51 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



sound that I could hear, and nothing, I believe, had disturbed 

 them. It was evidence of this, I thought, since a distant shot 

 would not have disturbed them at all, that they did not fly right 

 away, but only into the trees that closely skirted the arena, and 

 also that one or two males returned, again, though there was no 

 further gathering. Thus spontaneously, then, arid in so sudden 

 a manner, may the meeting break up. 



May 5th. — No birds came down this morning, and not only 

 so, but the rookling round about was much fainter, and I hardly 

 heard another note. A shot before I arrived — for I was only 

 there at 4.30 a.m. — may perhaps have accounted for this ; but, 

 looking back, I cannot now recall that the birds uttered their 

 usual cries, yesterday, when in the arena, and, even in the trees, 

 I think they were less than before. It was a wretched morning, 

 and cold, but hardly, if at all, more so than yesterday. 



May 6th. — On spot about 4 a.m. The arena was empty, but, 

 shortly after the sun had risen, two birds flew down into it, one 

 closely following the other, and, from the positions which they 

 took up, I judged them to be the two combatants of my last 

 observations, for I made none yesterday, They immediately 

 began making little flights over the ground, with springs into 

 the air, and, getting together in this way, were soon aux prises. 

 The fighting, however, was of the most timid and half-hearted 

 description, and, after a few very disappointing bouts, it ceased 

 altogether, and each bird took up its position in a certain part 

 of the ground, corresponding with last time. Here, for upwards 

 of an hour, as I should suppose, each bird rookled, " tchu- 

 whaied," and made, at intervals, those little springs into the air, 

 out of which it is easy, now, to see that the more developed 

 " dance " has been evolved. These were, this morning, of a 

 more definite character than I have hitherto seen them, and 

 consisted of a leap up, and a little forward, in which the wings 

 were fluttered, and then a drop, plumb down, when, I think, they 

 were closed. As each bird sprang, he uttered a deep and pro- 

 longed " chorrrrr," and, on coming down, made a few steps 

 forward, and sprung again. Now this was what the bird in 

 Norway did, except that he leapt continually, without stop or 

 pause, and uttered, all the while, not one note only but a series 

 of most extraordinary ones, which often sounded like violent 



