Page:The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 4 (1900).djvu/211

Rh themselves are dull and listless. But as the evening falls, and the air cools, they cast off their lassitude, think of the joys of the night, there is dance and song for a little, and then forth they fly. Sad and wailing as are their notes to our ears, they are no doubt anything but so to the birds themselves, and, as the accompaniment of what seems best described by the word "dance," may perhaps fairly be called "song." The chants of some savages whilst dancing might sound almost as sadly to us, pitched, as they would be, in a minor key, and with little that we would call an air. Again, if one goes by the birds' probable feelings—which may not be so dissimilar to the savages', or indeed to our own on similar occasions—"song" and "dance" seems a legitimate use of words.

September 13th.—Arrived 6 p.m. or little after. Very dark day. Sky livid and covered with clouds, and close sultry feeling as of approaching thunderstorm. It was with difficulty I could distinguish some few birds. As the gloom increased I caught a gleam or two, but nothing that I could see to note. Only some half-dozen or so birds flew over my head at the usual time. Whether the birds partook of the dullness of the day, or whether the small number checked the inclination to dance (as I suspect), there seemed to be very little of this.

September 14th.—Arrived at about 6 p.m., but have nothing special to note except that, there being some fifty or eighty birds in the amphitheatre, another large flock of them, numbering, as far as I could judge, from seventy-five to one hundred, flew over it. They did not, however, settle, and later I alarmed some of the standing ones, who flew farther away. Afterwards I counted thirty-five, but this may have included the later. This shows what numbers of the Great Plover there are in this part of England. Long may they continue, and (that they may) may nobody take the smallest interest in them!

September 15th.—(Weather dull, sky overclouded.) Arrived about 5.30 p.m. There were not many birds that I could make out, and none near. A drizzling rain soon began, and this increased gradually, but not beyond a smart drizzle. Shortly after the rain commenced the birds began to come down from where I had seen them, and (evidently) from other parts on the outer edge of the amphitheatre, and to spread all over it till