Last month, I wrote about some of the more excessive shows that can be seen in the bird world, as the (mainly) males go through their routines to try to impress a potential mate or rival. However, moving on to less powerful species we find flamboyance of a different kind.
A displaying male Ruddy ShelduckJonathan Kemp
In some species the display can be gentler, but nevertheless just as impressive to the watching females.
Next time you are looking at a few ducks serenely floating about on a lake, you might catch something like this brightly coloured male Ruddy Shelduck (tadorne casarca) rising up vertically on the water and flashing his finery in the direction of a female.
This species is only very rarely seen in the wild in France, but its beauty makes it a favourite in wildfowl collections, and as they frequently escape, they are not too difficult to find.
Other more common ducks here in France that will make a similar gesture are teal (sarcelle d’hiver), wigeon (canard siffleur) and, of course, mallards (canard colvert).
There is a very special display practiced by another common water bird that, as yet, I have never seen; the so-called ‘penguin’ dance of the Great Crested Grebe (grèbe huppé). Already a fine looking bird when not displaying, this mythic dance is a performance which sees a bonding pair rise nearly vertically, the furiously paddling feet hidden below, and run side by side across the water.
Another version of the dance is a duet presenting nesting materials to each other where, interestingly enough, it is the female that leads the dance.
If you go early enough in the morning to a few special uncultivated fields near the border of the Hérault department at the right time of year, it is still possible to see the display of little bustards (outarde canepetière) in the Aude. Observing from a distance so as to not disturb the birds it is at first difficult to find them skulking about in the tall weedy growth of the abandoned fields, which is where they like to breed.
When I was last there, having waited for about 15 minutes a male started to display, jumping up into the air from the ground, uttering a strange dry snort every few seconds or so. It is a soft sound, but somehow still audible at quite a distance.
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Unfortunately, these fine-looking birds are becoming rarer in France, and it is best to seek them out in Spain.
Very commonly kept in ornamental gardens and parks, originally imported from India, male peacocks (paon) raise their ‘train’ of iridescent blues and green and shimmy the eyespots in the direction of their intended. Who could resist?
This was the bird that led Charles Darwin to say: “The sight of a feather in a peacock’s tail, whenever I gaze at it, makes me sick!”
Eventually he came to understand that the concept of sexual selection, not natural selection, was the driving force behind this excessive display, which can only come at a huge investment of energy, as the males regrow the train every year, and that it was the females making the selection on the basis of the magnificence.
So against the wisdom of the time, the acceptance of this idea took Darwin nearly his whole life to accept, coming to realize that Natural Selection was the ‘struggle for existence’, while sexual selection was the ‘struggle for mates’.
Something I love to see which speaks of the quiet bonding between partners is the synchronisation of movements. It is no coincidence that the pair of mute swans (cygne tuberculé) below are making very similar gestures in their preening; a graceful duet. Swan lake.
It doesn’t always have to be such large and visually spectacular birds that display. Go to a suitable field and you will be treated to not only a visual treat but, above all, an audible one as skylarks (alouette des champs) show off their typical song-flight.
Synchronised swansJonathan Kemp
Often on a Spring dawn, this discretely camouflaged little bird will take off to climb higher and higher with fluttering wings, singing its beautiful aria as it goes, mounting until it is hardly visible at 150 metres above its chosen territory.
Skylarks are ground nesters, eventually staying in one spot like a kite in a steady wind, before parachuting down – but still singing – on arched wings, to eventually fall to the ground with folded wings.
I have heard an anecdote about a skylark being chased by a sparrowhawk and never missing a note of its song; all proving his fitness despite the danger.
Follow the link to the RSPB site to hear a recording of their wonderful song, sadly becoming more rare in France and elsewhere.
