The Courtship of Animals

by W. P. Pycraft

Tradition and the poets have contrived to persuade us that the fever of Love becomes epidemic in the spring. This, however, is by no means true, at any rate in so far as what we are pleased to call the “lower animals” are concerned. For with many, as for example the Deer and the Bats, this fever is not aroused till the time of autumn plenty. With regard to the deer, we can find a reason for this. It is determined in part by the period of gestation, and in part by the peculiar character of the most conspicuous of the male secondary sexual characters—the antlers. The deer, at any rate of the northern hemisphere, carry their young about eight months. Now it is important that they should make their entry into the world just as the food supply is increasing and the temperature is rising. With the summer before them the young have time to gather strength for the encounter with their first winter. We have a striking witness to the truth of this contention in the fact that when the Indian Spotted Deer, or Chital, was first introduced into Europe, nearly all the fawns perished owing to having been born in winter; later, the females took to calving in spring, and from thence onwards the species has held its own among us.

As touching the stags. The antlers, as everybody knows, are shed annually, and their renewal entails a very considerable strain on the system. As a consequence, it is necessary that this period of stress should fall after the trial of winter is overpast, and with the genial summer before them. From the end of March, when the old weapons are shed, till July, the masterful males of the community wander at large, seeking seclusion and avoiding all occasion of quarrel; for they are not only defenceless, but threatened with disaster should any accident befall the growing horns, which, during their formation, are exceedingly sensitive. Even a slight blow would not only spoil their shapely proportions, but, further, might render them useless in the warfare that is before them.

With some species this desire to go into retreat is more marked than in others. The Red-deer, and the Wapiti, on the one hand, and the Moose on the other, well illustrate this. The two first-named pass the winter in herds, in the case of the Wapiti numbering many thousand individuals; no other species, indeed, is so markedly gregarious. With the advance of the spring, however, all is changed, for the males withdraw from their companions to suffer humiliation in seclusion. As chill October arrives, a striking alteration in their demeanour becomes apparent, at any rate in the case of the older males. The new antlers are now hardened, and the blood supply, which has hitherto been building up the new weapons, is cut off. As a consequence, the “velvet,” which till now has been directly concerned with the growth of the antlers, dies, and peels off the underlying bone. To facilitate this work of cleaning, the animal rubs them, first against the stems of saplings, and, later, against larger trees, and even rocks, till at last they are ready for “battle, murder and sudden death.” The “rutting” season, in short, has commenced. And with the final completion of the antlers other signs of that approaching frenzy, which is soon to establish itself, become apparent. The most striking of these are the swelling of the neck, and a marked increase in the mane thereof; while the voice enlarges its compass enormously, whereby the females, so long neglected, are now feverishly sought for.

Plate 5.

Photo by G. IF. Wilson Co. Ltd., from “The Living Animals of the World.”

MANCHURIAN WAPITI “CALLING.”

The “stags” do not begin to call for mate’s until the horns have more or less completely shed their velvet.

[Face page 54.

The Red-deer, maddened with desire, scours the country, calling as he travels with a loud musical roar, ever and anon impatiently listening for the tremulous response of females hardly less anxious to mate than himself. One after another is speedily added to his harem, but not without conflict. For sooner or later he catches the call of another stag in like case. A jealous fury at once takes possession of him, and the call, intended as a message to mateless hinds, becomes translated into a challenge to fight for the mates possessed. Each of the now infuriated challengers makes all haste to come to blows, and speedily they are rushing headlong on one another to meet in a crash of antlers. Then follows a test of strength, a sort of tug-of-war reversed, for each strives to push the other to his knees, and succeeding, to deal a deadly sideways thrust at the kneeling adversary’s heart with the spike-shaped brow-tines. This attempt, however, is rarely achieved. Yet not seldom such encounters become a duel to the death, and one in which both die, for in the remorseless tilt at one another the antlers of one may spring apart, and then close in on those of the other. Once this happens, it seems to be rare indeed that they can be extricated from this close embrace. With heads thus locked, they sway, and twist, and tug, not now for the mastery, but for life itself. But as the hours run they become more and more exhausted by their efforts, weaker and weaker from loss of food and rest, till finally death releases both.