealousy, and the later the season advanced the more “bersac” they became.