52 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



perched in a tree as on the ground, though, on a short acquain- 

 tance with the bird, it would seem otherwise. 



No bird has come down upon the courting-place, and as it is, 

 now, as I suppose, past 7 a.m., there is no likelihood of it. 



May 2nd. — This morning was quite a blank (yesterday, as it 

 was raining, I did not start). It seems now as though the 

 place, rather than the season, were to blame. The game-laws 

 not being enforced, men from the settlement are out with guns 

 every morning, and this may make the birds shy and wild, and 

 prevent them coming down. The weather, however, is very bad, 

 and may have something to do with it. 



May 4th. — At place at the usual time — about 3.30 a.m. — but 

 there was nothing to record till much later. It was a dreadful 

 morning — cold, heavy with clouds, and sometimes raining a 

 little. There being small signs of activity, on the part of any 

 birds, about 6 a.m. I gave it up, and was walking back, when it 

 struck me that appearances were now a little better ; more birds 

 seemed coming into the trees round about, with rooklings and 

 " tchu-whai's " on the increase. I therefore sat down under a 

 fir, on a rising knoll commanding another, though not quite so 

 good a view of the arena, and had not long done so when a cock 

 flew into a small Scotch fir, close to where, had I stayed where I 

 was, I should have been sitting. From here he flew into another 

 tree, and then into one or two more, as I thought from mere 

 restlessness, till I noticed a hen in a tree near, and when she 

 flew to another, he did so too, as had no doubt been the case 

 before, and soon both went down amongst the firs to that side 

 of the arena. After a time, however, they flew up again, 

 perching in contiguous trees, as before, and now the hen began 

 to " tchuk, tchuk" loudly, and kept on doing so for a con- 

 siderable time. Here, again, we have, not an " indifferent," or 

 " passive," spectator of these nuptial performances — a sort of 

 stuffed bird for live ones to dance in a ring about, such as we 

 have been asked to believe in — but an interested participator 

 in them. 



All at once, two or three cock birds flew into the arena, and 

 were, before long, followed by others, and a few hens — three or 

 four of the latter to some half dozen of the former. Now there 

 was some real fighting amongst the cocks, confined, however, 



