again, throwing itself forward, stands almost perpendicularly on the breast, at the same time pecking at and, I think, seizing the bits of grass near, in the beak (this pecking during the process of rolling has become, lately, more marked). The other Peewit now comes right up to the rolling bird, and appears to examine its lower tail-coverts or the parts adjacent. I cannot say certainly whether it actually touches them with the bill, but it appears to do so.[1] Upon this the rolling one flies off, and the other, falling forward, presses with the breast (I think also pecking), not in exactly the same place, but just near it. Two other birds are now rolling in a most marked and violent manner, within a few yards of each other. When I say "marked and violent," what I mean is this: The breast is pressed upon the grass, the whole body inclining sharply up from it. The wings project like two horns on each side of the tail, which is bent down between them in a nervous, virile manner. All at once a spasm or wave of energy seems to pass through the bird; the tail is bent still more forcibly down—the body and wings remaining as before—and, with some most energetic waggles from side to side, the generative act appears to be performed. It may not be so; it may be something essentially different, but it has exactly that appearance.
In speaking, henceforth, of a bird's rolling, I shall always intend to designate these actions—except, of course, to the extent to which I may qualify them.
April 2nd.—Two Peewits have just paired. I had noticed no prior antics. Having paired, one of them—I am not quick enough with the glasses to say which—runs a little way over the ground, and commences to roll. In a moment or two the other one runs up, looking most interested, and immediately sits along on the exact spot, the first one having now risen and standing aside. The last-come bird now rises also, and both stand looking at the place where they have just rolled, and making little pecks at it with their bills. Subsequently one of them does this beside—but not quite on—the spot. Then the last comer walks a little away, so that I lose sight of it; whilst the other one, on
- ↑ I have lately seen something resembling this, but very much more marked and peculiar, in a pair of our small passeres—a strange affair of which I made a full note.
