On the 5th of June we watched the phenomena of polygamy, and of attempted polyandry in this species. At one end of the loch the former condition held sway, two energetic and quarrelsome females having attached themselves to one miserable-looking male, and it was ludicrous to behold the awe in which he held them. Once in particular he nearly swam between my legs in his efforts to avoid their attentions. Till our departure on the 27th, these three birds were constantly to be seen together. At the other end of the loch two males were seen continuously circling round the head of a female. I frequently observed the male performing evolutions, which I have previously described as the "marriage flight." Zigzagging from side to side with amazing rapidity he would hover with dangling legs over the head of the female, who, circling placidly in the water, appeared to take no notice of his attentions. Then settling beside her he would peck and chase her as if endeavoring to make her take to flight. Failing in this he would dash off once more across the marsh uttering a warbling sort of song much like that of the ringed plover. Then he would settle in a reedy spot, such as would be chosen for the nesting site, and would call vigorously, looking always in the direction of the female, as if expecting her to follow. I observed several pairs, behaving in this manner, and such was their fervor that the males continued this performance even in the midst of one of the worst storms we experienced. Often the female would resent these attentions, and a pitched battle would ensue. Herbert W. Brandt (mss.) writes: It is very interesting to watch a struggle between two female northern phalaropes over a solitary male. They fight by the hour, not after the manner of the males, which rush at each other and boldly lock in a mortal combat, but rather these females fight by flipping their wings and pecking at each other instead of laying hold with determination. This can be likened only to a feminine hair-pulling episode. One day I watched such a combat for an hour, and there were numerous occasions on which I thought that one of the birds would succumb; but the contest seemed to be very equal, and when a bird recovered from a hard onslaught it would return at once and take up the wing sparring. They would flutter here and there over the ground, first one then the other attacking, closely followed all the time by the shy but neutral male, the prize of the conflict. Natives informed me that they had never known of one's being killed by the other, but that the birds would fight all day long.