Scenes of this kind became so common all over the rookery, that the roar of battle and thuds of blows could be heard continuously, and of the hundreds of such fights, all plainly had their cause in rivalry for the hens.

When starting to fight, the c.o.c.ks sometimes peck at each other with their beaks, but always they very soon start to use their flippers, standing up to one another and raining in the blows with such rapidity as to make a sound which, in the words of Dr. Wilson, resembles that of a boy running and dragging his hoop-stick along an iron paling. Soon they start "in-fighting," in which position one bird fights right-handed, the other left-handed; that is to say, one leans his left breast against his opponent, swinging in his blows with his right flippers, the other presenting his right breast and using his left flipper. My photographs of c.o.c.ks fighting all show this plainly. It is interesting to note that these birds, though fighting with one flipper only, are ambidextrous. Whilst battering one another with might and main they use their weight at the same time, and as one outlasts the other, he drives his vanquished opponent before him over the ground, as a trained boxing man, when "in-fighting" drives his exhausted opponent round the ring.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 22. Three c.o.c.ks in Rivalry (See page 38)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 23. Two of the c.o.c.ks squaring up for Battle (See page 38)]

Desperate as these encounters are, I don't think one penguin ever kills another. In many cases blood is drawn. I saw one with an eye put out, and that side of its beak (the right side) clotted with blood, whilst the crimson print of a blood-stained flipper across a white breast was no uncommon sight.

Hard as they can hit with their flippers, however, they are also well protected by their feathers, and being marvellously tough and enduring the end of a hard fight merely finds the vanquished bird prostrate with exhaustion and with most of the breath beaten out of his little body.

The victor is invariably satisfied with this, and does not seek to dispatch him with his beak.

It was very usual to see a little group of c.o.c.ks gathered together in the middle of one of the knolls squabbling noisily. Sometimes half a dozen would be lifting their raucous voices at one particular bird, then they would separate into pairs, squaring up to one another and emphasizing their remarks from time to time by a few quick blows from their flippers. It seemed that each was indignant with the others for coming and spoiling his chances with a coveted hen, and trying to get them to depart before he went to her.

It was useless for either to attempt overtures whilst the others were there, for the instant he did so, he would be set upon and a desperate fight begin. Usually, as in the case I described above, one of the little crowd would suddenly "see red" and sail into an opponent with desperate energy, invariably driving him in the first rush down the side of the knoll to the open s.p.a.ce surrounding it, where the fight would be fought out, the victor returning to the others, until by his prowess and force of character, he would rid himself of them all. Then came his overtures to the hen. He would, as a rule, pick up a stone and lay it in front of her if she were sitting in her "scoop," or if she were standing by it he might himself squat in it. She might take to him kindly, or, as often happened, peck him furiously. To this he would submit tamely, hunching up his feathers and shutting his eyes while she pecked him cruelly. Generally after a little of this she would become appeased. He would rise to his feet, and in the prettiest manner edge up to her, gracefully arch his neck, and with soft guttural sounds pacify her and make love to her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 24. "Hard at it" (See page 39)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 25. The End of the Battle (Page 39)]

Both perhaps would then a.s.sume the "ecstatic" att.i.tude, rocking their necks from side to side as they faced one another (Fig. 26), and after this a perfect understanding would seem to grow up between them, and the solemn compact was made.

It is difficult to convey in words the daintiness of this pretty little scene. I saw it enacted many dozens of times, and it was wonderful to watch one of these hardy little c.o.c.ks pacifying a fractious hen by the perfect grace of his manners.

Fig. 21 is particularly instructive. In the centre of the picture a group of c.o.c.ks are quarrelling, and on the left-hand side three unmated hens can be seen sitting in their scoops, whilst two of them (the two in front) are receiving overtures from two of the c.o.c.ks who are making the most of their time whilst the others are fighting. On the right-hand side another c.o.c.k is seen proposing himself to a fourth hen who seems to be meeting his overtures with the usual show of reluctance.

Although for the later arrivals a good deal of fighting was necessary before a mate could be secured, it seemed that some got the matter fixed up without any difficulty at all, especially during the earlier days when only a few birds were scattered widely over the rookery. Later, the c.o.c.ks seemed to watch one another jealously, and to hunt in little batches in consequence. (Figs. 27, 28, and 29.)

From the particulars I have just given it is also evident that a wife and home once obtained could only be kept by dint of further battling and constant vigilance during the first stages of domesticity, when thousands of l.u.s.ty c.o.c.ks were pouring into the rookery, and it was not unusual to see a strange c.o.c.k paying court to a mated hen in the absence of her husband until he returned to drive away the interloper, but I do not think that this ever occurred after the eggs had come and the regular family life begun, couples after this being perfectly faithful to one another.

The instance I have given of a newly arrived c.o.c.k by dumb show pretending to take a stone and place it before a mated hen, is typical of the sort of first overture one sees, though more frequently an actual stone was tendered. While on this subject I had better mention a most interesting thing which occurred to one of my companions. One day as he was sitting quietly on some shingle near the ice-foot, a penguin approached him, and after eyeing him for a little, walked right up to him and nibbled gently at one of the legs of his wind-proof trousers.

Then it walked away, picked up a pebble, and came back with it, dropping it on the ground by his side. The only explanation of this occurrence seems to be that the tendering of the stone was meant as an overture of friendship.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 26. THE PROPOSAL. (NOTE THE HEN IN HER SCOOP) (Pages 35 and 43)]

On October 26 there was no abatement in the stream of arrivals. The c.o.c.k-fighting continued, and many of them, temporarily disabled, were to be seen moping about the rookery, smeared with blood and guano. Often a hen would join in when two c.o.c.ks were fighting, occasionally going first for one and then the other, but I never to my knowledge saw a c.o.c.k retaliate on a hen.

Once I saw two c.o.c.ks fighting, and a hen taking the part of one of the c.o.c.ks, the pair of them gave the other a fearful hammering, the hen using her bill savagely as well as her flippers. Completely knocked out and gasping for breath he got away at last, only to meet another c.o.c.k who fought him and easily beat him. When this one had gone a third came, and the poor victim with a courage truly n.o.ble was squaring himself up with his last spark of energy, when I interfered and drove away his enemy.

The nests on most of the knolls soon became so crowded that their occupants, by stretching out their necks, could reach their neighbours without getting up. As every hen appeared to hate her neighbour they would peck-peck at one another hour after hour, in the manner seen in my photograph,(3) till their mouths and heads became terribly sore.

Occasionally they would desist, shake their heads apparently from pain, then at it again.

(3) Fig. 12.

In various places through the course of these pages, reference is made to the "ecstatic" att.i.tude of the penguins. This antic is gone through by both s.e.xes and at various times, though much more frequently during the actual breeding season. The bird rears its body upward and stretching up its neck in a perpendicular line, discharges a volley of guttural sounds straight at the unresponding heavens. At the same time the clonic movements of its syrinx or "sound box" distinctly can be seen going on in its throat. Why it does this I have never been able to make out, but it appears to be thrown into this ecstasy when it is pleased; in fact, the zoologist of the "Pourquoi Pas" expedition termed it the "Chant de satisfaction." I suppose it may be likened to the crowing of a c.o.c.k or the braying of an a.s.s. When one bird of a pair starts to perform in this way, the other usually starts at once to pacify it. Very many times I saw this scene enacted when nesting was in progress. The two might be squatting by the nest when one would arise to a.s.sume the "ecstatic" att.i.tude and make the guttural sounds in its syrinx.

Immediately the other would get close up to it and make the following noise in a soft soothing tone:

[Ill.u.s.tration: A-ah]

Always and immediately this caused the musician to subside and settle itself down again.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 27. c.o.c.ks fighting for Hens]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 28. c.o.c.ks fighting for Hens (Page 44)]

The King penguin at the Zoological Gardens, whose s.e.x is unknown, throws itself into the ecstatic att.i.tude and sings a sort of song when its keeper strokes its neck. The blackfooted penguins never do it, though they breed several times a year. Figs. 26 and 32 show Adelies in ecstatic att.i.tude.

To-day about a dozen skua gulls (_Megalestris Makormiki_) appeared for the first time. They did not start to nest, but sat on the sea-ice with a group of penguins, in apparent amity. A few occasionally flew about over the rookery.

On October 27 though the stream of arrivals continued there were wide gaps in it. It appeared to be thinning. For an hour in the forenoon it stopped altogether, and at the end of this time a storm of wind from the south struck us and continued for another hour with thick drift.

Probably clear of Cape Adare the wind had been blowing before it reached us, and had stopped the birds' progress across the ice.

During the storm the rookery was completely silenced, most of the birds lying with their heads to the wind. A good many skuas arrived that day.

Some chips of white, glistening quartz had been thrown down by our hut door recently, and later I found two of these chips in a nest about thirty yards away, showing up brightly against the black basalt of which all the pebbles on the rookery were composed.

As a rule the penguins were careful to select rounded stones for their nests, but these fragments of quartz were jagged and uncomfortable, and most unsuitable for nest building. Thus it was evidently the brightness of the stones which attracted them. Whilst I looked on, the owners of the pieces of quartz were wrangling with their neighbours, and a penguin in a nest behind shot out its beak and stole one of the pieces, placing it in its own nest. I had brought Campbell out to show him the pieces of quartz, and he witnessed the last incident with me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 29. c.o.c.ks fighting for Hens (Page 44)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 30. Penguin on Nest]

I may here mention an experiment I tried some days later. I painted some pebbles a bright red and had others covered with bright green cotton material as I had no other coloured paint. Mixing a handful of these coloured stones together I placed them in a little heap amongst natural black ones near a nest-covered knoll. Returning in a few hours I found nearly all the red stones and one or two of the green ones gone, and later found them in nests. Later still, all the red ones had disappeared, and last of all the green ones. I traced nearly all these to nests, and found a few days later that, like the pieces of white quartz, they were being stolen from nest to nest and thus slowly being distributed in different directions. At other times I saw pieces of tin, pieces of gla.s.s, half a stick of chocolate, and the head of a bright metal teaspoon in different nests near our hut, the articles evidently having been taken from our sc.r.a.p-heap. Thus it is evident that penguins like bright colours and prefer red to green, as instanced by the selection of the coloured pebbles. I am sorry that I did not carry these colour tests further.

During October 29 the stream of arrivals was undiminished, but the next day it slackened considerably, and during the next two days stopped altogether, all the rising ground of the rookery now being literally crammed full with nests, several thousands of them being scattered up the slopes of Cape Adare to a height of a thousand feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 31. Showing the Position of the Two Eggs]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 32. An Adelie in "Ecstatic" Att.i.tude (Page 47)]

PART II

DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE ADeLIE PENGUIN

Laying and incubation of the eggs : The Adelies' habits in the water : Their games : Care of the young : The later development of their social system.

On November 3 several eggs were found, and on the 4th these were beginning to be plentiful in places, though many of the colonies had not yet started to lay.

Let me here call attention to the fact that up to now not a single bird out of all those thousands had left the rookery once it had entered it.

Consequently not a single bird had taken food of any description during all the most strenuous part of the breeding season, and as they did not start to feed till November 8 thousands had to my knowledge fasted for no fewer than twenty-seven days. Now of all the days of the year these twenty-seven are certainly the most trying during the life of the Adelie.

With the exception, in some cases, of a few hours immediately after arrival (and I believe the later arrivals could not afford themselves even this short respite) constant vigilance had been maintained; battle after battle had been fought; some had been nearly killed in savage encounters, recovered, fought again and again with varying fortune. They had mated at last, built their nests, procreated their species, and, in short, met the severest trials that Nature can inflict upon mind and body, and at the end of it, though in many cases blood-stained and in all caked and bedraggled with mire, they were as active and as brave as ever.

When one egg had been laid the hen still sat on the nest. The egg had to be continually warmed, and as the temperature was well below freezing-point, exposure would mean the death of the embryo.