212 NATURAL SCIENCE. March, 



stern chase after the fortunate possessor of an inch of worsted. I 

 tried them again with cinnabar caterpillars, of which they took scarcely 

 any notice. None were seized. I threw in a lump of sugar. The 

 chicks stood round it, uttering the danger note. Then some ran at it, 

 pecking rapidly and withdrawing in haste. They deal thus with 

 moderate-sized suspicious-looking objects. 



Ducklings. — On repeating again the experiment with the empty 

 tin they soon left it, and did not squat down in it at all. But when I 

 poured in water they ran to it at once. 



Tenth Day. — Chicks. — I took two of the chicks to the yard from 

 which the eggs were obtained, and opened the basket, in which I had 

 carried them, about two yards from a hen which was clucking to her 

 brood. They took no notice whatever of the sound. They were not 

 in a frightened condition, for they jumped on my hand and ate grain 

 off it, scratching at my fingers. I put them with a hen in a small 

 fowl-house. They did not seem frightened, or, if at all, but little. 

 To those that remained I took back a large humble-bee. One darted 

 at it, giving it a sharp peck, and throwing it disabled to one side. 



Ducklings. — One of the ducklings seized the disabled bee, and, 

 after mumbling it for some time in the water, swallowed it. 



Thirteenth Day. — I took the remaining chicks to the yard. A 

 hen in a fowl-house was clucking eagerly to her young brood. The 

 chicks were put down outside, out of sight of her. They took no 

 notice whatever of the clucking sounds she made, but scratched about 

 round me. They were then placed among her brood. She seemed 

 inclined at first to drive them away, but afterwards looked more 

 kindly on them. But they did not keep close to her like her own 

 brood. I went over to see them next day. One was at some little 

 distance from the hen. I leant down and held out my hand. The 

 little thing ran to me and nestled in my palm. 



The sounds emitted by the chicks are decidedly instinctive, and 

 some of them are fairly differentiated. At least six may be distin- 

 guished. First the gentle piping, expressive of contentment. It 

 is heard when one takes the little bird in one's hand. A further low 

 note, a sort of double sound, seems to be associated with extreme 

 pleasure, as when one strokes the chick's back and cuddles it. Very 

 characteristic and distinct is the danger note — a sound difficult to 

 describe, — perhaps somewhat as if a miniature policeman's rattle 

 were sprung inside the chick's head. This is heard on the second or 

 third day. If a large humble-bee or a black-beetle, or a big worm 

 or lump of sugar, or in fact anything largish and strange be thrown 

 to the chicks, the danger note is at once heard. Then there is the 

 cheeping, piping sound, expressive, apparently, of wanting something. 

 It generally ceases when one goes to them and throws some grain or 

 even stands near them. My chicks were accustomed to my presence 

 in the room, and generally were restless when I left them and made 

 this sound. Then there is the sharp squeak when one seizes them 



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