46 BIRD COURTSHIP 



The Eskimo maiden is said by Doctor Nansen to 

 resist stoutly being carried off even by the man she 

 is desperately in love with. 



In the latter half of April, we pass through what 

 I call the "robin racket," — trains of three or four 

 birds rushing pell-mell over the lawn and fetch- 

 ing up in a tree or bush, or occasionally upon the 

 ground, all piping and screaming at the top of their 

 voices, but whether in mirth or anger it is hard to 

 tell. The nucleus of the train is a female. One can- 

 not see that the males in pursuit of her are rivals; 

 it seems rather as if they had united to hustle her 

 out of the place. But somehow the matches are no 

 doubt made and sealed during these mad rushes. 

 Maybe the female shouts out to her suitors, " Who 

 touches me first wins," and away she scurries like 

 an arrow. The males shout out, "Agreed!" and 

 away they go in pursuit, each trying to outdo the 

 other. The game is a brief one. Before one can get 

 the clew to it, the party has dispersed. 



Earlier in the season the pretty sparring of the 

 males is the chief feature. You may see two robins 

 apparently taking a walk or a run together over the 

 sward or along the road; only first one bird runs, 

 and then the other. They keep a few feet apart, 

 stand very erect, and the course of each describes the 

 segment of an arc about the other, thus : — 



