A somewhat too rigorous critic of the antics of birds has expressed the
opinion that playfulness is unknown among them, that their occasional
friskiness is not an exhibition of lightness of heart, but merely a
martial exercise. The corroboree of native companions (ANTIGONE
AUSTRALASIANA) may certainly be the practice of a defensive manoeuvre,
though it has the appearance of a graceful dance. A partially disabled
bird will pirouette on tiptoes and flap its wings wildly in the face of
its foe, and it is reasonable to imagine that the great birds in
community would keep themselves well trained in their particular methods
of self-defence.

A flock of dotterels bobbing, bowing, skipping, and shouldering one
another may be merely practising some evolution with serious intent,
though it is far more natural to conclude that the frail little birds
are in holiday humour. For all their exercises, they have but one resort
in the presence of a superior foe or an alert single enemy, and that is
in hasty and inconsiderate flight.

From my own experience may be drawn proof of the contention that birds do
practise defensive and offensive tactics, and also that they have their
moments of unreflecting play.

The cassowary (CASUARIUS AUSTRALIS) is a skilful fighter. It hits out
with such force and precision that a weaponless man who stands before the
bird when it is angry and vicious is ridiculously overmatched. The great
bird is so quick that you do not realise that it has got its blow in
first until you see the blood flow. It strikes with its middle toe, and
that toe is a lance, keen if not bright. How does the regal bird of the
jungles of North Queensland acquire this lightning-like stroke? The