AN ESSAY ON BIRD-MIND 115 



scarcely raise his wings or plumes, and will often be- 

 tray an absent air, turning his head in the direction 

 in which he is proposing to fly off. 



No one who has seen a pair of Egrets thus change 

 places on the nest, bodies bowed forward, plumes a 

 cloudy fan of lace, absolute whiteness of plumage 

 relieved by gold of eye and lore and black of bill, and 

 the whole scene animated by the repeated, excited 

 cry, can ever forget it. But such unforgettable scenes 

 are not confined to other countries. Here in Eng- 

 land you can see as good; I have seen them on the 

 reservoirs of Tring, and within full view of the road 

 by Frensham Pond — the courtship forms and dances 

 of the Crested Grebe. 



The Crested Grebe is happily becoming more fa- 

 miliar to bird-lovers in England. Its brilliant white 

 belly, protective grey-brown back, rippleless and ef- 

 fortless diving, long neck, and splendid ruff and ear- 

 tufts of black, chestnut, and white, conspire to make 

 it a marked bird. In the winter the crest is small, 

 and even when fully grown in spring it is usually 

 held close down against the head, so as to be not 

 at all conspicuous. When it is spread, it is almost, 

 without exception, in the service of courtship or love- 

 making. Ten years ago I spent my spring holiday 

 watching these birds on the Tring reservoirs. I soon 

 found out that their courtship, like the Herons', was 

 mutual, not one-sidedly masculine as in Peacocks or 

 fowls. It consisted most commonly in a little cere- 

 mony of head-shaking. The birds of a pair come 



