Birds in Flight

by W. P. Pycraft

The curlew seems to prefer the evening for his best efforts. Rising from the ground with rapid wing-beats, he will “check” suddenly when near the summit of his ascent; so suddenly as almost to throw himself backwards. Then, recovering, he will hang poised, kestrel-like, in mid-air, and pour forth a joyous thrilling, or jodelling, song. Rising and falling, on quivering wings, or sweeping round in great circles, and hovering again, he will remain for some considerable time pouring forth this joyful ripple of song.

The courtship flight of the lapwing is even, if possible, more interesting. Rising from the ground with slow heavy flaps of his broad wings—which, it is to be noted, present a remarkable difference from those of the female, in that the primaries are much longer, so as to give this portion of the extended wing a conspicuously broader appearance—as though he had difficulty in getting under way, he speedily dissipates this impression by a sudden upward rush, an effortless turn, apparently; and then follows a downward swoop, or fall, with half-closed wings. To this swoop there succeeds a surprising change. In an instant the wing-beat is increased to an incredible speed, causing the body to turn a half, and sometimes even a complete somersault. But the next instant he is up and away over the ground with musical wing-beats, tilting and swaying from side to side with wonderful buoyancy.

Lapwings.

Throughout, this delightful performance is accompanied by a wild and joyous song, which seems to be attuned to the somewhat bleak surroundings. It thrills one even to remember it in later days: and it defies one to express it in human fashion. It has been as nearly rendered as any version I have ever seen—and I have seen many—by Mr. Brock. It is not a whistle, nor is it like any sound that can be faithfully rendered by the human voice, yet it seems to say “whey-willuchooee-willuch-willuch-cooee.” It suffers a break, remarks Mr. Farren, commenting on this theme, during the flutter of the wings at the end of the fall, but is picked up at once with a triumphant “coo-whee, coo-ee,” as the bird dashes off at the end of the somersault.

The lapwing is very intolerant of any trespass on his breeding territory on the part of his neighbours. As soon as the intruder is sighted, the owner of the territory charges. And the two then mount up into the air, often to a great height, each striving to get above the other for a downward swoop. As the one “stoops” at the other, the lower bird dodges, and so rapidly are the wings moved that they are often brought smartly together over the back, producing a clapping noise.

Even the black, forbidding raven has his amorous moods. And at such times he will even outdo the more lively, though irascible lapwing in the art of aerial somersaults; if somersaults they can be called. For in the middle of an ordinary spell of flying he will suddenly fold up his wings and bring them close up to the body, at the same time turning completely round, as though he were turned on a spit; the body being held horizontal as the turn is made. For a moment or two there he is suspended, as it were, between earth and sky, with his back towards earth, and his breast towards the heavens. Lest he should forget the manner of the trick, it would seem, he will practice it at times, during the stern work of chasing intruders from his territory; for he will brook no competitors on his ground.

The woodpigeon, during the courtship season, makes frequent sallies into the air for the purpose, apparently, of giving vent to his exuberant feelings. During such flights he will dart up from the tree-tops and sail round, high above, in great circles, rising and falling as he goes, with out-spread wings, every now and then bringing them over his back with a resounding snap. During such displays the white bar across the wing is most conspicuous, serving at once to identify the performer.