Birds in Flight

by W. P. Pycraft

One of the most striking features of bird-life is surely its restless activity. This is always apparent, but it attains to a state of almost feverish excitement as the spring advances, and the parental instincts re-awaken. As they gather strength, so they manifest themselves, in outbursts of song—often of exquisite beauty—strange antics, or wonderful evolutions in mid-air.

It is with these last that we are chiefly concerned here. As might be supposed, they present a wide variety in the matter of their form and duration. Black-game furnish an example of a very simple form of courtship flight, but it is associated with curious antics on the ground. And these, it is to be noted, are only to be witnessed soon after sunrise. Two blackcocks will approach one another and stand as if prepared to ward off a very vigorous onslaught; reminding one of two barn-door cockerels. With lowered head and neck they face one another, the beautiful lyrate tail spread fan-wise, and arched so that the curled, outer, feathers touch the ground, while the wings are trailed like those of the turkey-cock. Then one will at last rush forward, and seizing his adversary by the scruff of the neck, will administer a sound beating with his wings. The victor celebrates his triumph by a loud, and most unmusical screech, which has been likened, by that accomplished observer and sportsman-artist, Mr. J. G. Millais, to the call of cats on the house-tops at mid-night. But presently a grey-hen makes her appearance. Hostilities cease at once, on all sides; and intense excitement prevails amongst the whole assembly—for a large number of cocks will gather together at these sparring matches. Her approach has been observed by a single bird, who, unintentionally, gives the signal by suddenly drawing himself up to a rigid position of attention, till he is sure she is really coming, then he throws himself into the air and flutters up a few feet, uttering at the same time, a peculiar hoarse note of exultation. Immediately all the others follow suit; each seeming to strive to outdo his neighbour in a series of absurd pirouettings. Here we have a “Love-flight,” of exceedingly brief duration, associated with terrestrial combats and frantic prancings.

Woodcock carrying Young

The grouse pursues a different method. He strives to incite his mate to amourous moods by chasing her about. But she is “coy,” and will tolerate this for hours at a time, apparently intent on nothing more than seeking something interesting to eat, she seems to affect to be quite unaware of the presence of her importunate mate; though her behaviour is belied by the fact that she keeps up a continuous “cheeping” note, heard only at this time of the year. Every now and then he will vary his tactics by leaping up into the air and taking an upward flight of from twenty to thirty feet, crowing vociferously. On alighting he will commence his addresses again. Then, perhaps, she herself will take to flight, darting off and twisting like a snipe, evidently enjoying her tantalizing tactics. He follows in close pursuit, in the hope, doubtless, of satisfying his desires, when she shall come to rest. Here is a “courtship” flight of longer duration, in which both sexes participate.

The “musical ride” of the snipe is of a much more imposing character: and in this, again, both sexes take a part. During this performance, which affords some thrilling moments to the bird-lover, the bird ascends to a great height, and then plunges earthwards in a terrific “nose-dive” accompanied by a weird bleating noise, comparable to the bleat of a goat. For long years discussion waged furiously as to the source of this sound. Some held that it was produced by the voice: others by the tremulous motion of the wing-feathers: others, again, contended that it was caused by the tail feathers. This was first mooted by the Danish naturalist, Meeves, and he produced some very striking and curious evidence to prove his view. He showed that the outermost tail-feathers had peculiarly thickened shafts, which were also bent in a very striking way. By removing these feathers, and sticking them into a cork, he was enabled, by twirling the cork rapidly round at the end of a string, to reproduce the “bleat” exactly. Many years later Dr. Philip Bahr revived this experiment, for the purpose of finally setting the matter at rest—for there were still many who remained unconverted to the Meeves interpretation. Dr. Bahr left no room for further doubt. He showed, too, that during the production of this sound these tail-feathers were extended laterally, so as to separate them from the rest of the tail, and so give the air rushing past them during the earthward plunge, full play on these sound-producing structures. He too, applied the test first instituted by Meeves, and so clinched his arguments. One may hear this strange music as early as February, and even, though rarely, as late as July. But it is essentially a breeding-season, or rather a “Courtship” performance sound, though it may be evoked by a sitting bird suddenly surprised, when she will “bleat” as she leaves her eggs, possibly to distract the intruder on her vigil.

The woodcock has a “love-flight” but of a quite different character, known by sportsmen as “roding.” It takes the form of short flights up and down the “ride,” or space selected for the nesting site. But while the female is sitting the male will still continue these flights, choosing the early morning and evenings. As he goes he utters strange cries, which have been compared, by some, to the words “more rain to-morrow” and by others to, “Cro-ho, cro-ho,” varied by a note sounding like, “whee-e-cap.” These flights are varied by strange little displays upon the ground, when he will strut about before his mate with wings drooped and trailing on the ground, the tail spread, and the feathers of the head and neck standing on end. This gives him a very odd appearance, to human eyes, but it serves its purpose—which is to arouse his mate to amourous moods.

Redshank, curlew, and dunlin—cousins of the snipe and woodcock—are all accomplished performers in the art of wooing on the wing. The male redshank, uttering flute-like notes, Mr. Farren tells us, soars up to a moderate height, and remains, for a brief space, “hanging in the wind” with the tips of his curved wings rapidly vibrating. He then descends, pipit-like, earthwards, while the song, which has been uttered slowly, now quickens, reaching its climax as the bird, raising its wings above its back for an instant, finally alights on the ground. But he has yet other wiles, which are not used in mid-air. Approaching his mate with his head erect and body drawn up to its full height, he raises his wings for an instant high above his head: then allowing them gradually to droop, he vibrates them, at the same time rapidly moving his legs like a soldier “marking time.”