where they stood, and much less occupied in preening their feathers than has hitherto been the case. This inaction continued up to twilight, and I connect it in some measure at least with an unusual absence of insects at this time. For the first time I was bothered neither with flies nor (till nearly dark) mosquitoes, nor did I see any insect in the air or on the ground in front of me. Since the 5th it had rained heavily, and yesterday almost the whole day, whilst to-day has been bright and fine. This listlessness is in marked contrast with the great activity of the birds on the afternoon of the 5th, which was certainly displayed in catching insects, then much en êvidence. Still the diminished preening of the feathers and almost moping demeanour is not accounted for in this way. The only piece of action I observed whilst it was still good daylight was when one bird pursued another in a hostile manner, a cry being uttered by one of them (I think the pursued one) as of distress or remonstrance. (This, at least I think, but the birds were at too great a distance for me to be certain that it was not another of the birds round about that called.) With twilight, however, activity began, and the running and waving of wings was now perhaps more marked than it has yet been (at least on the part of some of the birds). One bird executed what might certainly be described as a dance, making swift (and apparently aimless) rushes backwards and forwards, waving the wings all the while in an excited manner, making now and again (I think) a little leap into the air, and, as a part of all this, a short flight just over the ground. I am justified in saying "as a part," for the bird did not stop and fly, and, on alighting, recommence, but the flight arose out of the wild waving and running, and when it was over these were at once resumed. Another bird made three little runs—advancing, retiring, and again returning—all the time with wings upraised and waving, then made a short flight close above the ground (describing segment of a circle), and, on alighting, continued as before. The birds, as a body, behaved similarly. I could not of course observe each one, but kept catching the light inner plumage of the wings as they were thrown suddenly up. All about now over the plateau the plaintive wailing notes were heard, and gradually—as on former occasions—the birds flitted off. I was again lucky in the first of the birds, whose dance movements I have more particularly
