BIRDS OF THE AUSTRALASIAN SOUTH POLAR QUADRANT. 
On the sea-ice, therefore, the Emperor stands waiting for the egg to hatch. 
But as there is no such thing to he found in September as a bird half-starved or 
in poor condition, all being fat and in perfect plumage, it is obvious that the 
same bird does not sit on the same egg for seven weeks. It would appear 
that the incubation is carried out not by one bird, nor by a single pair, but 
by a dozen or more, which stand patiently waiting for a chance to seize either 
a chicken or an egg as the post of incubator becomes vacant; every adult 
bird, both male and female, in the whole rookery has a keen desire to “ sit ” 
on something. Certainly not more than one egg, and so one chicken, is 
produced by every ten or twelve adults, though why this should be the case 
is more than one can say; possibly it is a condition of things evolved in an 
exacting climate to allow each adult to obtain sufficient food through so long 
a period of incubation. 
Not only do the barren females take their turn with the hens that lay the 
eggs, but the male bird also helps, and so every individual, whether male or 
female, has the same bare patch of skin in the median line of the lower part of the 
abdomen, against which the egg is closely held for warmth. What we actually 
saw again and again was the wild dash made by a dozen adults, each weighing 
anything up to 90 lbs., to take possession of any chick that happened to find 
itself deserted on the ice. It can be compared to nothing better than a football 
“ scrimmage,” in which the first bird to seize the chicken is hustled and 
worried on all sides by the others while it rapidly tries to push the infant in 
between its legs with the help of its pointed peak, shrugging up the loose skin of 
the abdomen, the while, to cover it. Although the transfer of the egg was never 
actually seen, there is no reason to believe that when the sitting bird feels 
hungry it hands over its treasure to the nearest neighbour that will undertake 
the duty of incubation. 
That no great care is taken to save the chick from injury is obvious from 
an examination of the dead ones lying on the ice. All had rents and claw marks 
in the skin, and we saw this not only in the dead but in the living. The chicks 
are fully alive to the inconvenience of being fought for by so many clumsy 
nurses, and I have seen them not only make the best use of their legs in avoid¬ 
ing so much attention, but even crawl in under a ledge of ice where the old 
birds could not follow them, and there remain to starve and freeze in preference 
to being nursed. Undoubtedly, I think that of the 77 per cent, that die before 
they shed their down, quite half are killed by kindness. Once caught and tucked 
away the chicken appears to be very comfortable, but the process of changing 
hands, which must take place fairly often, is full of danger. Often enough 
the chick is almost smothered by the struggles of the heavy birds above it; 
often enough, too, its skin is torn by beak and claw, and from time to time 
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