WATCHING GREAT PLOVERS, ETC. ii 



These birds, then, stand or sit about during the 

 day in their chosen places of assemblage, and, if not 

 occupied in catching insects or preening themselves, 

 they are dull and listless. But as the evening falls 

 and the air cools, they cast off their lassitude, think 

 of the joys of the night, there is dance and song 

 for a little, and then forth they fly. Sad and 

 wailing as are their notes to our ears, they are no 

 doubt anything but so to the birds themselves, and 

 as the accompaniment of what seems best described 

 by the word " dance " may, perhaps, fairly be called 

 " song." The chants of some savages whilst dancing, 

 might sound almost as sadly to us, pitched, as they 

 would be, in a minor key, and with little which we 

 would call an air. Again, if one goes by the bird's 

 probable feelings, which may not be so dissimilar to 

 the savage's — or indeed to our own — on similar 

 occasions " song " and " dance " seems to be a legiti- 

 mate use of words. 



But whatever anyone may feel inclined to call 

 this performance — "dance" or "antics" or "display" 

 — it varies very much in quality, being sometimes 

 so poor that it is difficult to use words about it 

 without seeming to exaggerate, and at other times 

 so fine and animated, that were the birds as large 

 as ostriches, or even as the great bustard, much would 

 be said and written on the subject. Moreover, so 

 many variations and novelties and little personal 

 incidents are to be noticed on the different occasions, 

 that any general description must want something. 

 I will therefore give a particular one of what I wit- 

 nessed one afternoon when the dancing was especially 

 good. It was about 5.30 when I got to the edge 



