THE BIRDS OF DUNGENESS. 221 



are attempting concealment (and which is capitally illustrated in 

 the case of Stone Curlews at the South Kensington Museum), 

 seeming as though they were trying to flatten themselves on to 

 the ground longitudinally. I am not aware whether any of the 

 adult English Plovers besides the Stone Curlew adopt this 

 skulking habit, but I believe all their young do upon occasions. 

 I have noticed it myself in the case of the Ring Plover, the Lap- 

 wing, the Oystercatcher, and the Common Sandpiper, and also in 

 the case of some of the Gulls and Terns. It is not a simple 

 crouching down on the ground ; the outstretched neck and the 

 evident effort to keep the under side of the throat and body as 

 close as possible to the ground give it characteristics quite dif- 

 ferent to the ordinary skulking or squatting of many other birds 

 which are hatched on the ground. It is curious and not without 

 interest to note that the young of the Emu in Australia have 

 exactly the same habit. When a few days old it is not a difficult 

 thing to run down young Emus, and I have on more than one 

 occasion done so in New South Wales. As soon as the young 

 Emu found that it was being overtaken it would lie down in the 

 grass with the same tense drawn-out attitude that the young of 

 the Plover-kind assume. Might it not be reasonable to argue 

 the possibility of this instinctive habit, common to two such 

 widely different races of birds, being an inheritance from a com- 

 mon ancestor ? 



The behaviour of the old Ring Plovers when one is handling 

 their young does not seem to be bound by any particular method 

 or rule. I picked up this little atom of down and took it away 

 at least half a mile to show to my wife. It was perhaps three- 

 quarters of a hour before it was returned to the beach. On 

 hearing its call one of the old birds immediately flew up, but it 

 seemed quite contented when its young one was placed on the 

 beach, running round it, and making a good bit of fuss over it, 

 but taking no notice whatever of the onlookers. On another 

 occasion, a few days later, when I caught a nestling, one of the 

 parent birds went through all the antics of simulating broken 

 legs and wings so often described in books, which culminated in 

 the bird lying on one side, flapping its other wing in the air as 

 though on the point of death. This bird seemed to be so pleased 

 with its acting that it kept it up for a long while after I had left 



