176 BIRD WATCHING 



At last when it is well on in the afternoon, the 

 partner bird flies up and stands for some minutes 

 preening itself, whilst the one on the nest, who is 

 turned away, throws back the head towards it and 

 opens and shuts the bill somewhat widely, as in greet- 

 ing, several times. The newcomer then jumps and 

 waddles to the further side of the nest, so as to front 

 the sitting bird, and sinking down against it with a 

 manner and action full both of affection and a sense of 

 duty, this one is half pushed, half persuaded to leave, 

 finally doing so with the accustomed grotesque hop. 

 As it comes down on the rock it turns towards the 

 other who is now settling on to the eggs, and, throwing 

 up its head into the air, opens the bill so as to show 

 (or at any rate showing) the brightly coloured space 

 within. 



All this it does with the greatest — what shall we 

 say? Not exactly empressement, but character — it is 

 a character part. There is an indescribable expres- 

 sion in the bird — all over it — as of something vastly 

 important having been accomplished, of relief, of 

 satisfaction, of summum bonum, and, also, of a certain 

 grotesque and gargoil-like archness — but as though all 

 these were only half-consciously felt. She then (for I 

 think it is the female), before flying away, picks up a 

 white feather from the ledge and passes it to the male, 

 now established on the nest, who receives and places 

 it. It has all been nearly in silence, only a few low, 

 guttural notes having passed between the birds, whilst 

 they were close together. 



Just in the same way the birds relieve each other 

 after the eggs have been hatched and when the young 

 are being fed and attended to. 



