206 On the trail of vanishing birds 



related behavior patterns and innate releaser mechanisms. To the 

 poet and the unabashed lover of nature, each shifting scene is one 

 of increasing beauty and wonder. All of these together are like 

 mirrors reflecting some small part of the normal development of a 

 reasonably complex organism. This organism the flamingo is 

 reacting quite naturally to the well-ordered machinery of its own 

 specific identity, within the particular environment that it has 

 won for itself by its long struggle for existence. Perhaps the most 

 remarkable thing about all this is its perfection. Hundreds of in- 

 finitely small parts physiological, psychological, environmental 

 must fit together smoothly, consecutively, purposefully. And more 

 often than not they do, with survival the aim and the net result. 



As we came to the last fringe of trees between us and the gather- 

 ing flocks, we could see that many of the new arrivals were funnel- 

 ing into the very core of the great red mass of birds already on 

 the pond. From the high-pitched "eep-eep, eep-eep" of their voices, 

 from their smaller proportions and slightly paler plumage, I as- 

 sumed that most of these milling birds were females. To one 

 side, in several closely ordered companies, stood the undoubted 

 males. They strutted even when standing still, long, deeply red 

 necks held straight and tall, heads raised so that the mandibles 

 were thrust upward, arrogantly. Now and then they would turn 

 their heads halfway around, stiffly, almost mechanically, always to 

 the left. First one male would turn his head quickly to the left 

 pause then back to the front again. Another male immediately 

 followed suit, then yet another, until all of them were engaged in 

 this behavior. These head-turnings were never in unison, but jerky, 

 nervous, fitful. I felt a desire to shout, "All right now, boys, when 

 I say the word let's all turn our heads together!" 



The head-turning was often followed by another and more com- 

 plicated male display in which the wings, with primaries held close 

 together, were flicked upward to their full extent, held there mo- 

 mentarily, and then smartly lowered. As the wings came down, the 

 bird rapidly twisted his long neck downward, so that his head, 

 thrust backward, brushed sidewise across his back feathers. The 

 entire performance seemed to say, as effectively as if spoken in 

 so many words, "Behold! I am a male!" 



