274 BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES 



to a blind impulse, which is its own pleasure and 

 reward. It is a pretty thing to see a pair of moor- 

 hens building. During the later stages they will run 

 about, together, on the land, their necks stretched 

 eagerly out, the whole body craned forward, search- 

 ing, examining, sometimes both seizing on some- 

 thing at the same time — the one a twig, the other 

 a brown leaf — and then running with them, cheek 

 by jowl, to the nest, on which both climb, and place 

 them, standing side by side. On their next going 

 forth, they may start in different directions, or become 

 separated, so that when one goes back to the nest 

 he may find the other already upon it. It is in- 

 teresting, then, to see him reach up, with whatever he 

 has brought, and present it to his partner's bill, who 

 takes it of him, and at once arranges it. The look, 

 the general appearance of interest and tender solici- 

 tude, which the bird, particularly, that presents his 

 offering, has, must be seen to be appreciated. Not that 

 the other is deficient in this respect — a gracious, 

 pleased acceptance, with an interest all as keen, speaks 

 in each feather, too. The expression of a bird is 

 given by its whole attitude — everything about it, 

 from beak to toe and tail — and, by dint of this, it 

 often appears to me to have as much as an intelligent 

 human being has, by the play of feature ; in which, 

 of course, birds are deficient — at least to our eyes. 

 Certain I am that no dressed human being could 

 express more, in offering something to another, than a 

 bird sometimes does ; and if it be said that we cannot 

 be sure of this, that it is mere inference based on 

 analogy, it may be answered that, equally, we cannot 

 be sure^ in the other case — nor, indeed, in anything. 



