In the case observed by Dr. Kilham, however, the male preserved his virtue to the end. “By November 8,” he records, “the female was walled in, and a more serious attempt at interference was now made by a foreign female.... She was following the male and lighted in the next tree when he lighted above his nest hole. On November 23 the same course of events took place, except that the male was less tolerant. He fed his own mate, then drove the intruder away. A week later I saw her fly in close behind the male and light 25 feet from the nest hole. The male gave his mate a piece of bark followed by some fruit, and then bounced from one branch to another toward the foreign female.”

The poor fellow was falling, falling, but “the female within the nest screamed a number of times. I wondered whether the interloper could seduce the male, but from subsequent observations it seemed unlikely that she would. The male returned again to the nest hole, and a few minutes later was in the upper part of the tree knocking about on dead branches until he dislodged a piece of bark. He clamped his bill on the bark until it was largely fragmented. Then he moved toward the foreign female. If he presented the bark

The vampire was hard to discourage. A few days later she was observed at the entrance to the nest, trying to break the wall with her beak. Probably there was a sex murder case in the making. But “After five minutes the male arrived and...drove the foreign female to another tree, flying at her so hard that he knocked leaves from intervening branches. He returned to his nest with a small stick held like a cigar. His mate, who had remained silent, now began her wailing screeches....The intruding female, persistent as usual...had followed the male back to the nest tree. In a few minutes he flew at her again, flying faster than hornbills usually do as he chased her from one tree to another.”

But his ordeal of bachelorhood was nearly over. Five days later mother and young emerged from the nest: “The pair of hornbills were perched side by side on their tree. Not long after I heard a great flutter of wings. I looked back to see both members of the pair pursuing a foreign female....When the parents later came to our garden, she did not follow.”

Ants With Tailor Skills

Ants developed the craft of sewing long before humans. There are species of tailor ants in Australia, Africa and India that have distinctly ingenious habits. They make nests of leaves sewed together with silken threads, secreted by their own larvae, which they use both as needles and shuttles.

When the nest is torn in any way certain soldiers and workers, apparently specialized for this particular job, rush to the scene. The soldiers arrange themselves to protect the workers. These first try to pull the two edges of the rent together. If the gap is too wide for a single insect to reach the other side and secure it with her mandibles a living chain is formed, sometimes as much as six ants long. One holds another in front of her with her mandibles, the second similarly holds a third, and so on until the other side is reached. Hours sometimes are required before the edges of the tear can be brought together and held in contact.

Then several other workers appear, each carrying a larva head upwards. These little worms are carried back and forth like a shuttle, spinning the threads which are pushed through needle holes made by the workers until the rent is securely patched.

Fiend Symphonies of the Jungle

Out of green jungle depths at sunrise rises the choral hymn of the damned. It is a symphony of earth’s evil, of ancient dinosaurs and flying reptiles, of vampires and witches. It comes from the throats of jet-black, long-bearded, fiend-like creatures wearing red shawls. They are the howler monkeys.