59



Notes pom the Scampslon Aviaries.



merely due to exuberance of spirits. When they are in this

mood, they ‘set’ towards a companion or a human visitor,

crouching to the ground, with tail erect and wings spread wide,

then springing aside they pose again, and then suddenly resume

their ordinary attitudes as if nothing had excited them.


Little Bustards are generally peaceable enough, except just

at the breeding season, but they are nervous, and the move¬

ments of a mouse or even of a companion at night, will cause them

to spring up suddenly, with great violence, to a height of five or

six feet. I lost a female in this way, which broke her neck

against the roof of the shed, and now I have divided the latter

into several compartments, one for each bird, and have had no

more accidents.


The display of the male is striking and peculiar. Even

before his nuptial dress is quite complete his neck feathers begin

to stand out, and he runs about with head held high and eyes

blazing with excitement. He selects some favourite spot, and

spends most of his time thereon, at intervals trampling with his

feet, as it were marking time, and bleating like a miniature goat,

then tossing his head with a resounding ‘click,’ which can be

heard much further than the bleat, and finally leaping in the air a

yard or more high, he displays the white portions of his plumage,

while his wings make a peculiar whistle, all these movements no

doubt deliberately calculated to attract attention. This per¬

formance is probably partly a challenge to rival males, but also

certainly a true display. If a female approaches, he leaves his

stand and rushes off in pursuit. While he behaves quite gently

to the mate of his choice, he joins her in hunting off any other

females with considerable violence. Whether the Great Bustard

may rightly be called polygamous or not is disputed, but the Little

Bustard undoubtedly pairs. In the breeding season the females

fold their tails like a fowl (hen), and are quarrelsome amongst

themselves.


I have so far been unlucky that, both this last summer and

in 1909, when my Little Bustards went to nest, the weather was

so exceptionally unfavourable at hatching time. The hens made

scratcliings amongst bunches of coarse grass, and my largest clutch

consisted of three eggs. The birds sit very close, and are quite



