ADELIE PENGUIN—LEVICK. 69 
None of the food was of the least use to the penguins, but we noticed after 
a time that one or two penguins were almost always there, guarding the heap against 
the skuas. In fact, a constant feature of this heap was the sentry penguin, making 
little runs hither and thither at the skuas, who would then simply rise a yard or 
two into the air out of reach, the penguin squalling in its anger at being unable to 
follow its enemy. At this time, the penguin would imitate the flying motion with 
its flippers, seeming instinctively to attempt to mount into the air as its remote 
ancestors did before their wings had been adapted solely to swimming. 
Close to the scrap heap there was a large knoll crowded with nests, and it 
was this colony which supplied the sentries. Very rarely did one of these leave the 
heap until another came to relieve it, so long as there were skuas about, but when 
the skuas went so did the penguins. The instant the skuas returned, a penguin 
would be seen to run from the knoll to the heap. It seemed that there was some 
primitive understanding about the matter amongst the penguins, as there was never 
a crowd of them on the heap, the rest appearing satisfied as long as one of 
their number remained on euard. 
As custodian of the nest, there is no doubt that the hen is very much more 
efficient and reliable than the cock. When the former is doing duty on the eggs, 
no ordinary circumstance induces her to leave them for a moment. She wrangles 
very frequently with her immediate neighbours, and she and they spend hours on 
end in pecking at each others’ heads, but this only happens between those who can 
reach each other without leaving the nest. The cocks, on the other hand, behave very 
differently. Starting to squabble, they wax hotter and hotter, and frequently end by 
leaving their nests and going for one another in a proper battle with their flippers, 
fighting backwards and forwards over their nests and often scattering the eggs, large 
numbers of which are lost annually in this way. 
On occasions we saved eggs by replacing them in the nests and stopping the 
fight, when the combatants would quickly forget the quarrel, and again settle down 
to their duties. 
Two cocks, fighting like this in the midst of a crowded colony, were a danger 
to their neighbours, as they not only incommoded them by bumping into them and 
fallme over them, but were apt to cause misunderstandings that ended in further 
dissension. Perhaps the other birds realised this, as they would evince every sign 
of anger when two of their number started a fight. 
On this subject I find a note in my diary for November 24th, 1911, which 
seems important, and I give it word for word. 
“This afternoon I saw two cocks (probably) engaged in a very fierce fight 
which lasted a good three minutes. They were fighting with flippers and bills, one 
of them being particularly clever with the latter, frequently seizing and holding his 
opponent just behind the right eye, whilst he battered him with his flippers. After 
a couple of minutes, during which each had the other down on the ground several 
