The Courtship of Animals

by W. P. Pycraft

[Face page 100.

By way of contrast with the several displays just described, it would be hard to find a more striking illustration than that afforded by the Lesser Bird of Paradise (Paradisea minor), inasmuch as here the display is associated with rivalry between a number of individuals. For much of our knowledge on this subject we have to depend on the descriptions of natives; but happily this has now been supplemented by observations made by Mr. Ogilvie Grant on a captive in the Gardens of the Zoological Society of London.

Impelled by the surging wave of sexual desire, as yet only seeking consummation, these birds gather together at frequent intervals, on certain of the forest trees of the Aru Islands, selected apparently because they present an immense head of spreading branches, and large but scattered leaves. Here ample space is found for the revels, which take the form of “Sacaleli,” or dancing-parties, comparable to the erotic dances of many barbaric races.

By the time the ball opens, the birds, to the number of twenty or more, have worked themselves up into a state bordering on frenzy, and each commences his performance with quivering wings and loud, penetrating cries which may be syllabled as walk—walk—walk—walk—walk—walk, rapidly repeated. Then the wings are suddenly held out on either side, the tail is bent forward under the branch, and with a quick, barely perceptible rustle, the gorgeous, golden, diaphanous side-plumes are thrust upward and forward on each side of the body, forming an arched cascade above the back. With every muscle tense the performer will remain in this attitude from ten to twenty seconds, slightly quivering the wings, and from time to time imparting a tremor to the upraised plumes. Then follows a second phase. Each bird, seemingly possessed, commences to dance and hop wildly backwards and forwards along the bough, and with head bent forward, wings spread horizontally, and the side plumes raised to their utmost, he gives vent to a series of loud harsh cries—“ca! ca! ca! ca!” For some seconds he remains in a sort of ecstasy, rubbing his beak on the bough, and occasionally glancing backwards below his feet, and with the back fully arched. The climax passed, he reverts once more to the earlier, more erect stage of the display, when the paroxysm either gradually subsides or is renewed.

No less extraordinary is the behaviour of the King-bird of Paradise (Cicinnurus regius), which has been described by Sir William Ingram, who for a time had a captive in his aviaries. As the illustration shows, its posturing is quite remarkable. Before this is described, however, a brief description of its coloration should be given, which, it must be remarked, cannot possibly convey more than a very vague idea of its sumptuous character. Picture a bird no bigger than a thrush, but of a wonderful cinnabar red, with a gloss as of spun glass: the head clothed in short, velvety, orange-hued feathers; and with a white breast, having the softness and sheen of satin, and crossed by a band of deep metallic green, contrasting with the red of the throat. Add a yellow beak, and legs of cobalt blue, and you will have the features which catch the eye at the first glance. But a little closer examination will reveal yet other points for wonderment. Along each side of the body the upper flank-feathers become elongated and delicately tinted, and, furthermore, they are erectile: so that they can be raised up on each side of the body to form an almost circular shield of delicate ash grey, bordered with buff and emerald green. These play a most important part during the sexual frenzy, and the effect thereof is not a little heightened by the middle pair of tail-feathers, which have been modified to form a pair of slender stalks, some ten inches long, bearing at the ends a curious disc of emerald green formed by coiling upon itself—like a watch-spring—the only piece of the vane of the feather which remains.

So much for its fine feathers; now for the manner of their use. “He always commences his display,” writes Sir William Ingram, “by giving forth several short notes and squeaks, sometimes resembling the call of a quail, sometimes the whine of a pet dog. Next he spreads out his wings, occasionally quite hiding his head; at times, stretched upright, he flaps them, as if he intended to take flight, and then, with a sudden movement, gives himself a half turn, so that he faces the spectators, puffing out his silky-white lower feathers; now he bursts into his beautiful melodious warbling song, so enchanting to hear but so difficult to describe. Some weeks ago I was crossing a meadow and heard the song of a skylark high up in the heavens, and I exclaimed at once: ‘That is the love-chant of my King-bird.’ He sings a low bubbling note, displaying all the while his beautiful fan-like side-plumes, which he opens and closes in time with the variations of his song. These fan-plumes can only be expanded when his wings are closed, and during this part of the display he closes his wings and spreads out his short tail, pressing it close over his back, so as to throw the long tail-wires over his head, while he gently swings his body from side to side. The spiral tips of the wires look like small balls of burnished green metal, and the swaying movement gives them the effect of being slowly tossed from one side to the other, so that I have named this part of the display the ‘Juggling.’ The swaying of the body seems to keep time with the song, and at intervals, with a swallowing movement of his throat, the bird raises and lowers his head. Then comes the finale, which lasts only a few seconds. He suddenly turns right round and shows his back, the white fluffy feathers under the tail bristling in his excitement; he bends down on the perch in the attitude of a fighting cock, his widely-opened bill showing distinctly the extraordinary light apple-green colour of the inside of the mouth, and sings the same gurgling notes without once closing his bill, and with a slow dying-away movement of his tail and body. A single drawn-out note is then uttered, the tail and wires are lowered, and the dance and song are over.

“The King-bird has another form of display which he very rarely exhibits, and only on three or four occasions have I seen him go through this performance. Dropping under the perch, the bird walks backwards and forwards in an inverted position with his wings expanded. Suddenly he closes his wings and lets his body fall straight downwards, looking exactly like a crimson pear, his blue legs being stretched out to the full length and his feet clinging to the perch. The effect is very curious and weird, and the performance is so like that of an acrobat suddenly dropping on to his toes on the cross-bar of a trapeze that I have named this the ‘Acrobatic’ display. It has been witnessed on different days to his ‘Juggling’ display. While giving his ‘Acrobatic’ performance he sings the whole time, but never shows his side-plumes, and when he is in the pendulous position his body sways gently as if it were influenced by a fitful breeze. The whole of this performance takes but a very few seconds.”

Plate 19.

From a Drawing by Roland Green, Jun., adapted from G. E. Lodge and others.