Grus antigone. 49 



trot. I remember once seeing a tame sarrus striding after a little native boy, who was 

 filling the air with shrieks, and running as fast as his little drumsticks would let him— 

 unable, however, to avoid the a posteriori propulsion of the bird's bill. 



The sarrus, unlike other cranes, is a perennial resident in India. They begin to 

 breed in May, and a more singular sight than their courtship is rarely to be witnessed. 

 The pair meet generally in a wide open plain, and commence the marriage ceremony 

 with a kind of minuet, the male taking the lead, and being followed by the female in a 

 series of fantastic postures, bending with the heels almost touching the ground, then 

 jumping suddenly up, putting forth one wing, and then the other, and then turning 

 round with both extended, performing a dos-a-dos movement, and again meeting and 

 ambling round each other with feet lifted on high. The desired congressus winds up 

 this extraordinary dance, and then the happy pair commence grazing as if nothing had 

 happened. I have often laughed heartily, and seen others do so, at this comical 

 spectacle; but the simple Lurka Koles of Siugbhoom (where these birds are very 

 common), so far from seeing anything ridiculous in these antics, looked upon them as 

 the acme of graceful love-making ; and the most amusing part of the exhibition used 

 to be the hearing their remarks of unmixed admiration at the most ludicrous parts of 

 the scene. The nest of this bird I have never seen, but was told by the country people 

 in Singbhoom that it is constructed of layers of grass, placed on the ground in marshy, 

 reedy places at the bottom of a hill, or in a narrow valley covered and surrounded by 

 jungle. Jerdon says it breeds on some island or spot nearly surrounded by water, and 

 that the neat is sometimes made in the water, and raised some inches above the surface. 

 This is very singular, if true, for of hundreds of these birds I have watched, and many 

 I have kept tame, I have never seen one individual wade. The female sits a-straddle on 

 the nest to hatch the eggs, and is assiduously tended by the male, who takes his turn 

 in the office of incubation. The eggs are almost invariably two in number, somewhat 

 slender, oviform in shape, and of a dull yellowish white, sprinkled with small patches 

 or drops of very pale brown, most thickly scattered over the big end. In some the 

 brown marks are almost entirely absent, and the shell is thickly beset with porous 

 indentations. The average size of the egg of the male chick is 4in., and 2iin. across ; 

 of the female 3fin. by 2iin. The young, at first covered with brown woolly down, 

 cannot stand readily for a few days after birth, but remain seated or kneeling on their 

 heels. The size of the chick, in comparison to the shell it has quitted, has always been 

 to me inexplicable. I have certainly never seen one immediately after hatching ; but 

 they have been brought to me while yet unable to stand— that is, when aot more than 

 five or six days old, and they have then measured nearly two feet from the crown to the 

 ground. The growth, therefore, of the pullus after birth must be rapid beyond con- 

 ception, for nothing approaching such dimensions could be contained in the egg. It is 

 further remarked that, although the nest almost invariably contain two eggs, it is very 

 rare to see more than one young bird following its parents. And a prettier sight than 

 the family trio is seldom seen— the old birds gravely striding about, with the little one 

 between learning to peck and graze. But ashamed am I to say I was once a particeps 

 eriminis in breaking up such a family circle. It must, however, be pleaded we were 

 young (I and my chum) — we were " griffs," and therefore supposed by the time- 

 honoured Quihy to be but partly responsible for foolish acts. We had toiled far that 

 day and procured little for the bag, and we had heard that a sarrus made capital soup, 

 so that coming close upon a trio just as we were about to emerge from the jungle, and 

 each of us selecting an old bird, we fired and dropped them both ; but our joy and 

 eagerness to secure the prize was checked and damped by the sight of the poor young 

 one left standing so piteously between the bodies of papa and mamma, and looking so 

 •wistfully from one to the other. Poor little orphan ! It was easily caught and brought 

 home to camp, and reared tenderly, for the sake at first, perhaps, of the old birds so 

 ruthlessly slain, and then because it became of itself a great favourite, stalking about 



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