128 THE BIRD WATCHER 
acting. Could we begblind to such revelations? I 
think not. 
The pretty little black guillemot—the dabchick of 
ocean—may often be seen sitting in a niche of the 
cliffs, and calling to another—its mate presumably— 
either above or below it. The cry is, for the most 
part, a weak, twittering sound, but occasionally rises 
into a very feeble little wail or scream. All the while 
the bird is uttering it he keeps raising and again de- 
pressing his head and opening his beak so as to show 
conspicuously the inside of his mouth, which is of a 
very pretty rose or blush-red hue, almost as vivid as 
that of the feet. The beak is opened more widely 
than would seem to be necessary for the production of 
the sound, as if to show this coloration, even though, 
for the moment, there may be no other bird there to see 
it. If, however, the rosy inward complexion were in 
any way an attraction, it would be natural for a bird, 
wanting its mate, to associate the wish with the action 
of opening the beak, just as a lonely dove in a cage 
will coo and bow as to a partner. Asa matter of fact, 
the crying bird very soon flies to the other one (or 
vice versa), and, standing beside her, utters his little 
twitter as a greeting. She, being couched down, 
responds by raising her head, so that the tip of her 
beak touches, or nearly touches, his. Then he couches 
also, and sitting thus, side by side—comfy on the sheer 
edge of the precipice—the two turn, from time to 
time, their heads towards each other, open their bills, 
and twitter together. Every time they open them the 
