ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



1117 



thnnigli its sliell. There are few more ugly 

 things in the world than a young pelican. Ly- 

 ing prone in the nest it appears wholly lifeless 

 ■ind of the color and texture ratlier of a bit of 

 water-soaked beef than a bird. It seems to 

 liave no definite organs or symmetry. It is 

 naiicd, dirty-gray, with tin}', crooked, worm- 

 like wings and a blind, featureless head. The 

 newly hatched chick is an avian postulate which 

 we must accept but which requires all our faith 

 in Mother Nature — and the pelican. Neverthe- 

 less in tlie little creature are the latent possi- 

 bilities of a splendid winged creature which can 

 swim upon the water, walk on the land, soar 

 for hours at a time on almost motionless wings 

 high in the lieavens. and finally dive into the 

 ocean in pursuit of its prey. Surely the peli- 

 can in the course of its development offers the 

 utmost antitheses of helplessness and achieve- 

 ment. 



After a fortnight our faith has its reward. 

 for the gray nesting worm has sprouted a garb 

 of grayish-white down ; its eyes have opened, 

 and in the somewhat lengthened beak we may 

 even discern the promise of the future capa- 

 cious pouch In place of helpless quiescence it 

 moves about, and when chilly pushes beneath 

 the warm breast plumage of the mother, and 

 at times clamors for food. In the last newly- 

 acquired character lies one of the most interest- 

 ing facts in the life of this species. It truly 

 calls for its food. Not, to be sure, with the 

 |)leasant, urging of young chicks, but at least 

 with a decided vocal demand — a rasping croak, 

 so strong that it may be heard many yards 

 awav. The far distant ancestors of pelicans 

 undoubtedly had need for voices. They may 

 even liave had a song for all we know. And 

 now. to the chick, as long as it requires food, 

 is vouchsafed a voice. When it begins to forage 

 for itself and takes up the serious business of 

 life — that of fishing — silence falls gradually 

 upon it, the croak becomes weaker day by day. 

 and soon the hiss of air rushing through the 

 throat is the only sound it can produce. The 

 only M)cal sound that is, for it can clatter its 

 beak vigorously when it strives to frighten an 

 enemy. On Pelican Island I have listened with 

 wonder to the uproar from the throats of scores 

 of young birds, while the parents were leaving 

 and returning, all mutely, dumbh' busy with 

 their life work. It is a problem, botli interest- 

 ing to the ornithologist and significant to the 

 |)liiloso]ihical lover of wild things, why the ears 

 of tlie old pelican remain so keenly attuned to 

 the cries of the young birds, while they them- 



selves are wholly unable to communicate with 

 one another. 



To the few naturalists who have enjoyed 

 watching a breeding colony of Brown Pelicans 

 the method of feeding has always attracted at- 

 tention. Heretofore we have known it in New 

 York from descriptions and photographs, but 

 now we may look forward each season to the 

 opportunity of observing it at first hand in the 

 aviary of the Zoological Society. The mother 

 has fed, fish after fish being engulfed and swal- 

 lowed whole, and after a time she returns to 

 the nest, her great wings fanning the air, yet 

 allowing her to come to rest so gently that the 

 topmost twigs are hardly disturbed. The young 

 bird renews its imperious clamor, and, clad in 

 its fluffy white down, stands in front of the 

 parent, wildly waving the stumpy, crooked or- 

 gans which represent wings. The croaks never 

 cease until the mother pelican opens her im- 

 mense beak, points it downward, and the young 

 bird, eagerly pressing forward, pokes its head 

 into the gaping, leathery pouch. Earther and 

 farther it goes, at last actually stepping upon 

 the rim of the beak. At this ])oint the spec- 

 tators begin to be nervous and more than once 

 have been on the point of sumraonnig keepers 

 to prevent the horrible tragedy about to be en- 

 acted before their eyes. All sympathy is with 

 the young bird as it apparently pushes on to 

 its doom, a quick death in the deep interior of 

 tlie mother. Erom this point, however, events 

 ))rocced too rapidly for intervention. L^p and 

 up. and then down goes tlie young bird, until 

 lie has pushed his way beyond the beak and 

 down the neck. Then begin contorti(ms which 

 turn the sympathy of the spectators to the 

 mother, for a terrible contest is apparently tak- 

 ing place between the yoimg bird and its parent, 

 and it seems inevitable that one must emerge 

 from the conflict, mangled and disabled. After 

 a moment of quiet the nestling jielican again ap- 

 liears in the light of day. not only unhurt but 

 replete with a bountiful repast of fish, which 

 stills the croaks until a few hours have passed, 

 when hunger again arouses him to vocal utter- 

 ance. He steps out of his mother's beak, bal- 

 ances for a moment on very wobbly legs, looks 

 about wholly unconscious of the varying emo- 

 tions he has aroused in the onlooker, and turn- 

 ing, burrows deeply beneath the living coverlet 

 of feathers which for so many weeks has pa- 

 tiently sheltered him day and night from cold, 

 from rain and the threatened attacks of other 

 birds in the great cage which is his world. 



