NUPTIAL HABITS OF THE BLACKCOCK. 251 



more wonderful pas seal, into which they would seem to have 

 passed, have anything to do with the direct courting of the 

 female, so that any argument in disfavour of sexual selection 

 which has been based on this assumption is without any force 

 or relevancy. The "dance" or frenzy, in all its stages, would 

 seem to be merely an outlet for violent sexual excitation (pro- 

 visionally, at any rate I regard it as such), and has nothing to 

 do with the actual courtship, this being a serious, methodical 

 and business-like matter, having for its object the exhibition by 

 the male bird of his plumous and other adornments to the best 

 advantage before the female (which mere " dancing " or leaping 

 does not effect), and is performed in the same general way as by 

 the common, and other, species of pheasantry. 



Not one, however, out of the twenty odd birds on this large 

 ground, nor out of the half-dozen or so at the smaller one, has 

 done anything approaching to the mad dance, or rather whirl- 

 wind, which I saw once enacted in Norway, whilst the Swedish 

 performances of this nature were not at all superior to these 

 English ones. As, this, therefore, is only one out of more than 

 thirty male Blackcocks, it would certainly seem as though the 

 more finished performances of this kind — the " war-dance " or 

 "dance" par excellence — were only exceptional. Why this 

 should be so, or why this exceptional development should ever 

 have come about, I do not know. One could understand birds, 

 in the prime of bodily vigour, being the best performers in this 

 kind, but many such should be included in the numbers which I 

 have now watched, and, moreover, the difference between the 

 mean and the zenith seems, here, unaccountably great. 



May 10th, 11th, or 12th. — Was on spot at 2, the moon being 

 a little more than half. First voice of the night, or early dawn } 

 about 2.30 — the Curlew's quavering, melancholy cry. At 3.15, 

 in the earliest morning mist, and light, the first birds fly over 

 the hedge on to the assembly-ground, but for some minutes they 

 are silent. Then a Lark sings, and, a moment afterwards, the 

 concert opens — the angry " chu-way " notes preceding the 

 whirble as usual — and more birds now dash down. It is, 

 indeed, a wonderful volume of sound,, and such as one can 

 hardly believe to be issuing from the throats, as I suppose, of 

 at most some twenty to two dozen birds. The curious harsh, 



