372 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



" find," and I feel sure, from the way he came up, and the 

 place and distance at which he began to cry, that he had not 

 seen me. 



Quite a number of Moorhens are swimming in the little 

 stream this afternoon, or feeding on the banks of it. One of 

 the latter is very pugnacious. He runs at another from some dis- 

 tance with his head down and held straight in front of him, the 

 beak almost touching the ground — like a bull — putting this other 

 to flight — a swift, determined run made with the greatest resolu- 

 tion. Afterwards he swims across the stream into the reeds. 

 Instantly there is a scuffle there ; and then, pursued by him, 

 another bird swims out, and almost immediately takes flight to 

 the opposite bank. There is peace, now, for a time, but after- 

 wards this same Moorhen, being again on the bank, makes his 

 swift bull-like run first at one and then at another bird, driving 

 them both away, one uttering a cry of distress. Again, a bird 

 has been feeding, and is now walking off towards the stream. All 

 at once, and ex nihilo, another one rushes swiftly after him from 

 a considerable way off. The pursued bird takes to his wings, when 

 the other does so too, keeping just at his tail, pursuing him very 

 hotly and determinedly. It is always the same bellicose bird, I 

 think, but cannot be quite sure. Moorhens are pugnacious, 

 therefore, even in winter. Timid and wary they are, too, like 

 other birds, the last perhaps in a higher degree, and, as with 

 other birds, it is difficult when one sees them one thing, to think 

 of them as the other. Whatever they are, they seem, whilst they 

 are it, to be the genius of. They are little Perditas — but I can- 

 not quite recall the passage. Two come now along the bank of 

 the little streamlet, on the opposite side of which I am lying — 

 some half-dozen paces off. Though I seem to be well concealed, 

 as they get almost opposite to me they become suspicious. One 

 retreats, not running, but with a quick step, his neck craned 

 forward and held high, his feathers pressed against his body, so 

 that his thinness and peculiar keel-like shape appears. He looks, 

 now, much smaller as well as lankier than just before, his legs 

 set more behind — prepared to run and fly at any moment. Was 

 he ever a bold bird, ruffling and swelling out, running like a bull 

 at another ? I cannot believe it. 



The other Moorhen remains for a few seconds at his ease, but 



