Observations from Day 41

One of the adult males wandered into my camp early this morning.  To be fair, I did set up near the shore beneath one of the larger waterfalls and he could scarcely be faulted for moving into prime hunting territory.  To my relief, he was a smaller specimen and the breeding urge had not yet set in.  I should still relocate; there's no reason to test the grace of the Scribe or blind good fortune.

The male was not in poor condition, just under the two meter average snout to rump and with a fine pair of half-meter rostra.  He showed no signs of recent injury, so he had not been rejected during a harem-joining attempt yet.  Judging by the deep orange of his rostra and the obviously engorged lateral pouches, he will be seeking out one of the local females in the next week or two.  I wish him well but, unless he is particularly skillful in his displays, the established harem will likely drive him away as a late-comer.

I will not speculate further but have resolved to track his movements for as many days as possible to see if I can observe the ritual courtship dance.  I know all of the major clearings within three kilometers and have already woven observation platforms in trees at each, so the affair should be low-risk.

The male lingered for almost three hours, but only made half-hearted and unsuccessful attempts at fishing.  I am unsure if this was due to my presence and his unease or if he had fed well yesterday.  Nonetheless, he was magnificent in his slow and regal stalking.  There is little in my experience that compares to watching a mature Pherolla sofdr stride carefully on those slender legs without disturbing the prey below until it slashes the water with the rostra of its mandible, impaling some tremendous fish or, in the case of those truly skilled hunters, one on each rostrum.

It occurred to me that the eyes of these predators are wonderfully specialized.  The flanges of the skull bring them out and angle them so as to provide a view both forward and downward.  I suspect that that may also be the reason for the elongated, vertical pupils: they permit a widened perspective encompassing everything from that directly below to that in front.  If I chance on a recently dead specimen, I will have to examine the internal structure of the eye for clues.  The price to be paid for such marvelous specialization is sadly the ability to see what is above.  With the heavy muscles across the throat refusing to let them strain their short necks back, the sky must be something of a mystery to be observed only when lying on one's back.

After the male departed, I followed at a distance until he reached the nest he had constructed in the underbrush.  The map on the preceding page marks the location for continued observation.  Returning to camp, I encountered markings on several of the trees from rostrum-sharpening.  The pattern is one I know well: a long shallow grove an a shorter, deeper one.  One of the older males that raided my camp near the beginning of the season has a broken rostrum.  He manages to carry himself with pride despite the handicap and, were I to read human emotions into their behavior, would fancy that females find him rugged and dashing.  In all likelihood, he hasn't bred in years although I have no way of confirming this.

Tomorrow, after moving camp, I will scout out other nearby hunting grounds in the hopes of identifying more males or even finding a female and her harem.