Chapter IV: Introduction (3)

CROWS LEARN FROM OTHERS Crows have been recorded as profiting by the experience of one of their numbers. In Washington, when almonds were ripening in the almond orchards and crows were swarming there threatening to destroy the nut crop, an estimated 30,000 crows were involved and the destruction of an $800 crop was complete in two days. Various methods of control were tried unsuccessfully. Finally some almonds were slit open, poisoned, and scattered about in the orchards. Very few crows were actually poisoned, not exceeding 1 per cent of the flock. The first reaction of the crows when one of their number was poisoned was one of extreme panic. There was tumultuous clamoring and confusion. Then the flock abandoned the attempts to feed on almonds and left the area completely. Here we have a case of superior intelligence, birds profiting by the sight of a few of their numbers being poisoned fleeing the area and so escaping being poisoned themselves.

TAME WILD BIRDS

We think of wild birds as being shy creatures by nature. For those of us who have kept a feeding station for birds in the winter so as to have the pleasure of association with the chickadee, nuthatches, woodpeckers, and other visitors, one of the most attractive things is that the wild birds become tame. Through association with persons they gradually learn that human beings are not to be feared. The high point of many a bird lover's experience is when a chickadee becomes so tame that it will perch on his body and without fear will feed from his hand.

It seems to be true that birds in wilderness areas are wilder and more shy of men than those living about dwellings where they are protected. This is notably true of the robin. In villages they hop around on the ground unmindful of the near presence of humans. How different they are in the wilderness, where the robins fly away apparently in great fear, while the human intruder is still far distant.

It comes as a considerable surprise to find that here and there over the world there are instances of birds with so little fear of humans that they come and perch on them.

PERCHING ON PEOPLE In the Galápagos Islands, where the general fearlessness of birds is famous, one of these cases is recorded. David Lack, who was studying the biology of the Galápagos Islands' birds, found when walking through the woods on Indefatigable Island that a flycatcher would sometimes try to settle on his head. Lack stood still and found the bird's object was to pull out some of his hair. The bird, having failed to detach any of the hair of his head, tried, apparently with no better success, to pull out hair from his eyebrows and then from his chest. This was at the height of the breeding season and apparently the bird was trying to get nesting material. This seemed to be a usual type of behavior there, and Lack correlated it with the general tameness of the birds on the islands.

There is a honey eater in Australia that includes in its pattern of behavior perching on people's heads and shoulders and attempting to pull out hair for use in its nest. A. H. Chisholm writes of going to certain places and taking companions with him for the sake of experiencing this, and the practice is so common with the species that Australians refer to this honey eater as "the hair dresser." In this case it is not tameness alone. The white-eared honey eater, which indulges in this practice, is no more tame most of the time than any of the other small local birds that live in that part of Australia. Only at nesting time does it attempt to light on persons. Chisholm correlates this hair-plucking trait with other habits of the honey eater: he speaks of its gathering hair from such animals as rock wallabies and gathering bristles from farmyard pigs and goats.

Our familiar phoebe has been recorded as perching on deer hunters in the fall and using them as a vantage point from which to conduct its hunting. This was in North Carolina, and the weather being warm, mosquitoes were notably in evidence. The bird showed no sign of fear or nervousness, but perched on the hunter's gun, on top of his head, and various parts of his body, and then flew out and picked up mosquitoes. As the hunter's face seemed to be attracting more mosquitoes the phoebe directed his attentions there. In picking mosquitoes off his face the sharp points of the bird's bill were noticeably felt at every capture and the irritation caused by a succession of these pricks caused the hunter to decide that he could take care of the mosquito situation better without the help of the phoebe. As H. H. Brimley, the hunter, put it "... my face was beginning to feel somewhat inflamed from the frequent pecks to which it had been subjected so I called it a day and told the phoebe to stop pestering me." This took place in a wild part of North Carolina and Brimley suggested that the phoebe's abnormal lack of fear was caused by its having never seen a human being before.

BIRDS AS PILFERERS

Pilfering, or petty theft, is one of the less desirable but very human attributes of our race. But it's also pretty widespread in the animal kingdom. Theft as the usual thing is practiced by only a few birds. But when it's a case of petty theft, happening now and then, it is common enough in the bird world. It's not restricted to any group of birds, but may crop up almost anywhere. There's no threat or fight about it usually. The bird, which gets its food by means of the acuity of its vision and the quick co-ordination of its movements with the recognition of its food, sees the food in another bird's possession and just goes up and takes it. Sometimes the food is taken from a larger and stronger bird, an achievement accomplished by audacity, agility, and quickness. A sparrow hawk, that inoffensive little rufous-red falcon that spends most of its time catching grasshoppers, was sitting on a telephone wire holding a small mammal it had caught, apparently about to devour it, when a loggerhead shrike sitting nearby flew straight to the hawk, seized its prey, and made off, leaving the hawk sitting there, apparently dumfounded by the audacity and success of the attack. A case in which the pilfering caused a mild fuss involved an English kingfisher and a dipper. The kingfisher lit above a pool where a dipper was feeding, obtaining food in the pool and bringing it ashore to eat it. When the dipper next came ashore the kingfisher flew down, there was a momentary scuffle, and the dipper departed, leaving its food to the kingfisher, who promptly ate it. Despite this occurrence the dipper allowed itself to lose its prey again before it left, and the kingfisher presumably had to resume fishing for itself.

THEFT NOT RESENTED It is sometimes surprising that this pilfering, when it occurs over and over again, is not actively resented, particularly when the pilferer is a smaller bird. Some of the thrushes are especially docile when they're victimized. Sometimes when American robins are feeding on the ground, house sparrows hop along with them, and when the robin finds a worm the sparrow hops up quietly and boldly takes the worm from the robin with scarcely a protest from the victim. One robin is reported to have been robbed six times, of six worms, one right after the other by a small flock of sparrows while the robin continued to hunt for worms.

The starling, an aggressive Old World species introduced and very successful here, also victimizes the American robin. In one case a starling made four successful raids in five minutes, the robin not attempting to fight or defend its food, but simply moving off a little way and continuing to hunt for worms while the starling waited nearby.

This is not a new trait of the starling, for in its Old World home, in Britain, it has been seen to victimize blackbirds and song thrushes (relatives of our robin). This happened when a blackbird pulled up a worm, a starling flew to the spot, and the blackbird moved away, leaving the worm to the starling. This method of obtaining worms was sometimes used by all the starlings on a lawn where both species were feeding, much to the hindrance in the feeding of both blackbirds and song thrushes.

Gulls have been recorded as snatching fish from mergansers that had caught fish by underwater dives and brought them to the surface to eat. Gulls also follow pelicans, and just after the pelican has completed its plunge and before it can swallow the fish protruding from its bill, a gull may flutter in, alight on the water or even on the pelican's head, and seize the fish. The pelican does not attempt to do anything about it, but accepts the pilfering with stoic calm.

Grackles victimizing ibises seems perhaps the strangest of the whole series of reports. The ibis often attempts to elude the grackles but without success. About Lake Okeechobee, Florida, where ibis are common, they feed largely on crayfish, which they secure by probing the holes made by these creatures. Grackles swarm there, and, on occasion, no sooner does an ibis seize a crayfish than one to four grackles try to secure it. The ibis may take flight and attempt to escape with its prey, but one of the grackles usually gets the crayfish away from it.

Possibly some of these birds are on their way to becoming habitual pilferers, in which such social parasitism is a fixed mode of life. With evolution, if this thieving benefits the species that snatch the food, it may become a usual habit. For habits, like structures, are subject to variations, to selection, and thus to change and elaboration.

HIBERNATION IN BIRDS

Not until 1948 did the scientific world have satisfactory evidence that any bird hibernated. True, it was an established fact that sometimes in cold weather some birds, notably swifts and hummingbirds, might become torpid for a short time, but this was not hibernation.

The early literature, of more than a century ago, contained many accounts, some claiming to be firsthand, of birds hibernating. Swallows in particular were reported as seen to submerge in ponds in the autumn. Numbers of them were said to have been found hanging to submerged willow branches apparently sleeping the winter away. When ponds were drained in winter, sometimes swallows were said to have been found buried in the mud, revived, and upon occasion kept alive indoors until the spring. Sometimes slime-covered swallows, evidently just out of hibernation, were reported found in the spring. Swallows were the most commonly recorded, but other species, too, were mentioned as hibernating, such as the cuckoo that shed its feathers and crept into a crevice to sleep away the winter.

Such accounts gradually disappeared from the literature. We can accept none of them. The old records of underwater and also the featherless hibernation of birds must be discarded. The occasional torpidity, in cold weather, of swallows, swifts, and hummingbirds is another matter, and appears to be of sporadic though not common occurrence.

FROGS MISTAKEN FOR BIRDS It is interesting to speculate as to how the old "firsthand" accounts originated. They had certain basis of fact. The first was that swallows were seen flying about in summer. They disappeared in winter. Aristotle claimed they hibernated, in a featherless condition, so there was nothing unusual in seeing them that way. Observation was less critical, and it is probable that frogs from the mud of ponds were mistaken for naked swallows, and perhaps bats, which do hibernate, taken from caves or hollow trees, were also mistaken for swallows.

AN AUTHENTIC RECORD In 1948, and again in 1949, Edmund C. Jaeger, of California, published accounts of a poor-will he found hibernating. This was the first acceptable evidence that such a thing occurs. In a little cavity in the wall of a canyon in the Chuckawalla Mountains of the Colorado desert in California, Jaeger found a poor-will in a state of profound torpidity in December, 1946. He could pick out the bird in his hand, examine it and put it back in the little cavity it occupied without eliciting more than a slight movement of its eyelids. On a later occasion handling it revived it somewhat.

The next winter Jaeger found a poor-will, perhaps the same bird, hibernating in the same niche. Over a period of eighty days, from November 26, 1947, to February 14, 1948, he visited it periodically, examined it, and took its temperature. The body temperature was low, 64°-68° F., compared with more than 100° F. of an active bird; with a medical stethoscope he could detect no heartbeat, and a cold metal mirror held directly in front of its nostrils collected no moisture from its breathing. The body processes were evidently very low. The bird was banded for identification, and in the third winter the same bird wearing the same band was found to have returned to hibernate again in the same rock niche. But on subsequent visits it was missing--perhaps having lived out its allotted span, perhaps the prey of some predator.

SNAKESKINS IN BIRDS' NESTS

There are occasionally discovered behavior patterns of birds that are so unusual as to make one stop and wonder. They are unusual for birds generally, but in a species here and there they are the regular thing. Such is the placing of a shed snakeskin in their nests by some birds.

A bird like the English sparrow, or the road runner, which uses a variety of material coarse or fine, would be expected to use shed snakeskins occasionally, as it came across them. But there are a number of species that seem to use snakeskins regularly in their nests. It would seem that the birds deliberately sought out the skins for this purpose, as though they were as much a part of the nest as the mud in the bottom of a robin's nest or the fresh green grass heads ornamenting the entrance to some weaverbirds' nests.

SOME HABITS BAFFLING I have long since given up thinking that every aspect of a bird's life must serve a useful purpose. Indeed I have already pointed out some definite maladaptations. But usually every type of behavior has a logical origin. By considering its occurrence in various species and against the background of the bird's everyday life some correlations usually can be found.

The list of birds habitually using snakeskins in their nests is short, as follows:

1. Great-crested flycatcher--belonging to the New World flycatchers, breeding in Eastern North America and nesting in holes.

2. Arizona crested flycatcher--a relative of the great-crested variety, with similar habits.

3. Blue grosbeak--an American member of the sparrow family, making an open nest in bushes.

4. Black-crested titmouse--a member of the chickadee family, living in Western North America and nesting in holes.

5. Bank mynah--a starling, living in southern Asia and nesting in holes in banks.

6. Rifle bird--an Australian bird of paradise, making a cup-shaped nest in trees.

7. Madagascar bulbul--making a cup-shaped nest in trees.

LIKE A DECORATION Twenty or more other species of birds have been recorded as using snakeskins more or less commonly, or occasionally perhaps on the basis of availability or of chance. But with the above they're an essential part of the nest. In some of the species the snakeskins are arranged as a rim around the edge of the nest almost as a decoration; sometimes the snakeskins may make up most of the nest.

Now as to possible correlations. The species are not closely related. Except for the two flycatchers the other five represent five different families. The distribution over the world is wide, too: America, Asia, Madagascar, Australia. Various explanations for the behavior have been advanced. It has been suggested that it's correlated with hole nesting, but three of the seven do not nest in holes. The most common theory is that it's to frighten away possible predators by making them think there is a snake in the nest. However, this is not very likely, and, too, one wonders why the birds that use the snakeskins are not frightened themselves. Indeed, one writer, surely not seriously, has suggested that the fright in early life of crested flycatchers at finding a snakeskin in the nest accounts for the upstanding crest in this species!

"BURGLAR ALARM" THEORY Another suggestion is that the snakeskin, by the rustling noise it makes when touched, acts as an alarm bell or a burglar alarm to warn the rightful occupants of the nest when an intruder approaches. This also seems a rather weak explanation.

We are left, then, with the fact that this curious habit has been developed in a few birds, not closely related, that live in various parts of the world and that have very different habits. It is usual with them. A number of others occasionally have this habit.

My first clue as to the proper background against which to solve this habit came when, unpacking a bird collection made in Borneo by curator of anatomy D. Dwight Davis, I took out a bulbul's nest. In its outer edge were flat, weathered leaves that resembled snakeskins. Later, when we received a bird collection from Dr. D. S. Rabor of the Philippines there was a nest of another species of bulbul and this too had flat, dead, weathered leaves in it that looked like snakeskin. When I was in Madagascar, in 1929-31, I had found three nests of the Madagascar bulbul with a snakeskin used in each. Here was a clue. I decided to investigate the nests of the other species of bulbuls of southern Asia and Africa where the family is represented by many species. By considering the snakeskin-using species against the background of the nesting of the other species some correlation might appear.

BOOKWORK This became a library problem at once. I had to look up the earlier reviews of the problem in the ornithological journals, _The Auk_ and the _Ornithologische Monatsberichte_, then in Strong's _Bibliography of Birds_, to make sure that no important papers were missing from my own subject file. Stuart Baker's _Fauna of British India, Birds_ had a large part of one volume devoted to bulbuls, and gave excellent summaries of the nidification of each species occurring there. Bannerman's _Birds of Tropical West Africa_ covered the western part of that continent, and Jackson's and Sclater's _Birds of Kenya Colony_ did the same for the eastern part. For collateral material I looked in Mathews' _Birds of Australia_, Volume 12, Forbush's _Birds of Massachusetts_, and Mrs. F. M. Bailey's _Birds of New Mexico_, and a dozen minor publications.

But it was worth it.

Perhaps my earlier thinking was dominated by the thought that the shed snakeskins had been parts of animals toward which many birds show an antipathy. But it's extremely probable a bird does not recognize the snakeskin as such. Rather to it the shed snakeskin is a strip of thin, flexible material. Obviously it would be used, by chance, by many bird species, such as the house wren, which, in addition to using such natural materials as twigs, grass, and hair, has been recorded as using lead pencils, paper, nails, safety pins, and snakeskins in its nest.

As to the regular users of snakeskin, the snakeskin-using Madagascar bulbul did fit into a pattern. Bulbuls in general make characteristic simple cup nests. Some species use almost any available material. But quite a few species had specific choices of materials: one species' nest had tendrils of vines in its base; another a lining of grass heads of a certain color; another pine needles; another red dead leaves; and the Madagascar bulbul snakeskins.

A SOLUTION There seems to be a tendency for many species to make distinctive nests. They often accomplish this by a choice of material used by few or no other species. What more natural than that one species, being in a country where snakes are common, should hit on shed snakeskins!

To show that the choice of snakeskin as nesting material is an expression of a tendency for each species of bird to make a different kind of nest may not be much of an answer. But it is to an extent. No longer do we say, "Why are certain birds' nests characterized by snakeskins?" Rather we have the broader, more general question, "Why does each kind of bird tend to build a nest different from that of every other kind?" Thus, little by little, we clear away small, vexing questions and resolve them into larger, more general questions. For answers to these we sometimes plan extended work involving field studies, studies of specimens, and books. And sometimes, as we examine a specimen, read a paper, or unpack a shipment, an answer, or at least a clue, springs to our mind.

CO-OPERATION BY BIRDS

The importance of co-operation, contrasted with competition, has assumed increased importance in discussions of evolution, as it has in discussions of human social progress. Co-operation in nature is of various kinds; from the manner in which a forest shelters the squirrel to the manner in which two or more individuals of one species work together for a common object. The working together of two birds to rear a family is so well known an affair that one forgets that it is an example of co-operation, not only in building the nest and brooding and feeding the young, but also in defending the nest and the young.

Sometimes more than one species will join in ousting an enemy. For example, when a cat caught a young robin, recently out of the nest, the parents, in their frantic effort to make the cat release the bird, attracted the attention of another robin and a pair of cardinals nesting nearby in a honeysuckle. All five birds dived at the cat, screaming and pecking it so vigorously that it released the young robin and fled.

EAGLES JOIN EFFORTS More spectacular are some of the co-operative activities of birds in food getting. Bald eagles sometimes feed on ducks. Frequently two eagles may combine their efforts. The two birds may work together to force a black duck from the air onto the water, and when they are trying to catch a diving duck, they much more quickly exhaust their prey by swooping at it in turn. Bald eagles sometimes take water birds too large for them to carry, and then they must flap along dragging their prey on the surface of the water to the nearest shore. On one occasion an eagle dragging a large cormorant ashore was joined by two other birds, and all three took turns in dragging it. When they got it ashore, all three shared it.

Several fish-eating birds co-operate in capturing their prey. "The merganser is primarily a fishing duck ... very skillful and a voracious feeder. It pursues underwater and catches successfully the swiftest fish. Often a party of sheldrakes may be seen fishing together, driving the panic-stricken fish into the shallows or into some small pool where they may be more easily caught," according to A. C. Bent.

When a school of fish approached a flock of white pelicans, the birds suddenly assumed a circular position, surrounding the school. All the pelicans moved slowly but cautiously toward the center of the circle, their heads near the surface of the water or partly submerged and their necks slightly extended. The birds moved in perfect unison, making the circle progressively smaller, ready to engulf their helpless victims at the first opportunity. When all the pelicans were close to the fish, the birds made rapid jabs at the fish and apparently consumed a large number of them. It appeared that every bird got from one to several fish.

13,000 BAND TOGETHER Avocets and, to a lesser extent, the black-necked stilts also band together for co-operative drives on small fry and aquatic insects. Such drives are made in water of wading depth. Instead of forming circles the birds present compact spearhead and wedge formations and sweep the bottom muck with the characteristic back-and-forth side movements of their long bills. As many as 13,000 avocets have been observed taking part in such co-operative feeding projects.

Another striking example is furnished by black vultures observed by E. A. McIlhenny. A three-quarters-grown skunk was wandering across a field. A vulture alighted near the skunk which immediately stopped and raised its tail. Other nearby vultures joined the one nearby the skunk, and when six or eight of them had gathered one suddenly attacked it. The skunk immediately discharged its defensive scent, but without effect, for the vultures attacked in a mass and other vultures circling above joined in until there were probably twenty-five or more around the skunk. With much flapping and croaking, the vultures pulled it about until it was dead, and then devoured it.

On another occasion a black vulture came from high in the air to alight near two full-grown opossums following a narrow cattle trail. The first vulture was almost at once joined by many others until there were probably between seventy-five and one hundred black vultures following the opossums. Suddenly three or four of the vultures attacked and the others joined in. Quickly both opossums were covered with a swarm of hissing, flapping birds, and within fifteen minutes there was nothing left of them but the larger bones and the hides, and these were stripped of every vestige of flesh.

WATCHDOGS AT THE NEST

A savage watchdog outside his master's house helps to protect it. If an intruder comes, the watchdog, if it's the right kind, simply bites him without preliminaries. There's a parallel to this in the bird world. Some birds often have their nests close to wasps' or bees' nests, or in trees inhabited by biting ants. The birds and the ants, wasps, or bees get along without disturbing each other. But when intruders come along the insects swarm out, biting or stinging and driving the intruder away. The insects are protecting their own homes, but one of the results, the protecting of the birds' homes, is just as satisfactory to the birds as if they did it on purpose. This building of birds' nests close to wasps' nests is a common practice with certain sunbirds and weaverbirds, especially in Africa. It occurs too often to be chance. The question naturally arises as to how much the birds understand of it all--do they actually seek out the association? That's difficult to say, but the facts of the association are still there.

Though some of these associations are evidently fairly common and chosen deliberately by the birds--and one can easily visualize how the protection works--field observations as to the natural enemies against which they are effective, and how effective they are, are largely lacking. Usually the records are something like those of Van Rossem for the Giraud's flycatcher in El Salvador, in which he points out that this bird usually nests in certain mimosa trees armed with numerous heavy, curved thorns. These thorns are hollowed out and inhabited by swarms of small but extremely hostile antlike insects, so that the nest is well protected. However, the effectiveness of ant and bee protection against human predation can be seen in the following.

Take the case of Mr. M. E. W. North, who arranged a rope to climb to a fish eagle's nest in East Africa. He had gotten about fifty feet up and was considering going out on the big limb on which the nest was, when he noticed a wild bee on his sleeve. Realizing that he was disturbing a wild-bee hive, and knowing that the sting of these vicious bees can be dangerous, fatalities having been reported, he came down his rope at express speed, crashing through projecting branches and brambles. Reaching the ground, he freed himself from the rope and fled to a safe distance, considering himself lucky to have received only three stings.

On another occasion, again in East Africa, Mrs. R. E. Moreau attempted to reach a hawk's nest to measure the eggs, but when she was up in the tree, savage, biting red ants drove her out.

BIRD GUIDES TO HONEY

In Africa there are birds which lead men to honey. They are called honey-guides and their family name, Indicatoridae, has the same idea incorporated into it. Though there are several species of these small, dull-colored birds, which are related on the one hand to woodpeckers and on the other to barbets, it is only one species, the common or black-throated honey-guide that is well known as a guide to honey.

The traveler in the country may find one of these birds chattering and flying ahead of him. The natives, who know this bird well and favorably will tell the traveler to follow; it will lead to a bee tree. The native, as he follows this guide, gives occasional whistles, as if to encourage the bird. The bird continues, flying from perch to perch, ahead, and chattering noisily. Sometimes it may return to see if the men are following; sometimes it remains chattering on its perch until the followers catch up. Finally the bird will go no farther. It flies about aimlessly and allows one to approach closely. This is the spot. In a hole in the tree trunk, or in the ground nearby the bees' nest is to be found.

When the beehive is opened, and the honey taken, the honey-guide will eat the comb that is left, and apparently it is for this that the complicated behavior of leading of man to the beehive is developed.

Wax of the honeycomb is a usual food of this species, judging by stomach examinations, and one wonders how they get it when man is not about to open the bee trees for them. The birds have no special adaptation for getting into the hives; indeed their only apparent adaptation for this habit is a thick skin, perhaps a protection against bee stings. Perhaps, as has been suggested, other animals, squirrels, monkeys, or honey badgers may unwittingly aid them by opening up bee trees for their own purposes and allow the honey-guides to snatch food for themselves.

An amusing side of the picture is that sometimes the honey-guides may lead the honey hunter to a beehive owned by a native.

There are also records of the honey-guide leading men to big game: leopard or lions. That this occurs is amply documented, but one wonders whether or not this was accidental; the honey-guide leading the way to honey perhaps by accident leads the way past the resting place of one of these big cats so that the man stumbles over the big game and perhaps gets the impression he was led to the animal.

OXPECKERS

The lives of oxpeckers are so linked to those of large, hoofed game or domestic cattle that in West Africa where game is scarce the birds depend on cattle, and their range is restricted accordingly. There the cattle are confined to the higher and more northern areas, free of tsetse flies, from Senegal to Northern Cameroon. Thus tsetse flies help to determine the limits of the oxpeckers' range.

Except for their nesting, which is in holes in trees, and their sleeping, most of their time is spent on the bodies of the larger herbivores. There they run about over the hides and legs of the beasts, like woodpeckers on a tree. They stay remarkably close to the animals, and even ride on them as they travel. The oxpeckers' food is largely ticks, which it gets from the hide of the animal by working over it with the side of its bill, shearing off the ticks with a scissorlike action of its mandibles. But when an animal has sores or cuts or scratches the oxpecker may peck into them, and eat flesh and blood of its host.

Correlated with this unusual and close relationship, a modification in the oxpeckers has taken place. There are only two species, both African, and they are dull-colored, modified starlings. The legs are stout, with curved, very sharp claws for clinging to the hides of animals, and the bill, very sharp at the tip, with the cutting edge of the mandible very sharp to aid in scissoring off ticks.

All the larger herbivores are attended by oxpeckers except the elephant and the hippo, but the favorite seems to be the rhino, and for this he's sometimes called the rhino bird as well as tickbird and oxpecker. The rhino gives the bird its food, and in return the bird provides a service of a value difficult to evaluate. It acts as a sentinel and may warn the rhino of the approach of hunters, for which habit it is execrated by sportsmen.

It would seem that such relationships could have developed only where the supply of big game was large. With the introduction of cattle and other domestic animals it was natural the oxpecker should turn its attention to them. Here the question arose as to the attentions of the oxpeckers being harmful or otherwise to the herds. Mr. R. E. Moreau, formerly of the East African Research Station at Amani, has investigated the problem. He finds that white men who own herds tend to consider the oxpecker a nuisance; Africans tend to consider it beneficial and some African cattle owners object to having the birds killed; the beasts themselves tolerate the birds.

There is the possibility on the one hand of oxpeckers spreading certain cattle diseases that are mechanically transmitted, and on the other hand they may help reduce disease by eating ticks, the vectors of certain diseases. Of course dipping the cattle takes care of ticks on them, and here we see another indirect effect of civilization on bird life. When cattle have been dipped the oxpeckers disappear from the herd. Perhaps it is because there is no longer food for them there; perhaps they get enough of the poison dip left on the beasts' hair to be lethal.

WINGS IN FEEDING

The obvious adaptation of a bird's wings is for locomotion; to fly in the air. It is true that some few birds are flightless, and some like the penguins use their wings for underwater swimming, but this does not spoil the generalization.

Secondary uses, some with special adaptations, occur: the owl at bay spreads its wings wide, with the effect of increasing its apparent size and being more terrifying to a predator. The young bird, begging to be fed, flutters its wings in a characteristic way, and the female, in some of her mating behavior, may also flutter her wings like those of a young bird.

In courtship the wings may play an important part in display. In the Australian rifle bird they are held out, fully spread on each side of the bird like a velvet curtain against which the vivid iridescence of the throat patch stands out more vividly. The argus pheasant has the inner secondaries greatly elongated and ornamented in a fashion recalling the decoration of a peacock's tail and these he spreads to show in his courtship, while the ruffed grouse uses his wings to make instrumental music, his drumming.

Wings in geese and swans may be used in fighting, and tame birds may severely buffet humans who take too close an interest in their young. In the related screamers of South America the bend of the wing is equipped with long, very sharp spurs, which undoubtedly make formidable weapons in fighting.

In addition wings are used in at least three different ways in feeding. The red-tailed hawk may spread its wings as it sits on its prey, perhaps a behavior adapted to help the bird maintain its balance when dealing with struggling prey, perhaps to help smother the struggles of its prey.

The secretary bird of Africa is said to feed on snakes, poisonous and non-poisonous ones, and is said to use its huge wings as shields for its body in attacking them.

But the strangest use of wings in feeding is that practiced by a blackish African heron. In feeding in shallow water it takes a few rapid steps, apparently to bring it within reach of fish it has sighted, then spreads its wings, bringing them forward until they meet, and with the tips of the quills in the water. The head is in the canopy formed by the wings, and apparently it is here under this canopy that the fish on which it feeds are caught. The suggestion as to the correlation that presents itself is that the dark canopy thrown over the fish confuses them and makes them easier to catch.

INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC OF BIRDS

Vocal music bulks large in our avian springtime chorus, but don't overlook the instrumental music that accompanies it. The drumming of the downy woodpecker on the dead limb of a maple near my bedroom window is as much a part of my spring as is the cheery cheerup of our robin. It's not that woodpeckers are voiceless that they drum. The flicker can be called in with his particularly rich repertoire to repudiate it vociferously. All day the downy woodpecker goes about pounding his head against tree trunks, with his bill chiseling out wood-boring insects to eat. What more natural when springtime comes and he wants to tell the world, and especially other woodpeckers about it, to select a dead limb with a nice tone in my maple tree and hammer out a rolling tattoo--his love song and his challenge.

A DRUMMER The gray-brown ruffed grouse of a wood lot we used to have in the Chicago area is a drummer I miss. "Thump-thump ..." he started slowly, and then quickened to a roll that filled the forest with hollow sound and you wondered whence it came, unless you happened to know, as I did, that an old log in the patch of gray birch was the old cock's favorite performing stand. There he came to roll out his invitation to the demure hen grouse. A drummer, I've called him, yet he has no drum. It's his wings, striking the air, that thump and build up into a roll, its volume testifying to his great breast muscles as well as does the whir of wings as he hurtles away through the air when I come too close.

The snipe of a nearby marsh makes music with feathers and wind, music that is more enthralling to me than the song of the yellowthroat or the vocal imitation of stake driving by the bittern. Circling high, then with a change of pace, his "winnowing" or "bleating" spring song comes drifting down. There is still room for argument, but probably it's air rushing past the outer tail feathers that makes the sound. One year a short-eared owl nested in the nearby meadow. Owls generally are vocalists, even if we don't rate very high their hoots or yelps, but the short-eared owl also has an instrumental performance. Sometimes, when giving his mating song on the wing, a series of "toots," he interrupted this by a dive in which he brought his wings together under his body, with a clapping sound. It's part of the performance, but not, as might be said, the owl applauding his own show.

Over our public school each evening in early summer a nighthawk booms. He has a voice, and he uses it, calling "beep" as he circles high. But the climax of his performance is instrumental, wind on feathers. He heads down, wings high, toward the flat gravel roof on which his mate is sitting. As he approaches the roof he moves his wings down; the air rushing past the quills gives a tearing boom as he comes out of the dive and mounts skyward again.

At dusk, at a damp corner of our old wood lot, in the spring, I listened for the woodcock's flight song, a twittering of wing music as he circles up, and sweet music, too, for a wild fowler's ears, is the whistling of the wings of a passing pair of black ducks on their way in the early darkness.

CONDITIONING IN BIRDS

The classical experiment in conditioning and reflexes is that of Pavlov. It consisted of sounding a bell each time food was given to a dog. Finally the salivary response resulted even when the bell was rung, without the food being given to the dog. The dog was _conditioned_ to the bell. First it had responded to the food, then to the food and the bell, and finally to the bell alone, by a flow of saliva. The beauty of this experiment is in its simplicity, dealing as it does with a single reflex.

Though much behavior is more complex, experiments have been worked out to show how the environment, in a broad sense, can influence inherited behavior. An illuminating example of this is the one I made dealing with young loggerhead shrikes and the duration of their infantile behavior. Young shrikes, as with young passerine birds in general, while in the nest are fed directly by the parents, who place food in their mouths. One of the earliest behavior patterns these young birds perform is to stretch up with widely opened mouth, fluttering wings, and buzzing calls, in anticipation of being fed. This we call begging. Though typically infantile behavior, it may reappear in courtship, but this latter we will not consider here.

Ordinarily this infantile begging behavior is discontinued shortly after the young birds leave the nest and become able to feed themselves. Observations indicate that in a state of nature this change is probably hastened in part by the young birds themselves, who come to avoid having food thrust down their gullets, and prefer to pick up the food for themselves, and in part by the waning interest of the parents in the young, which confers an advantage on the young who early become self-supporting.

CASE OF RETARDED DEVELOPMENT Certain observations made from time to time have indicated that though the age at which young birds changed from infantile begging for food to self-supporting independence was a fixed thing, started by instinct, certain external factors, notably the amount of care the young received, could affect the age at which this change occurred. Indeed there was a record of a young cedar waxwing raised by hand who never learned to feed itself.

When I secured a brood of four young loggerhead shrikes, or butcherbirds, the material was available to conduct a controlled experiment. The young birds were raised together by hand to the stage where they were ready to begin to pick up things, to feed themselves, and to begin to abandon their infantile behavior of begging for food. This was when they were twenty-one days old. They were then divided into two lots and housed separately. One couple had a supply of food kept in front of them, and hand feeding was gradually discontinued and stopped as soon as possible. At the age of twenty-eight days they fed themselves well, though they still begged freely when I approached. By the time they were thirty-nine days old they begged rarely, and after the age of forty-five days they were not seen to beg.

The other couple had no free food available at any time, and they were fed completely by hand, the food being placed in their mouths. At the age of twenty-eight days they had made no effort to feed themselves. By the time they were fifty-three days old they made efforts to feed themselves, trying to peck the food from the fingers instead of having it thrust into their mouths, and evidently would have changed quickly to independent self-feeding and abandoned their infantile begging behavior. But hand feeding was continued. At the age of seven and a half months, when the experiment was discontinued, though these birds were capable of feeding themselves, as was seen when food was accidentally dropped on the floor of their cage, they still begged for food from their human foster parent.

OBJECT LESSON FOR PARENTS These four birds used in this experiment were nestmates, and had similar heredity and early environment. The birds in the lot which received only enough care to ensure proper development became self-feeding, independent, and lost their infantile begging behavior when they were about a month and a half old. The other lot, which received an excessive amount of care in the latter part of infancy, and were hand fed without being allowed to develop the behavior that would have made them independent, retained the infantile behavior pattern of begging to be fed until the end of the experiment. They were then seven and a half months old, and their nestmates, under a different set of conditions, had lost their infantile behavior six months earlier.

With some birds it appears excessive care can be a conditioning factor. It can delay the loss of infantile behavior and the acquiring of the normal independence. Though instinctively the young shrikes tried to develop their independent behavior, when this was not possible they continued their dependent, conditioned behavior.

POISONOUS BIRDS

Poison we know perhaps best in the plant world, whence comes, for example, strychnine. The deadly nightshade, a common weed, is another well-known poison plant. In the animal world we know poison best as something that is injected into the body by stings of bees, bites of spiders, the bites of insects, and even bites of shrews. In addition some animals having irritating, bad-tasting, or poisonous secretions which presumably protect the possessor from predators. This has received most attention in the insect world, the bad-tasting grasshoppers being examples. Toads have an acrid secretion from their skins which deters many would-be toad eaters, and pickerel frogs have somewhat the same thing.

The following three birds, which are recorded as having poisonous flesh, are, strangely enough, all members of groups ordinarily considered good table birds. Further, it seems the poisonous properties of their flesh are not constant, but apparently depend on what they have been eating.

The ruffed grouse of the United States is regarded by many as the finest of upland game birds and favored by the epicure. However, Mr. E. H. Forbush, in his monumental _Birds of Massachusetts and Other New England States_, gives accounts to show that in winter the ruffed grouse is known to eat leaves of laurel, which have poisonous properties, and that there are stories of serious poisoning resulting from eating the flesh of the birds. Such poisoning, Forbush points out, seems to have taken place only long ago and only by winter-taken birds. Perhaps now that it is illegal to shoot grouse in the winter when they may have been feeding on laurel, such poisoning does not occur. This seems an additional reason for obeying the game laws.

Pigeons in the tropics are abundant both as to individuals and as to species and many are favored as food. However, Messrs. D. L. Serventy and H. M. Mitchell, in their recent volume on the birds of Western Australia, report that bronze-wing pigeons of two species are given to feeding on the seeds of the box-poison plant, and when they have been feeding on these seeds their entrails and bones, but not the flesh, are poisonous to dogs and cats. The effects of eating this poison seems to be that the dogs and cats have fits, become mad, bite at anyone within reach, and finally die in convulsions.

During Colonel Meinertzhagen's study of the birds of Mauritius he found that one of the pigeons there had a bad reputation from a culinary point of view. Reports have it that some of the people who have eaten the flesh of this pigeon suffered from extreme lassitude, while others reported the effects as convulsions. Strangely some of the people who reported sickness from eating this pigeon say it tastes well, while others who have eaten it without ill effects say that the flesh is bitter.

KINGFISHERS ON THE TELEPHONE

"What color is the kingfisher? Not the American one, but the European and Asiatic one? My husband is painting one and needs to know the colors," a lady's voice came over the telephone. I thought quickly. "Will it help if I explain the various kinds and colors of kingfishers and where they live? But no, lessons on taxonomy and zoogeography fall too flat most of the time." The lady's voice had a Central European quality. To her "the kingfisher" probably meant the little sparrow-sized kingfisher of the Old World scientists know as _Alcedo atthis_. So I'd better start with that. I described the cobalt-blue back, with darker wings, and dark bars on the crown; an earth-brown stripe through the side of the head, paling to whitish posteriorly, and with ocherous underparts.

"What color is the eye?"

"Brown."

"And the feet?"

"Red."

"And the nails?"

"Black."

She thanked me prettily. I tried to tell her about some of the other kingfishers, but she said no, she had enough, and hung up.

I sighed and thought regretfully of all the other things I had ready to tell her.

In the United States we think of the kingfisher as the belted kingfisher, larger than a jay, with a tousled crest and a voice like a watchman's rattle. But there are other species farther south in the Americas, and in the Old World there are still more. The tropics are their home. Only one species reaches Northern United States, and only one reaches Britain. But in New Guinea, for instance, there are about twenty-four of the ninety or so known kinds of kingfishers; the smallest tiny as a warbler, the largest nearly crow size.

Kingfishers, we call them, but many live on the dry land, and instead of catching fish catch insects or other tiny animals from the ground. One large species, with a broad shovel-like bill, is even reputed to dig in the earth to get its food of earthworms.

They all look much alike in shape. Once you overcome your surprise at seeing a kingfisher as big as a crow, or smaller than a sparrow, you recognize one anywhere--big-headed, large-billed birds with tiny feet that sit up quietly much of the time. Blue is a common color, but not all are blue. Some are generally reddish in color, some patterned with browns, grays, and whites tinged with blue. Many are decorated with crests, and a few species have elongated spatulate-tipped central tail feathers that have earned the species the name paradise kingfishers.

Its voice has given one species its name: the laughing jackass, the jackass kingfisher, or the kookaburra of Australia. "Ha ha huh huh ho ha ha huk" in a deafening chorus has been given as a description of its call. A. H. S. Lucas and W. H. D. Le Souëf, no doubt with tongue in cheek, record that "_on dit_ that the jackass has been heard to laugh while a cicada [it had eaten whole] has been skirring inside him."

CLASSICAL ALLUSIONS Halcyon, Alcyone, and Ceyx appear in the scientific names of kingfishers. Scientific names make the layman shudder. Latin, he says, and if he's told they're not Latin, but rather Greek, it doesn't help any. But once you know the story of Halcyon (or Alcyone) and Ceyx, the names stick in your mind. In ancient times Halcyon was the daughter of Aeolus. And in grief for her drowned husband, Ceyx, she threw herself into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, changed both into kingfishers. Halcyon was also used by the Greeks as a name for the kingfisher and it was fabled to make its nest on the sea, and to quiet the waves for its incubation period. Poets still use Halcyon for the kingfishers in reference to calm, happy, peaceful days, Halcyon days; the sort of days in which the kingfishers can nest on the quiet waves.

The lady had not waited for all this. She had gone. I would have liked to see the picture her husband was painting when it was finished.

ON IDENTIFYING SEA SERPENTS

The lock ness monster reappears periodically in the newspapers. This monster seems to belong in the general category of "sea serpent." As a museum zoologist I've had little to do with such things. The stock in trade of a museum is specimens and if someone sends us a "sea serpent" (and I don't mean a water snake or a sea snake), we'll identify it. If it doesn't have a name we'll give it one and make a place for it in our classification. Until then we are aloof. We've had some little experience at times with "sea serpents" and the following will illustrate the sort of investigation and the results that we've had.

Years ago Sir Frederick Jackson was an administrator in East Africa. In addition to his official duties he was an enthusiastic and an able naturalist. So when a "sea serpent" was reported there he investigated.

IN KENYA The sea serpent was said to frequent Lake Naivasha in the Rift Valley of Kenya Colony. Up until 1909 there were many rumors of it, and Europeans had seen it with their own eyes. It always appeared on the lake about the same time each day, about five o'clock in the afternoon, always about the same distance from the shore, and was always traveling in the same direction, from north to south. All descriptions agreed that it was long, black, and reptilelike, and that it kept appearing and disappearing on the surface of the water at short intervals.