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limpses of Indian birds,

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GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

JUNGLE FOLK: Indian Natural History
Sketches. Demy 8vo.

BOMBAY DUCKS: An Account of some of the
Everyday Birds and Beasts found in a
Naturalists E] Dorado. With numerous illus-
trations reproduced from Photographs by
CAPTAIN FAYRER, I.M.S. Demy 8vo.

BIRDS OF THE PLAINS. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 8vo.

INDIAN BIRDS: Being a Key to the Common
Birds of the Plains of India. Demy 8vo.

(WITH FRANK FINN) THE MAKING OF
SPECIES. Demy 8vo.

GLIMPSES OF

INDIAN BIRDS
BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY
TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN MCMXIII

L
ba
tt
DAG
191'762

I DEDICATE
THIS BOOK TO
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
A HUNTER OF BIG GAME AND A NATURALIST
WHO, HAVING BROUGHT COMMON-SENSE TO BEAR
ON THE PROBLEMS OF NATURAL HISTORY
DECLINES TO BE DICTATED TO BY THOSE WHO
HAVE CONSTITUTED THEMSELVES

ZOOLOGICAL AUTHORITIES

PREFACE

N the brief sketches that follow I find occasion
repeatedly to attack the prevalent theories of
“protective colouration, because it is impossible
for the naturalist who uses his eyes to accept

these theories.

Most of these hypotheses were advanced by field
naturalists, but they have since been elaborated by
cabinet zoologists and have become a creed. Now,
Huxley remarked with truth, ‘“‘ Science commits suicide
when it adopts a creed.” With equal truth he asserted,
‘“* Authorities,’ ‘ disciples,’ and ‘schools’ are the
curse of science and do more to interfere with the
work of the scientific spirit than all its enemies.”

In England zoology is at present in the hands of
‘schools’ and ‘authorities’ of the kind to which
Huxley objected.

The result is that where, in some of my previous
books, I have exposed the shallowness of the prevalent
theories, I have been taken to task by certain reviewers
who are disciples of those ‘authorities.’ These
gentlemen term my criticisms superficial, but they
have made no attempt to show in what way my

x ‘PREFACE

criticisms are superficial. There is a good reason for
this. It is that these journalists know well that any
attempts to rebut my statements will lead to a con-
troversy in which they cannot but be worsted because
the facts are against them.

If what I say is incorrect my reviewers now have an
excellent opportunity to demonstrate this.

Lest these have recourse to the unfailing resort of the
defeated Darwinian or Wallaceian—the argument of
ignorance, lest they say that it is only owing to their
insufficient knowledge of Indian birds that they cannot
answer me, let me assert that what I say of Indian birds
is equally true of British birds.

I assert with confidence that the colouring of nine
out of ten birds has some feature which the theories
attacked by me cannot account for.

“‘ Hypotheses,” wrote Huxley, ‘‘ are not ends but
means. ... The most useful of servants to the man of
science, they are the worst of masters, and when the
establishment of the hypotheses comes the end, and fact
is attended to only so far as it suits the ‘Idee,’ science
has no longer anything to do with the business.”

The hypotheses which I decline to accept have
become the masters of many zoologists who are busily
occupied in distorting facts which do not coincide with
theory.

It is not very long since an English scientific paper
published an article entitled ‘‘ What have ornitholo-

PREFACE xi

gists done for Darwinism?” So long as zoologists
test the work of the naturalist by the amount of
evidence he collects for Darwinism or any other
“ism,” it is hopeless to expect zoological science to
progress.

CONTENTS

BIRDS IN A GROVE

THE MaGrPie-RoOBIN

THE INDIAN SNAKE-BIRD
MINIVETS

THE PoweR oF ANIMALS TO EXPRESS
THOUGHT

PIED WOODPECKERS

A JHIL OUT OF SEASON .
Birps IN WHITE

Tue PiED CRESTED Cuckoo
VULTURES

Tue INDIAN RoBIN

THE SHIKRA .

A Fincu oF ROSEATE Hue
BIRDS ON THE LAWN

THE GREY HORNBILL

THE FLAMINGO

SUMMER VISITORS TO THE PUNJAB PLAINS
A Birp oF Many ALIASES
Pappy Birps AT BEDTIME

MERLINS
xili

98
106
III
116

xiv

XXI.
XXII.
XXITI.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXVI.

XXVII.
XXVIII.
XXIX.
XXX.
XXXII.
XXXIT,
XXXITI.
XXXIV.
XXXV.
XXXVI.
XXXVII.
XXXVIII.
XXXIX,

CONTENTS

THE COMMON WRYNECK
GREEN PIGEONS

BuLButs’ NESTS
NIGHTINGALES IN INDIA
THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW

WINTER VISITORS TO THE PUNJAB

PLAINS .
A KINGFISHER AND A TERN
THe RED TuRTLE DovE .
BIRDS IN THE MILLET FIELDS .
Hoopoks AT THE NESTING SEASON
Tue LarGEsT BIRD IN INDIA
THE SWALLOW-PLOVER . ‘
THE Birps oF A MADRAS GARDEN
SUNBIRDS
THE Bank Myna
THE JACKDAW
FIGHTING IN NATURE
BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES .
VOICES OF THE NIGHT

INDEX

PAGE
121

126
131
145
150

157
167
172
178
185
197
204
ail
218
225
231
234
238
246

257

HESE “Glimpses” originally appeared in
one or other of the following periodicals:
The Madras Mail, Pioneer, Civil and

Military Gazette, Times of India, Bird Notes.
The author takes this opportunity of thanking the
editors of the above papers for permission to re-

produce the sketches.

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

GLIMPSES OF
INDIAN BIRDS

I

BIRDS IN A GROVE

.

HE small groves that usually surround
hamlets in Oudh are favourite resorts of
birds:

I know of few more pleasant ways of
passing an hour than under the trees in such a grove
at the beginning of December, when the weather is
perfect. The number of birds that show themselves is
truly astonishing.

Recently I tarried for a little time in such a grove
consisting of half a dozen mango trees, a tamarind
and a pipal, and witnessed there a veritable avian
pageant—a pageant accompanied by music.

The sunbirds (Arachnechthra asiatica) were the
leading minstrels. There may have been a dozen of
them in the little tope. To count them was impossible,
because. sunbirds are never still. for two seconds
together. When not flitting about amid the foliage
looking for insects they are playing hide-and-seek, or
pouring out their canary-like song.. At this season of

4 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

the year the cocks are in undress plumage. In his
full splendour the male is glistening purple; but
in August he loses nearly all his purple gloss and
becomes brownish above and ashy grey below, save
for a purple stripe running downwards from his chin.
The hen is at all times brown above and yellow below.

The red-whiskered bulbuls (Otecompsa emeria) were
as numerous and as full of life and motion as the sun-
birds. Their tinkling notes mingled pleasantly with
the sharper tones of the other choristers.

It is superfluous to state that two or three pairs of
doves were in that little bagh, and that one or other of
them never ceased to coo.

Further, it goes without saying that there were red-
starts in that tope. The Indian redstart (Ruticilla
rufiventris) is one of the commonest birds in Oudh
during the winter months. During flight it looks like
a little ball of fire, because of its red tail: hence its old
English name, fire-tail.

At intervals, a curious few emanated from the
foliage. A short search sufficed to reveal the author—
the black-headed oriole (Oviolus melanocephalus), a
glorious golden bird having the head and neck black
and some black in the wing. This creature seems never
to descend to the ground; it dwells always in the
greenwood tree and its life is one long search for fruit,
caterpillars and other creeping things.

The flycatchers were a pageant in themselves;
there were more species in that tiny bagh than are to
be found in the whole of Great Britain and Ireland.

First and foremost the fan-tailed flycatcher (Rhipi-

BIRDS IN A GROVE 5

dura albifrontata)—the prima donna of the tope—
presented herself. Like a fairy in a pastoral play,
she comes into view from some leafy bower, announcing
her appearance by five or six joyous notes that mount
and descend the musical scale. Dainty as a wagtail
she is arrayed in black and white like some motacillas.
She is dancer as well as singer, and she pirouettes up
and down a horizontal branch, bowing now to right
and now to left, spreading her tail into a fan and
suddenly breaking off her dance to make a flight after
an insect.

Even more beautiful was the next flycatcher
to introduce itseli—Tickell’s blue flycatcher (Cyornis
tickelli). The upper parts of this exquisite little
creature are glistening royal blue; the throat and
breast are flaming orange, and the lower parts are
white. After flitting from bough to bough in search
of quarry, it stood still and uttered its lay, which con-
sists of a chik, chik, followed by a little trill, not unlike
that of the fan-tailed flycatcher. Having delivered
itself of its melody, it vanished into the green canopy.
Its place was taken almost immediately: by a red-
breasted flycatcher (Siphia parva), a bird very like the
English robin in appearance. Ere long it moved away.

Shortly after another flycatcher took its little part
in the pageant. This was the grey-headed flycatcher
(Culicicapa ceylonensis), ‘‘a tiny brownie bird,” with
the head grey and the lower parts bright yellow. With
the exception of the Rhipidura, all these flycatchers
had come down from the Himalayas.

While watching their graceful movements, my

6 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

attention was attracted by a curious grating sound
that emanated from the branches immediately over
my head. On looking up, I saw a crow-pheasant
(Centropus rufipennis) running up a branch in the
inimitable manner of his kind. His bright red eye was
fixed on me, and he had evidently made up his cuculine
mind that “ distance lends enchantment to the view ”’
of a human being, and accordingly lost no time in
making his exit.

Scarcely. had I lost sight of him when there was a
considerable commotion in the pipal tree near by.
When running to discover the cause of this I startled
half a dozen pipits (Anthus rufulus) that, hidden by
the grass, were feeding on the ground. They, as is their
wont when frightened, flew into the foliage. Pipits are
dull brown birds, streaked like larks, that display tail-
wagging propensities. I discovered that the bird
making the commotion near the summit of the pipal
tree was a vulture. Very large and out of place did it
seem struggling among the slender branches with wings
spread-eagled. It was tugging away vigorously at a
small branch and soon succeeded in breaking it off.
Having accomplished this, it scrambled on to what
looked like a large ball of dried leaves and twigs caught
in one of the upper branches. This was a:nest in course
of construction, which the vulture was lining with
pipal branches. Presently the huge bird flew off, and
T was then able to identify it as the white-backed
vulture (Pseudogyps bengalensis). I returned to the
mango tree beneath which I had been standing, and
in so doing disturbed a bee-eater (Merops viridis) that

BIRDS IN A GROVE 7

was perching on one of the lower branches. Of the
presence in the vicinity of these charming little birds
I was already aware from their soft twitterings. I had
not actually seen them, because their habit is to perch
on the outer branches of trees, whence they make aerial
sallies after insects.

The calls of the blossom-headed parakeets (Pale-
ornis cyanocephalus), far softer and mellower than
those of the rose-ringed species, had at frequent
intervals mingled with the notes of the other birds ;
and at this moment one of these green parrots settled
on a branch quite close to me. Her slate-coloured head
showed her to be a hen ; in this species the head of the
cock is coloured like a ripe plum.

Sharp sounds, like those made by insects, issuing
from every tree revealed the presence of warblers.
These birds were so small and so active that I am not
certain to what species they belonged. The majority
of them were, I believe, willow warblers (Phylloscopus
tristis).

At intervals the to-wee to-wee of the tailor-bird
(Orthotomus sutorius) had rung out clear and distinct
from the medley of sounds that filled the grove.
Suddenly two tailor-birds came on the scene, one
chasing the other. They alighted on a horizontal
‘bough, where they tarried sufficiently long to enable
me to see the chestnut crown so characteristic of the
species.

I have omitted to make mention of the sprightly
magpie-robin (Copsychus saularis). Of this species
there was at least one pair in that little grove, and

8 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

several times did the cock descend to the ground, and
hop about, with tail erect. He is arrayed in black and
white, and a smarter-looking bird does not exist.
His mate also put in an appearance; she has all his
sprightliness and is equally tastefully attired in grey
and white.

Having spent an hour in the grove, I had to return
to my tent to work, without having witnessed all the
dramatis persone of the daily pageant. As I was leaving
the tope a hen brown-backed robin (Thamnobia
cambaiensis) hopped out of an arhary field and stood
beneath a mango tree, carrying her tail erect so as to
display the red undertail coverts.

After I had reached my tent, fifty yards away, I
heard the kutur—kutur—kuturuk of the green barbet
(Thereiceryx zeylonicus), the loud tap, tap, tap of the
golden-backed woodpecker (Brachypiernus aurantius),
and the cheerful notes of the king crow (Dicrurus ater).

Ii
THE MAGPIE-ROBIN

HE magpie-robin (Copsychus saularis), or
ahayal, as the Indians call him, is a truly
delightful bird. He is of handsome appear-
ance, bold disposition, and confiding habits.

Heis, further, a singer who can hold his own in any com-
pany when at his best. The dhayal is a typically Indian
bird, being found in all parts of the country from the
Himalayas to Cape Comorin. He is common in Ceylon
and ascends the hills of India to altitudes of over 6000
feet. He is, I believe, more abundant in the United
Provinces than anywhere else. It is no exaggeration
to assert that at least one pair of magpie-robins lives
in every garden in Oudh and Agra. I do not count
as gardens those treeless compounds in which some
bungalows are situate, for the magpie-robin is a bird
that loves shade. The species, although by no means
rare in South India, is not nearly so abundant there
as in the northern part of the peninsula.

The dhayal is very easily identified. The cock is a
black and white bird rather larger than the familiar
English robin. His head, neck, breast, and upper parts
are black with a white bar in the wing. The lower
parts are white, as are the outer tail feathers.

9

10 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

The above description will show that the black and
white markings of the plumage are similar to those
of the common magpie; hence the popular name of
the bird—magpie-robin. If the distribution of the
magpie-robin happened to coincide with that of the
magpie, I have no doubt whatever that zoologists of
the school of Wallace would cite the dhayal as an
example of protective mimicry. They would tell us
that this robin had aped the dress of the powerful
magpie in order to dupe the crows and other bullying
birds that vex the lives of their smaller neighbours.

As the magpie-robin dwells mostly where the magpie
is not found, no Wallaceian has attempted to explain
why its colouring is so like that of the magpie. As a
matter of fact, the magpie scheme of colouring seems
to be a popular one in nature (if I may be permitted
.to use such an expression). It appears in seven species
which are in no way closely related one to another, to
wit, a goose, a crow, a tanager, a honey-eater, a
swallow-shrike, a robin, and, of course, the common
magpie. 7

The hen magpie-robin is brownish grey where her
lord and master is black, the pattern of her plumage be-
ing the same as his.

The magpie-robin does not carry his tail as most
birds do, but goes about with it pointed to the sky.
This gives the bird a very sprightly appearance. Its
actions fulfil the promise of its looks. It is never still
for an instant. Now it descends to the ground, where
it hops about with tail erect, picking up here and there
tiny insects ; now it flies into a tree or bush, where

THE MAGPIE-ROBIN II

it pursues its search for insects or pours forth its joyous
song. Nor does it confine its operations to trees,
bushes, and dry land. I have seen a magpie-robin
hunting for insects on a tangled mass of weeds and
stems floating on water. On these it hopped about
just as it does on terra firma. Each little jump caused
considerable commotion in the water.. The bird did
not seem to mind its toes getting wet.

The dhayal is essentially a bird of gardens. Like the
English robin, it prefers to dwell as near human
habitations as possible. In my opinion it is one of
the finest song birds in the world. Like the majority
of melodious birds, the magpie-robin is not in song all
the year round. During the early winter it is a silent
creature. Towards the end of the cold weather the cock
begins to find his voice, and at that time his efforts are
not very pleasing to the human ear. But each succes-
sive day’s effort produces better results, until, by
March, the bird is able to pour forth a torrent of far-
reaching melody which is inferior to that of no Indian
bird save his cousin, the shama.

Needless to say, the period when the cock dhayal is in
song corresponds to the mating time. At this season
the cocks are very pugnacious. This pugnacity is
simply the expression of the fact that the dhayal is at
that time more than usually overflowing with energy.
This energy has to find outlets. One of these is through
the medium of vigorous song. Another way of dis-
sipating energy is by performing gymnastic feats in the
air. As a rule magpie-robins rarely perform sustained
flights. They are content with flitting from bush to

12 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

bush, or making little excursions to the ground and
back again. But at the breeding season the cocks often
fly up high in the air and describe a series of wide
circles. They will spend hours in this performance with
only a few seconds’ rest at long intervals.

The eggs are nearly always placed in some natural
hole, that is to say, one not excavated by the dhayal
itself. The hole is sometimes in a tree, but nine times
out of ten in Northern India the site selected is a hole
in some building. The servants’ quarters in the corner
of some shady garden are almost invariably chosen. A
very favourite spot is between the wooden lintel and
the mud wall of a kachcha building ; such buildings are
well called kachcha, for they begin to crack and fall
down as soon as they are built. The cracks and
crevices that appear in them offer just what magpie-
robins want for nesting purposes. The eggs are not
laid on the bare brick, mud, or other material in which
the cavity exists. The hole is invariably lined with
roots, fibres, grass, feathers, or any other soft material
available. My experience of the nests of this species
has been confined chiefly to Northern India, and I do
not recollect ever having found a nest that was not in
the wall of some building ; but observers from South
India say that, as often as not, the dhayal nests in
trees.!_ Oates states that in Burma the magpie-robin
almost invariably selects a large hollow bamboo, and

1 Such is the contrariness of birds in general and of magpie-robins
in particular, that since this book went to press I have found in the
Pilibhit and Bareilly districts no fewer than seven dhayals’ nests in
holes in trees !

THE MAGPIE-ROBIN 13

places its nest about two feet inside, near the first
joint; but he adds that the bamboos selected are
generally to be found lying about the verandahs and
cucumber framings of the native houses. The truth
of the matter would seem to be that magpie-robins
select the very first cavity of the right size they come
across, and, as they affect human habitations, the
cavity used is almost invariably near some man’s
dwelling. In Northern India the construction of the
dwellings of Indians is such that the walls afford con-
venient sites, so that these are generally utilised ; in
other parts of the country, where the walls do not
present so many holes, other cavities in trees, etc., are
selected.

The eggs have a greenish-white background which
is usually largely obliterated by blotches of brownish
red. March, April, May, and June are the months in
which eggs are most likely to be found ; April and May
for preference.

II
THE INDIAN SNAKE-BIRD

HE Indian darter, or snake-bird (Plotus
melanogaster) is best described by what I
may perhaps call the synthetic method.
Take a large cormorant and remove the head

and neck; to the headless cormorant, sew on the head
and neck of a heron, and you will have produced a very
fair imitation of the Indian snake-bird. If during the
operation you happen to have dislocated one of the
lower neck vertebrae of the heron, so much the better,
for the slender neck of the darter is characterised by a
bend at the junction of the eighth and ninth vertebrae,
which, as Mr. Garrod has shown, enables the bird, by
suddenly straightening the neck, to transfix the fish on
which it has designs. As a catcher of fish the snake-
bird is probably without peer. This is not surprising,
since it possesses the swimming and diving apparatus
of the cormorant, the long neck and dagger-like beak
of the heron, and, in addition, a patent thrusting
apparatus in the shape of the aforesaid kink in the neck.

The Indian darter is a bird with which all who go
down to jhils to shoot duck must be familiar, since it is
a full yard in length and occurs in most parts of India,

14

THE INDIAN SNAKE-BIRD 15

Burma, and Ceylon. Notwithstanding its large size,
it is apt to be overlooked when in the water, because it
almost invariably swims with the body submerged,
showing only the upper neck above the surface. Every
now and again it completely disappears from view.
After remaining submerged for several seconds the head
reappears with a small fish projecting from the bill.
The fish is forthwith thrown a little way into the air,
and then caught and swallowed. This habit of tossing
food into the air preparatory to swallowing it occurs
in many long-billed species, and appears to be the most
expeditious method of getting food from the tip of an
elongated beak to the other extremity, where it is
seized by the muscular walls of the gullet and passed
onwards.

The snake-bird is said sometimes to secure its quarry
by. diving from a perch like a kingfisher. I have not
observed the bird behave thus, and the method does
not appear to be generally practised.

Plotus melanogaster is called the snake-bird because
of its long, slender, snake-like neck, which looks very
like the anterior portion of a water-snake when the
bird swims, as it often does, with the body submerged.
If danger threatens the bird usually sinks in the water
until every part of it except the beak disappears. This
certainly is a method of hiding superior to that said
to be adopted by the ostrich.

The snake-bird is a rapid swimmer, and as it
frequently remains under water for thirteen or fourteen
seconds at a time, it is able to move considerable
distances while completely submerged.

16 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

‘The snake-bird is a powerful flier. While on the wing
it does not retract its neck after the manner of the
heron, but progresses with neck extended. The neck
being so slender gives the bird a comic appearance and
renders it easy to identify during flight. When resting
from its piscatorial labours it betakes itself to the edge
of the jfil or to an islet and squats there to dry its
plumage in the approved cormorant fashion, with wings
partially, and tail fully, expanded. In this grotesque
attitude it frequently preens itself, and, thanks to the
length of its neck and bill, it has not to undergo the
contortions that characterise most birds when trying to
reach with the tip of the beak their least accessible
feathers.

The Indian darter does not appear to patronise the
open sea. Probably it objects to the swell and finds
its quarry easier to catch in comparatively shallow
water. It does not mind salt water, for it may be found
in tidal estuaries and creeks. I have seen it on the
Cooum at Madras. It is, however, essentially a bird
of the jhil. Needless to state that it is no songster—
none of the Phalacocoracidae are melodious—nor is it
given to undue loquacity, but it is capable, when the
occasion demands, of emitting a harsh croak.

So far as my experience goes, snake-birds usually
occur singly or in pairs, but according to Jerdon
hundreds of the birds are to be seen on some jhils in
Bengal.

At the nesting season it is more likely to be seen in
flocks than at other times, for numbers breed together,
often in company with herons and cormorants. Like

THE INDIAN SNAKE-BIRD- 17

these latter, the snake-bird times its nesting operations
so that the young will be hatched out after the mon-
soon has brought into existence numbers of amphibia
and crustacea on which to feed them. Accordingly, it
nidificates in July, August, and September in Northern
India and Travancore, which are served by the south-
west monsoon, and in January and February in those
parts of South India visited by the north-east mon-
soon.

The nest is a mere platform of twigs, usually placed
in low trees, babools for preference, and growing in
situations flooded in the rains.

I do not know of any place near the city of Madras
where snake-birds breed. Mr. T. F. Bourdillon, writing
of Travancote, says, “‘I once foundacolony of these birds
nesting above the Athirapuzha in the Kodasheri River
in September. They had taken possession of an island
in midstream, where they had built their untidy nests
on small trees about twenty feet high, and there were
fresh and hard-set eggs in them in all stages of incuba-
tion, while half-fledged birds scrambled about the
branches or flopped into the water at our approach.
The nests were about one foot in diameter and roughly
built of twigs. The eggs are white and covered with a
chalky coat and measure 2 inches by 1}. Some of
the eggs are rather larger at one end than the other,
while others are truly fusiform with pointed ends.”

The snake-bird is sometimes kept as a pet by Indians.
According to Mr. J. R. Cripps the Buddeas, a race of
gipsies who travel about the Eastern Bengal districts
in boats, are very fond of keeping these birds, almost

c

18 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

every boat tenanted by these gipsies having a snake-
bird on board.

The shoulder feathers of the Indian darter are long
and narrow like the hackles of a cock. Each is black
with a conspicuous silvery shaft, which renders it a
thing of unusual beauty. According to Jerdon these
feathers constitute the badge of royalty among the
Khasias, and used to be the badge of one of the Bengal
Regiments of Irregular Cavalry.

IV
MINIVETS

ERE a beauty show held open to all the
birds of India, the minivets would, I
think, win the first prize. To say this
is to bestow high praise, for India teems
with beautiful birds.

All the colours of the rainbow appear in our avian
population. Indeed, the Indian pitta (Pitta brachyura)
—the bird of nine colours—is‘a rainbow in himself, dis-
playing as he does red, yellow, grey, and various shades
of blue and green, to say nothing of black and white.

Most of our beautiful birds, however, pin their
affections more especially to one colour. The parakeets,
the chloropses, the green pigeons, the bee-eaters, and
the barbets wear sufficient green to satisfy the most
patriotic Irishman.

Golden yellow is affected by the orioles and the
ioras.

The kingfisher, the roller and the purple porphyrio
are as blue as Putney on boat-race day.

Sunbirds, pheasants, and peafowl favour us with a
gorgeous display of metallic hues.

The rose-coloured starling and the flamingo wear
their pink as proudly as a Westminster boy.

19

20 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

The minivets are the leaders of fashion as regards
the reds and yellows. The cocks vie with the hens
as to who shall be the more resplendent, and, in so
doing, make short work of the attempts of Wallace and
Darwin to explain sexual difference in plumage. In
most species of minivets the cocks are arrayed in
bright scarlet, whence the name Cardinal - bird,
rich crimson, deep rose colour, flaming red, or soft
orange, while their respective wives are studies in the
various shades of yellow. But the beauty of the
minivet is not merely that of colouring. The elegance
of its slender, well-proportioned form rivals that of the
wagtail.

Minivets are little birds with longish tails which flit
about among the leaves of trees in flocks of half a dozen,
conversing in low but exceedingly melodious tones.

They.are veritable nomads. They never remain long
in one place, except, of course, when nesting. Without
apparently ever taking a prolonged flight, the flocks
of minivets must traverse very considerable tracts of
country. They never leave the neighbourhood of trees.
Their habit is to pass methodically from tree to tree,
tarrying awhile at each, seeking for insects now on the
topmost branches, where the dainty forms of the birds
stand out sharp and clear against the azure sky, now
lost to view amid the denser foliage.

Few are the lurking insects that escape the bright
little eye of the minivet. Even those resting on parts
of the tree where a bird cannot obtain a foothold do
not escape, for the minivet is able to seize them while
hovering in the air on vibrating wings. Occasionally,

MINIVETS 21

in order to reach a tiny victim hidden away on the
under surface of a leaf, the minivet will hang by its
feet, like a titmouse, from the slender branch that bears
the leaf. At times the minivet will indulge in a little
zigzag flight among the green branches, and it is on
such occasions that the cock utters his feeble but
pleasing little warble.

Fifteen species of minivet adorn India. Unfortu-
nately, most of them are of comparatively restricted
range, being confined to the Himalayas. Two species
only, I believe, are common in South India, namely,
the small minivet (Pericrocotus peregrinus) and the
orange minivet (P. flammeus). The former is the only
one likely to be seen in Madras city. If we would see
the orange species we must go to the Nilgiris or the
Western Ghauts.

Both sexes of Pericrocotus peregrinus are handsome
without being showy. They are about the size of
sparrows, but have a much longer tail. The head, nape,
and upper part of the back of the cock are of a rich
slaty-grey tint, which deepens into black on the sides
of the head, and on the throat, wings, and tail. There
is an orange bar in the wing, and the tail feathers are
tipped with that colour. The breast and lower portion
of the back are of the richest scarlet. The female is
less showily attired than the cock ; she lacks his scarlet
trimmings and wears yellow in place of his patches of
orange.

The orange minivet is a still more beautiful bird.
The head and the back of the cock are black. His wings
are black and flame-coloured red, the red being so

22 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

arranged as to form a band running along, not across,
the wing during flight. This longitudinal red or yellow
wing-band characterises most species of minivet. His
tail feathers are all red, save the two median ones,
which are black. During flight the brilliant red seems
almost to obliterate the black, so that a number of
cocks, as they fly from one tree to another, look like
sparks driven before the wind. The hen is marked in
the same way as the cock, but in her the flaming red
colour is replaced by bright yellow. In my opinion,
“ orange’ is not a very suitable adjective to apply to
this species. A literal translation of the Latin name—
the flame-coloured minivet—would be more appro-
priate.

A minivet’snest is a work of art. As all the species con-
struct precisely the same kind of nursery, what is true
of any one species applies equally to all the others. The
nest is a neat little cup, about three inches in diameter,
composed of twigs and grasses, and covered outside
with moss and cobwebs, so that in colour and general
appearance the exterior is exactly like the bark of a
tree. It is usually placed on a bough ; if this happens
to be a thick one, the nest is totally invisible to any
person looking up into the tree. If the branch happens
to be a thin one, the nursery, seen from below, looks
exactly like a knot or swelling in the branch. Thus,
unless one actually sees the minivet sitting on the nest,
or climbs the tree, it is scarcely possible to locate the
little nursery. It is easy enough to discover that a pair
have a nest, for the parent birds make a great noise
when a human being comes anywhere near. If they

MINIVETS 23

happen to be carrying food in the beak for the young
birds, they at once drop it, set up their cry of distress
and try to entice the stranger away by flying a little
distance off. If this ruse? be not successful, the hen
minivet will act as if her wing were broken and flap
along away from the nest.

It is an interesting fact that although minivets build
open nests and the sexes differ so considerably in
appearance, both the cock and the hen take part in
incubation.

Some years ago, when writing of the small minivet,
I quoted Mr. William Jesse as describing a very curious
phenomenon in connection with the nesting of this
species, namely that in his experience almost invariably
two hens and one cock take part in nest building and
incubation. ‘‘ What is the exact duty of this second
wife,” writes Jesse, “‘ I cannot make out. Possibly she
may be a drudge. That she exists I have satisfied
myself time after time, and so convinced are the
Martiniere boys of the fact that they—no mean
observers by the way—rarely trouble to look for a nest
if only one female is present. Unfortunately, I have
never yet found out what happens when there are
young. Whether both females take part in incubation
and in rearing the young I do not know. I do not think
that both lay eggs, as I have never found more than
three.” From the time when I first read the above
passage I have paid particular attention to minivets,

11 use the word ‘‘ ruse” for want of a better term. I do not
believe that the bird intends to deceive the intruder. I am disposed

to think that this feigning of injury is a purely instinctive act. The
phenomenon is discussed on p, 207 infra,

24. GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

with the object of trying to account for the alleged
phenomenon, and the result of my efforts is that I
have never seen more than one cock and one hen at a
nest, whether it be under construction or whether it
contain eggs or young. Moreover, I have not come
across any naturalist other than Mr. Jesse who has
seen more than two birds at the nest. I am therefore
driven to the conclusion that minivets are monogamous
birds and that the observation recorded by Mr. Jesse
is faulty, that the presence of the second female was
due to the chance visit of an outsider. Possibly, since
there seem to be more hen minivets than cocks, there is
considerable competition among the hens for cocks,
and it may happen that the hen who has set her cap at
a cock in vain may stay on in the vicinity for some time
after her rejection.

Vv

THE POWER OF ANIMALS TO EXPRESS
THOUGHT

HE thoughts of birds and beasts are prob-
ably few and simple. Yet it is unlikely that
they are able to communicate all their
thoughts to one another, because the lan-

guage they possess consists of a few monosyllables, by
which they can express only elementary feelings such
as pain, anger, fear, hunger, and the presence of food.

Some animals possess a much larger vocabulary than
others. Dr. Garner, who went to Africa to study the
language of his Simian brothers, found that the aver-
age monkey was able to emit only about seven cries,
but the vocabulary of the highly intelligent chimpanzee
comprised twenty-two separate calls.

According to Mr. Edmund Selous, the rook is really
in process of evolving a language. He records no fewer
than thirty-three distinct sounds he heard rooks utter,
and states that this is but a small page out of their
vocabulary. Nevertheless, he is compelled to admit
that only in few cases was he able to connect a note
with any particular state of mind.

The articulate language of animals is a language of
monosyllables, a language composed almost entirely

35

26 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

of interjections. Such a language, while very expres-
sive as far as it goes, does not go very far. And the
question naturally arises, does it go sufficiently far to
meet the needs of the various species, or have they
some means of communicating with one another other
than by sounds? It is very tempting to believe that
they have, that they are able to transmit thought to
one another in some way. It is only on the assump-
tion of brain waves that one can explain the soldier-
like evolutions which flocks of birds sometimes per-
form in the air.

I have often wondered how those species of birds,
of which both the cock and hen take part in the nest-
building operations, select the site. The matter is, of
course, simple when only the one sex constructs the
nest. But how is the site selected when both sexes
build? It is tempting to believe that they discuss the
matter, that the hen says to the cock, “‘ Now, James,
my dear, it is necessary for us to build a nest without
delay : come, let us select a secluded spot wherein to
build ’”’ ; and to picture the little birds hunting about
together and criticising the sites each selects. Never-
theless, I think it most unlikely that any such discus-
sion takes place. Nest building is largely instinctive.
In the case of the first nest it is improbable that the
little builders quite know what they are doing, and I
do not see how, before the nest is begun, they can have
any idea of what it will look like when it is finished.

It is possible that birds agree as to the site without
any discussion or without any communication. Let
us suppose that a pair of bulbuls have mated. Sud-

ry

POWER TO EXPRESS THOUGHT 27

denly one of them is overmastered by the nest-building
instinct which has hitherto lain dormant. This par-
ticular bird is impelled by some irresistible force to
seek out a site and then forthwith to begin to build
the nest. The nest-building instinct of its mate, which
is dormant, is at once awakened by the sight of its
spouse collecting material. When this happens the
second bird begins collecting, and is content to work
at the structure already commenced by its mate.
Assuming the correctness of the suggestion that the
nest-building instinct does not, as a rule, become
awakened simultaneously in a pair of birds, what will
happen in the exceptional cases when the instinct does
awaken simultaneously ? When this happens, it is my ©
belief that each sex commences to build a separate
nest. When one of the pair discovers what its mate
is doing, it, of course, gets angry and scolds it. The
other returns the compliment. Probably the next step
is that each examines the handiwork of the other and
thinks very little of it. Possibly at first each refuses
to yield to the other, or the one whose nest is the
least advanced leaves this in favour of the other, or—
a third alternative—the stronger bird may attack the
weaker and compel it to desert its nest.

This, of course, is pure conjecture. But it is in
accordance with the fact that numbers of nests are
commenced which are never completed, and which,
indeed, never progress very far. There are at present
in my verandah two nests belonging to bulbuls which
have been left after about three hours’ work was put
into them. Several explanations of this phenomenon

28 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

are possible. Each bird may have commenced a sepa-
rate nest, and so one was deserted ; or the site in ques-
tion may have been found to have some fatal defect,
consequently the nest has been given up ; or the birds
have been scared away or killed. The last alternative
is the least likely, and I am inclined to believe that
the first explanation is the true one.

I recently read in Country Life an exceedingly in-
teresting account of the nest-building operations of a
pair of wagtails. The account is brief and has so im-
portant a bearing on the subject we are discussing that
I take the liberty to quote at length :—

** From the cover of a riverside cottage,” writes Mr.
Alfred Taylor of the grey wagtail in England, ‘‘ I saw
two birds repeatedly fly to a rocky ledge both with
nest-building material in their beaks. It was soon
evident that the male wagtail had selected one nest
and the female another place a couple of yards away.
The former for some time took no notice of the doings
of his mate, and they both continued to gather ma-
terials into their selected places. Suddenly he flew to
her position and commenced removing her material to
the place where he thought the nest ought to be.
Trouble seemed to be brewing in the family, especially
when she still persisted in carrying dead grass to her
site. In the end the cock bird lost his temper, flew to
her ledge, and viciously attacked her, knocking off
the ledge all evidence of her efforts at building. She
flew away, and for a couple of hours remained perched
in a tree and sulked, evidently much upset at her
chastisement, not taking the slightest notice of over-

POWER TO EXPRESS THOUGHT 29

tures of peace from her mate. As the deadlock seemed
likely to continue I departed.

“Two days later I was round again, eager to see
how the difference had been settled, if at all. To my
great surprise, I must confess, the male bird had given
way to the female, and the nearly completed nest was
on her chosen site. A close examination of the two
places showed that the judgment of the male had been
at fault. Where he had erred was in not detecting
the presence of mice ; it was quite impossible for these
destructive little animals to reach the spot selected by
the hen.”’

Here, then, is a case of the cock having selected one
site and the hen another. Had they gone about
choosing a site in company and disagreed upon the
place, it is hardly likely that the cock would for some
time have taken no notice of what the hen was doing ;
he would surely have set his foot down at once. The
fact that at first he took no notice seems to show that
at the outburst of what I may perhaps call the fury
of nest-building the cock had eyes for nothing but his
work. Again, when the cock did assert his authority,
he apparently did not argue with the hen. He simply
knocked her and her handiwork off the ledge—a rude
but forcible, if inarticulate, method of expressing his
feelings.

It may be asked, how was it that the birds agreed
to the change of site if they were not able to com-
municate with one another? Here, again, we must
wander into the field of conjecture. It must suffice
that it is possible to explain the change of tactics of

30 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

the cock without assuming any communication be-
tween him and his mate. Let us suppose that while
she was sulking, and he was working, a mouse appeared
on the scene. This would alarm him, and possibly the
instinct of flying from enemies, that the appearance
of the mouse called into play, would cause him to
desert his nest, and perhaps he too began to sulk.
Then the hen, once again overcome by the nest-
building instinct, recommenced her work, and when
the cock followed suit he left his useless site and
worked at hers.

Investigation into the extent to which birds and
beasts can communicate with one another is as diffi-
cult as it is fascinating. It is one of those subjects of
which probably but little can be learned by systematic
experiment. The casual observer is as likely to throw
light upon it as the man who makes a special study
of it. A chance incident, such as that observed by
Mr. Taylor, throws a flood of light upon the subject.
It is not until we have a large number of such observa-
tions on record that we shall be able to acquire some
definite knowledge of the extent to which birds and
beasts can, and do, communicate with one another.

VI
PIED WOODPECKERS

O fewer than fifty-six species of woodpecker

occur in India, and of these thirteen wear

a pied livery. The black-and-white wood-

peckers are all small birds. Most of them

are of very limited distribution, several being con-
fined to the Himalayas and the connected hills. One
species is peculiar to the Andamans. One pied wood-
pecker, however, ranges from Cochin China, through
India, to Ceylon, but its distribution, although wide,
is capricious. It is abundant in all parts of North-
West India, but is said not to occur in Eastern Bengal
and Assam. I do not remember having seen it in
Madras, yet it is the common woodpecker of Bombay.
The bird is easily identified. A pied woodpecker seen
in South India can belong to no species other than
that which is known as Liopicus mahratiensts to men
of science. The English name of this species is the
yellow-fronted pied woodpecker. It isclothed in black-
and-white raiment set off by a yellow forehead, and,
in the case of the cock, a short red crest. There is
also a patch of red on the abdomen, but this is not
likely to be seen in the living bird, which presents only
its back to the observer as it seeks its insect quarry

31

32 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

on the trunks and boughs of trees. In the lower
plumage the white predominates ; the lower back is
white, as are the sides of the head and neck. The
shoulders, upper back, wings, and tail are black
speckled with white.

Its habits are those of the woodpecker family. It
moves about in a jerky manner, like a mechanical toy.
Its method is to start low down on the trunk of a tree
and work upwards, searching for insects. Unlike the
nut-hatch, the woodpecker seems to object to work-
ing head downwards, so that, when it reaches the top
of the tree, it flies off to another. Its movements in
the air are as jerky as those on the tree-trunk.

While other birds are hunting for insects that fly in
the air, or creep on the ground, or lurk under the
leaves of trees, the woodpecker has designs on those
that burrow into tree-trunks or hide in the crevices
of the bark. These the woodpecker evicts by means
of its bill and tongue. The former is stout and square
at the end, which presents a chisel-like edge. The
bird is thereby enabled to cut holes in the hardest
wood. Occasionally it literally excavates its quarry,
but, as a rule, it is not obliged to resort to such drastic
measures. A series of vigorous taps on the bark under
which insects are lurking usually frightens them to
such an extent that they bolt from their hiding-places
as hastily as men leave their habitations during an
earthquake. When the insects expose themselves the
woodpecker’s tongue comes into operation. This organ
is a fly-paper of the most approved “‘ catch-’em-alive-o”’
type. It is covered with a secretion as sticky as bird-

PIED WOODPECKERS 33

lime. The insects it touches adhere to it, one and all
are drawn into the woodpecker’s mouth, and forthwith
gathered unto their fathers !

The nest is of the usual woodpecker type, that is to
say, a cavity in the trunk or a thick branch of a tree,
partially, at any rate, excavated by the bird. Although
the chisel-like bill of the woodpecker can cut the
hardest wood, the bird usually selects for the site of
its nest a part of the tree where the internal wood is
rotten. This, of course, means less work for the bird.
The only hard labour it has then to perform is to cut
through the sound external wood a neat, round pas-
sage leading to the decayed core. When once this is
reached, little further effort is required.

Last year I spent a few days at Easter in the Hima-
layas, and there had leisure to watch a pair of pied
woodpeckers at work on their nest. These birds were
brown-fronted pied woodpeckers—Dendrocopus auri-
ceps. Their nest was being excavated in the trunk of
a large rhododendron tree, at a spot some thirty feet
from the ground. When I first began to watch the
birds the cock was at work. He confined his opera-
tions to a spot about four inches from the surface, so
that, as he hammered away, his head, neck, and a
part of his shoulders disappeared in the hole. His fore
toes grasped the inside of the aperture, and his hind
toes the bark of the tree. The wood at which he was
working was sufficiently hard to cause the taps of his
bill to ring out clearly. After I had been watching
him for about ten minutes he flew off to a tree hard

by and uttered a number of curious low notes. Then
D

34 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

his spouse appeared and he caressed her. After this
both birds flew off. A few seconds later the hen came
to the nest hole and set to work. Her efforts were
nof directed to the part of the cavity at which the
cock had been working. Her taps were, at a spot,
deeper down, so that while at work her tail, although
at right angles to her body, derived no support from
the trunk. She was operating on soft wood, hence
the tapping of her bill was scarcely audible. After
working for about eight minutes she began to remove
the chips of wood she had detached. This operation
is performed so rapidly that it is apt to be overlooked.
The bird plunges its head into the hollow, seizes some
chips, draws out its head and jerks this violently to
one side, usually to the right, and thus casts the chips
over its shoulder.

After the hen had been at work for nearly ten
minutes she flew away. Within one minute and a half
of her departure the cock arrived on the scene, and at
once set to work in a most business-like fashion. He
now operated on the right side of the cavity, and not
at the spot to which his wife had directed her atten-
tion. After working for exactly twenty-five minutes
the cock flew off. Then for a fraction over ten minutes
the hole was deserted. At the end of this time it was
the cock who again appeared. He put in a spell of
thirty-five minutes’ work, in the course of which he
indulged in a “‘ breather” lasting three minutes. I
then went away, and returned nearly three hours later,
by which time the work had advanced to such an
extent that when a bird was excavating at the deepest

PIED WOODPECKERS 35

part of the cavity only the tail and the tip of the wing
were visible. I found that the habit of the birds was
to cease working about 4 p.m. I do not know at what
hour they commenced work.

Five days later the nest hole had attained such a
size that the birds were able to turn round in it, and
so now emerged head foremost. When throwing away
the chips, the head of the bird would appear at the
aperture with the beak full of chips and dispose of
them with a jerk of the head. The head of a wood-
pecker at the entrance to its hole is a pretty sight, so
bright and keen is its eye. The excavation of the nest
from start to finish probably occupies from ten to
fourteen days.

The yellow-fronted pied woodpecker sometimes
selects as a nesting site a spot in a tree-trunk only a
few inches above the level of the ground.

Some years ago my ignorance of this fact afforded
me a rather amusing experience. I noticed a pied
woodpecker with some insects in its bill. Obviously it
was about to carry these to its young. As there was
only one clump of about six trees in the vicinity the
nest was necessarily in one of these. Having half an
hour to spare, I determined to wait and discover the
whereabouts of the nest. The sun was powerful, so I
elected to squat in the shade close by the trunk of
the smallest of the trees. J anticipated that the wood-
pecker would fly direct to its nest with the food.
Birds that nest in holes are usually quite indifferent
to the presence of man; instinct teaches them that
their nest is in an inaccessible place. But, in this in-

36 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

stance, the bird kept hopping about looking very dis-
tressed. Consequently, I came to the conclusion that
its nest must be in the trunk of the tree near which I
was crouching. I stood up and examined the trunk
carefully, but found no signs of a nest. I again sat
down and waited until the patience of the woodpecker
should be exhausted, but it continued to hop about on
a log of wood with the food in its beak and disgust
plainly depicted in its face. At the end of half an hour
I went off mystified. The following day I returned to
the spot, and the first thing that caught my eye was
the entrance to the woodpecker’s nest eight inches off
the ground in the trunk by which I had sat on the
previous day. I had then unwittingly been blocking
the approach of the bird!

VII
A JHIL OUT OF SEASON

VEN as every English seaside resort has its
“season,” so is there for every Indian jhil
a period of the year when it is thronged with
avian visitors. At other times of the year
the 7/ul, like the seaside town, is, comparatively speak-
ing, deserted. The season of the jhil extends from
October to April—a term long enough to turn the
average lodging-house keeper green with envy ! During
the winter months the j/i/s of Northern India are full
to overflowing with ducks, geese, coots, pelicans, cor-
morants, and waders of every length of leg. As the
weather grows hot, the majority of these take to their
wings and hie themselves to cooler climes, where they
enter upon the joyous toil of rearing up their families.
Thus, from May to September, the permanent residents
hold undisputed possession of the jii/. The number
of these permanent residents is considerable, so that a
jmil, even in the rains, when it contains most water,
has not the forlorn appearance of, let us say, Margate
in winter.
It is very pleasant during a short break in the rains
to visit a ji late in the afternoon, especially if a
37

38 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

breeze be blowing. The sky presents a panorama of
clouds of the most varied and fantastic shapes, to
which the setting sun imparts hues wonderful and
beautiful. The slanting rays are reflected and re-
fracted from cloud to cloud, so that not infrequently
there appear to be two suns behind the clouds, a major
one setting in the west and a minor one sinking to
the eastern horizon. The earth below is very beauti-
ful. It is clothed in a mantle of green of every hue,
from the vivid emerald of the young rice crop to the
dark bluish green of the pipal tree. As likely as not
the 7hil is so thickly studded with grasses and other
aquatic plants as to present the appearance, from a
little distance, of a number of flooded fields, in most
of which are well-grown crops—the water being visible
only in patches here and there.

The most conspicuous of the occupants of the jhil
are the snow-white egrets (Herodias alba). These
birds, which attain a length of a yard, strut about
solemnly in the shallower parts of the lake, seeking
their quarry. Their long necks project high above the
vegetation; so slender are these that they might
almost belong to swans. Here and there stands
motionless a “long-necked heron, dread of nimble
eels” (Ardea cinerea), waiting patiently until a luck-
less frog shall approach. The grey plumage of this
species, dull and sober though it be, stands out in
bold contrast to the surrounding greenery. In another
part of the jiil a couple of sarus cranes (Grus antigone)
are visible. This is the only species of crane resident
in India ; the others are to be numbered among those

A JHIL OUT OF SEASON 39

which visit the jhil in the “season.” One of the
saruses, like the heroine of the “ penny dreadful,”
has drawn himself up to his full height, and his grey
form, relieved by patches of red and white on the
head_and neck, shows well against the background of
dark foliage. His mate is apparently sitting down.
This probably indicates the presence of a nest. To
discover this we must wade and chance an occasional
immersion to the waist. Risking this, we advance, to
the disgust of the saruses, who set up a loud trumpet-
ing. Sometimes the parent birds attack the intruders.
Such conduct is, however, rare. Usually the sarus in-
dulges in Lloyd-Georgian methods of meeting an
enemy.

The nest in question is a pile of rushes and water-
weeds, rising a couple of feet from the water and large
enough for a man to stand upon. It contains two
whitish eggs faintly blotched with yellowish brown.

Viewed from the margin, the jh appears to be
utterly devoid of waterfowl; but in this case things
are not what they seem. Before we have waded
far in the direction of the nest of the sarus, numbers
of duck and teal which were hidden by the sedges and
grasses get up and fly to another part of the jhzl. The
first birds to be disturbed are some cotton-teal (Netto-
pus coromandelianus). As these consist of a flock of
eight or ten they are obviously not nesting. The cotton-
teal drake is a bird easy to identify. Its small size,
white head, and black necklace are unmistakable, and
the white margins to the wings are very conspicuous
during flight. .

40 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

On another part of the jl a pair of spot-billed
ducks (Anas poecilorhyncha) settle down. These are
recognisable even at a considerable distance when in
the water by the white patch on each flank. As there
are two of these birds together it is probable that they
have a nest hidden in one of the sedge-covered islets
studded about the tank. The other ducks disturbed by
our approach are whistling teal (Dendvocycna javanica),
which occur in considerable flocks, and a few comb-
duck (Sarcidiornis melanotus). All these species of
duck and teal are permanent residents in India.

Not a single coot is to be seen upon the jfil. The
explanation of this is that this particular tank dries
up in the hot weather, and coots usually keep to those
lakes that contain water all the year round.

Half a dozen terns form a conspicuous and beautiful
feature of the jhil. As they sail overhead, with every
now and then a descent to the water to secure a frog
or small fish, their silvery wings stand out boldly from
a dark cloud on the southern horizon. The terns at
the jl are all of the black-bellied species. (Sterna
melanogaster). The other species haunt rivers in pre-
ference to shallow lakes.

Last, but not least, mention must be made of Pallas’s
fishing eagle (Haliaetus leucoryphus). One or more
pairs of this bird are to be seen in the vicinity of every
jhil. Yn the earlier part of the day they are active,
screaming creatures, but when once they have made
a good meal off a teal or some fish they become very
sluggish. Two of them are sitting about fifty yards
apart on a band alongside the jhil, looking like kites

A JHIL OUT OF SEASON 41

with whitish heads. They sit as motionless as statues.
They are obviously feeling very lazy. Presently a
king-crow (Dicrurus ater) comes up and, uttering that
soft note which seems to be peculiar to the rainy
season, makes repeated feints at the head of one of
the fishing eagles. Save for a slight inclination of the
head, the eagle pays no attention to the attack of its
puny adversary. Eventually, the king-crow gives up
in despair and flies off, probably to find something
which will take more notice of his threatening demon-
strations.

Even when I approach the fishing eagle the phleg-
matic bird only flies a few yards. There is no creature
more sluggish than a bird or beast of prey that has
recently made a good meal.

Vill
BIRDS IN WHITE

LMOST every species of bird and beast throws
off an occasional albinistic variation or sport,
which tends to breed true. Such sports
are of two kinds—complete and incomplete

albinos. In the former, the organism is totally devoid of
external pigment, so that the eye looks red, there
being no colouring matter in the iris to mask the small
blood vessels in it. In the incomplete albinistic form
the iris retains the pigment, so that the eye colour is
normal. True albinos have very poor sight, hence when
such sports occur in a species in a state of nature they
soon perish in the struggle for existence. The white
varieties with pigmented eyes are not handicapped by
bad eyesight, but their whiteness makes them con-
spicuous to the creatures that prey upon them; so
that, unless they are well able to defend themselves’
or unless they dwell in a region of everlasting snow,
they tend to be eliminated by natural selection.

If protective colouring were as important to the
welfare of birds as Wallaceians and modern Darwin-
ians assert, all the birds of the Polar regions would be
white and not a single white species would be found in

42

BIRDS IN WHITE 43

the temperate zones or in the Tropics. That coloured
species occur in the Arctic regions and white species
in the Tropics is conclusive proof that in those par-
ticular cases, at any rate, it is not of paramount im-
portance to the species that they be protectively
coloured.

Finn and I have shown in The Making of Species
that the ice-bound Arctic and Antarctic regions are not
inhabited, as popular works on zoology would have
us believe, by a snow-white fauna. We have shown
that in the Polar countries the coloured species of
birds outnumber the white species. I will, therefore,
not dilate further upon this subject. It will suffice
to repeat that in the area of eternal snow the white
forms are at an advantage in the struggle for existence,
as their whiteness tends to render them difficult to
see, while, in regions where snow is unknown, such
organisms labour under a disadvantage because of
their conspicuousness, and, other things being equal,
they ought not to be able to hold their own against
less showy rivals.

The fact that white birds exist in the plains of India
must mean that their colour is not a matter of great
importance, that a conspicuous organism can survive
in the fight for life provided it be otherwise well
equipped for the contest. From this it follows that
it is incorrect to speak of the whiteness of such organ-
isms as the direct product of natural selection.

Let us take a brief survey of those birds of India
of which the plumage is largely white, and try to
discover how it is that each of them is able to hold its

44 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

own in the struggle for existence, notwithstanding its
showy plumage. These birds are the spoonbill, the
egrets, the black-winged stilt, the avocet, the white
ibis, the flamingo, adult cock paradise flycatcher,
and certain of the gulls, terns, pelicans and storks,
including the open-bill. With many of these every one
is familiar. Accordingly, it will not be necessary to
describe the sea gulls, the pelicans or the flamingo.

The spoonbill (Platalea leucorodia) is a bird larger
than a kite with very long black legs and a bill of the
same hue which is flat and expanded at the end like a
spoon, hence the popular name of the bird. Perhaps
another name for the bird—Banjo-bill—still better
describes its beak. Spoonbills dwell on the fringe of
water and feed much as ducks do.

The white ibis (Ibis melanocephala) is another
wading bird, rather smaller than the spoonbill and
with considerably shorter legs. All its plumage is
white, but the legs, bill, and featherless head and
upper neck are black. The bill is long and curved like
that of the curlew. The stilt (Himantopus candidus)
may be described as a sandpiper on red stilts. It is
a white bird with dark wings and back which spends
its days wading in shallow water. The avocet (Re-
curvivostra avocetta) is perhaps the most elegant of
all wading birds. It is slightly bigger than the stilt
but with shorter legs. Its body is white picked out
with black. Its most characteristic feature is a long,
slender bill which curves upwards. Like the species
already mentioned, it feeds in shallow water, and I
have seen it on the Cooum.

BIRDS IN WHITE 45

The open-bill (A nastomus oscitans) looks like a shabby
specimen of the common white stork. It is character-
ised by a peculiar beak, of which the mandibles do not
meet in the middle and look as though they had been
bent in an attempt to crack a hard nut. The egrets,
of which there are several species in India, are snow-
white, heron-like birds. The most familiar is the
cattle egret (Bubulcus coromandus), which Finn charac-
terises as one of the most picturesque birds in the
East. This is the bird that struts along beside a cow
or buffalo and seizes the grasshoppers disturbed by
the motion of the quadruped. It is the least aquatic
of all the egrets, most of which are true waders.

Terns may be described as very graceful and slenderly
built gulls. Their feet are webbed, so that they can
swim after the manner of ducks and sea gulls, but
they spend most of their time on their powerful
pinions and so elegant is their flight that they have
been called sea-swallows. The adult cock paradise
flycatcher (Terpsiphone paradisi) is one of the most
beautiful birds in the: world. As he is described in
another essay it is only necessary for me to state in
this place that he is a white bird with a black-crested
head. He is not much larger than a sparrow, but his
two median tail feathers are twenty inches in length
and float behind him like streamers of white satin as
he flits from tree to tree.

It will be observed that of the above list of Indian
birds that are mainly white, only the paradise fly-'
catcher belongs to the great Order of Passeres ;
moreover, with this exception, all are wading or

46 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

aquatic birds. These are significant facts if we can
interpret them aright. I interpret them in the follow-
ing manner. It may be taken as a fact that every
species throws off occasionally white mutations or
sports, which breed true, so that, if allowed to persist,
they form the starting point for new varieties and
species. As most passerine birds are small and preyed
upon by the vaptoves, white varieties among them
usually perish at an early age on account of their
conspicuousness. Thus there are very few white
passerine birds. The paradise flycatcher lives amid
thick foliage, and so is comparatively immune from
the attacks of birds of prey ; but even here it is note-
worthy that the hens are not white but chestnut in
colour throughout life, and the cocks have chestnut-
coloured plumage until they are two years old. As
the cock shares in the duties of incubation equally
with the hen, her failure to acquire white plumage
cannot be accounted for by supposing her to have
a greater need of protection. Finn has suggested that
the whiteness of the cock is a senile character; that
it is the livery of old age.

The majority of the non-passerine birds that are
altogether or mainly white are large and able to fight
well, so that they are comparatively immune from the
attacks of raptorial birds. The gulls and terns, al-
though small, fly so powerfully as to be equally safe.
In the case of birds which secure their food in the water,
whiteness is probably useful in rendering them less
conspicuous to organisms living in the liquid medium
than they would be were they coloured.

BIRDS IN WHITE 47

Further, whiteness of feather seems to be correlated
in some way with the power to resist cold and damp.

It should be noted that not one of the larger fruit-
eating birds is white. The reason of this would seem
to be that in the case of non-aquatic birds such white
species possess r ; advantage in the struggle for ex-
istence, but, on the contrary, the whiteness of their
plumage is perhaps correlated with weakness of
constitution. This, of course, is a heavier handicap to
a large bird than being conspicuous is.

The correlation or interdependence of various
characteristics and organs is a subject full of interest,
but one which has hitherto attracted comparatively
little attention. Close study of this phenomenon may
eventually revolutionise zoological thought. Whether
this surmise prove right or wrong, one thing is certain,
and that is there is more in the philosophy of white-
ness than the old-fashioned evolutionist dreams of.

IX
THE PIED CRESTED CUCKOO

HE pied crested cuckoo (Coccystes jacobinus)
is the most handsome of all the cuckoos.
He is more than this. He stands out head
and shoulders above his fellow-deceivers.
Lest these words should convey an exaggerated idea
of his splendour, let me say that they do not necessarily
mean very much. Among the family of parasitic
cuckoos the standard of beauty is not high. Most of the
Cuculide not only lack bright colours, ornamental
plumes, and other superfluous appendages, but are
also devoid of the smart appearance and soldier-like
bearing that characterise the great majority of the
feathered folk. Thus it cometh to pass that the pied
crested cuckoo, although he cannot hold a candle to
such birds as the paradise flycatcher or the oriole, is
able to point the claw of scorn at his fellow-cuckoos.
His black-and-white livery is distinctly stylish and is
embellished by a crest that does not lie down as though
it were ashamed of itself, but projects prettily from
the back of the head.
Even as a little girl of my acquaintance calls every
plump Indian a Bengali, so do the inhabitants of
48

THE PIED CRESTED CUCKOO 49

Bengal call all birds possessing these pretty crests
bulbuls. On this principle the Bengali name for the
pied crested cuckoo is Kola bulbul. On the other hand,
black bulbuls (Hypsipeies), which possess no crests,
are not recognised as bulbuls by the natives of India.
Obviously, the crest maketh the bulbul.

The pied crested cuckoo is a bird that is easily
recognised, The upper parts of his plumage are black,
his lower parts and the tips of his tail feathers are
white. There is in each wing aconspicuous white bar.
Then, there is the black crest. As regards size the
plumage of the common cuckoo would fit our pied
crested friend like a glove.

But it is not necessary to set eyes on him in order
to recognise him. To hear him. sufficeth. In this
respect he differs in no way from his brother cuckoos.
A silent cuckoo is unthinkable. The generating of
sound is to the cuckoo what wine is to the wine-bibber,
poker to the gambler, fighting to the soldier, ‘‘ votes
for women ” to the Suffragette. According to cuculine
philosophy, life without noise is but the image of death.
The reason of this is obvious. At the breeding season
a vast amount of surplus energy is generated in birds.
This has to find some outlet. It is usually dissipated in
the form of vocal effort, the dances and antics of
courtship, and the labours of nest building and feeding
the young. Or it may find expression in more concrete
form in the growth of plumes and other ornaments.
To the parasitic cuckoos most of these outlets are
closed. They do not produce nuptial ornaments ; to

build nests they know not how. They are denied the
E

50 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

pleasurable labours of rearing up their offspring. They
do not appear to indulge in elaborate courtship. All
their superfluous energy is sent forth in the form-of
noise. Watch any cuckoo while he is calling, be it the
cheery canorus, who gladdens the Himalayas, or the
koel or the brain-fever bird or the pied crested cuckoo,
who enliven the plains, and you will be driven to the
conclusion that they are demented creatures. Although
the frenzied screaming of the pied cuckoo is easily
recognised, it is difficult to describe. ‘‘ Its call,” writes
Stuart Baker, ‘‘is a very loud metallic double note,
too harsh to be called a whistle. In the early part of
the season, before its voice has fully formed, its. cries
are particularly harsh and disagreeable, and the second
note, which should be the same in tone as the first,
often goes off atatangent. Later on inthe year, though
it becomes more noisy than ever, its notes are rather
musical.”’

Much remains to be discovered regarding the dis-
tribution of the pied crested cuckoo in India. Al-
though it has been observed in most parts of the
country, it appears to undergo considerable local
migration. In Northern India I have seen the bird
only during the rains, but I believe that there are
cases on record of its occurring there in winter. On
the other hand, I have seen pied crested cuckoos in
Madras in July, at which time they are supposed all
to migrate northwards. An anonymous writer recently
put forward the theory that our Indian cuckoos are
not really migratory, that they appear to migrate
because of their skulking habits. Cuckoos are loved

THE PIED CRESTED CUCKOO 51

by their fellow-birds about as much as Lord Morley
is loved by Anglo-Indians. As cuckoos dislike demon-
strations, the theory is that they habitually shun
observation, and are therefore not noticed, except at
the breeding season, when their loud excited calls
betray their presence. This theory is a plausible one,
but the facts are, I think, against it. There can be
no doubt that some species of cuckoo are migratory.
Indeed, one of the earlier theories to account for the
parasitic habits of the common cuckoo was that the
bird did not stay in England sufficiently long to
enable it to rear up a brood. Again, the Indian
koel (Eudynamis honorata) certainly migrates. No
bird is commoner in Lahore in the hot weather,
but I did not set eyes upon the bird there in the
course of two winters during which I took several
walks a week, armed with field-glasses. Likewise
the pied crested cuckoo is also migratory, but the
particular direction of its movements remains to be
established. I would ask every one interested in
birds to make a note of each date on which this
cuckoo is seen.

The parasitic habits of the pied cuckoo are interesting.
The bird victimises various species of babbler, more
especially the jungle babbler (Cvateropus canorus) and
the large grey babbler (Argya malcomi). There is
nothing particularly remarkable in this, for babblers
are the favourite dupes of Indian cuckoos. The point
that is of interest is that the common hawk-cuckoo,
or brain-fever bird (Hzerococcyx varius) also victimises
the seven sisters. Now this cuckoo is much like a

52 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

hawk in appearance, so much so that it affords the
stock example of aggressive mimicry among birds.
Says the Wallaceian: ‘‘ This cuckoo resembles a
hawk so closely that small birds mistake it for one.
When the nesting babblers see it, they flee for their-
lives, and the cuckoo—the ass in the lion’s skin—
seizes the opportunity to deposit an egg in the mo-
mentarily deserted nest. The strange egg is not noticed
by the babblers on their return because it is blue like
theirs. We thus see how natural selection has brought
about the hawk-like appearance of the brain-fever
bird, and caused the egg to become blue.” If all
cuckoos parasitic on babblers were like hawks in
appearance, I should have nothing to urge against.
the above explanation. Unfortunately for the Walla-
ceians, the pied crested and other cuckoos, which do
not look in the least like hawks, successfully dupe the
seven sisters. It would seem, therefore, that this
elaborate disguise of the hawk-cuckoo is quite un-
necessary. J grant that it may make very smooth the
path of the brain-fever bird. This, however, is not
enough. As I have repeatedly said, almost I fear ad
nauseam, natural selection cannot be said to have
brought about a structural peculiarity which is proved :
to be merely useful, and not essential. Unless it can
be shown that, but for a certain peculiarity, a species
would have perished, it is incorrect to speak of natural
selection as having fixed that characteristic in the
species by eliminating all individuals that did not
possess it. Moreover, if it can be shown that any
specified, character has such a survival value, the

THE PIED CRESTED CUCKOO 53

selectionist has still to prove that the characteristic
had this value at the earliest, and at each successive
stage of its development.

I submit, then, that the Wallaceian’s explanation
of the hawk-like appearance of the brain-fever bird is
in all probability not the correct one. In the same way
it is doubtful whether the blue eggs of the brain-fever
bird and the pied crested cuckoo can be fairly laid to
the charge of natural selection. The common cuckoo
sometimes lays its eggs, which are not blue, in the nests
of birds whose eggs are blue, for example the hedge-
sparrow in England and the Himalayan laughing thrush
in India.

The pied crested cuckoo, when it first leaves the
nest, differs considerably from the adult in appear-
ance. Its upper parts are slaty grey, and its lower
parts, the wing patch and the tips of the outer tail
feathers are pale buff, so that the young cuckoo, when
flying, might easily be mistaken for a bank myna
(Acridotheres ginginianus) but for the length of its
tail. Like all young cuckoos, it is a greedy, querulous
thing. It sits on a branch, clamouring continually for
food, flapping its wings and uttering a very fair imita-
tion of the babbler call.

September is the month in which to look out for
young pied cuckoos. Those that I have seen appear
always to be unaccompanied by foster-brothers or
sisters. This would seem to indicate either that the
parent cuckoos destroy the legitimate eggs at the time
of depositing their own, or that the young birds have
the depraved habits of the youthful Cuculus canorus.

54 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

But there are cases on record of young pied crested
cuckoos being accompanied by young babblers. It is
thus evident that much remains to be discovered
regarding the habits of Coccystes jacobinus.

X
VULTURES

AVING dealt in Bombay Ducks with
what I may perhaps term the domestic
vulture of India—Neophron ginginianus,
or Pharaoh’s chicken—I do not pro-

pose again to discuss this worthy but ugly fowl.
Nevertheless, before passing on to the aristocratic
vultures, I cannot resist the temptation to re-
produce Phil Robinson’s inimitable description of
our familiar Neophron: “A shabby-looking fowl
of dirty white plumage, about the size of an able-
bodied hen, but disproportionately long for its height,
pacing seriously along the high road, taking each
step with its legs set wide apart, with all the circum-
spection of a Chinaman among papers, but keeping
its eyes as busily about it for chance morsels of refuse
as any other professional scavenger. The traffic,
both of vehicles and foot passengers, may be con-
siderable, but the vulture is a municipal institution
and knows it. No one thinks of molesting it ; indeed,
if it chose to obstruct the footpath, the natives would
make way for it. Children let it alone, and dogs do
not run after it. So it goes plodding through its
55

56 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

day’s work, solemn, and shabby, and hungry, un-
complaining, and poor, and at night flaps up into
some tree and quietly dozes off to sleep.” Neophron
ginginianus always puts me in mind of the heroes
in some of George Gissing’s novels.

Very different are the ways of the other members
of the vulture tribe. They are not content to wander
about among rubbish heaps and in other still less
savoury places in the hope of securing any small
morsel. They demand substantial fare; nothing
Tess than a large carcase pleases them. It is true
that they have sometimes to put up with garbage of
the lesser sort, so that those which have not been
successful in their hunt have perforce to gather in
the trees near the municipal slaughter-house and await
the casting forth of the offal. Their usual method
of securing a meal is of the won-by-waiting description.
They mount high into the air and float on outstretched
pinions 3000 or 4000 feet or more above the level
of the earth, and thence scan its surface with eager
eye. When the hand of death strikes any terrestrial
creature, down comes the soaring vulture. His earth-
ward flight is observed by his neighbour, floating in
the air a mile away, who follows quickly after number
one. In a few seconds numbers three, four, five, six,
and others are also making for the quarry, so that
the stricken creature, before life has left it, is sur-
rounded by a crowd of hungry vultures, and, as the
poet has it, “ but lives to feel the vultures bick’ring
for their horrid meal.” Nor do these wait for death
to set in before they begin their ghastly repast. It

VULTURES 57

suffices that their wretched victim is too feeble to
harm them ; they then set to work to tear it to pieces,
utterly indifferent to its cries of agony. Such behaviour
is characteristic of all birds and beasts of prey. These,
in consequence, have been dubbed “ cruel” by those
who should know better. Thus Bonner, in his ‘‘ Forest
Creatures,’ writes: ‘‘ Just as a child likes to enjoy
the consciousness of having possession of a cake, and
revels for a while in the pleasurable feeling before
taking the first bite, feeling sure that delay will not
weaken his tenure, so will an eagle very often toy
with his victim, and though within his grasp, defer
the fatal grip. At such times his appetite is probably
not very keen ; or he is in a merry humour and likes
the fun of seeing the terror he causes, as he races
in his mirth round and round the animal almost
paralysed with fear. Or perhaps there is somewhat
of a Caligula in his nature, and he considers that
the only true enjoyment which is purchased by the
acute suffering of others. Be this as it may, he will
thus dally with a creature’s anguish, and only after
having twenty times swooped down as if to seize it in
his talons, do so in reality.”

To call such behaviour on the part of a bird of prey
cruel is, I submit, utterly wrong, and based on an
altogether incorrect perception of the animal mind.
It is my belief that vultures and other raptorial birds
do not recognise in the screams of their victims the
wails of pain. Their power of reasoning is not suf-
ficient to enable them to interpret the meaning of
these cries. How can they possibly know that they

58 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

are hurting their victim, or that it can feel? They
have never been taught that it is most painful to
be torn to pieces, and they themselves have not
experienced the sensation. How, then, are they to
understand that it hurts? An Indian coolie, even,
does not appear to appreciate the fact that birds can
feel pain, for when accompanying a man out shooting
he will pick up a winged snipe or duck and put it,
while still alive, in the game stick and leave it there
to die a lingering death. Now, I readily admit that
the Indian villager is not overburdened with brains,
but he is capable of simple reasoning, which is more
than can be said of any bird. He certainly is not
conscious that by putting the head of a live bird
into a game stick he is causing unnecessary pain ;
much more are birds of prey ignorant of the fact that
being eaten alive is a most painful experience.

A crowd of vultures gathers round a stricken animal
in almost as short a space of time as a mob of gaping
Londoners collects round the victim of an accident.
Recently, in the course of a shoot in the Terai, the
man in the machan next to mine shot a spotted
deer, which fell lifeless in an open patch in the forest.
By the time the line of beaters had reached our
machans fifteen or sixteen vultures had assembled
round the dead stag, and it was with difficulty that
we, from our machans, kept the greedy birds off the
carcase.

Vultures are always to be found at the burning
ghat. Wood is expensive in many parts of India,
so that only the more wealthy completely burn the

VULTURES 59

remains of their dead relatives. For the poor and
the parsimonious the vultures complete the work
commenced by the fire, so that truer than even its
author suspected is Michelet’s description of vultures
as “ beneficent crucibles of living fire through which
Nature passes everything that might corrupt the
higher life.” When a body, with the face only singed,
is cast on to the Ganges, at least one vulture alights
upon it and proceeds to devour it as it is borne on
the waters of the sacred river; the air and gases
in the corpse keep both it and the vulture afloat.
Sooner or later a rent causes the gases to escape,
then the corpse sinks suddenly and the vulture is
often hard put to it to reach the bank, for it cannot
fly properly when its wings are wet. The half-burnt
corpse is not always consigned to the river, and in
these circumstances the scene at the ghat when the
living human beings have left it is not one that is
pleasant to contemplate. But in India, where Nature’s
back premises are so exposed, it is not always possible
to avoid it. More than once when strolling along a
river bank have I suddenly and unexpectedly come
upon a company of vultures squatting in an irregular
circle round some object, each fighting with its neigh-
bour for a place at the repast. The vultures are not
the only participants. Some pariah dogs run about
on the outskirts, every now and then making frantic
efforts to wedge themselves in between the vultures
and so obtain for their emaciated bodies a mouthful
of food. Some crows and kites are invariably present,
trusting to their superior agility to snatch an occasional

60 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

morsel, And in the Punjab some ravens will also be
at the feast.

There are several species of vulture in India. Next
to the scavenger vulture the commonest is the white-
backed species (Pseudogyps bengalensis). This is not
a bad-looking bird in its solemn lugubrious way.
Its general colour is ashy black—the black of a thread-
bare coat. Its back is white, but this is usually nearly
entirely hidden by the dark wings, and shows merely
as a thin streak of white along the middle of the back.
The dark grey head and neck are almost devoid of
feathers and their nakedness is accentuated by a ruff
or collar of whitish feathers. The bareness of the
head makes the large hooked beak look longer and
bigger than it really is. The bird is nearly a yard
in length.

A yet finer bird is the black, King, or Pondicherry
vulture (Otogyps caluus). The back and wings of
this species are glossy black relieved by white patches
on the thighs. Its bare head and neck are yellowish
red, and there is a wattle of this colour on each side
of the head. This vulture, unlike the last species,
is solitary, and is called the ‘“ King vulture”’ be-
cause, when it comes to a carcase, all the vulgar herd
of smaller vultures, kites, and crows give way before
it, and, as a rule, are afraid to approach until this
regal bird has had its fill.

Vultures build huge platforms of nests high up in
lofty trees, and, like sand martins, rear up their young
in the winter.

XI
THE INDIAN ROBIN

PEAKING generally, the birds of India are
to the feathered folk of the British Isles as
wine is to water. The birds, such- as the
blue tits, which we looked upon in our youth

as possessing gay plumage, seem to have lost some
of their lustre when we again set eyes upon them
after a sojourn in the East. It is not that they or
we have grown older, that their feathers have lost
their ancient splendour or that the rose rims to our
spectacles have worn away. The explanation lies
in the fact that we have for years been looking upon
allied species of brighter hue. The English robin,
however, is one of the few exceptions to this rule.
He is in all respects superior to his Indian cousins—
the Thamnobias. I mean no offence to the latter,
for they are charming little birds, nevertheless they
must bow to the superiority of their English brethren.
The Indian robins lack the red waistcoat that gives
the British bird his well-to-do, homely appearance.
It is true that our Indian robins wear a patch of red
feathers under the tail. But this, notwithstanding
the fact that they make unceasing efforts to display
61

62 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

it, is not adequate compensation for the lack of the
red waistcoat. It is not so much what one wears
as the way in which one wears things that matters.
To wear brown boots with light-coloured clothes is
no offence against good taste, although at one time
the undergraduates at Pembroke College, Cambridge,
were not allowed to wear brown boots in chapel ;
but to don this description of footwear simultaneously
with a frock coat is a sin that is likely to be visited
upon the children—I was about to say—unto the
fourth generation, but in this horrid, democratic,
Lloyd-Georgian age I think it would be more correct
to say ‘unto the second generation.’ Nor is this
the only point of inferiority of the Indian robin.
Although he is by no means a poor singer, he is not
nearly so brilliant a performer as his British cousin.
Then again, the Indian robin has not the confidential
manners of the English species. Often when I have
been sitting in an English garden, has a robin come
and perched on the arm of my chair, an example
which his Indian counterpart has never shown the
slightest inclination to follow. In England the robin
is a semi-domesticated bird; in India, although a
pair often take up their abode in the compound,
robins prefer to dwell ‘‘ far from the madding crowd.”
If the truth must be told the Indian species love not
the shady garden. The cool orchard has no attractions
for them. They abhor the babbling brook. Their
idea of an earthly paradise is a brick-kiln, a railway
embankment, or a flat, rocky, barren, arid piece of
land. Aloes and prickly pear are their favourite plants.

THE INDIAN ROBIN 63

But enough of these odious comparisons. Let
me now describe the two Indian species of Thamnobia
—the black-backed robin (TJ. fulicata) which has
possessed itself of South India and the brown-backed
species (I. cambayensis) which is found all over
Northern India. The cock of the former species is a
glossy, jet-black bird, with a narrow white bar in his
wing, and the brick-red patch under his tail which
I have already had occasion to mention. The hen
is sandy brown all over save for the aforesaid patch.
The hen of the northern species differs in no appre-
ciable way from her sister in the South; while the
cock of the North varies only from his southern brother
in having the back brown instead of black. It is
my. belief that the black-backed species arose as a
mutation from the brown-backed form. The hen and
the two cocks probably represent three stages in the
evolutionary process.

I am sorry to be under the necessity of making
a statement which may offend the ladies, but the
fact is that among birds the cocks tend to be ahead
of the hens as regards evolutionary development,
they are, in a sense, superior beings. The tendency
is for all birds to assume brilliant plumage, and it is
fitting that this should be so, for are not birds the
most exquisite ornaments of the earth? In some
species both sexes have travelled equally far along
the evolutionary path, and in such instances the sexes
are alike. In other cases one of the sexes is one or
more stages ahead of the other, and it is almost in-
variably the cock who leads and who is, therefore,

64 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

the more beautiful. It is my belief that at onetime
both sexes of both species of Indian robin were coloured
as the hens now are. Later, a mutation arose in the
cock whereby all his plumage save the back became
black, and when this mutation became fixed in the
species, the cock had advanced a stage in his evolution-
ary progress. A still more advanced stage was reached.
when the whole of the plumage became black. Could
we peep a thousand years into the future, it is quite.
likely that we should find that the northern species of
Indian robin had acquired a black back.

Some may ‘think that these statements are far-
fetched. I submit that they are nothing of the kind.
Not infrequently it happens that hen birds develop
the plumage of the male. Again, sometimes of two
closely allied species one displays marked sexual
differences, while the sexes of the other are difficult
to distinguish. Every one is familiar with the showy
drake and the dull-coloured hen of the common
mallard or wild duck of Europe (Anas boscas), and
we in India are equally familiar with an allied species
the spotted bill (A. poecilorhyncha), in which both
sexes are dull-coloured like the female mallard.
The cock mallard is a stage ahead of the hen mallard
and of both sexes of the spotted bill as regards evo-
lutionary development. A thousand years hence
the male spotted-bill may have developed a coat
of many colours. The foregoing will not be acceptable
to the old-fashioned Darwinians, but as_ these
cannot explain satisfactorily how it is that natural
selection has given cock robin in Northern India

THE INDIAN ROBIN 65

a brown back, and a black back to his southern cousin,
they are not entitled to dictate to us. The Darwin-
Wallace hypothesis has been of great service to Science
during the past fifty years, but zoology has now out-
grown it, and sooner or later all scientific men must
recognise this fact. But we have made a long di-
gression into the arid field of science, let us hie back
‘to our Indian robins.

Perhaps their most interesting characteristic is
their fondness for queer nesting sites. There is nothing
particularly remarkable about the nest itself, which
varies according to its situation, from a mere pad
to a neat cup composed of soft materials, such as
cotton, grass, and vegetable fibres. The nursery is
cosily lined, frequently with feathers. The lining
almost invariably contains some human or horse
hair, and often fragments of snake’s skin. In April
and May of one year I came upon the following robins’
nests at Lahore: No. 1, in the disused nest of a rat-
bird (Avgya caudata) placed about five feet above the
ground in a thorny but dense bush; No. 2, on the
outer sill of a window, which was guarded by trellis-
work, the meshes of which were so fine that it was
with difficulty that I could insert two fingers into the
nest; No. 3, in a hole in the mud wall of a deserted
hut; No. 4, among the roots of a sago palm tree ;
No. 5, in a very dilapidated disused rat-bird’s nest ;
No. 6, in a hole in a railway embankment; No. 7,
in a hole barely a foot from the ground in the
trunk of a tree—in the same hole was a wasps’ nest ;

No. 8, in one of the spaces between bricks that had
F

66 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

been stacked in order to become dried by the
sun. ;

The above form a varied assortment of sites; but
there is nothing very remarkable in any of them.
Colonel Marshall records a nest built in the hole in
a wall intended for the passage of a punkah rope.

At Fategarh, some years ago, a pair of robins
built inside an old watering pot that had been thrown
into a bush. Another pair went ‘“‘ one better” by
nesting in the loop of an old piece of cloth that had
been thrown over the branch of a tree.

Mr. J. T. Fry records in The Countryside Monthly
a nest built at Jhansi in a long-haired brush used for
taking down cobwebs. ‘‘ The nest,’’ he writes, “ is
constructed of the fine roots of the khus-khus lined
with hair into which onion peel and scraps of cast-
off snake’s skin have been incorporated. The brush,
when out of use, was placed against the wall at the
side of the bungalow, being fixed to the end of a
long bamboo. It was only in use about a fortnight
before the nest was discovered.”

The above were all nests of the brown-backed robin,
but the black-backed species selects equally curious
nesting sites. As examples of these mention may
be made of holes in railway cuttings within a few feet
of the line, holes in walls, the side of a haystack,
a hole in a gatepost. Dr. Blanford found the nest
of this species inside the bamboo of a dhooly in the
verandah of Captain Glasfurd’s house at Sironcha.
Mr. J. Macpherson records a nest in an elephant’s
skull lying out in his compound at Mysore.

THE INDIAN ROBIN 67

Both sexes take part in nest construction. At the
mating season cock robins are very bold and pug-
nacious, but these characteristics do not always
save the nest from destruction, as the following in-
cident will show.

In May, 1912, a pair of brown-backed robins elected
to nest in the verandah of my bungalow at Fyzabad.
The roof of the verandah is supported by longitudinal
beams which rest on a series of cross-beams that
project from the main wall of the house and lean
at their far end on the verandah pillars. The upper
surface of the cross-beams affords admirable nesting
sites of which the doves and mynas take full advantage.
The robins in question built their nest on one of these
cross-beams. No sooner had the nursery been com-
pleted than trouble began. The first intimation
I received of the existence of the nest was much
swearing (if I may use that expression to denote the
angry cries of a little bird) on the part of cock robin,
The temperature on that day was well over 100° F.
in the shade, consequently I did not open the doors
of the house to ascertain the cause of the robin’s
wrath. But the angry cries of the bird persisted,
and I heard them repeatedly on the following day,
so I braved the heat and went into the verandah to
prospect.and discovered that a myna was the object
of the robin’s wrath.

During the following day the language of the robin
abated neither in quantity nor quality ; indeed, his
noise began to get on my nerves. He used to perch
when giving vent to his feelings, just above the heads

68 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

of the chaprassis who sat in the verandah awaiting
orders. These men are not usually very observant,.
but even they noticed and grew annoyed at the robin’s
noise, and on several occasions I heard them flicking
at the robin with a duster. During the early part of
the fourth day there was comparative quiet in the
verandah, and I thought that the robins and mynas
had settled their differences. I was mistaken. The
quiet proved to be the lull before the storm. This.
burst about 4 p.m. The uproar brought me to the
window ; from there I saw that the robin was hissing
with rage at a myna who was peeping into the robin’s
nest. Then the cock robin flew at the myna and
pecked at him. The myna, although three times
the size of the robin, fled and flew from the verandah,
followed by the swearing robin. A couple of minutes
later cock robin returned alone. He then perched
on the floor of the verandah, drew himself up to his
full height, like the heroine in a penny novelette
(who, by the way, appears always to slouch except
when she is very angry), and stood there hissing with
rage. This continued until a chaprassi, who was
squatting in the verandah, drove the angry bird away.
The next morning I found lying on the floor of the
verandah the wreck of the robins’ nest, and noticed
that a myna was constructing a nest on the site re-
cently occupied by that of the robin.

XII
THE SHIKRA

ALCONERS divide hawks into the long-
winged and the short-winged varieties. The
former stand in much the same relation to
the latter as the cross-country runner does to

the sprinter. The long-winged hawks have dark eyes,
while in the short-winged ones the eyes are yellow or
orange; hence the two classes are sometimes dis-
tinguished as dark-eyed and light-eyed. hawks. The
various falcons, the peregrine, the laggar, the saker,
etc., come in the long-winged category. When they
catch sight of their quarry, they give chase and follow
it, if necessary for a long distance, till they either lose
it or are able to get above it in order to strike. The
short-winged hawk is content with making one pounce
or dash at its quarry ; if it secures it, well and good, if
it fails, it does not give chase. The sparrow-hawk
and the shikra are familiar examples of the short-
winged hawks.

The long-winged falcons are naturally held in greatest
favour by the hawker; but short-winged birds of
prey are also trained. Long-winged hawks hunt in the

open. Being long-distance fliers, they rely chiefly upon
69

70 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

their power of endurance, and so naturally like plenty
of room in which to operate. Short-winged hawks,
on the other hand, usually hunt in wooded localities,
where they are better able to surprise their victims
than in the open.

After the kite, the shikra (Astur badius) is the
commonest bird of prey in India. It is in habits and
appearance very like the common sparrow-hawk
(Accipiter nisus). So great is the resemblance between
the two species that ‘‘ Eha,’’ in his Common Birds
of Bombay, gives an excellent description of the
shikra under the title of the Indian sparrow-hawk.

Although the two little hawks are so similar in ap-
pearance, ornithologists place them in different genera
on account of the considerably longer legs of the
sparrow-hawk proper and its heavily spotted and
blotched eggs, the eggs of the shikra being white and
almost entirely free from spots.

The shikra is a slightly-built bird about the same
length as a pigeon ; its tail is half a foot long. The
upper plumage is greyish. The wings and tail are
heavily barred with black. The breast is white, with
large brown spots in young birds; ‘in old birds the
brown spots are replaced by a number of thin wavy,
rust-coloured cross-bars. The female, as is invariably
the case in birds of prey, is considerably larger than
the male, she being fourteen inches in length as against
his twelve and a half. But it is quite useless to attempt
to recognise a shikra, or indeed any other bird of prey,
from a description of its plumage. As ‘‘ Eha”’ says:
“To try to make out hawks by their colour is at the

THE SHIKRA 71

best a short road to despair. Naturalists learn to
recognise them as David’s watchman recognised the
courier who brought tidings of the victory over
Absalom: ‘ His running is like the running of Ahi-
maaz the son of Zadok.’ Every bird of prey has its
own character, some trick of flight, some peculiarity of
attitude when at rest, something in its figure and
proportions which serves to distinguish it decisively.
The sparrow-hawk (shikra) flies with a few rapid strokes
of the wings and then a gliding motion, and this,
together with its short, rounded wings and long tail,
distinguishes it from any other common bird of prey.
I learn of its presence oftener by the ear than the eye.
Its sharp, impatient double cry arrests attention among
all other bird-voices.”

The shikra has comparatively feeble claws, and so is
unable to tackle any large quarry. Birds of prey
strike with the claw, not with the beak, as some
artists would have us believe ; hence the size of the
claws of any particular bird of prey affords a safe
index of the magnitude of its quarry. The more
formidable the claw, the larger the prey. No matter
how large a raptorial bird be, if its claws are
small and feeble, it feeds either upon carrion or tiny
creatures.

The shikra is said to live chiefly upon lizards ; but it
makes no bones about taking a sparrow or other small
bird, a mouse, or even a rat. In default of larger
game it does not despise grasshoppers, and, when the
termites swarm, it will make merry among these along
with the crows and kites. I once saw a shikra pounce

72 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

upon a little striped squirrel. Some crows were
witnesses of the feat, and at once proceeded to attack
the shikra so vehemently that it let go of the squirrel,
which made good its escape. The crows, let me add,
were not actuated by philanthropic motives. Their
object was, not to liberate the squirrel but to make a
meal of it. They were quite as disappointed as the
shikra when the little rodent regained its liberty.

Natives of India frequently hawk with the shikra,
setting it on to partridges, quails, and mynas. It is
very easily and quickly trained. Within a week or
ten days of capture its education is complete. How-
ever, hawking with a shikra is, in my opinion, very
poor sport, for the shikra makes but one dash at its
quarry, and at once desists if it fails to secure it.
The hawker holds it in his hand and throws it like a
javelin in the direction of its quarry. While waiting for
its victim it is carried on the hand in the same way as a
merlin is, but is never hooded. It is only the dark-
eyed hawks that have to be hooded ; they seem to be
much more excitable than the light-eyed ones. A
trained shikra is very tame and does not show any
objection to being handled.

The shikra nests from April to June, building, high
up in a lofty tree, a nest which can scarcely be de-
scribed as a triumph of avine architecture. Hume says:
“* These little hawks take, I should say, a full month in
preparing their nest, only putting on two or three
twigs a day, which they place and replace, as if they
were very particular and had a great eye for a hand-
some nest; whereas, after all their fuss and bother,

THE SHIKRA 93

the nest is a loose, ragged-looking affair, that no
respectable crow would condescend to lay in.” Three
bluish-white eggs are deposited in the nest. Shikra
nestlings show fight when interfered with and peck
savagely at the intruder.

XIII
A FINCH OF ROSEATE HUE

HE Fringillide, or finches, constitute the

most successful family of birds in the world.

The crow tribe runs the finches close, but

the Corvi are handicapped by their large

size. Were the sparrow as big as the crow, man would

never have allowed him to become the pest that he

is. The impudent pigmy is tolerated because he is so
small and insignificant.

Finches are birds of coarse build, and are character-
ised by a vulgar-looking beak, so that they need either
fine feathers or a sweet voice to render them acceptable
to man. Those finches which, like the common
sparrow, lack either of these attributes are accounted
mean birds of low estate. But, on the whole, Dame
Nature has been kind to the finches in that she has
arrayed the cocks of many species in bright colours.
The showy goldfinch is a familiar instance of this,
as is the canary, but the yellow colour of the latter
has been induced largely by artificial selection. The
wild canary is not a very beautiful bird.

Among the finches all shades of red and yellow are
to be found. Brown and green are worn by some

74

A FINCH OF ROSEATE HUE 75

species. Blue seems to be the only colour not vouch-
safed to the Fringillide.

Several of the finches have the gift of song. This
being so, it is regrettable that the particular species
of finch which, like the poor, is always with us should
have such an execrable voice. If sparrows sang like
canaries what a pleasing adjunct to London they would
be!

The gross, massive beak of the finch, though not good
to look upon, is of great value as a seed-husking
machine. No one can have watched a canary for five
minutes without observing the address with which
each little seed is picked up, cracked, and the husk
rejected by the joint action of tongue and mandibles.

Sixty-four species of finch occur within the limits
of the Indian Empire. Of these fifteen species are
known as rose-finches. Rose-finches are birds of
about the size of a sparrow. The plumage of the
cocks is more or less suffused with crimson, while that
of the hens is dark greyish olive sometimes washed
with yellow. Rose-finches are essentially birds of a
cold climate; they are found in Northern Europe,
Asia, and America. All the Indian species, save one,
are confined to the Himalayas and the country north
of those mountains. The one exception is the species
known as the common rose-finch (Carpodacus ery-
thrinus). This spreads itself during the winter all over
the plains of India as far south as the Nilgiris. I do
not remember having seen it in or about Madras,
but it may sometimes visit that city. In April this
rose-finch goes north to breed, a few individuals

76 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

remaining in the Himalayas, where they nidificate at
altitudes of 10,000 feet and upwards.

The nest is a neat cup-shaped structure made of
grass with a lining of fine material. It is usually built
within a yard of the ground, ina bush, or even among
long grass. The eggs are blue with chocolate or purple
markings, which may be sparse or numerous, and may
take the form of blotches, freckles, or pencillings.

The cock rose-finch, or Tut, as he is always called
by the natives of India, is a handsome bird. The head
and neck are dull crimson, the lower parts are rosy pink
and the wings are brown. The rose-finches seen in the
early part of the winter are considerably less brightly
coloured than those observed after Christmas. This
phenomenon is due to two causes. The one is that the
bird moults in September or October and dons a new
suit of clothes. These are of such excellent material
that they improve by wearing! As is so often the
case, the margins of the new feathers are duller than
the inner portion. A bird’s feathers overlap like the
tiles on a roof, and they overlap to such an extent that
only the margin of each feather shows. As the dull
edges wear away, the brighter parts begin to show,
hence the gradual transition from dullness to bright-
ness. Further, the actual colouring of the feathers
becomes intensified as the spring season approaches.
But in the plains of India the cock is never seen in
the full glory of his crimson tunic, because he departs
to high altitudes at the breeding season.

The hen rose-finch is an olive-brown bird with a
tinge of yellow and some brown streaks in her plumage.

A FINCH OF ROSEATE HUE 77

The wing is set off by a couple of whitish wing-bars.
There are also bars in the wing of the cock, but these
are not well defined.

Seeing how beautiful the cock rose-finch is naturally,
and how successful have been the efforts to improve
the canary, it may seem strange that fanciers have not
turned their attention to the rose-finch, and produced,
by artificial selection, a rose-finch arrayed from head
to tail in crimson lake.

The fact is all the crimson colour disappears from the
plumage of a rose-finch kept in captivity. Until some
means of preventing this is discovered it is hopeless
to attempt to breed a crimson finch.

Rose-finches live in flocks, which consist usually of
from sixteen to thirty members. These flocks appear
to be made up of cocks and hens in equal numbers.
The birds feed on the ground, from which they pick
small seeds that have fallen. ‘‘ In the extreme south,”
writes Jerdon of the rose-finch, “I have chiefly seen
it in bamboo jungle, feeding on the seeds of bamboos
on several occasions, and so much is this its habit that
the Telugu name signifies ‘ Bamboo sparrow.’” In
other parts of the country it frequents alike groves,
gardens, and jungles, feeding on various seeds and
grain ; also not infrequently on flower buds and young
leaves. Adams states that in Kashmir it feeds much
on the seeds of a cultivated vetch.

During the greater part of the year the rose-finch is
a silent bird. At the breeding season, and a little
before it, the cock joins in the bird chorus. Its vocal
efforts are well described by Blyth as “a feeble twit-

78 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

tering song, but soft and pleasing, being intermediate
to that of the goldfinch, and that of the small redpole
linnet, the call note much resembling that of a canary
bird.”

Rose-finches are said to. be very pugnacious, and in
this respect they resemble their vulgar relations the
sparrows, but they differ from the latter in lacking
their fearlessness of man or beast. At the least alarm
a flock of rose-finches feeding on the ground scurries
into the nearest tree with a loud fluttering of wings.
The harsh cry of the king-crow or the shadow of a
passing kite is quite sufficient to cause the instant
disappearance of the little flock into the foliage.

On an average, a feeding flock thus takes alarm at
least twenty times in the course of an hour. Sometimes
the birds take fright for no apparent reason whatever.
Their behaviour in this respect is exactly like that of
chaffinches, greenfinches, etc., in England, which
Edmund Selous describes so accurately in that perfect
nature book Bivd Waiching. Selous “came to
the conclusion that the cause of flight was almost
always a nervous apprehension, such as actuates
schoolboys when they are doing something of a for-
bidden nature and half expect to see the master appear
at any moment round the corner. Though there might
be no discernible ground for apprehension, yet after
some three or four minutes it seemed to strike the
assembly that it could not be quite safe to remain any
longer, and, presto! they were gone.”

It is my belief that what may be called the undue
nervousness of little birds has been caused by the attacks

A FINCH OF ROSEATE HUE 79

of birds of prey. It must as a rule be the bolder spirits
—those that refuse to take refuge in the foliage at
every alarm—that fall victims to the sparrow-hawk.
The more nervous ones escape and transmit their
innate nervousness to their offspring. There has thus
arisen a race of little birds as nervous as horses.

Before a minute has passed the rose-finches, who
have taken refuge in a tree, perceive that there was no
ground for alarm. They then drop to the ground in
twos and threes, so that, although the birds begin to
return almost as soon as they have fled into the
foliage, some little time elapses before the whole of
the flock is again seeking food on the ground. The re-
formation of a flock is a pretty sight—a shower of
little birds falling from a tree like leaves in autumn.

XIV
BIRDS ON THE LAWN

N some parts of India the hot-weather nights

are sufficiently cool to allow the European

inhabitants to dispense with punkas and to

enjoy refreshing sleep in the open beneath
the starlit sky. He who spends the night under
such conditions sees and hears much of the birds.
Not an hour passes in which the stillness of the dark-
ness is not broken by the voice of some owl or cuckoo.
Most of our Indian cuckoos are as nocturnal as owls.
The brain -fever bird (Huierococcyx varius)—most
vociferous of the cuculine tribe—seems to require
no sleep.

The human sleeper, no matter how early he wakes
in the morning, finds that some of the feathered
folk have already begun the day. Every diurnal
bird is up and about long before the rising of the sun.
In the daylight the gauze curtains which kept the
mosquitoes at bay during the night, form a most
convenient cache from which to observe the doings
of the birds. Birds do not see through the meshes
of the mosquito nets. Eyesight is largely a matter
of training. This explains why the vision of birds is

80

BIRDS ON THE LAWN 81

so keen in some respects and so defective in others.
A bird of prey while floating in the air does not fail
to notice a small animal on the ground 3000 feet
below. Nevertheless, that same bird will allow itself
to become entangled in a coarse net stretched out
in front of a tethered bird. I once asked a falconer
how he would explain such inconsistencies in the
behaviour of raptorial birds. He replied that in his
opinion the bird of prey sees the net but fails to
appreciate its nature, that the falcon looks upon
the net spread before its quarry as a spider’s web,
as a gossamer structure that can be contemptuously
swept aside. I think that the falconer’s explanation
is not the correct one. I believe that the bird of prey
really does not see the net. It has eyes only for its
quarry. It is not trained to look out for snares,
having no experience of them under natural con-
ditions. A bird that had several times been snared
while stooping at its prey would learn the nature of
a net and avoid it.

Similarly, birds, being unaccustomed to see living
creatures emerge from apparently solid structures,
do not look for human beings inside mosquito nets,
and so fail to observe them. The consequence is
that the birds hop and strut about the lawn within a
few feet of my bed, or even perch on the mosquito
curtain frame, utterly unconscious of my presence.

There is to me something very fascinating in thus
watching at close quarters the ways of my feathered
friends. My compound boasts of a lawn, sufficiently
large for three tennis courts, which owing to much

G

82 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

watering, mowing, and rolling is green and velvet-
like. This lawn is a popular resort for many birds
of the vicinity.

In England blackbirds, thrushes, robins, starlings,
and sparrows are the birds which frequent lawns.
Of these the sparrows are the only ones found in
our Indian gardens. Sparrows are very partial to
my lawn. ‘Throughout the day numbers of them
hop about on the turf, looking for objects so small
that I have not been able to make out what they
are. The fact that sparrows are greatly addicted to a
lawn that is watered and mown twice a week serves
to show that Passer domesticus is not so black as he
is painted by his detractors. The sparrows cannot
come to my lawn for any purpose other than that of
looking for insects.

The first birds to visit the lawn every morning are
a pair of coucals, or crow-pheasants (Centropus sinensis).
They appear on the scene with great punctuality
about an hour before sunrise. The crow-pheasant
is one of the most familiar of Indian birds. It is
neither a crow nor a pheasant, nevertheless there is
much to be said in favour of its popular name, because
the bird has altogether the appearance of a crow that
has exchanged wings and tail with a pheasant. It
is black all over save for its ruby-coloured eye and
chestnut-hued wings. It belongs to the cuckoo
family, but, unlike the majority of its brethren,
builds a nest and incubates its eggs. It is charac-
terised by an elongated hind toe, which he who lies
behind the mosquito net may observe as its possessor

BIRDS ON THE LAWN 83

struts by. There is something very pompous about
the strut of the crow-pheasant. Were it an inhabitant
of Whitechapel, its friends would undoubtedly enquire
whether it was a fact that it had purchased the street !
But the sight of an insect on the lawn causes the coucal
to throw dignity to the winds. Its sedate walk be-
comes transformed into a bustling waddle as it gives
chase to the insect with a gait like that of a stout,
nervous lady hurrying across a road thronged with
traffic. Crow-pheasants feed largely on _ insects,
and it is in search of these that they frequent the
lawn. Their food, however, is not confined to such
small fry ; they are very partial to snakes, and so are
useful birds to have in the garden.

Hoopoes (Upupa indica) are constant visitors to
my lawn. They revel in soft ground. The com-
paratively hard probe-like bill of the hoopoe enables
the bird to extract insects from ground on which the
soft-billed snipe could make no impression. But
hoopoes prefer soft ground; from it they can obtain
food with but little effort. Unfortunately for them,
velvety lawns are not common in India; hence the
birds flock to those that exist as eagerly as Europeans
rush to the Himalayas in June. A few mornings
ago I counted twenty-seven hoopoes feeding on my
lawn. Occasionally a hoopoe perches on one of the
bars from which my mosquito curtains hang, and
thus unconsciously exposes himself to close scrutiny
on my part. There are few birds so delightful to watch
as hoopoes. Their form is unique. Their colouring
is striking and pleasing. Then they are such fussy

84 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

little creatures. When feeding they behave as if.
they were in a violent hurry. The modus operandi
is a hasty tap of the bill here and another there, and
if these reveal nothing promising, a few hurried steps,
then more probing. The majority of these tappings
and probings reveal nothing, but every now and then
a spot is discovered beneath which an ant-lion, earth-
worm, or other creature lies buried. Then the fun
waxes fast and furious ; the hoopoe begins to excavate
in real earnest, and plies its bill as eagerly as a terrier |
scratches away the loose earth that conceals its re-
treating quarry. After a few seconds this strenuous
probing and digging usually results in some creature
being dragged out of the earth. This is swallowed by
the hoopoe after a little manipulation rendered
necessary by the length of the bird’s bill. Having
disposed of its quarry the insatiable hoopoe passes
on, without a pause, to seek for further victims.
With twenty or thirty hoopoes thus at work, day
after day, it is strange that the insect store of my lawn
does not become exhausted.

While the hoopoe is feeding, its fan-like crest remains
tightly closed. This attitude of the crest denotes:
business. The corona of the hoopoe is as mobile as
are the ears of a horse. There is more expression in
it than in the face of many a man or woman.

Mynas are, of course, always to be found on the
lawn, but as these birds feed largely on grasshoppers,:
they seek their food by preference amid grass which
is drier and-longer than that of my lawn.

At the time when the grass is irrigated numbers.

BIRDS ON THE LAWN 85

of pied mynas (Sturnopastor contra) and paddy-birds
(Ardeola grayti) visit the lawn. The former strut
about, and the latter stand near the place where
the water trickles from the pipe. Both come in quest
of creatures driven from their underground homes by
the water.

Occasionally two or three crows visit the lawn;
these come to gratify their curiosity rather than for
food. Crows are inquisitive creatures, and cannot
resist visiting any spot where they see other birds
enjoying themselves. Wagtails are birds which are
very partial to lawns, but all the Indian species,
with one exception, leave India in April or May,
so that their graceful forms do not delight the eye in
the hot weather.

XV
THE GREY HORNBILL

ORNBILLS, like the Jews, are a peculiar
race. There are no other birds like
unto them. They are fowls of extrava-
gant form. Their bodies are studies

in disproportion. The beak and tail of each species
would fit admirably a bird twice as big as their actual
possessor, while birds less than half their size might
well look askance at the wings with which hornbills
are blessed. With the solitary exception of the “ cake
walk” of the adjutant (Leptoptilus dubius), I know of
no sight in Nature more absurd than the flight of
the hornbill. By dint of a series of vigorous flaps
of its disproportionately short wings the bird manages
to propel itself through the air. But the efforts put
forth are too strenuous to be maintained for many
seconds at a time. When it has managed to acquire
a little impetus, the great bird gives its pinions a
rest, and sails at a snail’s pace for a few seconds,
after which, in order to save itself from falling, it
violently flaps its wings again, and thus manages
to win its way laboriously from one grove to another,
in much the same way as the primitive flying reptiles
86

THE GREY HORNBILL 87

must have done. Nor is the excitement over when it
reaches its destination. Owing to the weight of the
beak, the hornbill is in danger of toppling over,
head foremost, as it alights on a branch, and assuredly
would sometimes do so but for the long tail which
serves to balance the great beak. So vigorously does
the hornbill have to flap its wings during flight that
the sound of the air rushing through them can be
heard for nearly half a mile in the case of the largest
species.

All hornbills are grotesque. The grey species is,
however, the least grotesque, and approaches the
most nearly to the appearance of normal birds. Three
species of grey hornbill occur in India. The common
grey hornbill (Lophoceros birostris) is characterised
by the possession of what is known as a casque—
an appendage which the other two species of grey
hornbill Jack. This is a horny excrescence from the
upper surface of the beak. In some species the casque
is so large as to extend over the greater part of the
head and beak. No one has yet discovered its
use. I am inclined to think that it has no use.
The Malabar and Ceylonese grey hornbills, whose
habits are identical with those of the common grey
hornbill, thrive very well, in spite of the fact that
they have no casque.

Lophoceros birostris is a bird nearly two feet in
length. The prevailing hue of the plumage is greyish
brown. The bill, which is four inches long, and the
casque are blackish. Like the other members of
this peculiar family, the grey hornbill possesses

88 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

eyelashes, which increase the strangeness of its ap-
pearance. This species is found in most parts of
the plains of India, except the Malabar coast, where
it is replaced by Lophoceros griseus. The grey hornbill
of Ceylon is the species L. gingalensis.

The majority of species of hornbill shun the vicinity
of human beings. They are accordingly to be found
only in the Terai and other great forest tracts. The
grey hornbill, on the contrary, shows no fear of man.
Although strictly arboreal in its habits, it occurs in
those parts of the country that are not thickly wooded.
A grove of trees is all that it demands. Grey horn-
bills are birds of the highway and the village. Usually
they go about in small flocks.

Lophoceros birosiris is particularly abundant in the
sub-Himalayan districts of the United Provinces. In
Oudh and the eastern part of Agra almost every
village has its colony of grey hornbills. These ham-
lets are nearly always surrounded by trees, usually
bamboos, among which the hornbills live. In many
parts of Northern India grey hornbills are commonly
seen in the avenues of trees which are planted along
the high roads to shelter wayfarers from the midday
sun.

Hornbills feed largely on fruit and are fond of that
of the pipal and the banian trees. Their great bills
are admirably suited to the plucking of fruit. When
the hornbill has severed a berry, it tosses it into the
air, catches it in the bill as it falls, and then swallows
it. This is the most expeditious way of passing the
food from the tip of its bill to the entrance to its gullet.

THE GREY HORNBILL 89

The cry of the grey hornbill is feeble for so large a
bird, and is querulous, like that of the common kite.

The nesting habits of the hornbills are very remark-
able. The eggs are deposited in a cavity in a tree.
The cavity selected may be the result of decay in
the wood, or it may have been hollowed out by a
woodpecker or other bird. In either case the hornbill
has usually to enlarge the cavity, for, being a big
bird, it requires a spacious nest. When all preparations
have been made, the female enters the nest hole,
and does not emerge until some weeks later, when the
eggs have been.hatched and the young are ready to fly.
Having entered the nest, the hen hornbill proceeds
to reduce the size of the orifice by which she gained
access to the nest cavity, by plastering it up with her
ordure until the aperture is no more than a mere
slit, only just large enough to enable her to insert her
beak through it. Thus, during the whole period of
incubation and brooding she is entirely dependent
on the cock for food. And he never leaves her in the
lurch. He is most assiduous in his attentions. When
he reaches the trunk in which his wife is sitting, he,
while clinging to the bark with his claws, taps the
trunk with his bill, and thus apprises her of his arrival.
She then thrusts her bill. through the orifice and re-
ceives the food. When at length the young are ready
to leave the nest, the mother emerges with her plumage
in a much-bedraggled condition.

Why the hen hornbill behaves thus, why she is
content to submit periodically to a term of “ simple
imprisonment,” is one of the unsolved riddles of

go GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Nature. This curious habit is peculiar to the horn-
bills, but seems to be common to every member of
the family. In this connection it is interesting to
note that the hoopoes, which are nearly related to the
hornbills, have somewhat similar nesting habits.
The hen hoopoe, although she does not adopt the
heroic measure of closing up the entrance to the
nest cavity, is said never to leave the nest until the
young have emerged from the eggs. No sight is
commoner in India than that of a hoopoe carrying
food to the aperture of a hole in a tree, or in
a building made of mud, in which his spouse is
sitting. Another curious feature in the nesting habits
of the hornbill does not appear to have been mentioned
by any observer, and that is that during the nesting
season hornbills go about in threes, and not in pairs.
I have noticed this on two occasions, and Mr. Horne,
in his interesting account of the nesting of the grey
hornbill at Mainpuri, which is recorded in Hume's
Nests and Eggs of Indian Birds, mentions the pre-
sence of a third hornbill, who “‘ used to hover about,
watch proceedings, and sometimes quarrel with her
accepted lord, but he never brought food to the
female.’ Although grey hornbills are by no means
uncommon birds, very few nests seem to have been
taken. The result is that there are several points
‘regarding their nidification that need elucidation.
Those who love the fowls of the air should lose no
opportunity of studying the ways of these truly re-
markable birds.

XVI
THE FLAMINGO

RNITHOLOGISTS, as is their wont, have
disputed much among themselves as to
whether the flamingo is a stork-like duck
or a duck-like stork. Indians accept

the former view and call the bird the King Goose
(Raj Hans); their opinion was shared by Jerdon,
who classed the flamingo among the geese. Likewise,
Stuart Baker has given flamingos a place among the
Indian ducks and their allies.

The flamingo is both wader and swimmer. It has
long legs, the better to wade with, and webbed feet
‘admirably adapted to natation. The bird certainly
wades by preference. I have never seen it in water
sufficiently deep to render swimming necessary or
even possible. Those who have been more fortunate
state that the swimming movements of the flamingo
resemble those of a swan. I doubt whether flamingos
ever swim from choice, but the webbed feet are
likely to be useful, especially in the case of young
birds, when flamingos are swept off their feet by the
wind in a violent storm.

Two species of flamingo occur in India. These are

gI

92 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

known as Phenicopterus roseus and P. minor, or the
common and the lesser flamingo. As the former is
the one most often seen in India let us concentrate
our attention on it. It is as tall as many a man,
and measures over four feet from the tip of the beak
to the end of the tail. Of these four feet the greater
portion consists of neck, which is very supple; a
flamingo when preening its feathers often twists the
neck so that it assumes the shape of a figure of eight.
The general hue of the bird is white tipped with rosy
pink; the wings are crimson and black, hence the
appropriate scientific name, Phenicopterus; wings of
flame. The bill is pale pink, tipped with black, while
the legs are reddish pink.

Every Anglo-Indian has seen flamingos in the wild
state, if not in India, at any rate from the deck of
a ship as it crept through the Suez Canal. The shallow
lakes and lagoons in the vicinity of the Canal abound
with flamingos. These beautiful birds are to be seen
in numbers throughout the cold weather in the shallow
lakes and backwaters round about Madras. Flamingos
are very numerous in Ceylon, where they are known
to the Singalese as the “‘ English Soldier Birds” on
account of their ‘‘crimson tunics” and upright
martial bearing.

A flock of flamingos is a fine spectacle. Some. years
ago I saw near the Pulicat Lake about two hundred
of these birds. They were perhaps half a mile
from the house-boat. Their white bodies showed up
well against a background of blue water. Some of
them were feeding with heads underwater, others

THE FLAMINGO 93

stood as erect as soldiers at attention and as motion-
less ‘as statues; a few. were moving with great pre-
cision, like recruits under training. Portions of the
flock were congregated in small groups, apparently
in solemn conclave. Dignity and solemnity are the
distinguishing features of the flamingo. After watching
the flock for fully half an hour I fired a gun. I did
not try to kill any of them. They were out of range.
I fired because I wanted to see the birds take to their
wings, to see them rise like a “ glorious exhalation.”
The report of the gun seemed to cause no alarm.
There was none of that fluster and hurry that most
birds display when they hear the sound of firing.
The flamingos rose in a stately manner ; they did not
all leave the water simultaneously. The birds took to
their wings by twos and threes, so that it was not until
more than a minute after the firing of the gun that all
of them were in the air. As their wings opened the
colour of the birds changed from white to crimson,
the latter being the hue of the lining of their wings.
It was as if red limelight had been thrown on to the
whole flock.

During flight, the long white neck, that terminates
in the pink-and-black bill, is stretched out in front,
and the pink legs point behind, so that the neck and
legs form one straight line, broken by the crimson
wings, which are flapped very slowly. The great
birds sailed thus majestically for a few hundred
yards and then sank to the water.

When flamingos are about to alight the legs leave
the horizontal position assumed during flight and

94 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

come slowly forward until they touch the water.
The whole flock settles without making any splash.
It has never been my good fortune to watch the
flight of flamingos at very close quarters. I will,
therefore, reproduce from the Saturday Review
Colonel Willoughby Verner’s description of those he
witnessed in Spain: ‘“‘ What a wonderful sight it was !
The curious-shaped heads and bulbous beaks at the
end of the long, thin, outstretched, and snake-like
necks, the small compact bodies, shining white below
and rosy pink above, the crimson coverts and glossy
black of the quickly moving pinions, and the im-
mensely long legs projecting stiffly behind, ending
in the queer-shaped feet. Surely no other bird: on
God’s earth presents such an incongruous and almost
uncanny shape and yet. affords such a beautiful
spectacle of colour and movement. Onward they
sped, now in one long sinuous line; now with some
of the birds in the centre or rear increasing their
speed and surging up ‘line abreast ’ of those in front
of them, and again falling back and resuming their
posts, ever and anon uttering their weird, trumpeting,
goose-like call. They were flying not fifteen feet
above the water, and as they passed abreast of me,
the moving mass of white, pink, crimson, and black
was mirrored in the placid surface of the laguna below
them which shone like a sheet of opal in the setting
rays of the sun.”

The beak of the flamingo is a curious structure.
It is bent almost to a right angle in the middle, so
that when the basal portion is horizontal the tip of

THE FLAMINGO 95

the bill points towards the ground, and when the
long neck is directed downwards (as must be done
when the bird feeds because of the length of the legs)
the terminal half of the bill is parallel to the ground,
and the tip points between the bird’s toes. Thus the
flamingo when feeding assumes the position it would
adopt when about to stand on its head! The upper
mandible then is placed along the ground, and, for
the convenience of the bird, is flattened, while the
lower mandible, which is uppermost when the bird
is feeding, is arched like the upper mandible in most
birds. This arrangement gives the flamingo a
grotesque appearance.

The food of this species consists of small crustaceans,
insects and mollusca, together with vegetable matter.
The quarry is scooped out of the mud at the bottom
of the lake. The mandibles are lamellated like those
of ducks, hence they, assisted by the tongue, act as
sieves and reject most of the mud while retaining
the nutritive material. The words “most of the
mud” are used advisedly, for it is not possible to
sift all out, so that those who have examined the
contents of the stomach of the flamingo have usually
found it to contain a quantity of sand and mud.

The nest of the flamingo is a mound of earth raised
by the bird from shallow water. The only place in
India where flamingos are known to breed is the Run
of Cutch. In seasons when there has been sufficient rain-
fall this curious spot abounds with nests of flamingos.

The older writers believed that, on account of
the length of its legs, the flamingo could not incubate

96 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

its eggs in the ordinary manner. It was known
that the nest consists of a mound raised from the
ground, and from this it was conjectured that the
bird stood up to hatch its eggs. Writing of the in-
convenience of the long shanks of the flamingo, Bishop
Stanley said :—

“A still greater inconvenience would ensue if it
were under the necessity of sitting on its nest, like
other birds, for it would then be utterly impossible
to dispose of its long, stilted, disproportioned legs.
Nature has, however, met the difficulty, and taught
it how to make a nest exactly suited to its form
and length of leg. It is made of mud, in the shape
of a hillock, with a cavity on the top where the eggs
are laid; and the height of the hillocks is such that
she can sit as comfortably on her nest as a horseman
does on his saddle, leaving her legs to hang dangling
down at full length on either side.”

In order to impress this peculiarity of the flamingo
on the mind of the teader, the worthy Bishop furnishes
a picture of an incubating flamingo. A similar belief
used to exist regarding herons and other long-legged
birds. These were supposed to sit astride the nest,
and certain veracious observers stated that they had
noticed the legs dangling down. Needless to state,
there is no truth in these stories. Every long-shanked
bird is able to bend its legs and tuck them up under
it when necessary.

Mr. Abel Chapman has actually observed the
flamingo folding its legs under its body when it is
about to sit on the nest.

THE FLAMINGO 97

But it is unfair to laugh at good Bishop Stanley.
His statement that the flamingo sits astride its nest
is not nearly so ridiculous as Mr. A. Thayer’s assertion
that crocodiles mistake the flamingo for a sunset !
Mr. Thayer is an American artist who is obsessed
by the theory that, amid their natural surroundings,
all birds and beasts are obliteratively coloured, so
as to be completely invisible. Instead of meeting
with the ridicule it deserves, this utterly preposter-
ous theory appears to be accepted by some British
zoologists !

Two eggs are usually laid by the flamingo, but
only one seems to be hatched in the great majority
of cases.

Baby flamingos are covered with greyish down, and
have normally shaped bills, which, however, at an
early age assume the curious form so characteristic
of the adult.

XVII
SUMMER VISITORS TO THE PUNJAB PLAINS

URING the months that Father Sol is doing

his best to make the Punjab an earthly

Inferno the birds are busy at their nests.

They do not seem to mind the heat. Some

of them positively revel in it, visiting us only in the
hot weather. These summer visitors form an interest-
ing group.

The bee-eaters are the first to make their appear-
ance. In the first or second week in March, two species
of bee-eater visit the Punjab—the little green one
(Merops viridis), and the blue-tailed species (M.
philippinus). The former is a grass-green bird about
the size of a bulbul. Its beak is slightly curved and
black ; a bar of the same hue runs through the eye.
The throat is a beautiful turquoise blue. The wings
are tinted with bronze, so that the bird, when it flies,
looks golden rather than green. The most distinctive
feature of the bee-eater is the middle pair of tail
feathers, which are blackish and project beyond the
others as sharp bristles.

Bee-eaters feed upon insects which they catch on the
wing. The larger species live up to their name by
devouring bees and wasps. Like every other bird that

98

SUMMER VISITORS 99

hawks flying insects the bee-eater takes up a strategic
position on a telegraph wire, a railing, a bare branch or
other point of vantage, whence it keeps a sharp look-
out for its quarry. When an insect appears it is smartly
captured in the air, the mandibles of the bee-eater
closing upon it with a snap, audible at a distance of
several yards.

Bee-eaters begin nesting almost immediately upon
arrival. The nest is a chamber, rather larger than a
cricket ball, which the cock and hen, working turn about,
scoop out of a sandbank with beak and claw. The nest
chamber communicates with the exterior by a passage
about three feet long, so narrow that the bird is unable
to turn round in it. Every kind of sandbank is
utilised. Numbers of nests are to be found in the
mounds that adorn the Lawrence Gardens at Lahore.
Others may be seen in the artificial bunkers on the
uninviting maidan which is by courtesy called The
Lahore Golf Links. The butts on the rifle range are
sometimes made use of, the bee-eaters being utterly
regardless of the bullets that every now and then bury
themselves with a thud in the earth near the nest hole.

The blue-tailed bee-eater is distinguishable by its
larger size, its yellowish throat, and its blue tail. It
is not so abundant as the green species, and excavates
its nest at a higher level. The note of both kinds of
bee-eater is a soft but cheery whistle.

The honey-suckers (Avachnechthra asiatica) or sun-
birds, as they are frequently called, follow hard upon
the bee-eaters. As these charming little birds form the
subject of a subsequent chapter, it is only necessary

100 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

to state in this place that they build thousands of nests
in the various stations of the Punjab during the sum-
mer months. At least, one nest is to be found in every
garden. In each little nursery two or three families
are reared in succession.

The koel (Eudynamis honorata) is perhaps the most
interesting of our summer visitors. We are all of us
acquainted with his fluty crescendo ku-d, ku-tl, ku-il,
also with the excited kuk, koo-00, koo-o00, which the
bird pours forth in a veritable torrent.

The koel is sometimes erroneously called the brain-
fever bird. This proud title properly belongs to an-
other parasite, namely the hawk cuckoo (Hierococcyx
varius), which does not come as far west as Lahore,
but may be heard at Umballa. This noisy fowl shrieks
brain fever, brain fever, brain fever, beginning low down
in the scale and ascending higher and higher until
his top note is reached, then he begins all over again,
and repeats the performance for an indefinite period.
He would have a future before him as a foghorn were
it only possible to make him call at will !

The cock koel is a jet black bird with a red eye and
a green bill. When flying he looks like a slenderly
built, long-tailed crow. The hen is speckled black and
white. This cuckoo cuckolds crows.

The cock draws off the owners of the nest by
placing himself near them and screaming. The crows,
being short-tempered birds, rise to the bait and give
chase. While they are absent the hen slips into the
nest and lays her egg. If sufficient time be allowed she
destroys one or more of the eggs already in the nest.

SUMMER VISITORS 101

She works hurriedly, for the operation is a dangerous
one. If she be caught on the nest the crows will try to
kill her and will, as likely as not, succeed. The life
of the koel is by no means all beer and skittles. If the
hen koel gets away before the crows return they fail
to notice the strange egg, although it differs markedly
from their blue and yellow ones, being smaller and
olive green blotched with yellow. Nor do they seem
to miss their own eggs which are lying broken on the
ground beneath the nest. Sometimes the koel returns
and lays a second egg in the same nest, and destroys
all the legitimate eggs, for she can tell the difference
between her eggs and those of the crow. Thus it
sometimes happens that the deluded crows rear up
only two koels. They never seem to notice the trick
that has been played upon them. Even when the
black-skinned young koels hatch out, the crows are
apparently unable to distinguish them from their own
pink-coloured young.

The young koel invariably emerges from the egg
before his foster-brothers and thus begins life with a
start. He develops much more quickly than they do,
but, unlike the common cuckoo, ejects neither the other
eggs in the nest, nor the young birds as they hatch
out. He lives on good terms with the other occupants
of the nest, and when fledged, makes laudable if lu-
dicrous attempts to caw.

The natives assert that the hen koel keeps an eye
on her offspring all the while they are in the crow’s
nest and takes charge of them after they leave it. I
am almost certain that this is not so.

102 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Early in April the paradise flycatchers (Terpstphone
parvadist) arrive. The hen is a chestnut bird with a
black head and crest and a white breast; she looks
something like a bulbul. The cock when quite young
is similarly attired. At his first autumnal moult, that
is to say when he is about fifteen months old, his two
middle tail feathers outgrow the rest by twelve or
thirteen inches. In his third year white feathers begin
to appear among the chestnut ones, and after his
third autumnal moult he emerges as a magnificent
white bird with a metallic black head and crest. His
elongated tail feathers now look like white satin
streamers. He retains this livery for the remainder of
his life, and looks so magnificent in it as to merit well
his name. It is impossible to mistake the paradise fly-
catcher. There is no other bird like it. It is a denizen
of orchards and shady groves and may always be seen
during the hot weather in the beautiful wood on the
bank of the Ravi between the bridge of boats and the
railway. A cock paradise flycatcher, in the full glory
of his white plumage, as he flits like a sprite through the
leafy glade, is a sight never to be forgotten. The
movements of his long tail feathers as he pursues his
course are as graceful as those of the folds of the
gossamer garments of a skilled serpentine dancer.

The nest is a deep cup, in shape like an inverted
cone, plastered exteriorly with cobweb and white
cocoons. It is almost invariably placed in:a fork near
the end of one of the lower branches of a tree. Both
cock and hen take part in nest building and incubation.
As the cock sits his long white tail feathers hang down

SUMMER VISITORS 103

over the side of the nest and render him very conspicu-
ous. The most expeditious way of finding a paradise
flycatcher’s nest is to look out for a sitting cock.
The alarm note of this species is a sharp harsh Tschit,
but the cock is also able to warble a very sweet song.

The Indian oriole (Oviolus kundoo) is another gor-
geous summer visitor to the Punjab. The cock is
arrayed in rich golden yellow. His bill is pink and he
has a black patch on each side of his head, there is
also some black in his wings and tail. The hen is clad
in greenish yellow and is neither so showy nor so hand-
some. The oriole is commonly called the mango bird
by Europeans in India. I have never been able to
discover whether the bird is so named because the cock
is not unlike a ripe mango in colour, or because orioles
are to be found in almost every mango tope. Orviolus
kundoo is a bird of many notes. Of these the most
pleasing is a mellow lorio, lorio. Another note very
frequently heard is a loud but not unmusical tew. The
alarm note of the species is a plaintive cry, not easy to
describe. It is uttered whenever a human being ap-
proaches the nest. The hen alone incubates, but she
is not often seen upon the nest, for she leaves it at the
first sound of a human footfall.

The nest of the oriole is a wonderful structure. It
is a cradle slung on to a stout forked branch. The
bird tears with its beak strips of the soft bark from the
mulberry tree. An end of the strip is wound round
one limb of the fork, then the other end is passed under
the nest and wound round the other limb of the sup-
porting bough. If the strip be long enough it is again

104 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

passed under the nest. This framework supports the
nest proper, which is a hemispherical cup composed
of fine roots and dried grass. The minimum of material
is used in construction, with the result that the eggs
lying in the nest are sometimes visible from below.
He who would find orioles’ nests should repair in June
to the canal bank or to the above-mentioned wood.

Every oriole’s nest that I have seen in Lahore has
been placed near a king-crow’s nest. It is, I think,
for the sake of protection that the oriole builds near
the king-crow. This latter is so pugnacious that most
predaceous birds avoid the tree-in which its nest is
situated.

Among the summer visitors to the Punjab is a dove
known as Oenopopelia tvanquebarica. Those who find
this name rather a mouthful are at liberty to call the
bird the red turtle-dove. This species is of interest on
account of the large amount of sexual dimorphism
which it displays, The head and neck of the cock
are ashy grey, his upper back and wings are the peculiar
red of a faded port-wine stain, the lower back is grey,
the middle tail feathers are brown and the other ones
white. There is a black collar round his neck. The
hen is a uniform greyish brown, her only adornment
being.a black collar similar to that of the cock.

As a chapter of this work is devoted exclusively to
the red turtle-dove, nothing more need be said of it in
this place, save that its note is not the orthodox coo, it
is a peculiar low grunt, and gives one the impression
that the bird has caught cold.

One summer visitor remains to be described, but he

SUMMER VISITORS 105

need not detain us long, for, save his respectability,
he has nothing in particular to commend him. I allude
to the yellow-throated sparrow (Gymmnorhis flavicollis).
This bird probably sometimes passes for a hen house
sparrow ; close inspection, however, reveals a yellow
patch on the throat. According to Jerdon this creature
has much the same manners and habits as the common
sparrow. This I consider libellous. The yellow-
throated sparrow is a bird of retiring disposition and
I have never heard of one forcing its way into a sahib’s
bungalow. It nestles in a hole ina tree. Having lined
the ready-made cavity with dry grass and feathers,
it lays four eggs which are thickly blotched all over
with sepia, chocolate brown, or purple. A pair of
these birds lives in the octagonal aviary at the Lahore
Zoo.

XVIII
A BIRD OF MANY ALIASES

HE paddy bird has as many aliases as a
professional criminal of twenty years’ stand-
ing. I do not refer to his scientific names.
Of course he has a number of these. Every

bird has. A person who desires violent exercise for the
memory cannot do better than try to keep pace with
the kaleidoscopic changes which Indian ornithological
terminology undergoes. The paddy bird is now known
as Ardeola grayit, but I do not guarantee that he will
be so called next month. When I assert that the paddy
bird is a creature of many aliases, I mean that he has
a number of popular names. He is sometimes known
as the pond heron, because no piece of water larger
than a puddle is too small to serve as a fishing ground
for him. His partiality to flooded rice fields has given
rise to the name by which he most commonly goes.
He is frequently dubbed the blind heron, especially
by natives. The Tamils call him the blind idiot.
Needless to say the bird is not blind, its confiding
disposition is responsible for the adjective. It might
be blind for all the notice it takes of surrounding
objects as it stands at the water’s edge, huddled up
like a decrepit old man.
106

A BIRD OF MA ES 107

Before proceeding further, let me, for the benefit
of those who are unacquainted with the avifauna of
India, describe the bird. It is much smaller than the
common heron, being about the size of a curlew. The
head, neck, and the whole of the upper plumage are
greenish brown, each feather having a darker shaft
stripe. The under parts are white, as are the larger
wing feathers, but these latter are so arranged as to
be altogether invisible when the wings are closed, so
that the bird, when it flies, seems suddenly to produce
from nowhere a pair of beautiful white pinions and
sail away on them. Before it has flown far it usually
performs the vanishing trick. This, like most effective
conjuring tricks, is very easy to perform when one
knows how to do it. The bird merely folds its wings,
then the dark coverts alone are visible. These are of
the same hue as the damp sand or mud on which the
paddy bird spends a considerable portion of the day.
The dingy hues of the paddy bird are the outcome of
its habits ; it is a shtkarvi that stalks its prey or lies in
wait for it. If it were as showy as the cattle egret its
intended victims would “see it coming ”’ and mock at
it. Hence the necessity for its workaday garb.

The paddy bird is a very sluggish creature; it
comes of a lazy family. There is not a single member
of the heron tribe that does sufficient work to disqualify
it for membership of the most particular trade union.

Most herons, however, do stalk their prey, which is
more than the paddy bird usually does. One may
sometimes see him progressing through shallow water
at the rate of six inches a minute ; but more commonly

108 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

he stands in shallow water as motionless as a stuffed
bird, with his head almost buried in his shoulders,
looking as though he were highly disgusted with things
in general. As a matter of fact he is thoroughly en-
joying himself. His ugly eye is fixed upon some luck-
less frog in the water. The moment this comes within
striking distance the pond heron will shoot out his
long neck, seize the frog and swallow it whole. One
cannot but feel sorry for the frog as it finds itself
being hustled down the heron’s throat. It probably
mistook the motionless creature for a rock and, even
had it not made this mistake, it could not be expected
to know that the bird had buried in its shoulders a
patent telescopic neck. After the amphibian is safely
lodged in ventro, the paddy bird resumes his strategic
position at the water’s edge and maintains it for hours.

One day when I have nothing else to do I mean to
mark down a paddy bird in its roosting tree, follow
it to its fishing ground and picnic there all day and
watch its behaviour. I shall then write an essay
entitled A Leaf from the Diary of a Lazy Bird.

I imagine that the daily entry will read somewhat
as follows :—

8 a.m.—(One hour after sunrise) woke up.

8—8.30—Pruned my feathers.

8.30—Flew to my fishing ground.

8.32—Settled there for the day.

8.40—9—Caught a few water insects for break-
fast.

g—10—Had a nap.

A BIRD OF MANY ALIASES 109

10.30—Caught a frog.

10.32—12—Had a nap.

12.15—Caught another frog.

12.17—2—Had a nap.

2.20—Caught a third frog.

2.22—Walked three yards.

2.24—4—Had a nap.

4.40—Caught a fourth frog.

5—6—Had a nap.

6.15—6.30—Caught and ate my supper.

6.30—Flew to roost.

6.35—40—Had a row with a neighbour who had
taken my private roosting site.

7 p.m. onwards—Slept the sleep of the just.

The above is not a statement of actual fact. Like
many scientific productions it is based on imagination
and not observation. I have not yet devoted a whole
day to the paddy bird. I have, however, spent an
hour at a pond heron’s dormitory and record in the
next chapter what I saw there.

At the nesting season the paddy birds awake from
their habitual lethargy. Towards the end of June
they begin to make a collection of sticks and pile these
together on a forked branch high up in some tree.
When the pile has reached a magnitude sufficient
to support four or five eggs the paddy bird flatters
itself that it has built a fine nest and forthwith proceeds
to stock it with eggs. This species usually nests in
colonies, sometimes In company with night herons
(Nycticorax griseus), and occasionally with crows.

110 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Seen from below the nursery looks rather like an old
crow’s nest. The eggs are a beautiful pale green.
They are most jealously watched by the parents ; one
or other always remaining on guard, and, every now
and then, gurgling with delight.

The youngsters hatch out in a comparatively ad-
vanced condition. A baby pond heron about a week
old is a most amusing object. It has a long, narrow,
pinkish beak, quite unlike the broad triangle that does
duty for a mouth in passerine birds. Its neck is dis-
proportionately long, while its green legs are many
sizes too big for it. Downy feathers are scattered
irregularly over the body, and add to the absurdity of
its appearance. The eye is bright yellow and gives its
possessor a very knowing look.

Most birds when they have young work like slaves
to procure sufficient food for them. Not so the paddy
bird. He knows a trick worth two of that. He is a
past master in the art of loafing. He does not feed
his offspring on tiny insects, dozens of which are
required to make a decent meal; he forces whole
frogs down the elastic gullet of the nestling. Now
the most ravenous and greedy young bird cannot
negotiate very many frogs per diem ; hence the feed-
ing of their young is not a great tax upon paddy birds.

y

XIX
PADDY BIRDS AT BEDTIME

HE paddy bird (Ardeola grayti) is at all
times and all seasons as solemn as the pro-
verbial judge ; hence at bedtime, when all
other birds are hilarious and excited, he is

comparatively sedate.

Paddy birds, in common with the great majority of
the feathered kind, roost in company. At sunrise,
the company separates. Each goes his own way to
his favourite river, paddy-field, tank, pond or puddle,
as the case may be, and spends the day in morose
solitude. At sunset he rejoins his fellow pond herons.

Growing out of the water in a small tank near the
railway station at Fyzabad are three trees, one of
which is quite small, while the other two are about
the size of well-grown apple trees. This description
is perhaps as vague as saying of an object that it is as
big as a piece of chalk. Iam sorry. I cannot help it.
I know of no accurate method of judging the size
of a tree that is surrounded by dirty, slimy water. On
one of these trees, like unto an apple tree, over fifty
paddy birds spend the night.

One might have thought: that this was a very fair
load for an average tree. This, however, is not the

II!l

112 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

opinion of the feathered folk. Some 300 or 400 mynas
also utilise this tree as a dormitory. The mynas
occupy the higher branches, and the paddy birds the
lower ones.

As every one knows, the roosting place of a com-
pany of mynas is a perfect pandemonium. For thirty
or forty minutes before going to sleep each individual
bird shouts at every other individual with truly
splendid energy. If man could but devise some
means of harnessing this energy, every station in
India might be lighted with electric light at a very
small cost. As things are, all this energy is dissipated
in the form of sound, with the result that the noise
made by 300 starlings can be heard at a distance of
half a mile.

‘One might reasonably suppose that a quiet, sedate
bird like Ardeola grayit would be greatly disgusted
at the din that emanates from the throats of mynas at
bedtime, and would refrain from selecting as his
dormitory a tree that literally quivers with the shout-
ings of mynas. It is, however, not so. Birds rarely
do what one would expect. I know hundreds of ideal
sites for birds’ nests that are never utilised. Per
conira, I have met with numbers of nests situated in the
most uncomfortable and evil-smelling places. Paddy
birds obviously do not suffer from nerves.

For about fifteen minutes before and fifteen minutes
after sunset the tree in which all these birds roost
presents an animated appearance. One or two paddy
birds are the first to arrive, and they settle on one’
or other of the lower branches which almost touch the

PADDY BIRDS AT BEDTIME 113

water. Nearly all birds, on approaching the tree in
which they roost, literally throw themselves into the
foliage, they plunge into it at headlong speed. Need-
less to say, the paddy bird does nothing so reckless
as this; nevertheless, when approaching the tree in
which he intends to spend the night he travels faster
than at any other time, except, of course, when he is
being chased by a falcon. The advance-guard of the
mynas arrives very shortly after the first bagla. The
mynas belong to two species—the common and the
bank mynas (Acridotheres tristis and A. ginginianus).
They come in squads of twenty or thirty. The various
squads arrive in rapid succession. Then the uproar
begins and continues to swell in volume as the numbers
in the tree increase.

The paddy birds come in ones and twos, and, as
stated, invariably alight on one of the lower branches.
They usually select a branch so thin that it would be
impossible for so large a bird to obtain a foothold on
it did not the claws of that bird grip like a vice; and
even so it is not without much flapping of their white
wings that the pond herons manage to reach a state of
equilibrium.

If, when a paddy bird has succeeded in steadying
itself on a slender branch two feet or so above the

‘level of the water, another feckless fellow elects to
alight on the selfsame branch, there follows trouble
compared to which the Turco-Italian War is, as the
babu says, a mere storm in a teapot ; both birds seem
in danger of taking a bath. On such occasions, the
bird first on the tree greets the new-comer with gurgles

I

14 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

of protest, there is much flapping of. white wings, and
eventually one or both the birds have to leave the
branch.

But it is not until the tree is filled with birds that the
real fun begins. When about forty paddy birds are
squatting on the lower branches and over 300 mynas
on the upper ones, it will be well understood that there
is not much accommodation available for new arrivals.
When a belated myna appears on the scene and
plunges into the midst of his brother starlings, he is
greeted with such a torrent of abuse that, although,
in the gathering gloom, one cannot see what is going
on amid the foliage, one feels convinced that the
abuse is backed up by assault and battery. If, on the
other hand, the luckless myna pitches into the tree
at a lower elevation, he is liable to find himself trans-
fixed by the stiletto-like beak of the nearest paddy
bird, the savage thrust being accompanied by a lugu-
brious croak which seems to be the only note of the
paddy bird. Nine out of ten mynas prefer incurring
the wrath of their own kind to bringing down upon
themselves the less noisy but more formidable anger
of the pond heron.

If the mynas are packed like sardines in a box, the
paddy birds lower down are not much more comfort-
able. It is true that the paddy birds are not squeezed
together after the manner of the mynas, for the simple
reason that if more than two of them attempted to
squat on any but the stoutest of the branches they
would all find themselves immersed in the slimy,
unsavoury water beneath. The discomfort of the

PADDY BIRDS AT BEDTIME 115

paddy birds is of another kind. Each one is balancing
himself on an insecure perch and lives in momentary
terror of being displaced by the advent of some other
bagla. Hence, when the tree contains about forty
herons, every fresh arrival is greeted with croaks the
most sepulchral, and there is much shaking of branches
and flapping of wings before he can find a spot on
which he is able to maintain himself in a state of
unstable equilibrium.

I watched the tree in question one evening in order
to ascertain how many paddy birds roosted in it. I
was able to count fifty-four by enumerating the birds
as they arrived. I may have missed a few. But this
is a mere detail. The lower branches carried all the
paddy birds they were capable of bearing with safety.
A few of the paddy birds had to be content with
berths in a neighbouring tree, which grew out of the
water at a distance of a few feet.

Some time after the sun had set one of the over-
flow party decided to try his luck in the main tree,
and this resulted in such croaking and fluttering
of wings on the part of his fellow paddy birds that for
a few seconds the din of the mynas was drowned.

By the time it is really dark every bird, be he
myna or pond heron, is sufficiently satisfied to hold
his tongue. From then until an hour before sunrise
not a sound emanates from the sleeping population
of some 400 mynas and 50 paddy birds, who have
elected to spend the night amid the unwholesome
vapours that emanate from the water below. Birds are
evidently mosquito proof.

XX
MERLINS

ERLINS are pigmy falcons. Like falcons,
they are reclaimed for hawking purposes,
but are regarded as mere toys by those
who indulge in “ the sport of kings.”’

In the days when falconry was a fashionable pastime
in England nearly every lady of quality possessed a
merlin, which was often as much of a companion as
a dog is nowadays. The exquisite little bird of prey
would accompany its mistress on her rides or her
walks, flying overhead and coming to the glove when
called. This species, being the only kind of merlin
found in England, is popularly called the merlin
(42salon regulus), even as Cuculus canorus is always
known as the cuckoo, as though it were the only cuckoo
in the world.

The merlin when trained for falconry is usually
flown at the skylark. There are few prettier sights
than that presented by a contest between a merlin
and a skylark. Both know that the merlin can do
nothing until it gets above its quarry; hence the
contest at first resolves itself into one for supremacy
of position. The adversaries often fly upwards in
spirals until they almost disappear from view. When

116

MERLINS 117

once the merlin does succeed in getting above the
lark it makes swoop after swoop until it strikes its
quarry.

In India the merlin is often trained to fly at the
hoopoe. This contest is of a nature very different
from that just described. The hoopoe does not rely
on speed. It trusts to its truly marvellous power
of timing the onslaught of the merlin and swerving
at the critical moment, so that the merlin misses it
by a hair’s breadth. So great a master of aerial
manceuvre is the hoopoe that two merlins working
together are required to accomplish its downfall.

As the plumage of Zsalon regulus has the nondescript
colouring that characterises most birds of prey, no
useful purpose will be served by an attempt to describe
it. The merlin is a winter visitor to India, and visits
only the Punjab and Sind.

There is, however, another species of merlin which
is a permanent resident in and distributed throughout
India, viz. the red-headed merlin (salon chicquera)
or turumti as the bird is popularly called. Like the
common merlin it is one of the smaller pirates of the
air, being no larger than a myna, but it is the very
quintessence of ferocity, and it knows not what fear
is. Hence it is a terror to many creatures of greater
magnitude than itself. The red-headed merlin is
comparatively easy to identify, because it has some
distinctive colouring, in the shape of a chestnut-
red head and neck. The remainder of the upper
plumage is French grey, marked with fine brown
cross-bars. There is a broad black band with a white

118 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

edge across the end of the tail. The chin, throat,
and under parts are white, with brown spots, which
become less plentiful as the individual grows older.
This disappearance with age of the markings on the
lower parts is very common among birds of prey,
and is one of the many problems of animal colouring
that do not appear to be explained by the theory of
natural selection.

The hen turumti is about fourteen inches in length,
of which six consist of tail. The cock, as is usual
among raptores, is somewhat smaller than the hen.

The red-headed merlin occurs only in India. It
is an evil manufactured for the sole benefit of the
small birds of Hindustan. The turumti does not
appear to undergo any periodical migration. It
preys chiefly upon small birds. Social larks, little
ringed plovers and sparrows are its commonest victims.
But it is not afraid to tackle larger birds. Frequently
it attacks mynas, starlings, quails, and doves. In-
deed the usual lure bird for a red-headed merlin is a
myna. This is tethered to a stick stuck into the ground,
and in front of it is stretched a net attached to up-
right posts. The first turumti to observe this swoops
down at the myna to find itself hopelessly entangled
in the net.’ Hume once saw a red-headed merlin strike
a pigeon and kill it with the first blow. Turumtis
do not confine their attention to birds. The alert
little palm squirrel is often victimised, as are some-
times those bats that are so unwary as to venture
forth before the merlins go to bed.

When pursuing their operations in’ the open tu-

MERLINS : 119

rumtis frequently hunt in couples, and, as they fly
exceedingly swiftly, no matter how speedy the quarry
be or how adept in swerving in the air, it is rarely
able to escape from the concerted attack of a pair
of these little furies.

Red-headed merlins are addicted to perching on
the telegraph wires that are stretched alongside
railway lines. They do this in order to pounce down
into the midst of a flock of small birds alarmed by
the noise of a passing train. The turumti, like the
sparrow hawk, is a sprinter rather than a long-distance
flier, and hence is able to secure its quarry in gardens,
groves, and other comparatively confined places.
It is fond of gliding with great rapidity along some
hedgerow or bank and swooping down on any small
bird: feeding in the vicinity.

The turumti is not often used for purposes of falconry,
which is somewhat surprising, seeing that it affords
better sport than does the shikra, because it does not
give up the chase so readily. When trained it is usually
flown at the blue jay or roller (Covacias indica).
“In pursuit of this quarry,’ writes Jerdon, “ the
falcon follows most closely and perseveringly, but is
often baulked by the extraordinary evolutions of
the roller, who now darts off obliquely, then tumbles
down perpendicularly, screaming all the time and
endeavouring to gain the shelter of the nearest grove
or tree. But even here he is not safe; the falcon
follows him from branch to branch, and sooner or
later the exhausted quarry falls a victim to the ruthless
bird of prey.”

120 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Very different is the behaviour of the shikra; he
makes a dash at the quarry, and, if he fail to seize
it at once, gives up the chase.

The red-headed merlin is thrown from the hand
in the same way as the shikra. According to Mr.
R. Thompson, the turumti affords peculiar sport
with the spotted dove (Turtur suratensis), ‘ striking
at the quarry several times, and even often losing
it altogether, owing partly to the softness of the
dove’s feathers, which give way at the least touch,
and partly to its rapid dodging flight.”

Turumtis breed from February to June, earlier
in South India than in the Punjab and the Himalayas.
The nest is usually built in a fork near the top of a
tree—a tamarind or a mango for preference. In

size and appearance the nest resembles that of a

crow. It consists of a conglomeration of twigs, form-
ing a platform of which the diameter measures about
a foot. In the middle is a depression, lined with fine
twigs, roots, feathers, or other convenient materials,
in which the eggs are placed. Both sexes take part
in nest building, which they appear to consider
a very difficult and arduous task, judging by the
fuss they make over the placing of every twig brought
to the nest. The eggs are reddish white, very thickly
speckled with brownish red. Turumtis are exceedingly
pugnacious at the nesting season, and are as resentful
as king-crows at any kind of intrusion; hence they
are kept busy in giving chase to crows ef hoc genus
omne, who seem to take a positive delight in teasing
fussy birds with nests. .

\

u

1

XXI
THE COMMON WRYNECK

LEAVE it to anatomists to determine whether
wrynecks are woodpeckers that are turning
into other birds, or other birds that are changing
into woodpeckers. Certain it is that they are

closely allied to woodpeckers.

Only four species of wryneck are known to exist,
and, of these, three are confined to the Dark Continent,
while the fourth is a great traveller. It is the bird
which is frequently seen in India during the winter,
and is well known in England as the “ cuckoo’s mate,”
because it migrates every year to Great Britain at
the same time as the cuckoo. Ornithologists call this
bird Iynx torquilla, plain Englishmen usually term it
the wryneck, as though there were only one species
in the world. From their insular point of view they
are quite right because it is the only wryneck they
ever see unless they leave their island. One con-
venience of living in a country, like England, poor
in species, is that to particularise a bird is rarely
necessary ; it is sufficient to speak of the cuckoo,
the swallow, the kingfisher, the heron. On the other
hand, we who dwell in this country of many species,
if we would not be misunderstood, usually have to

121

122 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

particularise the cuckoo, the kingfisher, or the swallow
of which we are speaking. However, as regards
wrynecks, India is no better off than England. One
species only visits that country; hence Indians
may indulge in the luxury of speaking of it as the
wryneck. This is a bird not much larger than a
sparrow and attired as plainly as the hen of
that species. But here the resemblance ends. The
wryneck is as retiring in disposition as the sparrow
is obtrusive. I defy any one to dwell a week in a
locality that boasts of a pair of sparrows without
noticing them, but many a man spends the greater
part of his life in India without once observing a
wryneck. The greyish-brown plumage of the wryneck,
delicately mottled and barred all over with a darker
shade of brown, harmonises very closely with the
trunks of trees or the bare earth on which it spends
so much of its time, and thus it often eludes observa-
tion.

The wryneck, like its cousins the woodpeckers,
feeds almost exclusively on insects which it secures by
means of the tongue. This wormlike structure is
several inches in length and is hard and sharp, barbed
at the tip and covered elsewhere with very sticky
saliva. It can be shot out suddenly to transfix the
bird’s quarry, and then as rapidly retracted. The
tongue is so long that when retracted it coils up
inside the head. Although wrynecks feed a good deal
on trees, they are far less addicted to them than
woodpeckers are. The latter sometimes. feed upon
the ground, but this is the exception rather than the

THE COMMON WRYNECK 123

tule, while with the wryneck the reverse holds good.
Once, at Lahore, I nearly trod upon a wryneck that
was feeding on the ground. It flew from between
my boots to a low bush hard by; then it descended
to the ground and began to feed in the grass. I crept
towards the place where it was feeding, and it did not
again take to its wings until I was close up to it.
This time it flew to a branch of a tree about ten feet
above the level of the ground. I again followed
up the wryneck. This time it allowed me to walk
right up under it, and study the dark cross-bars
on its tail feathers. After a little time it betook itself
to a bunker on the golf links, from off which it began
to pick insects. Then it flew to a low bush, and from
thence dropped to the ground. I again followed it
up, and, as I approached, it quietly walked away.
Other naturalists have found the wryneck in India
equally tame. Mr. Blyth says of it: “‘ Instinctively
trusting to the close resemblance of its tints to the
situations on which it alights, it will lie close and
sometimes even suffer itself to be taken by the hand ;
on such occasions it will twirl its neck in the most
extraordinary manner, rolling the eyes, and erecting
the feathers of the crown and throat, occasionally
raising its tail and performing the most ludicrous
movements ; then, taking advantage of the surprise
of the spectator, it will suddenly dart off like an
arrow.”

At most seasons of the year the wryneck is a re-
markably silent bird. I do not remember ever having
heard one utter a sound in India. When, however,

124 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

it first arrives in England it has plenty to say for itself.
“In one short season,” says an anonymous writer
in England, ‘‘ we hear its singular monotonous notes
at intervals through half the day. This ceases, and
we think no more about it, as it continues perfectly
mute; not a twit or a chirp escapes to remind us
of its sojourn with us, except the maternal note
or hush of danger, which is a faint, low, protracted
hissing, as the female sits clinging by the side or on
the stump of a tree.”

The wryneck is not singular among birds in uttering
its note only at certain seasons of the year. Very few
of the song birds pour forth their melody all the year
round. This fact bears powerful testimony to the
view I have frequently enunciated as to the nature
of birds’ song. There is nothing conversational in
it, nothing in the nature of language; it is merely
the expression of superabundant vitality which fills
most birds at certain seasons of the year.

Like very many other migrants, the wryneck does
not appear to be powerful on the wing. Its flight
has been well described as “ precipitate and awkward.”

The wryneck derives its name from a curious habit
it has of twisting its neck as it seeks for insects on
a tree-trunk or mound.

Wrynecks are very rarely seen in cages or aviaries,
probably because they are not songsters and because
their habits are not such as to render them attrac-
tive in an aviary. Nevertheless, wrynecks thrive in
captivity. Bishop Stanley records an instance of a
wryneck which “lived for a year and a half in a

THE COMMON WRYNECK 125

cage, and never appeared to show impatience during
its confinement ; it was observed always to take its
food by throwing out its long tongue.”

During the winter the wryneck seems to visit all
parts of India, except possibly the Malabar coast,
and it is sufficiently common in South India to have
a Tamil name—Moda nulingadu.

The wryneck breeds neither in the plains of India
nor, I believe, in the Himalayas, but its nest has been
recorded in Kashmir. It busies itself with parental
duties in the summer—in May and June in England—
laying its glossy white eggs in a hollow in a tree.
Unlike the woodpecker the wryneck does not hollow
out its hole for itself. It is sensible enough not to
undertake that which can be equally well done by
others. In this respect, as in so many others, it differs
from the woodpeckers proper.

XXII
GREEN PIGEONS

REEN birds are comparatively few in.

number, but nearly all of those that do

exist are very beautiful objects. Green

is a colour which is rarely found alone
in birds. The fowls of the air of which the
plumage is mainly green almost invariably display
patches of other colour. In the familiar green
parrots red, pink, blue, and black occur; the
green coppersmith flaunts the most gaudy hues
of red, crimson, and yellow; the emerald merops
adorns itself with gold and turquoise ornaments ;
while green pigeons are birds which display the whole
spectrum of colours, each in a subdued form. In
the common Indian species the forehead is greenish
yellow ; the nape and sides of the head French grey ;
the chin and neck are old gold shading off into olive ;
the body is greenish olive; the shoulder is washed
with lilac. The primary wing feathers are dark grey,
while the secondaries are similarly coloured, but
have pale yellow tips. The tail is slate-coloured,
becoming greenish yellow at the base. The feathers
under the tail are a dark claret colour with creamy

126

GREEN PIGEONS 127

bars: The lower parts are slate-coloured tinged
with green, save for the feathers of the thigh, which
are canary yellow. The legs are orange yellow.
The eye is blue, with an outer ring of carmine. Yet,
notwithstanding all this show of colour, there is
nothing gaudy about the green pigeon. Every tint
is most delicately laid on, and each hue blends into
the surrounding ones in a truly exquisite fashion,
so that it is no exaggeration to call the green pigeon
a vision of perfect loveliness.

In the unlikely event of any one taking the trouble
to compare the above description with those given
in the fauna of British India for Crocopus phanicopterus
(the Bengal green pigeon) and C. chlorogaster (the
Southern green pigeon), that person will observe
that it does not tally exactly with either of them.
Nevertheless, my description is taken from a specimen
shot by me in the Basti district of the United Pro-
vinces. The fact of the matter is that in places where
the Bengal form meets the southern species the
two interbreed, as, I believe, do all, or nearly all,
allied species at the point of junction. And, in such
cases, the hybrid birds appear to be perfectly fertile
and to thrive equally with the parent species ; neither
of which would be the case were facts in accordance
with the Wallaceian theory. But, as we shall see
later, green pigeons seem to lay themselves out to
destroy the biological orthodoxy of to-day.

Green pigeons appear to live exclusively on fruit.
They go about in small flocks, seeking out trees of
which the fruit is ripe; when they hit upon such a

128 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

tree they behave as if they were schoolboys let loose
in a tuck shop !

The Hindustani name for the green pigeon is Harrial.
The natives, or at any rate some of them, assert that
the bird never descends to the ground, because when
its foot touches the earth the bird loses a pound in
weight, in other words, shrivels up into nothingness !
If asked how it drinks, they will reply that it settles
on a reed which bends with its weight, so that it is
able to partake of the water beneath without touching
the earth. In the absence of a conveniently situated
reed, the green pigeon overcomes the difficulty by
carrying a twig in its feet. It would be interesting
to discover the origin of this story, which is on a par
with that which asserts that the red-wattled lapwing
(Sarcogrammus indicus) sleeps on its back with its
legs in the air, in order to be ready to catch the sky
on its feet if ever this should fall! As a matter of
fact green pigeons are very arboreal in their habits.
I do not remember ever having seen one of them on
the ground.

The note of the green pigeons is not a coo, but a
pleasant whistle. The birds are sometimes caged
on account of their song. But they are uninteresting
pets. In captivity they soon lose their beauty, because
they are so gluttonous as to smear the head and neck
with whatever fruit be given them to eat.

Green pigeons are said to be far less obtrusive in
their courtship than the majority of their kind. The
male does hot puff himself out after the manner of
other cock pigeons, but is content to bow before his

GREEN PIGEONS .— 129

lady love and in this attitude move his expanded tail
up and down.

There are few birds that assimilate so closely to
their surroundings as green pigeons. Fifty of them
may be perched in a pipal tree, and a man on the look-
out for them may fail to detect a single individual
until one of the birds moves. They are thus excellent
examples of protectively coloured birds. Their green
livery undoubtedly affords them a certain amount
of protection, and so may perhaps be considered a
product of natural selection. Be this as it may,
a consideration of the details of the colouring of their
plumage shows that many of these, as, for example,
the lilac on the wing, are quite unnecessary for the
concealment of the bird. The eastern and the southern
species which occur together in certain places and the
hybrids produced by the interbreeding of these are
all equally difficult to distinguish from the surrounding
leaves, notwithstanding the fact that their plumage
differs in details, e.g. the breast and the abdomen
are greenish yellow in the southern and ashy-grey in
the eastern form, while there is green in the fore-
head and tail of the latter, but not of the former.
Thus we have two species of green pigeon, of which
at least one has not originated by natural selection.
Facts such as these, however, do not prevent Dr.
Wallace, Sir E. Ray Lankester, and Professor Poulton
continually proclaiming from the housetops that
every existing species owes its origin to natural se-
lection and nothing but natural selection !

There are several genera of green pigeons, and all of
K

130 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

them are characterised by short legs and broad toes.
These are adaptations to the arboreal habit, in the
formation of which natural selection has, in all proba-
bility, played an important part. The habits of all
the genera are identical. They, one and all, build
the rough-and-ready shakedowns which do duty for
nests amongst the Columbide. All lay the inevitable
two white eggs. Yet the sexes of the genus Crocopus
are alike in external appearance, while those of the
genera Osmosteros, Sphenocercus, and Treron exhibit
considerable dimorphism. Again in the genus Buireron
the sexual differences displayed are inconsiderable.
These facts, of thernselves, are quite sufficient to
disprove the theory that sexual dimorphism in birds
is due to the hen’s greater need of protection. Cock
green pigeons assimilate so well to their leafy en-
vironment that there cannot possibly be any necessity
for their wives to be differently dressed. Further, it
is worthy of note that the most flourishing of the
genera of green pigeons is that in which the sexes
dress alike.

. XXITI
BULBULS’ NESTS—I

N May, 1911, a pair of red-whiskered bulbuls
(Otocompsa emeria) took up their residence in
my verandah at Fyzabad, that is to say, they
spent the greater part of the day there in con-

structing a nest in a croton plant. The nest of the
bulbul is a shallow cup, formed of bast, roots, twigs,
and grass, loosely worked together. Sometimes dead
leaves, pieces of rag and other oddments are woven
into the fabric of the nest. The pair of bulbuls of which
I write did not, however, indulge in any of these
luxuries ; they were content with a rudely constructed
nursery. When the nest was nearly complete the
owners deserted it. Why they acted thus I have not
been able to discover.

The bulbuls absented themselves for a few days.
When they returned they frequented another portion of
the verandah, and their fussiness betrayed the fact that
they were working at another nest. Several days passed
before I found time to look for their nest, and I then
discovered it in an aralia plant growing in the verandah,
in a large pot placed at the right-hand side of one of
the doors leading into my office room. The site chosen
was the more remarkable in that it was within ten feet

131

132 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

of the carpet on which the chaprassis sit when not
engaged in active work. This nest was of even rougher
design than the first one, and was equally devoid of
decoration. So carelessly had it been constructed
that, to use a nautical expression, it had a distinct
list. I found in the nest three pinkish eggs, mottled
and blotched with purplish red.. They had been
laid some time before I first saw them. This was
demonstrated by the reluctance of the hen to leave
the nest when I approached. Among birds the parental
instinct increases as incubation proceeds. On one
occasion the bird sitting on the nest in question
allowed me to stroke its tail. This organ projects
upwards like a semaphore, the nest not being sufficiently
large to accommodate it.

It was not until the 15th July that I had leisure to
watch these bulbuls closely. Up to that time I had
merely noticed that both birds incubate, and that
both sexes, and not the cock alone, as some writers
assert, have the red ‘‘ whiskers,” or feathers, on the
cheeks.

The weather being warm, it was not necessary for
the birds to sit continuously, and the eggs were fre-
quently left for ten minutes or longer at a time. On
the morning of the 15th July, I found that two of the
young birds had hatched out. Both parents were
feeding them.

Birds are creatures of habit. Each parent bulbul
had its own way of approaching the nest and of
perching when tending the nestlings, so that, although
I was not able to say for certain which of the pair

BULBULS’ NESTS—I 133

was the cock and ‘which the hen, I could distinguish
one individual from the other. For brevity: I will
call them A and B, respectively.

Both birds, before flying to the nest, used to alight
on the stem of a palm standing in the verandah.
From this point their manceuvres differed. Individual
A invariably flew to a stout vertical branch of the
aralia, remained there for a second or two, flitted to a
second vertical branch, and from thence hopped on
to the edge of the nest, so that its face when there
pointed to the east. This individual always showed
itself the bolder spirit of the two. The other bird, B,
used to fly from the palm to a slender leafy branch of
the aralia, and thus cause considerable commotion
among the leaves; from thence it jumped on to the
edge of the nest, where it perched with its face pointing
to the north. The modus operand: of A was the
superior. The verandah faces the east, so that when
A wished to leave the nest, it had but to jump across
it into the space beyond, and then wing its way ahead,
while B had to turn round before it could fly off. The
neatness and address with which A used to leap across
the nest into the air baffles description.

The 16th July fell on a Sunday. I therefore deter-
mined to devote some hours to studying the ways of
those bulbuls at the nest. Every naturalist has his
own method of prying into the ways of the fowls of the
air or the beasts of the field. Some expose themselves
to the Indian sun at midday in May, others will squat
for hours in feverish swamps. People who do these
things are worthy of all praise. I prefer less heroic

134 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

methods. Accordingly, I had the pot containing the
nest-bearing plant moved a distance of rather less
than a yard, so that it stood in the middle of the door-
way. I then had an easy chair placed in the office room
at a distance of some four feet from the nest. Finally,
I removed such of the leaves as tended to obstruct
my view. Thus, I was able to watch the bulbuls through
the chik in comfort, reclining in the easy chair.

Both parent birds were present when the plant was
being moved. They looked rather alarmed, but
raised no outcry. They did not seem eager to approach
the nest after the position of the aralia had been
changed. Evidently they did not understand the
meaning of what they had seen. Eventually bulbul A
summoned sufficient courage to visit the nest, and
must have been highly gratified to find the two young-
sters and the egg safe. While perching on the nest it
kept its eye on me, having espied me, notwithstanding
the fact that there was a chik between me and it.
While eyeing me it cocked its head on one side and _
half opened its bill. The opening of the bill is an
expression of anger. The bulbul’s crest was also
folded back, but this does not necessarily denote
anger. The crest invariably assumes this attitude
when the bulbul is incubating, or brooding, or feeding
its young, It was some time before bulbul B could
bring itself to visit the nest. It made at least six
abortive attempts before it reached the edge of the
nest, and then perched only for a second before flying
off with every sign of trepidation. And for the whole
of that day it showed itself nervous, whereas A soon

BULBULS’ NESTS—I 135

came quite boldly to the nest. The difference in
temperament between the two birds was most marked.

The parent birds did not come to the nest with the
bill very full. They were usually content to bring one
succulent grub or insect at a time.

In the earliest stages of their existence bulbul
nestlings are so small that one caterpillar satisfies their
hunger completely for some little time. So that it
often happened that one of the parents arrived with
food for which neither of the young birds was ready.
Under such circumstances, the parent, after trying
to force the food into the mouth of each nestling,
remained on the rim of the nest waiting patiently
until one of the youngsters lifted up its head for food.
The baby bulbuls did not display at this early stage
of their existence that eagerness for food, amounting
almost to greediness, that characterises nestlings
when they grow a little older.

On arrival with food the adult bird invariably
uttered a couple of tinkling notes as if to inform its
offspring that it had brought food. No sound emanated
from the young birds during the first two or three
days of their existence. When it had disposed of
the food it had brought, the parent bird usually
looked after the sanitation of the nest by picking up
and eating the excreta. The parent birds did not
appear ever to bring water to the nestlings. The
succulent food probably supplies the requisite moisture.
About midday on the 16th July the third young bird
hatched out. The egg was intact at 10 a.m., but by
a few minutes after midday the youngster had

136 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

emerged, and half the shell was still in the nest.
Thus the latest arrival made his appearance at least
twenty-eight hours after either of his brethren.

I watched carefully in order to ascertain how the
parent birds got rid of the ' egg-shell. Presently
bulbul A came to the nest with food. When it had
disposed of this, it began pecking in the nest, and
appeared to be eating up the shell, but in reality it
was Cleaning the nest. After being thus engaged for
a couple of minutes it flew off, carrying the half egg-
shell in its beak. It flew to a distance with this, so
that I did not see what became of it. This explains
why broken egg-shells are seldom found lying on
the ground.below a nest. On the following day I
placed a small piece of paper in the nest. This was
carried off by the first parent bird to visit the nest,
but not before the bird had fed.its young. Shortly
afterwards I placed a sheet of thick paper over the
top of the nest so as to completely cover it. This non-
plussed both parents. They made no attempt to
insert their heads underneath it, but hopped about
near the nest looking very disconsolate. I therefore
removed the obstruction.

Young bulbuls when first hatched out are almost
lost in the nest, taking up very little more room than
the eggs that contained them; but they grow at an
astonishing rate. By the time the oldest was six
days old the three young birds almost filled the nest.
From the fourth day the heads of the nestlings went
up, and the mandibles vibrated rapidly whenever
a parent approached; previously the young birds

BULBULS’ NESTS—I 137

did not seem to hear the approach of the old birds.
On the sixth day of their existence the youngsters
first began to call for food, and for a time the sounds
they emitted were very feeble. On the sixth day
their eyes began to open, the opening at first being
a tiny slit.

The-parents were not always judicious in selecting
food for their babes. I saw a bulbul bring a large
- insect with gauzy wings to a six-day-old nestling.
The bird succeeded in ramming about one-third
of it into the gaping mouth of the young one. The
latter then made frantic efforts to swallow its prize.
After struggling for the greater part of a minute it
rested for a few seconds with half an inch of insect
projecting from its bill, When at last it did succeed
in swallowing it, the young bulbul fell back with
neck stretched out and appeared to be in a thoroughly
exhausted condition.

A triple tragedy has now to be related. Tragedies,
alas! are very common among the bulbul community.
On several occasions have I watched the nesting
operations of these birds, but never yet have I seen
a single young one reach maturity. When the eldest
of the nestlings was seven days old I noticed that the
list on the nest had become very marked, and on
examining the nursery I found it empty. I then saw
two of the young bulbuls lying on the floor of the
verandah. The third was nowhere to be seen. Having
rectified the position of the nest, I replaced the two
nestlings, which the parents continued to feed. They did
not seem to notice that one of their babes was missing.

138 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

On the following morning I found the nest half
torn from its holdings, and saw the two youngsters
on the earth near the roots of the aralia. Some leaves
were strewn on the ground. Apparently a cat, a
mongoose, or other predaceous creature had attempted
to capture the parent bird during the night when it
was sitting on the nest. It had not succeeded in the
attempt, for both the old birds were hale and hearty ;
nevertheless, the fall had killed one of the youngsters.
I placed the nest higher up in the aralia, in what I
considered a safer situation, wedging it tightly be-
tween some branches, and then replaced the remaining
nestling. This the parents continued to feed, although
they seemed to find the nest difficult of access in its
new position. The next morning I found the young
bird alive and well in the nest, but this latter was
now a lower branch of the aralia, to which it had
been tied by string. Some officious chaprasst had
doubtless done this. He:had probably found the
nest pulled down as I had found it on the previous
day. Our efforts, however, were of no avail. On
the following morning I again found the nest torn
down, and this time the young bird was lying lifeless
on the ground. The parents were somewhat dis-
consolate, and hung about for a little with food in
their bills. But they soon seemed to realise that
it was useless to bring food to a little bird that would
not open its mouth. So they went off. They are,
I believe, looking out for a suitable nesting site at
the opposite end of my verandah. Bulbuls are as
philosophical as they are foolish.

BULBULS’ NESTS—IlI 139

BULBULS’ NESTS—II

The simplest observations often bring to light
the greatest scientific truths. The force of gravity
was revealed to Sir Isaac Newton by the falling of an
apple. A kettle of boiling water gave the idea of
the steam-engine to James Watt. The watch-
ing of bulbuls, which are so common in our Indian
gardens and verandahs, suffices, apart from all other
evidence, to demonstrate how erroneous is the ortho-
dox doctrine that the survival of the fittest is the
result of a struggle for existence among adult or-
ganisms. This year (1912) six bulbul tragedies have
occurred in my garden, and the year is yet young.

The scene of one of these tragedies was the identical
plant in which occurred the disaster described above,
which happened about nine months ago. Thus we
see that among bulbuls destruction takes place mostly
in the nest, whole broods being wiped out at a time.
The same is, I believe, true to a large extent of other
species that build open nests. There are three critical
stages in the life of a bird—the time when it is defence-
less in the egg, the period it spends helpless in the nest,
and the two or three days that elapse after it leaves
the nest until its powers of flight are fully developed.
When once a little bird has survived these dangerous
periods, when it has reached the adult stage, it is
comparatively immune from death until old age steals
upon it. If zoologists would perceive this obvious
truth there would be an end to nine-tenths of the

140 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

nonsense written about protective colouring. Most
birds are not protectively coloured; moreover, if
they were so clothed as to be invisible amid their
natural surroundings they would not derive much
profit therefrom.

The labour of the six-and-twenty little bulbuls
who, to my knowledge, have failed to rear their
broods has not been lost altogether, for it has taught
me something about their ways that I did not know
before. Those birds showed me how quickly they —
are able to build a nest.

Very few observations regarding the duration of
nest-building operations are on record. The feason
is not far to seek. A nest at the very beginning of
its existence is difficult to discover, and if come upon
by chance is not easy to recognise as an incipient
nursery. The nests we find are usually complete or
in an advanced stage of construction.

I was strolling in the garden about 8 a.m. on the
3rd March last, when I noticed a bulbul with a leaf
in its bill. I saw the bird fly into a small cypress bush
and then emerge therefrom without the leaf. A short
search sufficed to reveal the place in the bush where
the leaf had been deposited. Placed by this leaf I
found anotlier leaf, a small branch ‘of Duranta with
some yellow berries attached to it, two or three small
straws and some cobweb. These apparently had
been thrown haphazard into the bush. Had I not
seen the bulbul go into the bush carrying a leaf,
I should not have suspected that these few things
were the beginning of a nest, for they had no sem-

BULBULS’ NESTS—II 141

blance of one. The bulbuls could not have been
working at that nest for more than half an hour
when I discovered it. On my return thirty minutes
later to look at it I found that the amount of material
collected had doubled, but the nest was still without
any definite form; it was a mere conglomeration
of rubbish. The two leaves already mentioned had
dropped down nearly a couple of inches below the
other material. The additional material consisted
of more Duranta twigs with berries, straws, dried
grasses, cobweb, and a piece of what looked like
tissue paper. Half an hour later the rapidly increasing
collection included a long piece of worsted, but this
was not wound round any of the branches. In most
bulbuls’ nests that I have seen a certain amount of
cotton or such-like material is used to support the
cup-like nest by being bound to one of the neighbouring
branches, although cobweb is the chief means of
attaching the nest to its surroundings. In this par-
ticular instance, however, the worsted was not so
utilised ; possibly the pliable, upright branches of
the cypress did not lend themselves to this kind of
attachment. At this time (9 a.m.) the collected
materials had nothing of the shape of a nest, but some
of the tiny twigs were entwined in the cypress branches.

At midday, four hours after I had first seen the
nest, I was astonished to find that it had assumed
a saucer-like form. I was not a witness of the pro-
cess -whereby the original shapeless mass was made
to take this shape, but my observations on other
nests have convinced me that the nest is shaped

142 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

entirely by the bird’s body and feet. When a bulbul
brings material to the nest, it drops this on to what
has already been collected, sits on it, and proceeds
to arrange it with its feet, which work so vigorously
as to shake the whole plant in which the nest is placed.
In the middle of the process the bird usually turns on
its axis, a right angle, and thus the interior of the
nest becomes rounded by the bird’s breast. All new
material is added to the inside of the nest.

At midday, then, the nest in question was a shallow
saucer composed chiefly of Duranta and other twigs,
dried grass, and bast. The leaves mentioned above
had fallen some way below the nest, and the worsted
and tissue paper had been crushed into a ball at one
side of the nest.

By the evening more material, chiefly bast in bands
about a quarter of an inch broad, had been added,
and the nest looked almost as complete as some
bulbuls’ nests in which I have seen eggs. But that
particular pair were evidently bent on building a
very substantial structure.

By 8 a.m. on the following day the cup of the nest
had.grown deeper, and its walls had been considerably
thickened. By the evening of the day the nest was
practically complete. On the 5th March the finishing
touches were put to it in the shape of a few grasses
and prickly stems.

The diameter of the completed nest is between
2% and 3 inches. The nest is rarely quite circular.
It is about 2% inches in depth. The length of its
diameter appears to be determined by: that of the

BULBULS’ NESTS—II 143

bird’s body (exclusive of head and tail) which is the
mould that shapes it. A bulbul sitting in the nest
looks very cramped and uncomfortable, with the
tail projecting vertically upwards, the neck stretched
out, and the chin resting on the rim of the nest. The
crest of the sitting bird is folded right back.

On the early morning of the 8th March the first egg
was laid. On the oth a second egg was deposited. My
little boy, to whom I had shown the nest, then thought
thet he would like a couple of bulbul’s eggs poached
for his breakfast, so, regardless of the feelings of the
bulbuls, removed both eggs and took them to the
cook! As that individual declined to cook them,
my little son replaced them, or rather one of them,
for he broke the other. On the morning of the roth
a third egg was laid and deposited in the nest beside
the other. The usual clutch of Otocompsa emeria
is three. On the morning of the 11th I found the nest
half pulled down and empty and on the ground
beneath I saw a few bulbul’s feathers. Some pre-
daceous creature, possibly a cat or a mongoose, had
seized the sitting bulbul in the night.

The above notes show that a pair of bulbuls can
build a nest in a couple of days. This observation
was confirmed by another. pair who constructed
a nest in my verandah on the 23rd and 24th March.
On the 22nd I noticed a pair of bulbuls prospecting
in a croton plant near my daftar window ; nevertheless,
although I examined that plant carefully, I found
no traces of a nest. On the next day, however, I
saw that the nest had been commenced. During

144 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

the three following days I had no leisure in which to
look at the‘nest, but on the 28th I found a bulbul
sitting on three eggs, so that, as only one egg per
diem is laid, the first egg must have been deposited
on the morning of the 26th at the latest.

On returning to my bungalow at about Io.30 p:m.
of the 28th, I found some of the servants collected
in the verandah. They showed me a dead brown tree
snake (Hipsas trigonata) which they had killed in
the plant containing the bulbuls’ nest. The reptile
had evidently discovered the nest and crawled up
the stem of the plant. At its approach the incubating
bulbul had made a great commotion which attracted
the notice of the servants. They promptly killed
the snake. On my return the eggs were lying broker
on the ground, and I was not able to discover whether
the fluttering bulbul or the servants striking the
snake had caused their downfall. No further eggs
were laid. Bulbuls seem always to desert a nest
when their eggs are destroyed. It is worthy of note
that the snake attacked the nest in the dark, and on
all other occasions on which I have observed similar
tragedies they have been enacted at night. What,
then, becomes of the elaborate theory of protective
colouration ?

XXIV
NIGHTINGALES IN INDIA

HE nightingale shares with the Taj Mahal
the distinction of being an object on which
every person lavishes high praise. All
who hear the song of the nightingale go

into ecstasies over it; similarly, every human being
who sets eyes on the Taj waxes enthusiastic at the
sight thereof. Some years ago a writer in the Globe
stated that a patient investigator compiled a list
of nearly two hundred epithets bestowed by poets
alone on the nightingale’s song, and I doubt not that
an equally patient investigator could compile an
equally long list of adjectives lavished on the Taj
Mahal by those who have attempted to describe
that famous tomb. The consequence is that every
superlative in the English language has been ap-
propriated by some person, so that he who nowadays
wishes to bestow something original in the way of
praise on either the nightingale or the Taj is at his
wit’s end to know what to say. Recently I met
in a railway train a Portuguese gentleman who was
paying a visit to India. Needless to say, I asked him
what he thought of the Taj. He promptly replied:
“ Le Taj, ah! c'est un bijou.” I feel that by way of
L 145

146 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

paying the necessary homage to the nightingale I
cannot do better than repeat “‘ c’est wn bijou.”

Ornithologists assure us that there are three species
of nightingale. There is the Western nightingale
(Daulias luscinia), which visits England in the summer
and fills the woods with its glorious melody. Then
there is the Eastern species or variety which is also
known as the sprosser (D. philomela), and, lastly,
the Persian nightingale, the hazar-dastan or bulbul
of the Persian poets. This last variety is known to
men of science as Daulias golzit.

It would puzzle the ordinary man to distinguish
between these various races. The length of the tail
is one test. If the nightingale have a tail well over
three inches in length it is the Persian form, if well
under three inches it is a Western nightingale, and
if about three inches a sprosser. The nightingale,
as every one knows, is a small bird varying from
64 to 74 inches in length. Both sexes dress alike
and in the plainest manner possible, the upper plumage
being russet brown and the lower pale buff.

As we have seen, one of the Persian names of the
nightingale is ‘‘bulbul.”” This has given rise to con-
siderable misunderstanding regarding the existence of
nightingales in India. Every one knows that India
teems with bulbuls, and as ‘‘bulbul’’ is the Persian
for nightingale, the average Englishman labours under
the delusion that Hindustan abounds with nightingales
which fill the soft Indian night with melody, at the time

“When mangoes redden and the asoka buds
Sweeten the breeze and Rama’s birthday comes.”

NIGHTINGALES IN INDIA 147

Now, as a matter of fact, the Indian bulbul has
nothing whatever to do with the nightingale. There
can, I think, be but little doubt that the Persian
poets have misapplied the word “ bulbul ” in using it
to denote the nightingale. The term “ bulbul” is
familiar to every native of India as meaning one of
the Brachypodous birds belonging to the genera
Molpasites, Otocompsa, etc., and as there. are true
bulbuls in Persia, one of which, Molpastes leucotis,
is a good singer, it is probable that the poets, who are
notoriously bad naturalists, have misapplied the
name of this songster to an even better singer, namely,
the nightingale. And this name, having been im-
mortalised by Hafiz and others, will always remain.
We must, therefore, be careful to distinguish between
the true bulbuls, which are not very brilliant singers, and
the nightingale, which in India is known as the bulbul
bostha, or bulbul basta. Numbers of Persian nightingales-
are captured and sent in cages to India, where they are
highly prized on account of their vocal powers. A
good singing cock will fetch as much as Rs. 400 in
Calcutta. The cock nightingale alone sings, and
as he is indistinguishable in appearance from the
hen, a would-be purchaser, before paying a long
price for one of these birds, should insist on hearing
it sing. Nightingales thrive in captivity if provided
with a plentiful supply of insect food. The Western
and Eastern forms have both bred in captivity, and
the Persian variety will doubtless do likewise if given
proper accommodation.

Indian bulbuls, then, are not nightingales. Nor

148 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

are nightingales common in that country. Oates,
it is true, includes Daulias golzit among the birds of
India, but, in my opinion, on insufficient evidence.
He admits that it is of extreme rarity in the country,
“only two instances of its occurrence being known.”
Hume, in October, 1865, "had a Persian nightingale
sent to him, which was said to have been procured
in the Oudh terai. It is probable that neither this
specimen nor the other whose presence is recorded
in India was a wild bird at all; as likely as not they
were caged birds that had escaped from captivity !
The nightingale is certainly a very retiring bird,
and since, if it occurs in India, it can be only as a
winter visitor when it is not in song, it is possible
that it might be overlooked. But in face of the fact
that many good ornithologists have spent long periods
in Oudh without ever having seen a nightingale,
and the bird has never been observed anywhere else
in India, it seems most improbable that nightingales
ever stray into India. What, then, are we to think
of the statement of Dr. Hartert, a German ornitholo-
gist, who says of the Eastern nightingale that “it
winters in Southern Arabia, parts of India (e.g.
Oudh) and East Africa” ?

Here we have an excellent illustration of the
adage “A little learning is a dangerous thing,” a good
example of how erroneous statements creep into
scientific books. Dr. Hartert has heard that night-
ingales have been recorded in Oudh, so jumps to
the conclusion that the species winters there, even
as it does in Egypt. This statement will doubtless

NIGHTINGALES IN INDIA 149

be copied, without acknowledgment, into many
future text-books, for plagiarism is very rife among
men of science; and thus the popular notion that
nightingales are common in India will be fortified by
scientific support! Nightingales undoubtedly do winter
in India—but only in cages. We have many fine
songsters in Hindustan, but the nightingale is not one
of them.

XXV
THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW

ERE each species of bird to record in
writing its opinion of men, the resulting
document would certainly not be flatter-
ing to the human race. The inhumanity

of man would figure largely in it. The majority of the
feathered folk have but little cause to love their
human neighbours. Men steal their eggs, destroy
their nests, kil] them in order to eat them or to decorate
women with their plumage, and capture them in order
to keep them in cages. A few species, however, ought
to regard man with friendly eyes, for they owe much
to him. The swallow tribe, for example, must ac-
knowledge man as its greatest benefactor. Take the
case of the common swallow (Hirundo rustica), the
joyful herald of the English summer, the bird to which
Gilbert White devotes a particularly charming letter.
All the places in which this species builds owe their
origin to human beings. The myriads of swallows
that visit Great Britain in the spring find in the
chimneys of houses ideal nesting places—hence the
birds are known as house or chimney swallows.

“The swallow,” writes White, “‘ though called
150

THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW 15t

the chimney swallow, by no means builds altogether
in chimneys, but often within barns and outhouses
against the rafters, and so she did in Virgil’s time :

‘Ante
Garrula quam tignis nidos suspendat hirundo.’

“In Sweden she builds in barns, and is called
ladu swala, the barn swallow. Besides, in the warmer
parts of Europe there are no chimneys to houses,
except they are English-built. In those countries
she constructs her nest in porches and gateways
and galleries and open halls. Here and there a bird
may affect some odd, peculiar place, as we have
known a swallow build down the shaft of an old well
through which chalk had been formerly drawn up
for the purpose of manure; but in general with us
this Hivundo breeds in chimneys, and loves to haunt
those stacks where there is a constant fire, no doubt
for the sake of warmth. Not that it can subsist in
the immediate shaft where there is a fire, but prefers
one adjoining to that of the kitchen, and disregards
the perpetual smoke of that funnel, as I have often
observed with some. degree of wonder.”

In the days before man began to build substantial
houses for his habitation, the swallows can have
nested only in caverns and under natural ledges in
cliffs, so cannot have existed in anything like their
present numbers. Hirundo rustica is a common bird
in India. During the winter it spreads itself over
the plains, and may be seen, as in England, dashing
through the air after tiny insects. In the East the

152 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

gentle twittering of the birds as they propel themselves
through the air sounds doubly sweet, since it recalls
scenes in our distant island. The swallows which
winter in India migrate to the Himalayas or Kashmir
or Afghanistan, where they rear up their families.

But to-day I write of a more beautiful bird even
than Hivundo rustica, of the most beautiful of the
swallow kind, of a species on which Gilbert . White
could not have set eyes. Like the common species,
the wire-tailed swallow (Hirundo smithit) is a glossy,
steel-blue bird. The forehead, crown, and nape
are chestnut, and all the lower plumage, including
the chin, is white. In this last respect it differs con-
siderably from the common swallow, which has the
chin and throat chestnut, a black pectoral band,
and the rest of the under parts pale reddish brown.
In both species there is a white spot on each of the
tail feathers, except the median pair. These white
spots are very conspicuous when the bird sits with
tail expanded.

The chief characteristic of Hivundo smithit is the
great development of the shafts of the outer tail
feathers. In most swallows the shaft is elongated.
In H. rustica it extends 2} inches beyond the other
tail feathers. In the wire-tailed swallow the shaft
of each of the outer tail feathers attains a length of
seven inches, and is thus more than twice as long as
the body of the bird. This swallow, indeed, looks as
though two pieces of wire had been inserted into its
tail; hence the popular name, which is far more
appropriate than the scientific one. Jerdon called

THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW 153

this species H. filifera, an excellent name, but among
cabinet ornithologists the excellence or appropriateness
of a bird’s name counts for nothing. Many years
ago a member of the Smith family made the ac-
quaintance of the bird, and it was named after him.
This name being the oldest is the one by which we
must call the bird until some bibliophile manages to
unearth some yet earlier name.

The elongated shafts of the outer tail feathers are
brittle and easily broken, so that it is the exception
rather than the rule to see a bird with both the delicate
filiferous appendages complete.

The habits of this swallow are similar to those of
other species, except that it is probably not migratory.
It is found all the year round in the plains of North-
West India. It is rare in Lower Bengal, Assam,
Upper Burma, and in South India. Although it
occurs in the Madras Presidency, it is not often seen
as far south as the city of Madras. Since water is
always conducive to the presence of the small insects
on which swallows feed, these birds usually seek their
quarry in the vicinity of the liquid element, and
naturally roost near their feeding grounds. This
fondness for the neighbourhood of water doubtless
gave origin to the once prevalent belief that some
swallows did not leave England in the autumn, but
remained behind and hibernated underwater. This
idea is, of course, erroneous.

Wire-tailed swallows like to roost in considerable
companies in the minarets of mosques or in other
lofty towers. Unlike swifts, swallows frequently

154 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

perch. Telegraph wires are a very favourite resting
place. When these are not available the birds will
settle on stones or tufts of grass. ©

As chimneys are scarce in the plains of India,
the wire-tailed swallow has to look elsewhere for
nesting sites. True to the traditions of its family,
it almost invariably elects to build on some structure
erected by man. Nine out of ten nests are built under
the arches of low bridges or culverts, preferably those
under which there is a little water lying. The nest
projects from the arch like a little shelf. It resembles
a deep saucer in shape, and is composed of a shell of
mud, lined with feathers.

Wire-tailed swallows obtain the mud they use
from the edge of water, and carry it in the bill in
precisely the same way as the house martin does in
England. One of the prettiest sights of a London
suburb is to watch the house martins taking the
materials for their nests from a muddy road, which
they always contrive to do without soiling their
white-feathered legs. Muddy roads are not common
in India, hence wire-tailed swallows are not able to
resort to them for nest-building materials.

The cup of the nest is usually fairly thick, especially
at the place where the nest is attached to its foundation.
The outside of the cup has a rugged appearance,
and each of the projections which it displays corre-
sponds to a mouthful of mud added to it by the bird.
According to Mr. James Aitken, the birds occupy
about four weeks in building the nest, ‘a narrow
layer of mud being added each day and left to dry.”

THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW 155

When once a pair of wire-tailed swallows have
made up their minds to nest in a certain spot they
are not easily deterred from carrying out their in-
tention. Mr. Aitken admits having on one occasion
removed two eggs, out of a clutch of three, but the
little mother sat on and hatched out the one egg
that remained. A man of my acquaintance, who,
although an egg collector, is not altogether devoid
of the milk of kindness, always carries about with
him one or two sparrow’s eggs which he exchanges
for the birds’ eggs he wishes to add to his collection.
One May day at Lahore this person came upon a
wire-tailed swallow’s nest which contained one egg.
This he removed, and substituted for it a sparrow’s
egg. The owners of the nest either did not, or pre-
tended not to, notice the exchange, and the hen laid
two more eggs, so that when I visited the nest three
days later I found that two legitimate eggs had been
placed beside the spurious one. The incubating bird
sat very tight, and allowed me to touch her, and had
I wished to do so I could easily have caught her ;
such is the strength of the incubating instinct in some
birds. The nest in question was built under a low
arch, one end of which was blocked up. The only
other occupants of the arch were a number of wasps.
Birds seem to have little or no fear of wasps. Indeed,
it is rather the wasps that fear the birds, which have
a disagreeable habit of swallowing them, notwith-
standing their sting and warning colouration! Three
weeks later I paid another visit to the arch in question,
and found that the swallow’s nest had been removed

156 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

by some person or persons unknown, but under the
same arch was another nest containing two eggs.
It would seem that the plucky little birds, undaunted
by the fate of their first nest and eggs, had quickly
set to work to make good the loss.

XXVI
WINTER VISITORS TO THE PUNJAB PLAINS

IX months ago we welcomed the birds that
came to spend the summer with us—the
tiny iridescent purple sunbird, the emerald
bee-eater, its larger blue-tailed cousin, the

golden oriole, the superb paradise flycatcher, the
yellow-throated sparrow, the solemn night heron,
and the noisy koel.

These have all built their nests, reared up their
families (except, of course, the koels who made the
crows do their nursemaids’ work) and departed. The
sunbirds were the first, and the koels the last, to go.
By August the former had all disappeared, but through-

. out the first half of October young koels were to be seen,
perched in trees, flapping their wings, opening a great
red mouth, and making creditable but ludicrous

. attempts at cawing.

Even the koels have now gone and will not reappear
until the sun once again causes us human beings to
wonder why we have come to this “‘ Land of Regrets.”

The places left vacant by the summer visitors are
being rapidly filled up. Lahore has for birds a winter
as well as a summer season. The former is the more

157

158 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

important of the two. So numerous are our winter
bird visitors that it is not feasible to enumerate them
in this place; we must be content with a glimpse
at those which come in the greatest numbers and are,
therefore, most likely to attract attention.

The earliest to arrive are the rosy starlings (Pastor
roseus) or Gulabi Maznas, or Tilyers as the natives call
them. They are easy to recognise. They go about in
great flocks. When a flock settles on a tree it is a point
of etiquette for all the individuals that compose it to
talk simultaneously. The head, crest, neck, throat,
upper breast, wings, and tail are glossy black. The rest
of the plumage is a beautiful rose colour in the adult
cock and pale coffee colour in the hens and young
cocks.

Rosy starlings arrive in Lahore as early as July.
As they do not leave us until the end of April, and
are supposed to nest in Asia Minor, it might be thought
that they are the discoverers of some specially rapid
method of nest-construction, egg-incubation, and bird-
rearing. Thisisnotso. The fact is they do not migrate
simultaneously. The birds that were in Lahore in
such numbers last April are not those which appeared
in July. These latter probably migrated to Asia Minor
in February.

It is only in the spring that the rosy starlings go
about in very large flocks; these are the result of
“ packing” prior to migration. At other times the
birds occur in nines and tens and associate with the
ordinary mynas, feeding either on fruit or grain.

They appear to be the favourite game bird of the

WINTER VISITORS 159

native of the Punjab. They are quite good to eat.
A charge of small shot fired into a tree full of them
brings down a dozen or more, so that a “‘ crack ”’ shot
is easily able to secure a large bag and brag about it
to his friends !

Several other species of starling visit the plains of
the Punjab during the winter, arriving in November.
These, like the familiar English starling, are all dressed
in black, glossed with blue, green, and purple, and
spotted with white. The species-making propensity of
the professional ornithologist has led to the division of
these into a number of species, although it requires
an expert with an ornithological imagination to dis-
tinguish them from one another. They go about in
flocks and, like the rosy starlings, all “‘ talk at once.”

The winter visitors that appeal most to the sports-
man are the game birds—the grey quail, the various
species of duck, teal, geese, and snipe. The quail
(Coturnix communis) are the first to appear. They
arrive in Lahore late in August or early in September.
It is the moon rather than the temperature that
determines the date of their arrival. They migrate
at night-time and naturally like to travel by moonlight.
A few grey quail remain with us alf the year round.
These are probably birds that have been wounded
by shtkaris and have not in consequence sufficient
strength for the long migratory flight across the
Himalayas. The fact that some quail remain in India
throughout the hot weather, and are able to breed
successfully, shows that their migration is a luxury
rather than a necessity.

160 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

It is a universal rule that all migratory birds of the
Northern Hemisphere breed in the more northerly
of their two homes. This seems to indicate that they
were formerly permanent residents in the latter.
Geology tells us that thousands of years ago the climate
of this earth suddenly became colder. The result
was that the more northerly portions of it were ren-
dered uninhabitable for birds during the winter—the
frost killed insect life and the snow made vegetable
food difficult to procure; hence, the birdfolk were
confronted with the alternative of starving in winter
or going south in search of food. They chose the latter
alternative. So powerful is the “homing instinct ’—
the instinct that man has developed so wonderfully
in the homer pigeon—that these migrants invariably
returned in the summer to their old homes for breeding
purposes.

The climate has again become milder, so that for
many migratory birds migration is no longer necessary ;
nevertheless, they still perform the double journey .
every year. The force of habit is strong in birds.
Those Australian finches which are imported into
India, even when kept in aviaries in the Himalayas,
nest in December and January as they did in Australia,
where these are summer months.

The ducks and geese that visit the Punjab in winter
are too numerous to be dealt with in this brief essay,
which of necessity is not exhaustive. It merely deals
with such of the winter visitors to the Punjab as are
seen every day. Every winter Northern India is
invaded by millions of grey-lag and barred-headed

WINTER VISITORS 161

geese, and by hundreds of thousands of brahmany
ducks, mallard, gadwall, teal, wigeon, pintails, shovellers
and pochards. The other game birds which visit the
Punjab in great numbers every winter are the jack
and the common snipe.

The Indian redstart or firetail (Ruiticilla rufiventris)
is one of the most striking of our winter visitors. No
one but a blind man can fail to notice the sprightly
little bird with St. Vitus’ dance in its tail. The head,
breast, neck, and back of the cock are grey or black
according to the season of the year. Birds’ clothes
wear out just as ours do. But every bird is his own
tailor. When his clothes wear out, instead of resorting
to the West-End tailor or the humble darzi, he grows
a new coat. This process is technically known as the
moult and occurs at the end of summer in most birds.

. Each of the feathers composing the coat of the cock
redstart is black with a grey margin. When the
feathers are new only the grey edges show, the bird,
therefore, looks grey; gradually the grey borders
become worn away, so that the bird turns black.
_The remainder of the plumage of the cock, except
the two middle tail feathers, is brick red. The hen is
reddish brown where the cock is black or grey. As
the bird hops about in the garden it looks very like
a robin, but the moment it takes to its wings it becomes
transformed, as if by magic, into a flash of red. The
red of the tail and back is scarcely visible when the
bird is not flying, for the wings cover the latter and
the tail is closed like a fan ; the red feathers all folding

up underneath the middle brown ones which act as a
M

162 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

cover. During flight the red tail feathers open out
and the wings leaye the red back exposed—hence the
sudden transformation.

The redstart should be a favourite with Englishmen,
because in habits and appearance it resembles the
familiar robin of our country. The perverse Indian
robin (Thamnobia cambayensts), it will be remembered,
insists on wearing its patch of red, as Phil Robinson
hath it, on the seat of its trousers.

The Indian redstart arrives towards the end of
September. In the autumn of 1906, September 22nd
was the date on which I first noticed a redstart in
Lahore. In the following autumn I did not see one
until September 27th. Bird-lovers of fixed abode in
India would be rendering no small service to ornithology
if they would record carefully, year after year, the dates
on which they. first observe each of our returning
summer and winter visitors.

When the migrant wagtails arrive we feel that the
hot weather is really over. Three species of wagtail
are common in Lahore. One of these—the pied wagtail
(Motacilla maderaspatensis)—is a permanent resident.
The other two—the white wagtail (Motacilla alba)
and the grey wagtail (1. melanope)—come to us only
for the winter. The last is easily distinguished by its
bright yellow lower plumage. The white and the pied
wagtails are both clothed in black and white, but
whereas the face and throat of the former are white,
the whole head of the pied wagtail is black save for a
white eye-brow.

Wagtails live almost entirely on the ground, Through-

WINTER VISITORS 163

out the winter dozens of them are to be seen on the
gymkhana cricket ground, sprinting after tiny insects,
and stopping after each capture to indulge in a
little tail wagging. All three species of wagtail feed
exclusively on insects, so that the migration in this
case, as in that of the quail and of many other birds,
is obviously due to the force of habit.

Another winter visitor that cannot fail to attract
attention is the white-eared bulbul (Molpastes leucotis),
a bird loathed by the gardener on account of the
damage it does to buds.

Two species of bulbul are abundant in Lahore:
this one and the Punjab red-vented bulbul (Mol-
pastes intermedius). The latter, like the poor, is always
with us, while the former shakes the dust of Lahore
off its feet and departs when the weather becomes hot.
The permanent resident has a red patch under its tail
and a black head and crest, while the migrant wears
yellow under the tail and has white cheeks.

The family of birds of prey furnishes us with a
large number of winter visitors. Those most likely to
be seen in the neighbourhood of Lahore are the steppe
eagle, the long-legged buzzard, the sparrow hawk,
the peregrine falcon, the kestrel, and the merlin. It
must not be thought that al/ our Indian birds of prey
are migrants. A number of species remain in the plains
throughout the hot weather to vex the souls of their
weaker brethren. Curiously enough, there is among
the permanently resident raptores a counterpart, a
nearly allied species—I might almost say a “‘ double ”
—of nearly every migrant. The tawny eagle (Aguila

164 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

vindhtana) and the steppe eagle (A. bifasciata) are so
alike that some authorities are inclined to regard
them as a single species. But the former lives in the
plains all the year round and breeds in and about
Lahore, while the steppe eagle goes to the hills in the
hot weather to breed, and appears quite unable to
endure heat. The one caught at Wazirabad in the
cold weather of 1906-7 and confined in the local
“Zoo ”’ died comparatively early in the hot weather,
whereas the tawny eagle, kept in the same cage, has
all along flourished like the green bay tree. The
shikra (Astuy badius) and the sparrow hawk (Accipiter
nisus), although ornithologists now place them in
different genera, are so much alike that it is easy to
mistake one for the other, yet the former is a perma-
nent resident while the latter is a migrant. Similarly
the peregrine falcon (Falco pevegrinus) is a winter
visitor to the plains of the Punjab, while its cousin the
laggar (Falco jugger) is a permanent resident. In the
same way the Turumti or red-headed merlin abides
with us all the year round, while the common merlin
(Aesalon regulus) visits us only in winter.

Almost the only raptorial winter visitor that has
not a cousin who lives in the plains throughout the
year is the kestrel (Tinnunculus alaudarius), the bird
known in England as the Windhover. This is perhaps
the easiest to identify of all the birds of prey, on account
of its habit of hovering on vibrating wings, like the
pied kingfisher, high in the air, over a spot where it
thinks that there is quarry in the shape of some small
rodent. If the surmise be correct the kestrel drops

WINTER VISITORS 165

like a stone and seizes its quarry in its talons; if it
sees nothing it sweeps away with a few easy movements
of its powerful wings and hovers elsewhere. The only
other bird of prey that hovers like the kestrel is the
black-winged kite (Elanus caerulus). This is mainly
white and so cannot be confounded with the kestrel.

The explanation of the fact that one species of bird
of prey leaves the plains in the hot weather, while a
nearly related species remains, may perhaps be found
in the nature of their food. Birds of prey are to a
greater or lesser extent specialists ; while quite ready
to devour any small bird, reptile, or mammal which
comes their way, they lay themselves out more es-
pecially to catch one particular species, and if that
species migrates it follows that the bird that preys upon
it will also migrate. Thus the peregrine falcon lays
itself out to catch ducks and naturally goes with them
to their breeding grounds, just as the hawker of cheap
wares, who preys upon the mem-sahib, follows her to
the hills in the summer.

In conclusion mention must be made of the Corvi
which visit us in winter. The arch-corvus, the grey-
necked rascal (Corvus splendens), of course, abides
with us all the year round. The raven, too, is to be
seen at all times of the year, but is more abundant in
the cold weather than in the hot. During the summer
months we see comparatively few ravens ; in the winter
they are exceedingly numerous. Every evening
towards sunset a long stream of them may be observed
flying in a westerly direction to the common roosting
place. There is a similar stream of crows that flies in

166 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

a north-westerly direction. The rook (Corvus fru-
gilegus) is a permanent resident of Kashmir and the
North-Western Himalayas, but in mid-winter many
individuals are driven by the cold into the Frontier
Province and the Punjab; some come as far south as
Lahore, where they consort with the crows. If the
winter is a severe one.large numbers of rooks come to
Lahore, otherwise these birds are not very numerous.
The same applies to the jackdaw (Corvus monedula),
but he never comes in such numbers as therook. There
is in the octagonal bird house in the Lahore ‘ Zoo”
a compartment in which there is a ‘“‘ Happy Family ”
of ravens, rooks, and jackdaws, with an Australian
crow-shrike and a Nicobar pigeon to keep them
company. Thus every one who cannot already do
so may learn to identify the various Corvi which visit
Lahore in the winter.

XXVII
A KINGFISHER AND A TERN

EARLY every village in India has its
pond which becomes filled with water
during the monsoon and grows drier and
drier during the winter and hot weather.

The pond is usually a natural depression, sometimes
enlarged and deepened by human agency. Occa-
sionally a village is situated on the edge of a lake,
or hil, but such fortunate villages are few and far
between ; the average hamlet has to be content with
a small tank. This morning I came upon such a tank,
in which the water had become low, leaving a wide
margin of mud between it and the artificially made
bank. At one end a couple of people were squatting.
Mirabile dictu, there was not a paddy bird to be seen,
and the only feathered creature disporting itself
along the edge was a grey wagtail. In mid pond four
domestic ducks were feeding. A tern—the Indian
river tern (Sterna seena)—was busy at the tank, flying
gracefully over the water and dipping into it every few
seconds. Judging from the frequency with which the
bird dived, the water must have teemed with food,

but there were no signs of fish rising, so that how the
167

168 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

eye of the tern was able to penetrate the very muddy
water is a mystery. However, the tern did manage
to distinguish its quarry, for, although its movements
were so rapid that I was not able to discover what it
was catching, I could see distinctly that, when rising, it
carried something tiny in its bill.

Terns are especially addicted to pieces of water that
are rapidly drying up, for under such conditions they
find the creatures upon which they prey literally
jostling one another. After the water has been run
off from a canal, dozens of terns congregate at each
hollow in the canal-bed in which water lies.

The tern, when it plunges after its quarry, takes great
care not to wet its wings. Its habit is to drop from a
height of about twenty feet head foremost. In the course
of the plunge the head and body are often submerged,
but, I think, never the wings ; during the operation,
these are held almost vertically. So assiduously was
this tern plying his profession that he made thirty
dives in about six minutes.

While he was thus employed a pied kingfisher
(Ceryle rudis) appeared on the scene and took up a
position on one of three neem trees that grew beside
the tank. After sitting thus for a few seconds, he too
began to seek for food. Save that both he and the
tern drop from a height of about twenty feet into the
water after their quarry, there is but little similarity
between their movements. The tern sails gracefully
along on pinions which move but slowly, while the
kingfisher flies a little way, then remains stationary in
the air for a few seconds on rapidly vibrating wings,

A KINGFISHER AND A TERN 169
«

with both tail and bill pointing downwards, so that the
shape of the bird is an inverted V with the apex at
the neck. It then either dives or passes on to another
spot where it again hovers. Frequently it makes as
if it were going to dive, then seems to change its mind,
for it checks itself during its drop and passes on.
When the kingfisher was hovering in the air, the
tern approached and looked as though he were going
to attack him. However, he contented himself by
skimming past very close to the “ pied fish tiger.”
This appeared to disconcert the latter, who went back
to the neem tree and rested there for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, the tern flew away. The moment he had
departed the kingfisher renewed his piscatorial efforts
and took up a position about twenty feet above the
water almost directly over the spot where the ducks
were floating. I thought this rather foolish on the part
of the kingfisher, because the ducks must necessarily
scare away all the fish from that part of the water.
However, the little fisherman possessed more sense than
I gave him credit for. He had not been hovering. for
thirty seconds when he plunged into the water and
emerged with a large object in his bill. With this he
flew to the muddy border of the pond. Then, by means
of my field glasses, I saw that his quarry consisted of
a frog about two and a half inches long including the
legs. The kingfisher experienced some little difficulty
in swallowing the frog. He had it crosswise in his beak
and the problem that confronted him was to get the
frog lengthwise head foremost in his bill without
releasing the nimble little amphibian and thus giving

170 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

it a chance of escape. After a little manceuvring the
kingfisher got the frog in the desired position, and,
having held it thus for a few seconds, swallowed it.
Then the kingfisher remained squatting on the
bank for a couple of minutes looking pensive. This
was scarcely to be wondered at, seeing that as regards
size the frog bore to him the same relation as a large
mackerel does to a man. I was interested to see
whether the kingfisher would consider this a sufficient
meal, or whether he would immediately resume his
fishing operations. I expected him to adopt the latter
course, for birds have most voracious appetites. If
horses were to eat in the same ratio they would require
at least a maund of oats per diem to keep them in
health! My surmise was correct. In a few seconds
the kingfisher flew to a large stake projecting from the
water and squatted there, cocking up his tail at frequent
intervals. This motion of the tail is possibly an aid to
digestion! When he was thus seated, the tern re-
appeared on the scene and at once recommenced
fishing in the manner already described. After the
tern had been fishing for a couple of minutes the king-
fisher resumed operations and again sought the
neighbourhood of the ducks. He soon captured a second
frog; but this time, instead of being able to bear it
to the bank and devour it in peace, he had to reckon
with the tern. He had not risen a yard above the
water when the tern noticed that he had quarry. Forth-
with the tern committed a breach of the tenth com-
mandment and then proceeded to try to violate the
eighth. He made a swoop at the kingfisher, which the

A KINGFISHER AND A TERN 171

latter adroitly dodged, squeaking loudly but without
dropping the frog. Then ensued a chase which was a
sight for the gods. As regards pace on the wing the
kingfisher is no match for the tern. In an aerial
contest the slower flier has the advantage of being able
to twist and turn more quickly than the rapid flier.
Of this advantage the kingfisher availed itself to the
full, so that the contest waxed fast and furious, the
combatants moving in a series of curves, zigzags,
circles, and other geometrical figures.

The kingfisher, notwithstanding that he had just
swallowed a frog, evidently had not the least intention
of delivering up his catch. The tern appeared equally
determined to capture it. Seeing that he would never
be able to enjoy the fruits of his prowess while he
remained at the tank, the kingfisher changed his
tactics and flew right away, disappearing behind some
trees, with the tern in pursuit. The latter, however,
did not follow far, He seemed suddenly to come to the
conclusion that honesty is the best policy, and returned
to the pond to endeavour to secure food in a more
legitimate manner. I waited on for about half an hour,
expecting to see the kingfisher reappear, but was dis-
appointed. Then the tern went to seek pastures new,
and left the ducks and a solitary wagtail in possession
of the tank.

XXVIII
THE RED TURTLE DOVE

NSECTS and birds, on account of the vast

number of species they present, furnish the

best available material for the study of evo-

lution. It is owing to the fact that most Pro-
fessors of Zoology are neither entomologists nor
ornithologists that biological science is in its present
deplorably backward condition. There exists scarcely
a zoological theory, be it neo-Lamarckian or neo-
Darwinian, that the competent ornithologist is not
able to refute. For example, writing of sexual di-
morphism in animals, Cunningham states that in the
case of birds which exhibit such dimorphism the cocks
differ essentially in habits from the hens, and in
this way he, as a Lamarckian, would account for
their external differences. ‘‘ The cocks of common
fowls and of the Phasianide generally,” he writes,
“‘ are polygamous, fight with each other for the posses-
sion of females, and take no part in incubation or
care of the young, and they differ from the hens in
their enlarged brilliant plumage, spurs on the legs,
and combs, wattles, or other excrescences on the head.

In the Columbide, per contra, the males are not poly-
172

THE RED TURTLE DOVE 173

gamous, but pair for life, the males do not fight, and
share equally with the females in parental duties.
Corresponding with the contrast of sexual habits is
the contrast of sexual dimorphism, which is virtually
absent in the Columbide.”

Mr. Cunningham evidently is not acquainted with
the red turtle dove (Enopopelia trangebarica) so
common in India, or he would not have asserted that
sexual dimorphism is virtually absent in the Columbide.
The sexes in this species are very different in appear-
ance, and I know of nothing peculiar in its habits
to explain this dissimilarity. The sexual dimorphism
displayed by the red turtle dove is a fact equally
awkward for the Wallaceians, because the habits
of this species appear to be in no way different from
those of the other doves. I have seen red turtle doves
feeding in company with the three other common
species of Indian dove; they eat the same kind of
food, build the same ramshackle nests, and lay the
usual white eggs. But I will not spend time in whipping
a dying horse. The poor overburdened beast which
we call Natural Selection has done yeoman service ;
for years he has pulled the great car of Zoology along
the rugged road of knowledge, and now that he is
past work, now that he stands tugging impotently
at the traces, it is time to pension him and replace
him by a new steed. Unfortunately, the drivers of
the coach happen to be old gentlemen, so old that
they fail to perceive that the coach is at a standstill.
They believe that they are still travelling along as
merrily as they were in Darwin’s time. Ere long their

174 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

seats will be occupied by new drivers, who will give
the good steed Natural Selection a well-earned rest,
and replace him by a fresh animal called Mutation.
Then once again the coach will resume its journey.

The red turtle dove is a little bird, and the hen
looks like an exceptionally small specimen of the ring
dove. So great is the resemblance that a hen red
turtle dove was shown at the United Provinces. Ex-
hibition at Allahabad as a ring dove. The cock red
turtle dove has a pretty grey head, a black half-collar
running round the back of his neck, which, as Jerdon
remarks, is “well set off by whitish above,” while
the remainder of his upper plumage is dull brick red.
The hen is clothed in greyish brown, in the hue known
as dove colour, and her one ornament is a black half-
collar similar to that of the cock.

The best friends of turtle doves can scarcely main-
tain that they have melodious voices. Phil Robinson,
writing of the species which visits England, contrasts
its note with the ‘‘ mellow voluptuous cooing of the
ring-dove.” “The call of the turtle dove,” he says,
“is unamiable, usually grumbling, and often ab-
solutely disagreeable. To the imagination it is a
sulky and discontented bird, perpetually finding fault
with its English surroundings of foliage, weather,
and food. ‘Do, for goodness’ sake get those eggs
hatched, my dear, and let us get back to Italy.’ That
is the burden of his grumble, morning, noon, and
night.”

Phil Robinson’s opinion of the call of the red turtle
‘dove is not on record; this is unfortunate, for, as-

THE RED TURTLE DOVE 175

suredly, it would be a document worthy to be placed
side by side with Mr. Lloyd George’s invective against
the House of Lords !

To describe the note of the turtle dove as a coo
would be to violate the truth. It is a sepulchral grunt,
the kind of sound one might expect of a ring dove
suffering from an acute sore throat. The only other bird
which makes a noise in any way resembling the call
of the turtle dove is an owl that makes itself heard
in India shortly after the shades of night have fallen.
To what species this owl belongs I know not, for it
is no easy matter to fix on the owner of a voice heard
only after dark, and the descriptions of the cries
of the various owls given in ornithological works are
anything but illuminating. The owl in question is,
I think, the brown fish owl (Ketwpa ceylonsis), but of
this I am not certain.

The red turtle dove occurs throughout India, but,
as in the case of the other species of dove, its distri-
bution appears to be capricious. It is a permanent
resident in the United Provinces, and, possibly, in
South India, although I am inclined to think that it
goes north to breed. Of this I am not sure. It never
does to be sure of anything connected with doves ;
they are most unreliable birds. To give a concrete
instance. Having lived for two years at Lahore,
and having seen any number of red turtle doves
there during the hot weather, but not even the shadow
of one in the cold season, I was rash enough to assert
in a scientific journal: ‘‘ There is no doubt that this
species is merely a summer visitor to Lahore.” As

176 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

if to stultify me, some red turtle doves took into
their heads to remain on in Lahore during the following
winter, and at the end of September, when they ought
to have been far away, a pair of them were hatching
out eggs. On the 27th of that month Mr. Currie found
a nest containing three fresh eggs. The laying of
three eggs was an additional piece of effrontery on
the part of the lady turtle dove, and she was rewarded
by having them captured by Mr. Currie. As every one
knows, two is the correct number of eggs for a re-
spectable pair of doves. I have found dozens of doves’
nests, but have never seen more than two eggs in
any of them. Two is the normal number for the red
turtle dove, but this species has a trick of occasionally
laying three, and so would seem to be departing from
the traditions of the family in the matter of egg-
laying.

As regards architecture, it has not made any ad-
vances on the vulgar herd of doves. Its nursery
is the typical slight structure over which so many
ornithologists have waxed sarcastic—a few slender
sticks, or pieces of grass, or both, so loosely and
sparsely put together that the eggs can generally
be spied from below through the bottom of the
nest. Hume states that he has always found
the nest at or near the extremities of the lower
branches of very large trees, at heights of from
eight to fifteen feet from the ground. My experi-
ence agrees with Hume’s in that the nests
are placed in tall trees, but all those that I have
observed have been situated high up in the tree

THE RED TURTLE DOVE 177

at a level not less than twenty feet above the ground.
Mr. Currie states that the nests he found at Lahore
in May and June were also in high trees, forty or fifty
feet from the ground, but that the nests which he
found in August and September of the individuals

who elected to winter at Lahore were placed in
bushes : low trees, and were not more than twelve
feet above the earth, one of them being at an elevation
of but four feet. .

XXIX
BIRDS IN THE MILLET FIELDS

HE fields of dajra, or giant millet, which
in late autumn or early winter form so
conspicuous a feature of the landscape of
Northern India, are a never-failing source
of amusement to the naturalist, because they are
so attractive to the feathered folk. Were the bird
visitors asked why they came to the bajva, they would
doubtless reply, if they could speak, that the attrac-
tion was the insects harboured by the crops. And
the majority would be telling the truth. But there
are, alas, some who come for a less useful purpose,
that of abstracting the grain. Let us deal first with
the avian black sheep. Of these, the buntings are
the most numerous, unless the particular field happens
to be within a mile of a village; in that case, of
course, the sparrows outnumber them. On Passer
domesticus I have not leisure to dwell. It must suffice
that he eats and twitters and squabbles to his heart’s
content all day long, and generally enjoys himself at
the expense of the cultivator.
The buntings merit more attention. They are

aristocratic connections of the sparrow. They need
178

BIRDS IN THE MILLET FIELDS _ 179

no introduction to the Englishman, for of their clan
is the yellow-hammer, the little bird that sits on a
fence and calls cheerily “‘ A little bit of bread and no
che-e-e-se.”” Like other grain-eating birds, buntings
possess a stout bill—not a coarse beak like that of
the bullfinch or even of the sparrow, but a powerful,
conical, sharply pointed instrument with which they
are able to extract grain from the ear and then
husk it preparatory to swallowing it. A peculiarity
of the bill of the bunting is that the upper and lower
mandibles do not come into contact along their whole
length, but are separated in the middle by a gap
which gives the beak the appearance of having been
used to crack grain too hard for it.

Fifteen species of bunting visit India. I am not
going to attempt to describe all these, for two excellent
reasons. The first is that no one would read my
descriptions, and the second is that I have never
set eyes upon several of the Indian buntings. Three
species, however, are very abundant, and one fairly
so, in Northern India, during the cold weather. Bunt-
ings are not often seen south of Bombay. As they find
plenty of grain in northern latitudes, there is no
necessity for them to penetrate into the tropics.
The grey-necked, the red-headed and the black-
headed are the three commonest species. The grey-
necked bunting (Emberiza buchanant) is an ashy-
brown bird with a reddish tinge in its lower plumage,
and a whitish ring round the eye. -It is a bird that is
apt to pass unnoticed unless looked for. This perhaps
explains why Oates wrongly states that the species

180 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

is not found east of Etawah. The cock red-headed
bunting (EZ. luteola) is a handsome bird, nor has
the hen any reason to be ashamed of her appearance,
whatever the ladies of the other species may say.
The wings and tail of the cock are greenish brown.
His head is a beautiful old-gold colour, while his
rump and lower parts aré bright yellow. In the
hen the colouring is everywhere more subdued. In
the cock black-headed bunting (E. melanocephala)
the feathers that adorn the head are black with a
grey border, so that the head looks grey when the bird
first reaches India in the autumn, but grows: blacker
as the grey edges of the feathers become worn away.
The back and shoulders are rich chestnut, the wings
and tail are brown, the cheeks and lower plumage
rich yellow. The hen is brownish with dull yellow
under parts, and a bright yellow patch under the
tail. This species, which might at a casual glance
be mistaken for a weaver bird (Ploceus baya), is very
abundant on the Bombay side, where, to quote “‘ Eha,”
it ‘‘ about takes the place of the yellow-hammer at
home, swarming about fields and hedges, and singing
with more cheer than music.”

The fourth species of bunting has been promoted
to a different genus because it boasts of a conspicuous
crest, not unlike that of the crested lark (Galerita
cristata). Its scientific name is Melophus melanicterus,
and its non-scientific, or popular, or vulgar name is
the crested bunting. The cock is a greyish black
bird with russet-brown wings. The hen is a dark
brown bird. This is said to be a resident species in

BIRDS IN THE MILLET FIELDS 181

the plains, whereas the other three are migratory.
Otherwise its habits are very like those of the ordinary
buntings. These birds spend the day in the fields.
As they live in the midst of plenty they enjoy much
leisure. This they employ perched on a head of
millet making a joyful noise. Sometimes one will
be sitting thus on a particular stalk when a friend
will fly up, drive him from his position, and in turn
hold forth, only to be playfully ousted by another
of his comrades. Verily the life of a bunting is a
jolly one.

Like rosy starlings, the buntings are not very much
in evidence until they begin to collect in huge flocks
preparatory to leaving India for the hot weather.
Then it is impossible to miss seeing them. At that
season golden corn takes the place of millet in the
fields. Heavy is the toll which the buntings levy
on the ripening grain. When disturbed, they take
refuge in the nearest tree, and the moment the fear
of danger is past they are back again in the field.
Hence Jerdon calls them corn buntings.

The other black sheep of the bajva field are the
rosy starlings (Pastor roseus) and the green parrots
(Paleornis torquatus). For noisiness and destructive-
ness these are a pair of species hard to beat.

Having considered the sinners, it now behoves
us to turn to the saints. Fortunately for the long-
suffering ryot, the latter outnumber the former ;
the majority of the avian habitués of the millet field
come for the sake of the insects which are so abundant
in this particular crop. The most conspicuous of

182 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

these is the Indian roller (Coracias indica), who uses
the heads of the millet as convenient perehes whence
he can descend upon his quarry. Ht is not by any
means every millet stalk that is sufficiently stout to
support so weighty a bird, and it is amusing to watch
a “blue jay ” try in vain to find a perch on several
successive heads, on each occasion almost losing his
balance. For this reason the roller always selects for
his watch-tower a castor-oil plant, when any of these
are interspersed among the millet.

King-crows are always in force on the millet field,
but is there any spot in India where they are not in
force? They, like the roller, use the heads as resting
places whence to secure their quarry, but they take
it in the air in preference to picking it from off the
ground.

On the highest stalk of the field sits a butcher bird,
still and grim, waiting for a victim. Though he is
small, you cannot fail to notice him on account of
his conspicuous white shirt front. As a rule, there
are no thorny bushes in the vicinity of the millet
field, so that here he must devour his food without
spitting it on a thorn:

Every millet field is visited by flocks of mynas—
bank, pied, and common mynas—with now and then
a starling. These, I believe, visit the field mainly for
insects ; but I would not like to assert that they do
not sometimes pilfer the grain. In any.case, they are
a cheery crowd, and without them the bajra fields
would not be the lively spots they are. Mention must
also be made of the Indian bush chat (Pratincola maura)

BIRDS IN THE MILLET FIELDS 183

—most unobtrusive of little birds. The hen is dressed
in reddish brown, and, when apart from her lord and
master, it is scarcely possible to distinguish her from
several other lady chats, unless, of course, the observer
be so ungallant as to shoot her. The upper parts of
the cock are reddish brown in winter, black in summer.
There is a large patch of white on each side of the
neck. The breast is orange red, the lower parts
russet brown. But what with the young cocks as-
suming gradually the full adult plumage, and the
adults changing from the plumage of one season to
that of the next, no two of these birds seem to be
exactly alike. The bush chats feed upon the small
insects that live on the millet plants.

Lastly, mention must be made of various species
of pipits and warblers, who feed on insects down in
the depths of the millet field.

Such, then, are the principal of the dramatis persone
of the gay little scene that is enacted daily in the
millet field. But, stay—I have forgotten a very im-
portant class of personages—the birds of prey. In
India these are, of course, very numerous, and many
of them, more especially the harriers, habitually
hunt over open fields, gliding on outstretched wings
a few yards above the crops, ready to swoop down
upon any creature that has failed to mark their ap-
proach. Great is the commotion among the birds
in the millet when a harrier appears on the scene.
The voices of the smaller birds are suddenly hushed,
and their owners drop on to the ground, where they
are hidden from view by the crop. The mynas,

184 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

uttering harsh cries of anger, take to their wings and
fly off to right and to left of the path of the harrier,
as though they were soldiers performing a manceuvre.
Thus the bird of prey flies over a field which is ap-
parently devoid of living creatures. But long before
he is out of sight the little birds have again come to
the surface, the mynas have returned, and all are
feeding as merrily as before. So cautious are the
smaller birds that even a dove flying overhead causes
them to drop into'the depths of the crop. They do
not wait to see the nature of the living object—to do
so might mean death.

It may perhaps be thought that, if birds are thus
in constant fear of being devoured, their life must
be fraught with anxiety. Far from it. Birds know —
not what death is. Instinct teaches them to avoid
birds of prey, but they probably enjoy the sudden
dash for cover. The smaller fry appear to look upon °
the raptorial bird in much the same light as children
regard the “ bogey man.”’ For some unknown reason,
they are afraid of him, but at the same time he affords
them a certain amount of amusement.

XXX
HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON

K-UK-UK—soft and clear; uk-uk-uk—
gentle and monotonous pipes the nodding
hoopoe with splendid pertinacity through-
out the month of February. This is

the prelude to nesting operations. From mid-February
till mid-March hoopoes’ eggs to the number of several
millions are laid annually in India. During the
months of March and April considerably over a million
hoopoes emerge from the egg. In Northern India
during the month of April it is scarcely possible to
find an adult hoopoe who is not employed from sunrise
to sunset in digging insects out of the ground with
feverish haste and flying with them to the holes in
which the youngsters are calling lustily.

But let me begin at the beginning. Ordinarily the
Indian hoopoe (Upupa indica) is as sedate and prim
as a maiden lady of five-and-fifty summers. At the
season of courtship the hoopoes cast aside their prim-
ness to some extent. But even at that festive time
the cock does not, like the king-crow and the roller,
disturb the whole neighbourhood by his noisy love

songs. In his wildest moments his voice is never loud.
185

186 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Sometimes he chases his mate on the wing, and then
the pair of lovers perform the most wonderful gyra-
tions, twisting, turning, and doubling with greater
rapidity and ease than the most mobile butterfly.
The chase over, the birds descend to the ground and
remain motionless for a little. Then the cock—it is
impossible to distinguish the sexes by outward appear-
ance, but it is the custom to attribute all matrimonial
advances to the cock, hence I say the cock—opens
out his beautiful cinnamon-and-black corona and
runs rapidly along the ground. The lady of his choice
pays no attention whatever to his display.

Mark this statement, gentle and ungentle readers !
Mark it with a black mark, because it is an example
of that horrid heterodoxy of mine which causes the
worthy reviewers of a number of influential and
highly respectable newspapers to indulge at inter-
vals in much gnashing of teeth and to roar with
impotent rage. The orthodox view is, of course, that
the lady only pretends that she does not see the display
of the cock; in reality she is watching it carefully
out of the corner of her eye, and is thoroughly appre-
ciating it. Says she to herself (according to the
orthodox view), ““My eye! Hasn’t John James got
a magnificent crest! But I must not let him know
that I think it, otherwise he will suffer from swelled
head and be positively unbearable to live with!”

The orthodox would have us believe that the lady
hoopoe is a consummate actress. She may be. But,
I submit that the burden of proof is on those who make
such assertions. If the hen looks as though she is

HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON 187

taking no notice, it is proper to assume that she is
taking no notice until we can prove that this assump-
tion is incorrect. Now, I submit that it is not possible
to adduce one jot or tittle of proof of the hen’s alleged
pretence. All the evidence goes to show that the hen
bird really does not notice the display of the cock.
I ask, why should the hen dissimulate ? Why should
she show without hesitation her feelings on all occa-
sions that call for a display of feeling except this one ?

I ask again, even if the hen does notice the display
of the cock, has she any sense of beauty ? Is it likely
that a bird, which lays its eggs in a dirty dark hole and
squats in that hole for a fortnight until it stinketh in
such a manner as to be perceptible to the Indian
coolie, appreciates the beauty of the corona of the
cock or of the bold black-and-white markings on his
wings ? I decline to attribute to the hen hoopoe all
the wiles of a human coquette. But, grant that she
does possess them. What of the cock? Is he supposed
to see through them? If not, why does he display his
beauties to a lady who appears persistently to refuse
to notice them? I submit that the orthodox view of
the nuptial display is totally wrong. The cock does
not try to show off, nor does his display win him a
mate. At the breeding season the sight of the hen
excites him, and his excitement shows itself in the
form of dance, of the erection of certain feathers, or of
song. Even as a man’s joy often finds expression in
song or dance, so does the pleasure of a bird. A
fighting dove often goes through the antics we asso-
ciate with courtship. These antics are merely the

188 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

expression of excitement, and not made deliberately
to attract a hen or alarm an enemy.

So much for conjecture. Let us now turn to facts.
The hoopoe usually lays its eggs in a hole in a tree or
a building ; on rare occasions only, in a crevice of a
rock or under a large stone. The most approved
nesting site is a roomy cavity, as dark and dirty as
possible, with a very small opening leading to the
world without.

I have no wish to exaggerate, and I believe that I
am understating facts when I say that I have seen
more than fifty hoopoes’ nests.

These have all been in cavities in trees or buildings
opening to the exterior by a very small aperture.
I think I may safely assert that forty-nine out of
every fifty hoopoes’ nests are in such situations. I
emphasise this point in order to demonstrate the kind
of nonsense that finds its way into English periodicals.

In the issue of the Fortnightly Review for February,
Igi2, an article by Mr. Philip Oyler appeared entitled
“Colour Méanings of some British Birds and Quad-
rupeds.”’ ,

Mr. Oyler is a disciple of that eccentric artist,
Mr. Abbot Thayer, who imagines that all birds and
beasts are invisible in their natural surroundings.

Mr. Oyler’s article in the Fortnightly Review is
composed chiefly of erroneous statements, wild guesses,
and absurd interpretations of facts. The climax of
nonsense is reached by Mr. Oyler when he writes about
the hoopoe :—

“As it nests in hollow stems, and hollow stems

HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON 189

mean decay, there is invariably fungus on those stems.
And how wonderfully the hoopoe’s white copies them,
and how wonderfully the black represents shadows ;
and then again, in addition to colouration, is a crest
to help break the outline.”

For the benefit of those who have not visited India
I may state that in the greater part of the plains the
trunks of old trees are not covered with fungus.
Practically every hoopoe nests in a place completely
hidden from the outer world. If the hen hoopoe were
coloured with all the colours of the spectrum she
would while sitting on her eggs be invisible from the
outer world. It is sad to think that people exist who
can bring themselves to write such nonsense as Mr.
Oyler has inflicted on the readers of the Fortnightly
Review.

It is said that a pair of hoopoes uses the same nest
year after year. I have not been able to verify this
statement owing to the demands on my peripatetic
capacity made by the exigencies of the public service.

The eggs of the hoopoe are elongated ovals of a dirty
white colour; euphemists describe them as dingy
olive-brown or green, while euphuists portray them
as having a delicate greyish blue tint. They are
devoid of markings.

The clutch is said to contain from four to seven
eggs. This is another assertion which I have never
attempted to verify, because in order to reach the
eggs of the hoopoe one has usually to pull down part
of a wall or other edifice and at the same time wreck
the nest. However, I can say that I have never

190 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

observed more than two young hoopoes emerge from
a nest, and on several occasions I have noticed that
only one issued forth.

As concrete instances are more interesting than
generalities I propose in what follows to give an account
of the nesting operations of a pair of hoopoes that
recently reared up a youngster in a chink in the wall
of my verandah at Fyzabad between a wooden rafter
and the brickwork. The cavity in question was so
situated that I could sée its orifice as I sat at my
dressing table. I noticed for the first time a hoopoe
bringing food to the nest on the 17th March. The
food brought appeared to consist chiefly of caterpillars.
Whenever the bird arrived at the nest it uttered a soft,
pretty, tremulous coo-coo-coo. This was to inform its
mate that it had come.

The hen hoopoe is said not to leave the nest from
the time she begins to incubate until the young emerge
from the eggs. This statement is, I believe, correct.
It is not one that can be very easily verified because
the sexes are alike in outward appearance. Certain
it is that the hen sits very closely and the cock con-
tinually brings food to her.

As soon as the young are hatched out the hen leaves
the nest and assists the cock in finding food for the
baby hoopoes. I cannot say on what day the particular
hen whose doings are here recorded left the nest. April
gth was the first date on which I noticed both birds
feeding the young. At that period the parents were
bringing food faster than the occupant of the nest
could dispose of it, and one or other of them had often

HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON 1o1

to wait outside with something in the beak until the
nestling was ready to receive it. At that time I had
no idea how many young birds were inside the nest.
The chink that led to it was too narrow to admit of the
insertion of one’s hand. It was not until the young
bird emerged that I discovered that only one nestling
had been reared.

While the parent was thus waiting outside with a
succulent caterpillar hanging from its bill, it used to
utter its call wk-uk-uk. Sometimes while one bird was
thus waiting the other would appear. Then the first
bird would transfer the quarry to its mate, and the
latter would either devour it or wait outside the nest
with the morsel.

Most birds when they feed their young collect
several organisms in the beak between the visits to
the nest. Not so the hoopoe ; it brings but one thing
at a time, which it carries at the extreme tip of the bill.
The reasons for this departure from the usual practice
are obvious. The long bill of the hoopoe, like that of
the snipe, is a probe to penetrate the earth. During
this operation any food already in the bill would be
torn and damaged. Moreover, if the hoopoe were to
carry the food to the nest in the angle of the beak as
most birds do, it would be difficult to transfer this to
the long bill of the young bird. Hence it comes to
pass that hoopoes visit their nestlings a very great
number of times in the course of the day.

When young hoopoes emerge from the egg they are
silent creatures, but before they are many days old
they begin to welcome with squeaks the arrival of the

192 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

parents with food. The older the young birds grow the
more vociferous they become.

Like the majority of birds that nestle in holes,
hoopoes with young display but little fear of man.
The nest of which I write was situated over the door
of the pantry, where servants work during the greater
part of the day. The hoopoes did not seem to object
at all to the presence of the servants, but they took
great exception to my arrival. Whenever I came upon
the scene the parent hoopoes used to greet me with
a harsh chur uttered with crest folded back and tail
expanded. .

One day a corby (Corvus macrorhynchus), who
doubtless had done to death many a promising nest-
ling, alighted on a table placed in the verandah outside
the pantry. The hoopoes were furious at the intrusion.
They took up positions, to right and to left of the crow,
at a safe distance, and scolded it with great vehemence.
The crow took no notice whatever of this hostile
demonstration. After a little one of the hoopoes flew
to the ground, and from there continued its abuse of
the crow. . Then, while waiting to regain its breath,
it expanded its crest and repeatedly bobbed its head
so that the tip of the bill almost touched the ground.
This bowing performance is evidently an expression
of great excitement. I have seen doves behaving in
a similar manner in the midst of a fight, and also when
courting. Here, then, we have a case of what is
usually considered to be showing off or display to the
female, taking place at a time when a bird is very
angry. The hoopoe in question was not showing off

HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON 193

either to the crow or to its mate ; it was assuredly no
time, ‘‘no matter for his swellings nor his turkey
cocks.”

On the 25th April the young hoopoe began to call
even when its parents were not at the nest. Each
time they brought food it uttered a series of squeaks
much like those that emanate from a cycle pump when
air is being pumped through it into a nearly fully
inflated tyre. By this time the young bird had
developed to such an extent that when a parent
arrived it would push its head through the aperture
of the nest hole.

On the 26th April the young bird left the nest.
Assuming that the 17th March was the day when the
hen began to sit, we find the young bird emerging
from the nest forty days later. It is, however, im-
probable that I noticed the cock feeding the hen on
the very first day of incubation. It is my belief that
young hoopoes do not leave the nest for fully a month
after they are hatched. When they do leave the nest
they differ very little in appearance from the adult.
They have the crest and the colouring fully developed.
The only difference is that the bill is not quite so long
or so curved.

From the time the bird emerges from the nest until
the moment when it is gathered unto its fathers, the
hoopoe’s plumage does not undergo any change in
appearance. This being so I am puzzled to know what
a correspondent meant when he recently wrote to the
Field about a hoopoe in full breeding plumage that

appeared in Yorkshire.
0]

194 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

But let us return to the young hoopoe that emerged
from the nest in my verandah at Fyzabad on the 26th
April, 1912. Not content with thrusting its head and
shoulders through the aperture at the visit of its father
or mother as it had been doing for some time, it
suddenly came right out on to the beam to meet its
food-laden parent. After it had eaten the proffered
caterpillar and the parent had left, the young bird
caught sight of me. Immediately it opened out its
crest and began bowing in the manner described
above as betokening excitement. Then it fluttered
on to a ledge at the distance of six feet. A minute
later it flew out of the verandah and alighted on a
creeper growing on a wall fifteen yards away. Its
flight was wonderfully strong, but I noticed that it
was breathing heavily after it had alighted, showing
that the short flight entailed considerable exertion.
It appeared to dislike the interest I was taking in it,
and so flew on to the roof of the bungalow, where I lost
sight of it.

These little incidents are, I submit, utterly subver-
sive of the anthropomorphic theory, so much in favour
nowadays and expounded by Mr. Walter Long in that
much-read book The School of the Woods, that birds
and beasts are born with their minds a blank, and that
they have to be taught how to walk and how to fly
just as human babies are taught how to talk and walk.
As a matter of fact, young birds require and receive
very little education from their parents. A young
bird flies as instinctively as a baby cries.

I saw nothing more of the young hoopoe until the

HOOPOES AT THE NESTING SEASON 1095

morning of the 28th April, when I noticed a hoopoe
on the roof of my bungalow calling uk-uk-uk repeatedly,
notwithstanding the fact that it had a caterpillar in
its beak. Birds can sing with the mouth full!
Presently a young hoopoe appeared on the roof. The
adult bird ran to the latter and thrust the caterpillar
into its mouth. This was acknowledged by a little
squeak of thankfulness.

Most young birds flap their wings and make a great
commotion when they think it is time they received
a beakful of food. Baby hoopoes, however, do not
behave in this way at all. They toddle sedately in the
wake of the mother or father, but make no clamour for
food. They receive this in a most dignified manner,
merely uttering a little squeak of thanks.

To return to the young hoopoe of whose exploits I
have been writing. I saw a parent come repeatedly
and feed him on the roof of the bungalow on that day
and on the 29th and the 30th. This, of course, I was
prepared for. But I was not prepared for the next
event, which was the revisitation of the nest in the
verandah by the two parent birds on the 1st May.
On the following days they continued to visit the nest
hole, but I had no leisure for watching them. On the
5th May I saw one hoopoe, presumably the cock,
literally drive the other into the nest hole. They both
flew into the verandah and alighted on a ledge that
runs round it a little way below the roof. There the
cock emitted some harsh cries, expanded his crest
and bowed as described above. Then he advanced
towards her. She disappeared into the nest hole. He

196 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

flew up to the aperture and remained outside on guard
for some time. After a little he put his head into the
aperture and gave vent to his gentle wk-uk-uk. Then
he withdrew his head, remained standing outside the
nest aperture for a few minutes and flew off. The hen
emerged from the hole a couple of minutes later.
The next day the cock was bringing food to the nest,
and the hen was apparently incubating. On the 7th,
8th, 9th, roth, and 11th I saw the cock still at work
feeding the hen, uttering at each visit to the nest a
soft coo-coo-coo. From this date I did not see the cock
visit the nest again until the 24th, when I saw him
fly to the verandah with some food in his mouth, but
he emerged from the nest hole without having disposed
of the food he was carrying. He then dropped down
on to the lawn and gave this to another hoopoe feeding
on the grass. From that day onwards I have not seen
a hoopoe visit the nest hole in the verandah. It would
seem that after sitting on the second batch of eggs a
few days the hen hoopoe went on strike! Or, to speak
more correctly, the fury of incubation left her, and
she regained her normal taste for a life in the open.

XXXI
THE LARGEST BIRD IN INDIA

T has always been a cause of wonder and sorrow
to me that the sarus crane (Grus antigone)
does not occur in the neighbourhood of Madras,
or indeed in South India at all. The tropical

portion of the Indian peninsula, with its millions
of acres of green paddy, should be a paradise
for cranes; yet not one of these fine birds is likely
to be found south of the Godavery, or, at any rate,
of the Kistna. There is presumably some good reason
for this, but that reason has yet to be discovered.

The sarus might well be called the Indian crane,
for it is one of the most characteristic and beautiful
birds of Northern India; moreover, it appears to
be found nowhere outside India. Saruses occur in
Burma, but the Burmese birds have fallen into the
hands of the ornithological systematist, and he has,
of course, made a separate species of them. The sarus
from Burma is now known in the scientific world
as Grus sharpit—not because very sharp eyes are
necessary in order to distinguish him from the Indian
form !

The plumage of the sarus is a beautiful shade of

197

198 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

grey. The tail feathers are paler than the rest of the
plumage, being almost white in some individuals.
There is a broad red band round the neck and the
lower part of the head. This at the breeding season
becomes very brilliant, and then looks like a broad
collar of crimson velvet. The legs of the sarus are
also bright red and are nearly a yard long. So that
the sarus can, when he wishes to assert himself,
look over the head of the average human being with-
out unduly stretching his neck.

The sarus is the only crane that stays in India
throughout the year. As has already been said,
the species is very common in Northern India; in-
deed, a broad stretch of landscape in that part of
the world would not seem true to life did it not con-
tain a pair of saruses standing near together. Every
pair of these birds is a regular Darby and Joan. There
are instances on record of a sarus having pined away
and died because it had lost its mate. This affection
of the male and female who pair for life is so notorious
that the Indians who eat the flesh of these birds make
a point, after they have bagged one of a pair, of killing,
the mate.

The food of saruses is, as Hume remarks, very
varied. No small reptile or amphibian comes amiss
to them. They also eat insects and snails, and seeds
and green vegetable matter. They are often to be
observed feeding at some distance from water. In-
-deed, my experience is that they are seen more often
on dry land than in water. Their long legs appear
to be of little use to them except-at the nesting season,

THE LARGEST BIRD IN INDIA 199

when they are necessary in order to enable the birds
to wade to the nest. Cranes, unlike storks and herons,
cannot grip with the foot, so that they never perch
in trees. The nest is built on the ground and, pre-
sumably for the sake of protection against jackals,
wolves, and such-like creatures, is usually surrounded
by water. Asarule, it is not constructed on an island,
but is itself an islet rising from the bottom éf the 7/1
or tank in which it is situated.

I have not had the good fortune to witness a nest
of the sarus in course of construction, but from the
behaviour of the owners when heavy rain falls after
the nest is completed, I believe that both sexes take
part in construction. As the nesting season is in
June, July, August, and September, a good deal
of rain usually falls while nesting operations are going
on. The nest is a mound or cone, composed of rushes
and reeds, of which the diameter is two feet at least.
The top of this cone, on which the eggs are placed, is
usually about a foot above the surface of the water.
Thus the eggs lie only a little above the water level ;
nevertheless, they always feel quite dry, as does the
layer of rushes on which they are placed. This is
rather surprising—one would expect the water to
get soaked up into the parts of the nest above the
surface; but this does not happen. It is needless
to say that if the top of the nest became submerged
it would be impossible to keep the eggs dry ; hence,
when very heavy rain causes the water level round
the nest to rise, the parent saruses raise the top of
the nest by adding more material to it.

200 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Two eggs are usually laid. These, as befits the size of
the owners, are very large. It is as much as one can do
to make both ends meet of a tape eleven inches long,
passed round the long axis of the egg. The eggs vary
considerably in size, but are usually of a creamy hue;
They may be with or without markings. The shell
is very thick and hard, so that if sarus’s eggs were
used for electioneering purposes, fatalities would
often occur.

Various observers give very different accounts
of the behaviour of the parent saruses when their
nest is attacked. The general experience is that
they show no fight, but that they retire gracefully
as soon as the human being gets within twenty yards
of the nest. Hume, however, records one case of a
sitting sarus making such vigorous pokes and drives
at the man who approached her when sitting on
the nest that he was forced to flap her in the face
vigorously with his waist cloth before she left her
eggs. That, says Hume, is the nearest approach to
a fight for its penates he has ever seen a sarus make.
Recently I visited a nest of these birds, which was
situated in a small patch of water, perhaps forty feet
square, with a millet field on one side and paddy on
the other three. I was on horseback, not wishing
to wade nearly to my waist. With me were three
men. When we first noticed the nest, the hen was
sitting on it and the cock standing near by. As we
approached the female rose to her feet very slowly,
and then I could see that the nest contained a young
one. When we were at a distance of some ten yards

THE LARGEST BIRD IN INDIA 201

the female began to move her feet as if scraping the
nest, and the young bird betook itself quietly to the
water, and swam slowly into the neighbouring flooded
paddy field. The hen then slowly descended from
the nest into the water and quietly walked off. On
reaching the nest, I found in it one egg. I sent one
of the men after the youngster, which he quickly
secured and brought to me to look at. It was about
the size of a small bazaar fowl, and had perhaps been
hatched three days. It was covered with soft down.
The down on the upper parts was of a rich reddish
fawn colour, the back of the neck, a band along the
backbone, and a strip on each wing being the places
where the colour was most intense ; these were almost
chestnut in hue. The lower parts were of a cream
colour, into which the reddish fawn merged gradually
at the sides of the body. The eyes were large and
black. The bill was of pink hue and broad at the
base where the yellow lining of the mouth showed.
The pink of the bill was most pronounced towards
the base, fading almost to white at the tip. The legs
and feet were pale pink, the toes being slightly webbed.
Even at that stage of the youngster’s existence the
legs were long, and enabled him to swim with ease,
but they were not strong enough to support him when
he tried to walk. Sarus cranes cannot walk properly
until they are several months old.

While I was handling the young bird the cock
sarus was evidently summoning up his courage,
for presently he began to advance in battle array,
that is to say, with neck bent, so that the head pro-

202 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

jected forward, mouth slightly open, and wings
about half expanded. Thus he slowly approached,
looking very handsome. He did not advance diréct,
but took a circuitous course as if stalking us. When
he had approached within about six feet I made a
pretence of striking him with a short cane. Of this
act of hostility he took not the least notice, but con-
tinued to approach. The men with me, who were on
foot, began to fear being attacked, so one of them
pulled up some paddy stalks and threw these at him.
This made him jump and retreat a few paces. But
he soon recommenced his advance in battle array.
Then one of the men rushed at him. That caused
him to retreat a few paces hastily, but with dignity.
He then proceeded to attempt a rear attack, and as
he circled round us with bent neck he put me in mind.
of the villain of the melodrama, who stalks about
saying ‘‘ My time will come!” When the sarus had
advanced thus to within four feet of my men and
looked as though he were about to spring at them,
one of these lunged at him with a short stick, and
he would have been struck had he not beaten a hasty
retreat. Nothing daunted, he again returned to the
attack. We were at the nest for fully ten minutes,
and the whole time he was trying to get at us. Only
once did he utter his trumpet-like call. The female
meanwhile remained watching at a distance of per-
haps forty yards.

Having seen what we wanted, we replaced the
young bird and the egg in the nest and retreated
fifteen or twenty yards. We waited to see what the

THE LARGEST BIRD IN INDIA 203

parent birds would do. The female came up to the
cock (she is distinguishable by her smaller size) ;
then they both advanced very slowly towards the
nest, the hen approaching the faster. When at a
distance of perhaps eight yards from the nest, the
cock indulged in some curious antics. He slowly
drew himself up to his full height and stood thus
motionless for a few seconds, then he stretched out
his bill towards the sky. Next, the long neck began
to bend slowly until it took roughly the shape of the
letter S. Then, while the neck was still so bent, the
sarus dipped his bill into the water. After this he
again stood upright and repeated the whole per-
formance. Finally he indulged in a little dance.
Meanwhile the hen slowly advanced, and when within
a yard of the nest stood still and contemplated it for
a little, then, after caressing the youngster with her
bill, she slowly climbed on to the nest. The nest
cavity being a very shallow one, the young bird sitting
in it could-be seen from a considerable distance, and
its reddish fawn plumage showed up in strong contrast
to its surroundings. The sarus nestling cannot by
any stretch of the imagination be called protectively
coloured, but it fares very well, notwithstanding its
cofispicuousness, because its parents never depart
far from the nest, and while they are present it is
immune fr>m attack. Even large birds of prey avoid
the powerful beak of an infuriated crane.

XXXIT
THE SWALLOW-PLOVER

ERNS are so beautiful that, where they
occur, they are apt to attract unto them-
selves all attention. This is, I think, the
reason why so little is on record regarding

the swallow-plovers, which haunt all the larger rivers
of India to such an extent that it is scarcely possible
to spend an hour on the Ganges, the Jumna, the Gogra,
the Indus, the Brahmaputra, the Nerbudda, the
Mahanuddy, or even the distant Irawaddy without
meeting with a flock of those curious little birds.

Swallow-plovers, or pratincoles, as they are often
called, are easily described. They are plovers that
subsist largely upon flying insects which they catch
when on the wing. As a result of this habit swallow-
plovers (Glareola lactea) have taken on some of the
attributes of the swallow, notably the long wings and
the broad gape.

The total length of a swallow-plover, including
the tail, is 64 inches, while the wing alone is nearly
six inches long. It is these long wings that give
the bird a swallow-like appearance.

The general hue of Glareola lactea is that curious
204

THE SWALLOW-PLOVER 205

sandy-grey shade of brown which, for some occult
reason, is known as isabelline. The short tail is white
with a black tip. There is a black streak through
the eye and a white one near the margin of the wing.
The abdomen is white. The legs are short for those
of a plover; nevertheless, the species is very nimble
on its feet, and runs in the manner peculiar to the
peewit family.

Swallow-plovers are to be found at a distance
from water, but they are essentially river birds.

At sunset, when insects in their myriads disport
themselves over the surface of rivers, the swallow-
plovers issue forth and hawk these flying hexapods
just as swallows do, and, as they fly low over the face
of the waters, they are doubtless often mistaken for
swallows.

Jerdon states that swallow-plovers live exclusively
on insects which they catch on the wing. I doubt
whether this assertion is correct. These birds cer-
tainly feed largely on flying insects, but as they
spend the major part of their time on the sand, over
which they run swiftly, I think that creeping things
constitute a not inconsiderable portion of their diet.

Their nesting habits are similar to those of terns
and plovers; that is to say, the eggs are placed on
the sand or bare ground without any semblance of a
nest.

I make a point every year, if possible, of spending
a morning on a river at the beginning of the hot
weather looking for the nests of terns and other
birds which lay on churs and sandbanks. Almost

206 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

every Indian river is plentifully studded with islets
which render its navigation difficult, but afford most
convenient nesting sites for many species of birds.
The sandy islets whereon eggs are laid are nearly
always those of which some portion is sufficiently
high to escape being flooded when the river rises in
consequence of the melting of the snow on the higher
peaks of the Himalayas. The selected islands are
almost invariably sufficiently far from the river bank
to prevent jackals and other predaceous creatures
wading across to them. If terns or plovers fail to
take such precautions, the chances are that their
eggs will come to grief. a

This year (1912), on the 15th April, I went out
on the Gogra at Fyzabad, and found over thirty nests
of swallow-plovers on one islet, on which I also saw
two eggs of the black-bellied tern (Sterna melanogaster).

Immediately I set foot on the island the terns and
small pratincoles commenced making an uproar,
which, of course, amounted to an assurance that
they had eggs on the island. One portion of it was
well sprinkled with stunted vegetation, and thither
I at once repaired, to the great disgust of the swallow-
plovers, who flew about excitedly, uttering their lap-
wing-like cry—titert, titeri. A search of less than
a minute served to reveal a couple of eggs placed on
the bare ground between two small plants that were
growing out of the sand. As I stooped down to
examine these eggs I looked round and saw a very
curious and pretty sight. Swallow-plovers were
surrounding me. They were nearly all on the ground

THE SWALLOW-PLOVER 207

and striking strange attitudes. Some were lying on
the sand as though they had been wounded and fallen
to the ground ; others were floundering on the ground
as if in pain; some were fluttering along with one
wing stretched out limply, looking as though it were
broken ; while others appeared to have both wings
injured. I did not count the birds, but at least twenty
of them were seemingly injured. I had often seen
one bird or a pair behave thus, but never a whole
flock.

All the plover family have this injury-feigning
instinct, but in none is it so well developed as in the
pratincoles. :

“The strange antics,” writes Hume, “ played by
these little birds, at least those of them that had
young or hard-set eggs, whenever we approached
their treasures were very remarkable; flying past
one, they would come fluttering down on to the sand
a few paces in front of one, and there gasp and flutter
as if mortally wounded, hobbling on with draggled
wings and limping legs as one approached them, and
altogether simulating entirely helpless and completely
crippled birds. No one unacquainted with the habits
of this class of birds could have believed, to see them
flapping along on the sands on their stomachs, every
now and then falling head. over heels and lying quite
still for. an instant, as if altogether exhausted, that
this was all a piece of consummate acting intended
to divert our attention from their nests.”

Hume here voices the popular opinion that birds,
when they behave as though they are injured, are

208 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

deliberately pretending to be wounded with the object
of diverting the attention of an intruder from their
eggs or young. I hold this view to be utterly and
entirely wrong. Consider the long chain of reasoning
that a bird has to make before behaving as swallow-
plovers are supposed to do. In the first place the
birds must know or believe that the intruder has
come with the object of taking their eggs or young
ones. They must know or believe that the said in-
truder would like to capture them in preference
to their eggs or young. They must further have
discovered that a bird with a leg or a wing broken is
easier to capture than one that is sound in limb.
They must also know how a bird with a broken wing
or leg behaves when endeavouring to escape from a
foe. Knowing and believing all these things, the
swallow-plover must reason thus within itself: “ If
I pretend that I am injured the intruder will try to
catch me and thus be drawn away from my eggs or
young. I will, therefore, proceed to act the wounded
bird to the best of my ability.”

I do not for a moment believe that the average
swallow-plover has half this knowledge and power
of reasoning. Its behaviour can be accounted for
in a far more probable manner. We all know that
instinct teaches birds to fly away from all birds or
beasts of prey or large strange moving objects ;
but instinct teaches them to guard their eggs. Now,
when a human being approaches the eggs of a pra-
tincole, these two instincts come into violent oppo-
sition, and the bird’s mental equilibrium is much dis-

THE SWALLOW-PLOVER 209

turbed ; the result is that, the bird undergoes all manner
of strange contortions. We look at these and say,
“What a clever little bird! How well it is acting!”
The contortions of the swallow-plover undoubtedly do
tend to attract the attention of predaceous creatures,
and are probably useful to the species when there are
young, for these are able to slip away while the at-
tention of the attacker is momentarily diverted by
the parent birds. Hence such behaviour must tend
to be perpetuated by natural selection. That it is
in no sense an intelligent act is obvious from the fact
that such behaviour occurs when there are eggs,
and so can do no good; moreover, the parents will
go on behaving in this manner even after the intruder
has taken the eggs and put them in his pocket !.

Textbooks tell us that Glareola lactea lays from
two to four eggs. I have never found more than
two in a clutch, and think that Hume made a mistake
when he said “ from two to four,’”’ and as plagiarism
is very rife among writers on ornithology, other
ornithologists have copied his statements without
acknowledgment, and, of course, reproduced his
mistake !

The eggs of this species are interesting on account
of the extraordinary variations they exhibit. As
Hume well says, it is scarcely possible to find two eggs
(outside the same clutch) that closely resemble each
other. It not infrequently happens that the two eggs
in the same clutch differ so greatly that it is difficult
to believe that they are the produce of one hen.

The ground colour may vary from pale green, almost
P

210 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

white, to fawn colour. The markings sometimes
take the form of blotches, so that the eggs look like
those of a small tern. More usually the markings
appear as tiny spots, freckles, pencillings, or cloudy
smudges. On a sandbank containing twenty nests it
is possible to pick out ten eggs, each of which differs
so greatly from the others that the casual observer
would certainly say they all belonged to different.
species. The-size is, of course, fairly uniform, but the
shape varies greatly ; some are elongated, while others
are nearly as broad as they are long. Occasionally
a pear-shaped egg is found, but as a rule the narrow
end of the egg is comparatively blunt. That eggs
which are laid on the sand in the open should display
these extraordinary variations is an awkward fact
for those who consider that the colouring of birds’
eggs is the direct result of natural selection. If this
were so we should expect to find a wonderful sameness
about the eggs of this species, which are laid in such
exposed situations. The fact is, of course, that on a
sandbank eggs of any colour that is not too pro-
nounced are difficult to see; hence, for purposes of
protection, the actual colours of the background and
the markings of the egg are matters of little im-
portance.

XXXII
THE BIRDS OF A MADRAS GARDEN

ICHARD JEFFERIES devotes several chap-
ters of one of the most delightful of his
books—Wild Life in a Southern County—
to the birds that frequent a farm on the

Downs. “‘ On looking back,” he writes, ‘it appears
that the farm-house, garden, orchard, and rickyard
at Wick are constantly visited by about thirty-
five wild creatures, and, in addition, five others
come now and then, making a total of forty. Of these
forty, twenty-six are birds, two bats, eight quad-
rupeds, and four reptiles. This does not include some
few additional birds that only come at long intervals,
nor those that simply fly overhead or are heard singing
at a distance.

“Around the farm-house itself come the starlings,
sparrows, swallows, water wagtails, hedge-sparrows,
robins, wrens, tomtits, thrushes, and blackbirds.
The orchard is frequented by sand martins, cuckoos,
missel thrushes, goldfinches, greenfinches, flycatchers,
linnets, blackcaps, and titmice.

“In the rickyard are seen redstarts, stone-chats,

rooks, chaffinches, wood-pigeons, doves, and larks.”
211

212 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Now a closer observer of nature than Richard
Jefferies never existed, and he knew every square
yard of the Wick Farm, so that we may be sure that
the list he gives is exhaustive. :

This list seems very meagre to one who is accustomed
to bird life in India. If the Wick Farm were trans-
ported bodily and set down in the middle of India
it would be visited by seventy or eighty species of
birds instead of twenty-six.

Every garden of tolerable size in Madras is the
abode of quite twice as many birds as those which
visit a downland farm in England, so superior is India
to England as a field for the ornithologist.

Every Madrassi whose bungalow is placed in a
garden worthy of the name may, without leaving
the same, count upon seeing fifty species of birds
before he has been many months in the country.

First there are the perennials—the birds which,
like the poor, are always with us—the jungle and the
house crows, the white-headed babbler, the iora,
the red-vented and the white-browed bulbuls, the
king-crow, the tailor bird, the common and the
brahmany mynas, the common sparrow, the golden-
backed woodpecker, the bush lark, Loten’s and the
purple-rumped sunbirds, the coppersmith, the white-
breasted kingfisher, the hoopoe, the koel, the crow-
pheasant, the spotted owlet, the common and the
brahmany kites, the spotted and the little brown doves,
and the cattle egret; while if the garden boast of
anything in the shape of a pond there will be found
the common kingfisher and the paddy bird.

THE BIRDS OF A MADRAS GARDEN 213

Nearly all these birds nest in the compound, and
all are so familiar to every Anglo-Indian that no de-
scription is needed. Moreover, I have, I think, pre-
viously treated of all of them with the exception of
the iora (Aegithina tiphia). In case there be any
who are unable to give this beautiful little species
a name when they see or hear it, let me briefly de-
scribe it. It is considerably smaller than a sparrow,
and lives amid the foliage, from which it picks the
tiny insects that constitute its food. In summer the
upper parts of the cock are black, and the lower
parts bright yellow. There are two narrow white
bars in the wing. In winter the black on the head
and back is replaced by yellowish green. The hen
has the upper plumage and tail green, and the lower
parts yellow. She also has the two white wing bars.
To my mind the iora is a good songster. Neverthe-
less, “‘Eha”’ states that it “has no song, but scarcely
any other bird has such a variety of sweet notes.”
I will not quarrel over the meaning of the word song ;
every one who knows the iora must agree that it
continually makes a joyful noise.

Less common than the birds named above, but occu-
pants of almost every garden, are the butcher birds
and their cousins the wood-shrikes, the fantail fly-
catchers, and the pied wagtails, the emerald bee-
eaters, and parakeets, the robin and the palm swift.

The commonest species of butcher bird in Madras
is the bay-backed shrike (Lanius vitiatus), a small bird
with a grey head and a maroon back, and a broad
black streak through the eye. This tyrant of the

214 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

garden takes up a perch on a bare branch, and there
remains like a sentinel on a watch-tower, until it
espies an insect on the ground. On to this it swoops,
displaying, as it descends, much white in the wings
and the tail.

The wood-shrike (Tephvodornis pondiceranus) fre-
quents trees and hedgerows. But for its broad white
eyebrow and the white in its tail, it might pass for
asparrow. It is most easily recognised by its melodious
and cheerful call—tanti tuia, tanti tusa.

The pied wagtail (Motacilla maderaspatensis)—ele-
gance personified—loves to sit on the housetop and pour
forth a lay which vies with that of the canary. Sud-
denly away it flies, speeding through the air in un-
dulating flight, until it reaches the ground, where,
nimble-footed as Camilla, it chases its insect quarry.

The fantail flycatcher (Rhipidura albifrontata) is
another study in black and white. This most charming
of birds frequents leafy trees, whence it pours forth
its sweet song of six or seven notes. Every now and
again it, after the manner of all flycatchers, sallies
into the air after insects. Having secured its victim,
it alights on a branch or on the ground, and there
spreads out its tail and turns as if on a pivot, now to
one side, now to the. other.

We must seek the robin (Thamnobia fulicata)
among the tangled undergrowth in some corner of
the compound neglected by the gardener. There shall
we find the pair of them—the cock a glossy black bird
with a narrow white bar in the wing, the hen arrayed
in a gown of reddish brown. In each sex there is a

THE BIRDS OF A MADRAS GARDEN 215

patch of brick-red feathers under the tail, and, as if
for the purpose of displaying this, the tail is carried
almost erect.

If there be any fruit ripening, even if it be that of
the cypress, green parrots (Palaeornis torquatus)
are certain to visit the garden. On the approach of
a human being these feathered marauders will fling
themselves into the air with wild screams, and dash
off, looking, as Lockwood Kipling says, like “live
emeralds in the sun.”

Even more like living emeralds are the little green
bee-eaters (Merops viridis), whose feeble twitter may
emanate from any tree. Take a huge emerald and
cut it into the shape of a bird. Insert a pale blue tur-
quoise at the throat, rubies for the eyes, and set
these off with strips of darkest emery, let into the
head a golden topaz, then breathe into this collection
of gems the breath of life, and you will have pro-
duced a poor imitation of that gem of the feathered
world—the little emerald merops.

If there be palm trees in the garden the presence
of the little palm swift (Tachornis batassiensis) is
assured. Palm swifts are tiny smoky-brown birds
which travel unceasingly through the air in pursuit
of the insects on which they feed. During flight
the wings remain expanded, looking like a bow into
the middle of which the slender body is inserted.

I had almost forgotten one of the most striking
birds in the world—the Indian paradise flycatcher
(Terpsiphone paradist), which certainly is entitled
to a place among the common birds of a Madras

216 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

garden. The cocks are white or chestnut, according
to age. The crested head is shining black, and the
two median tail feathers are greatly elongated, so
that they flutter in the air like satin streamers as
the bird flits about among the trees. The hen lacks
the lengthened tail feathers, and, as ‘‘ Eha”’ says, looks
like a chestnut-coloured bulbul. Indeed, Anglo-
Indian boys call this species the Shah Bulbul.

There are a number of occasional bird visitors
to our Madras gardens. Parties of minivets and
cuckoo shrikes come and seek for insects among the
leaves of trees. The unobtrusive yellow-throated
sparrow (Gymnorhis flavicollis) is another tree-haunting
species to be looked for in the garden. Conspicuous
among the less common birds which feed on the ground
are the gorgeous roller or ‘‘ blue jay,” the sprightly
magpie robin, the white-throated munia, attired like
a quaker, and that bird of many colours the Indian
pitta, which keeps always near thick underwood,
sometimes issuing from thence into the open to give
forth a cheery whistle.

In conclusion, mention must be made of the migrant
species. Many of the birds that come to the farm on
the downs of which Jefferies wrote—the swallows,
the cuckoos, and the wagtails—are but summer visitors
to England. So do a number of migrating species visit
our Madras gardens. There is, however, this difference
in the two cases. The migrating species visit England
in summer for nesting purposes, whereas they spend
the winter in warm Madras, and leave it in summer
before’the nesting time begins,

THE BIRDS OF A MAUVKAS GARDEN 217

Among the winter visitors which come into the
garden must be mentioned the beautiful Indian oriole,
a study in yellow and black, the Indian redstart,
or, to give it its older name, the fire-tail, the grey-
headed wagtail, whose under parts are bright yellow,
the dull earthy-hued little Sykes’s warbler, which
hides itself in a bush and keeps on calling out chick,
and the grey-headed myna, which, but for the fact
that the head and recumbent crest are grey, might
easily pass for a brahmany myna.

The birds above enumerated do not form by any
means an exhaustive list. Were birds that sometimes
come into the garden included, the list would extend
to three times its present length.

XXXIV
SUNBIRDS

UNBIRDS, or honey-suckers as they are
sometimes called, are to the tropics of the
Old World what humming birds are to
the warmer portions of the New World.

Sunbirds are tiny feathered exquisites which vary
in length from 34 to 5 inches, including a bill of con-
siderable length for the size of the bird.

They are numbered among the most familiar
birds of India, owing to their abundance and their
partiality to gardens. They occur all the year round
in the warmer parts of the peninsula, but leave the
coldest regions for a short time during the winter.

Twenty-nine species of sunbirds are described
as belonging to the Indian Empire, but most of them
are only local in their distribution. Three species,
however, have a considerable range. These are
Arachnechthra asiatica, the purple sunbird, which
occurs throughout India and Burma, ascending the
hills to 5000 feet; A. zeylonica—the purple-rumped
sunbird—which is the commonest sunbird in all
parts of Southern India except Madras, where the
third species, A. lotenia—Loten’s sunbird—is perhaps

more abundant.
218

SUNBIRDS 219

The genus Avachnechthra is characterised by a
great difference in appearance between the sexes.
The hens of all the species are very like one another ;
all are homely -looking birds, dull greenish brown
above and pale yellow below. The cocks of the
various species are arrayed in metallic colours as
resplendent as those that decorate humming birds.

Seen from a little distance, the cock of the purple-
rumped species is a bird with dark head, neck, wings,
back, and tail, and bright yellow under parts, while
the female is brown above and yellowish beneath.
Thus at a distance the male does not look much more
beautiful than the female, but if one is able to creep
up sufficiently near him his plumage is seen to be
unsurpassable ; it glistens with a splendid metallic
sheen, which is purple or green’ according to the
direction from which the sun’s rays fall upon it. On
the top of the head is a patch of brilliant shining
metallic green, which exceeds in beauty any crown
devised by man.

The cocks of the purple and Loten’s species are
very much alike, but may be readily distinguished
by the fact that the slender curved bill of Loten’s
is considerably longer than that of its cousin. How
shall I describe these beautiful birds? In my volume
Indian Birds 1 classed them among black birds,
because they look black when seen at a distance,
but I stated that they are in reality dark purple,
and have been taken to task for not classing them
among the blue birds. The fact of the matter is that
these birds cannot be said to be of any colour; like

220 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

shot silk, their hue depends upon the angle at which
the sun’s rays fall upon them. In the sunlight their
plumage glistens like a new silk hat, and sometimes
the sheen looks lilac and at others green.

The habits of all three species appear to be exactly
alike. .

The cocks of all have fine voices. At his best
the purple sunbird sings as sweetly as a canary.
Indeed, on one occasion when I was staying at Ban-
galore I heard a bird singing in the verandah which
I thought was a caged canary; it was only when I
went to look at the canary that I discovered it to be
a wild sunbird pouring forth its music from some
trellis-work ! ;

Sunbirds are always literally bubbling over with
energy. They are bundles of vivacity—ever on the
move. Although they eat tiny insects, they subsist
chiefly on the nectar of flowers, which appears to be
a most stimulating diet.

Sunbirds have long, slender, curved bills and
tubular tongues, hence they are admirably equipped
to secure the honey hidden away in the calyces of
flowers. As the little birds insert their heads into
the blossoms they get well dusted with pollen, so
that, like bees and some other insects, they probably
play an important part in the cross-fertilisation of
flowers ; but they do not hesitate to probe the sides
of large flowers with their sharp bills, and thus secure
the honey without bearing pollen to the stigma.
It is pretty to watch the sunbirds feeding. They
are as acrobatic as titmice and strike the most extra-

SUNBIRDS 221

ordinary attitudes in their attempts to procure honey.
When there is no convenient point d’appui they
hover like humming birds, on rapidly vibrating wings,
and while so doing explore with their long tongues
the recesses of honeyed flowers. To quote Aitken, “‘ be-
tween whiles they skip about, slapping their sides
with their tiny wings, spreading their tails like fans,
and ringing out their cheery refrain. As they pass
from one tree to another they traverse the air in a
succession of bounds and sportive spirals.” Verily
the existence of a sunbird is a happy one!

The nest of the sunbird is one of the most wonderful
pieces of architecture in the world, and it is the work
of the hen alone. While she is working like a Trojan,
her gay young spark of a husband is drinking
riotously of nectar! The nest is a hanging one, and
is usually suspended from a branch of a bush or a
tree, and not infrequently from the rafter of the
verandah of an inhabited bungalow; sunbirds show
little fear of man.

The nest is commenced by cobwebs being wound
round and round the branch from which the nest
will hang. Cobweb is the cement most commonly
employed by birds. To this pieces of dried grass,
slender twigs, fibres, roots, or other material are added
and made to adhere by the addition of more cobweb.

The completed nest, which usually hangs in a
most conspicuous place, often passes for a small
mass of rubbish that has been pitched into a bush,
and, in view of the multifarious nature of the material
used by the sunbird, there is every excuse for mis-

222 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

taking the nursery for a ball of rubbish. Grasses,
fibres, fine roots, tendrils, fragments of bark, moss,
lichen, petals or sepals of flowers, in short, anything
that looks old and untidy is utilised as building
material.

In Birds of the Plains I mentioned the sunbirds’
nest that was literally covered with the white paper
shavings that are used to pack tight the biscuits in
Huntley and Palmer’s tins. ;

“Tt is curious,” writes Mr. R. M. Adam, “ how
fond these birds are of tacking on pieces of paper
and here and there a bright-coloured feather from a
paroquet or a roller on the outside of their nests.
When in Agra a bird of this species built a nest on a
loose piece of thatch laid in my verandah, and on the
side of the nest, stuck on like a signboard, was a piece
of a torn-up letter with ‘ My dear Adam ’ on it.”

Mr. R. W. Morgan describes a yet more extraordinary
nest that was built by sunbirds in an acacia tree in
front of his office at Kurnool: “ It was ornamented
with bits of blotting-paper, twine, and old service
stamps that had been left lying about. The whole
structure was most compactly bound together with
cobwebs, and had a long string of caterpillar excre-
ment wound round it. This excrement had most.
probably fallen on to a cobweb and had stuck to it,
and the cobweb had afterwards been transported in
strips to the nest.”

The completed nest is a. pear-shaped structure,
with an opening at one side near the top. Over the
entrance hole a little porch projects, which serves

SUNBIRDS 223

to keep out the sun and rain when the nest is exposed
to them.

The nest is cosily lined with silk cotton. The
aperture at the side acts as a window as well as a
door ; the hen, who alone incubates, sits on her eggs,
looking out of the little window with her chin rest-
ing comfortably on the sill.

Two eggs only are laid. The smallness of the clutch
indicates that there is not a great deal of loss of life
in the nest. The immunity of the sunbird is due
chiefly to the inaccessibility of the nest. The latter
is usually at the extreme tip of a slender branch upon
which no bird of any size can obtain a foothold.
When a sunbird does make a mistake and place its
nest in an unsuitable place, the predaceous crows de-
vour the young ones, as they did recently in the case
of a nest built in the middle of an ingadulsis-hedge in
my compound at Fyzabad.

In conclusion, I should like to settle one disputed
point in the economy of the purple sunbird (A. asiatica).
Jerdon stated that the cock doffs his gay plumage
after the breeding season and assumes a dress like
that of the hen except for a purple strip running
longitudinally from the chin to the abdomen.

Blanford denied this. He appears to have based
his denial on the fact that cocks in full plumage are
to be seen at all seasons of the year. There is no
month in the year in which I have not seen a cock
purple sunbird in nuptial plumage. I used, therefore,
to think that Blanford was right and Jerdon wrong.

Afterwards I came across the following passage by

224 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Finn in The Birds of Calcutta: “The purple cock
apparently thinks his wedding garment too ex-
pensive to be worn the whole year round; for after
nesting he doffs it, and assumes female plumage,
retaining only a purple streak from chin to stomach
as a mark of his sex. . . . I well remember one bird
which came to the museum compound after breeding
to change his plumage; he kept very much to two
or three trees, singing, apparently, from one particular
twig, and even when in undress he kept up his song.”

Since reading the above I have watched purple
sunbirds carefully, and have observed that during
the months of November and December cocks in
full breeding plumage are very rarely seen, although
there is no lack of cocks in the eclipse plumage de-
sctibed by Finn.

Moreover, a purple sunbird which is being kept
in an aviary in England assumes eclipse plumage for
a short period each year at the beginning of winter.
Thus there can be no doubt that the cock of the
purple species does doff his gay plumage after the
nesting season, but only for a short period. In January
the majority of cocks are in breeding plumage, and,
indeed, in some parts of the country nest building
begins as early as February.

XXXV
THE BANK MYNA

HE bank myna (Acridotheres ginginianus),

like the Indian corby (Corvus macrorhynchus),

is a bird that has suffered neglect at the hands

of those who write about the feathered folk.
The reason of this neglect is obvious. Even as
the house crow (Corvus splendens) overshadows the
corby, so does the common myna (Acridotheres tristts)
almost eclipse the bank myna. So familiar is the
myna that all books on Indian birds deal very fully
with him. They discourse at length upon his char-
acter and his habits, and then proceed to dismiss
the bank myna with the remark that his habits are
those of his cousin.

The bank myna is a myna every inch of him. He
is a chip of the old block; there is no mistaking him
for anything but what he is. So like to his cousin
is he that when I first set eyes upon him I took him
for a common myna freak. And I still believe I was
not greatly mistaken. I submit that the species arose
as a mutation from A. éiristis.

Once upon a time a pair of common mynas must
have had cause to shake their heads gravely over

Q 225

“”

226 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

one or more of their youngsters who differed much
from the rest of the brood. As these youngsters grew
up, the differences became even more marked, they
showed themselves slaty grey where they should
have been rich brown, and pinkish buff where white
feathers ought to have appeared, and the climax must
have been reached when these weird youngsters de-
veloped crimson patches of skin at the sides of the
head, instead of yellow ones. Probably, the other
mynas of the locality openly expressed their disap-
proval of these caricatures of their species, for mynas
do not keep their feelings to themselves. As likely
as not they put these new-fangled creatures into
Coventry, for birds are as conservative as old maids.

Thus these myna freaks were compelled to live
apart, but, being strong and healthy, they throve
and either paired inter se, or managed to secure mates
among: their normally dressed fellows. In either
case, the offspring bore the stamp of their abnormal
parents.

It is a curious fact, and one which throws much
light on the process of evolution, that abnormalities
have a very strong tendency to perpetuate themselves.
Thus was brought into being a new species, and as
there were in those times no ornithologists to shoot
these freaks, and as they passed with credit the test
prescribed by nature, the species has secured a firm
footing in India. This hypothesis accounts for the
comparatively restricted distribution of the ‘bank
myna. It does not occur south of the Narbada
and Mahanadi Rivers, but is found all over the plains

THE BANK MYNA 227

of Northern India, and ascends some way up the
Himalayas. It is particularly abundant in the eastern
portion of the United Provinces. In the course of
a stroll through the fields at Allahabad, Lucknow,
or Fyzabad, one meets with thousands of bank mynas.
There seems to be evidence that this species is ex-
tending its range both eastwards and westwards ;
and one of these days a southerly advance may be
made, so that eventually the bank myna may form
an attractive addition to the birds of Madras.

This species goes about in flocks of varying numbers,
after the fashion of. the common myna. It comes into
towns and villages, but is much less of a garden bird
than its familiar cousin. It is in the fields, especially
in the vicinity of rivers, that these birds occur most
abundantly. They consort with all the other species
of myna, for, whatever may have been thought of
them when first evolved, they are now in society.
King-crows (Dicrurus ater) dance attendance upon
them as they do on the common mynas, for the sake
of the insects put up by them as they strut through
the grass. The king-crow, owing to the length of
its tail and the shortness of its legs, is no pee
and so is not able to beat for itself.

The books tell us that bank mynas feed on insects,
grain, and fruit. I am inclined to think that their
diet is confined almost exclusively to the first of these
articles. I speak not as one having authority, for,
in order to do this, it is necessary to shoot dozens of
the birds and carefully examine the contents of their
stomachs. This kind of thing I leave to the economic

228 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

ornithologist. I admit that bank mynas are very
partial to the fields of millet and other tall grain crops,
but I am persuaded that they visit these for the
insects that lurk on their spikes.

Grasshoppers are to the common myna what
bread and meat are to the Englishman, the piéces
de résistance of the menu. This is why mynas always
affect pasture land, where it exists, and keep company
with cattle, the sedate march of which causes so much
consternation among the grasshoppers. Bank mynas
eat grasshoppers, but seem to prefer other insects,
especially those which lurk underground.! Certain it
is that wherever they occur they maintain a sharp
look-out for the ploughman, and follow him most
assiduously as he turns up the soil by means of his
oxen-drawn plough. The house crows also attend
this function. The other species of myna follow the
plough, but not so consistently as the bank myna.
The pied starling, although it does not disdain the
insects cast up by the plough, seems to prefer to
pick its food out of mud. One often sees a flock of
these birds paddling about in shallow water, as though
they were sandpipers.

It is amusing to watch a flock of bank mynas
strutting along a newly turned furrow. In Upper
India it is usual for two or more ploughs to work

1 Since the above was written, C. W. Mason has published‘a
paper entitled Zhe Food of Birds in India, In this he shows that
eight stomachs of the bank myna contained 106, insects. His
researches show that this species is very partial to the caterpillars
of the common castor pest, Ophiusa melicerte. Vide Memoirs of the
Department of Agriculture in India (Entomological Series, Vol. ITI).

THE BANK MYNA 229

together in Indian file, a few yards separating them.
The mynas like to place themselves between two
ploughs, and so fearless are they that they some-
times allow themselves almost to be trodden on by
the team behind them. Although the progress of
the ploughing oxen is not rapid, it is too fast for
the mynas, who find themselves continually dropping
behind, and have every now and again to use their
wings to keep pace with them. At intervals, the
whole following, or a portion of it, takes to its wings
and indulges in a little flight purely for the fun of
the thing. The flock sometimes returns to the original
plough, at others transfers its attentions to another.
Thus the flocks are continually changing in number
and personnel, and in this respect are very different
from the companies of seven sisters. The latter appear
to be definite clubs or societies, the former mere
chance collections of individuals, or probably pairs
of individuals.

Bank mynas are so called because they invariably
nest in sandbanks, in the sides of a well, or some
such locality, they themselves excavating the nest
hole. Like sand martins, bank mynas breed in
considerable companies, but they are not so obliging
as regards the season of their nidification. They
usually select sites which are not only at a distance
from human habitations, but difficult of access, and,
as the birds do not begin to nest until well on in May,
when the weather in Upper India is too hot to be
described in literary language, one does not often
have a chance of seeing the birds at work. Their

230 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

nesting passages do not necessarily run inwards in a
straight line. The result is that neighbouring ones
often communicate. At the end of the passage is a
circular chamber which is lined with grass and any-
thing else portable. Cast-off snake skin is a lining
particularly sought after. Mr. Jesse informs us that
from one of these nests in the bank of the Goomti,
near Lucknow, he extracted parts of a Latin exercise
and some arithmetic questions. The owners of the
nest were not going in for higher education; it was
merely a case of putting a thing to a use for which it
was never intended, a feat at which both birds and
Indian servants are great adepts. Notwithstanding
the fact that the eggs are laid in dark places, they are
blue, as are those of the other mynas. Young bank
mynas lack the red skin at the side of the head, and
are brown in places where the adults are black. Young
mynas of all species have a rather mangy appearance.
Like port wine, they improve with age.

~~“

XXXVI
THE JACKDAW

HE jackdaw, although numbered among

the birds of India, has not succeeded in

establishing itself in the plains. Large

numbers of jackdaws visit the Punjab in
winter, where they keep company with the house
crows and the rooks, the three species appearing to
be on the best of terms. At the first approach of the
warm weather the daws, the rooks, and the majority
of the ravens betake themselves to Kashmir or to
Central Asia, leaving the house crows to represent
the genus Corvus in the plains of the Punjab. The
jackdaw (Corvus monedula) is in shape and colouring
like our friend Corvus splendens, differing only in its
smaller size arid in having a white iris to the eye.
As is the case with the common Indian crow, individual
jackdaws differ considerably in the intensity of the
greyness of the neck. In some specimens the sides
of the neck are nearly white. Of these systematists
have made a new species, which they call C. collaris.
Oates, I am glad to observe, declines to recognise
this species. A jackdaw is a jackdaw all the world
over, and it is absurd to try to make him anything else.

231

232 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN .BIRDS

As it has not been my good fortune to spend any
time in Kashmir, my acquaintance with the jackdaws
of India is confined to those that visit the Punjab
in winter, These do not appear to frequent the vicinity
of houses; I have invariably found them feeding
in fields at some distance from a village. They roost,
along with the crows and the rooks, in remote parts
of the country. Every evening during the half-hour
before sunset two great streams of birds pass over
Lahore. The larger stream, consisting of crows,
rooks, and daws, moves in a north-westerly direction,
while the other, composed exclusively of ravens,
takes a more westerly course. The ravens apparently
decline to consort with their smaller and more frivolous
relations.

Although jackdaws seem never to remain in the
plains after the beginning of spring, they are able
to thrive well enough in the hot weather. A specimen
in the. Zoological Gardens at Lahore keeps perfectly
well, and loses none of his high spirits even when the
heat is, to use the words of Kipling, ‘‘ enough to make
your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl.” But then, as Bishop
Stanley asked, “who ever saw or heard of a moping,
melancholy jackdaw?’”’ This particular bird is able
to hold his own quite well against the crows, rooks, and
ravens confined in the same aviary. Moreover, all these
are on quite friendly terms with an Australian piping
crow—a butcher bird which apes the manners and
appearance of a crow so successfully as to delude
the Corvi into thinking that he is one of themselves!
Half a century ago Jerdon wrote: “ The jackdaw is

THE JACKDAW 233

tolerably abundant in Kashmir and in the Punjab,
in the latter country in the cold weather only. It
builds in Kashmir in old ruined palaces, holes in rocks,
beneath roofs of houses, and also in trees, laying four
to six eggs, dotted and spotted with brownish black.”
No one living in Kashmir appears to have taken the
trouble to amplify this somewhat meagre account
of the jackdaw in Asia. It would be interesting to
know whether the daws of Kashmir have any habits
peculiar to themselves. The fact that Jerdon mentions
their breeding in trees is interesting, for in England
they nest in buildings in nine hundred and ninety-
nine cases out of a thousand.

The jackdaw makes a most admirable pet. When
taken young it becomes remarkably tame, soon
learning to follow its master about like a dog. More-
over, the bird is as full of tricks as is a wagon-load of
monkeys, so that Mr. Westell does not exaggerate
when he says that the jackdaw when kept as a pet
seems more of an imp than a bird. It thieves for the
mere sake of thieving. The nest is sometimes a veritable
museum of curiosities. One bird, immortalised by
Bishop Stanley, appears to have tried to convert
its nest into a draper’s shop, for this, although not
finished, was found to contain some lace, part of a
worsted stocking, a silk handkerchief, a frill, a child’s
cap, “ besides several other things, but so ragged and
worn out that it was impossible to make out what
they were.”

XXXVII
FIGHTING IN NATURE

CORRESPONDENT toCouniry Life states that
he has noticed that in the various battles
‘between ravens and golden eagles, which
frequently take place in the island of Skye,
the golden eagles are always defeated.

He enquires whether this phenomenon is a usual
one and how it is that the comparatively weak raven
can vanquish so powerful a bird as the golden eagle.

The above statement and its attendant queries are
the result of faulty observation.

Such a thing as a battle between ravens and golden
eagles has probably never happened. If it did take
place it could have but one ending—the victory of the
golden eagles.

Battles rarely, if ever, occur in nature between
different species. In order that a battle may take
place it is necessary that each of the opposing species
should want the same thing and be ready to fight and,
if necessary, to sustain serious injuries in order to
obtain that thing.

Now these conditions are rarely fulfilled except at
the breeding season, when males of the same species

fight for the females.
234

FIGHTING IN NATURE 235

The only other things over which fighting is likely to
arise are food and nesting sites.

It frequently happens that birds of different species
want the same food. But this rarely leads to anything
in the nature of a battle. In such contests the weaker
almost invariably gives way to the stronger without any
fighting.

A familiar instance of this is afforded by the
behaviour of the white-backed (Pseudogyps bengal-
ensis) and the black vultures (Otogyps caluus) when
they gather round a carcase.

Jesse writes, and my experience bears out what he
says: ‘‘ Often I have been watching the vulgar white-
backed herd, with a disreputable following of kites
and crows, teasing and fighting over a body, when
one of these aristocrats (i.e. Otogyps calvus), in his red
cap and white waistcoat, has made his appearance.
Way is immediately made for him, the plebeian herd
slinking back as if ashamed or afraid, and I cannot
remember the last comer ever being obliged to assert
his authority.”

If the smaller vultures, which are the more numer-
ous, chose to combine, they could drive off the black
vultures, but in doing this some of them Would run
the risk of sustaining injuries. Now, it seems to be
a rule in nature that no creature will willingly run
such a risk. Rather than do this an animal will flee
before a comparatively puny adversary.

The instinct of self-preservation, which includes the
preservation of the body from injury, is strongly
developed in all organisms. Natural selection tends

236 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

to develop this instinct, because the individuals in
which the instinct is strongly developed are less likely.
to be injured by fighting than those which are pug-
nacious. In other words, it does not pay to fight in
nature. Injured individuals are seriously handi-
capped in the struggle for existence. Thus natural
selection tends to produce cowards.

At the breeding season an instinct, which is ordi-
narily dormant in birds, suddenly becomes active—
the instinct of preserving the nest and its contents.

This instinct, when aroused, frequently overmasters
the instinct of self-preservation, with the result that
shy birds become bold, timid ones grow aggressive,
little birds which usually are terrified at the close
proximity of a human being allow themselves to be
handled rather than leave their eggs or young.

At the breeding season the desire to protect the
nest leads many birds to attack, or to make as if to
attack, all intruders.

No sight is commoner in India than that of a pair
of little drongos (Dicrurus ater) chasing a kite or a
crow.

Similarly I have witnessed doves chase and put to
flight a tree-pie (Dendrocitta rufa), and fantail fly-
catchers mob a corby (Corvus macrorhynchus).

Nor are such cases confined to India.

In England Mr. A. H. Bryden states that. he has
seen sea-gulls mob and put to flight so formidable a
creature as a peregrine falcon.

In each of the above instances the bird pursued
could, if it wished, turn round and rend its puny

FIGHTING IN NATURE 237

adversaries. Why does it not do so? Because the
instinct of self-preservation is implanted in it so
firmly.

This instinct teaches it never to resist an attack, no
matter how feeble the attacker be.

The object of the attack, provided it have no nest to
defend, has everything to lose and nothing to gain by
resisting the attack and giving battle. It matters
little to a golden eagle on the look-out for quarry in
which direction it flies; hence if, while it is sailing
through the air, it is suddenly attacked by a couple of
infuriated ravens, the obvious course is for it to
change the direction of its flight. If it fail to do this
it must either run the risk of being severely pecked by
the ravens or fight them and thereby expose itself
to injury. Under the circumstances it naturally
chooses the line of least resistance.

It is absurd to speak of a bird that behaves in this
manner as being defeated in battle. It does not suffer
defeat. It merely declines to give battle.

The general rule in nature is, ‘‘ Never fight when a
fight can be avoided.”

This rule is unconsciously followed by all birds;
except those that have nests.

The most familiar example of the rule in operation
is the well-known habit of birds of surrendering their
perches to new-comers. When individual A flies to a
perch occupied by individual B the latter almost
invariably gives way without demur. The particular
perch is of no value to the occupier, but a whole body
may be a matter of life or death.

XXXVIII
BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES:

IOLOGICAL science is at present in a rather
peculiar position. Biologists are divided
into two parties. On the one side stand the
theorists and their followers; on the other

the practical men who think for themselves. At
present, the theorists are the party in power (and they
are quite Lloyd-Georgian in their methods), while the
practical men, the breeders and the field naturalists,
form the opposition. The reason of the division is
that many facts, that have come to light lately, do not
fit in with the theories that hold the field.

Now, when facts are discovered which militate
against a theory the proper course for the holder of the
theory is to test carefully the alleged facts, and if they
prove to be really facts to discard or modify his theory.

Unfortunately the professional biologists of to-day
do not usually follow this course. They have made
fetishes of their theories, which they worship as the
Israelites worshipped the golden calf. The consequence
is that they feel in honour bound either to ignore or to
gloss over the facts that are subversive of their fetishes.

When they write books in honour of their fetishes, they
238

BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES 239

omit many facts which tend to show that their fetishes
areshams. They regard the discussers of the awkward
facts as enemies to be crushed. Hence the gulf between
the two classes of biologists.

One of the fetishes of the present day is the theory
of protective mimicry. Butterflies and moths are the
organisms which exemplify best this theory.

It often happens that two species of butterfly occur
in the same locality which resemble one another in
outward appearance. In such cases zoologists assert
that one species mimics the other. They maintain that
this mimicry has been brought about by natural selec-
tion, because the one species profits by aping its neigh-
bour. The species that is copied is said to be un-
palatable. The copy-cat, if I may use the expression,
may be either palatable or unpalatable. In either case
it is believed to profit by the resemblance. If it is
edible the birds that are supposed to prey upon butter-
flies are said to leave it alone, because they mistake it
for its unpalatable neighbour. This resemblance of an
edible form to an unpalatable one is called Batesian
mimicry.

If the copy-cat be unpalatable it is nevertheless said
to profit by the likeness, because young birds are
supposed to feed on every kind of butterfly and only
to learn by experience which are unpalatable. The
theory is that if they attack a red-coloured butterfly
and find it nasty to the taste, they leave all red-coloured
butterflies alone henceforth. Thus, the imitating
species may benefit by the sacrifice of the other red-
coloured species. This is known as Mullerian mimicry.

240 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

The mimicry theory is very enticing ; indeed, it is so
enticing that those who hold it, as, for example, Pro-
fessor Poulton, of Oxford, seem to think that there
must be something wrong with the evidence opposed
to it.

I assert that it is not the evidence against the
theory, but the theory itself that is wrong.

The objections to the hypothesis are many and
weighty. Finn and I summarised most of them in
The Making of Species.

Two of the objections appear to be insuperable.

The likeness cannot be of much use until it is fairly
strong. How, then, is the beginning of the resemblance
to be explained ?

In order that natural selection should have produced
these astounding resemblances, it is necessary that
butterflies should be preyed on very largely by birds ;
but all the evidence goes to show that birds very
rarely eat butterflies. In the course of some ten years
spent in India I have not seen butterflies chased by
birds on more than a dozen occasions. Similarly,
Colonel Yerbury, during six years’ observation in
India and Ceylon, can record only about six cases of
birds capturing, or attempting to capture, butterflies.
Colonel C. T. Bingham, in Burma, states that between
1878 and 1891 he on two occasions witnessed the
systematic hawking of butterflies by birds, although he
observed on other occasions some isolated cases.

Nor is the evidence, as regards India, confined to
the experience of the casual observer. Mr. C. W.
Mason, when supernumerary entomologist to the

BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES 241

Imperial Department of Agriculture for India, con-
ducted a careful enquiry into the food of birds. The
enquiry was made at Pusa in Bengal, in the years
Ig07, 1908, 1909. The results arrived at by Mr. Mason
are published in the Memoirs of the Department of
Agriculture for India (Entomological Series, Vol. III,
January, 1912). As the result of this enquiry, in
the course of which the contents of the stomachs of
hundreds of Indian birds were examined, Mr. Mason
writes (page 338, loc. cit.) : ‘‘ Butterflies do not form any
appreciable proportion of the food of any one species
of bird, though a good many birds take these insects
at times. ...

“ The butterflies include a number of minor pests,
of which Melanitis tsmene was taken by Merops
vividis and Papilio pammon by Acridotheres intstis.
Other well-known pests are Pieris brassicae, Virachola
wsocrates and Papilio demoleus. Belenots mesentina,
a Pierid, was seen to be taken on one occasion by
the king-crow, and Ilerda sena by Passer domesticus,
both of which insects are neutral.

‘Moths include many major pests of varied habits
—defoliators, miners, cut-worms, grain and fabric
pests. The larvae form an inexhaustible supply of
insect food to almost all species of insectivorous
birds, and even many species of birds that when
mature feed almost, if not quite, entirely on grain
and seeds are when in the nest fed very largely on
caterpillars by the parent birds.”

Obviously, then, in India birds comparatively

rarely attack butterflies; but they devour millions
R

242 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

of caterpillars. It is the same in other parts of the
world.

‘Mr. G. A. K. Marshall, in the course of five years’
observation in South Africa, recorded eight cases of
birds capturing butterflies.

Similarly Mr. Banta points out in various issues of
Nature, in 1912, that all the evidence available shows
that in North America birds very rarely capture
butterflies. Field naturalists scarcely ever witness a
butterfly chased by a bird. Of 40,000 stomachs of
birds examined very few were found to contain re-
mains of butterflies.

In rg1r the butterflies of the species Eugonia cali-
fornica were so numerous that ‘Sthe ground was often
blackened with them, and great swarms of them
filled the air from morning to evening.” Yet of the
birds in the locality where those butterflies were most
numerous, only five out of forty-five species were
found by direct observation and stomach examination
to eat the eugonia, and the only bird that fed off them
copiously was the brewer blackbird (Euphagus cyano-
cephalus) which is almost omnivorous, and. eats insects
of all kinds, even if they be what Darwinians call
warningly coloured !

Now, modern theorists, as a rule, ignore facts such
as these, and this certainly is the wisest course they
can pursue, unless they are ready to give up these
theories or make themselves look foolish.

However, I am glad to be able to record that Pro-
fessor Poulton has, as regards the remarks of Mr. Banta,
not followed the usual course of the modern theorist.

BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES 243

He has had the courage to take up, the cudgels
and reply to Mr. Banta in Nature. The reason of
this unusual course appears to be that Mr. C. F. M.
Swynnerton has made some observations in South
Africa which Professor Poulton considers are in favour
of his pet theory.

According to the Professor, Mr. Swynnerton, as
the result of three and a half years’ investigation
in South-East Rhodesia, “ has obtained the records
of nearly 800 attacks made by 35 species of birds
belonging to 30 genera and 18 families, upon 79 species
of butterflies belonging to 9 families or sub-families.”’

Professor Poulton does not seem to see that the
researches of Mr. Swynnerton are altogether sub-
versive of the theory of protective mimicry. In
order that natural selection may totally change the
colouring of a butterfly (as it does according to the
theory of protective mimicry), that butterfly must
be habitually preyed upon by large numbers of birds,
which must be so vigilantly and unceasingly on the
look-out for it, that its only chance of escaping from
their attacks must be for it to assume a disguise.

Compare with this the state of affairs revealed ~
by Mr. Swynnerton’s observations. He worked
for three and a half years, and, as his investigations
extended to eighteen families of birds, they must have
been very extensive. Exactly how extensive they
have been we do not know, because he has not yet
published them. Nevertheless, as the result of three
and a half years’ watching and stomach examination
he has evidence of only “ nearly 800’ attacks made

244. GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

by birds on insects; that is to say, on an average
about two attacks in three days !

Watch a bee-eater feeding and you will see it take
twenty or thirty insects in less than an hour. If you
were to watch it one whole day you might see it
capture 300 insects, but certainly not more than one
of its victims, on an average, would be a butterfly.
Yet, the theory of mimicry is based upon the assump-
tion that butterflies are so greatly preyed upon by
birds that they require special means of protection !

I ask all who are interested in the subject to be ever
on the look-out for birds chasing butterflies or moths.
These are so large and so easy to identify that there
can be no chance of mistaking them. Even a casual
observer, when watching a bird, cannot fail to notice
the capture of a butterfly by it. And when a bird has
captured a butterfly it cannot dispose of it very quickly.
According to Mr. Swynnerton, “some (birds) swallow
the insect (butterfly or moth) whole, but usually after
masticating or beating it ; some remove inconvenient
portions by ‘ worrying ' like a dog or beating against
perch or ground; some grasp the prey in one foot and
tear off the rejected portions with the bill, eating the
rest piecemeal.”

The fact that the average bird has to go through
all the above performances before devouring a creature
containing so little nourishment as a butterfly, is
sufficient to show that it does not pay birds to chase
butterflies.

But it is: best not to rely on arguments to refute
the theories of persons who have no logic in them.

BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES 24.5

The only way to destroy the pernicious zoological
theories that hold the field at present is to pile up the
facts that tell against them. Similarly, theories that
are true cannot be established satisfactorily except
by the accumulation of facts. The relations between
birds and butterflies can be determined only by ob-
servation, and for that kind of observation no country
presents a better field than India. Moreover, such
observations can be conducted by people having little
or no scientific knowledge.

XXXIX
VOICES OF THE NIGHT

HE stillness of the Indian night suffers

many interruptions.
In the vicinity of a town or village the
hours of darkness are rendered hideous by
the noises of human beings and of their appendages—
the pariah dogs. In the jungle the “ friendly silences
of the moon ”’ are continually disturbed by the bark
of the fox, the yelling of the jackal, or the notes of the

numerous birds of the night.

The call of the various nocturnal birds must be
familiar to every person who has spent a hot weather
in the plains of Northern India and slept night after
night beneath the starry heavens. With the calls of
the birds all are familiar, but some do not know the
names of the originators of these sounds.

First and foremost of the fowls that lift up their
voices after the shades of night have fallen are the tiny
spotted owlets (Athene brama). Long before the sun
has set these quaint little creatures emerge from the
holes in which they have spent the day, and treat the
neighbours to a “ torrent of squeak and chatter and

gibberish ”’ which is like nothing else in the world, and
246

VOICES OF THE NIGHT 247

which Tickell has attempted to syllabise as “ Kucha,
kwachee, kwachee, kwachee, kwachee,’ uttered as
rapidly as the little owlets’ breath will allow of. These
noisy punchinellos are most vociferous during moonlit
nights, but they are by no means silent in the dark
portion of the month.

Almost as abundant as the spotted owlet is another
feathered pigmy—the jungle owlet (Glaucidium radi-
atum). This species, like the last, calls with splendid
vigour. Fortunately for the Anglo-Indian its note is
comparatively mellow and musical. It is not alto-
gether unlike the noise made by a motor cycle when
it is being started, consisting, as it does, of a series of
disyllables, low at first with a pause after each, but
gradually growing in intensity and succeeding one
another more rapidly until the bird seems to have
fairly got away, when it pulls up with dramatic abrupt-
ness. The best attempt to reduce to writing the call of
this bird is that of Tickell: ‘‘ Turtuck, turtuck, turtuck,
turtuck, turtuck, turtuck, tukatu, pp O eer
This owlet calls in the early part of the night and at
intervals throughout the period of darkness, and
becomes most vociferous just before the approach of
“‘ rosy-fingered dawn.”

Very different is the cry of the little scops owl (Scops
giu). This bird has none of that Gladstonian flow of
eloquence which characterises the spotted and the
jungle owlets. His note is, however, more befitting the
dignity of an owl. He speaks only in monosyllables,
and. gives vent to those with great deliberation. He
sits on a bough and says “ wow ”’ in a soft but decisive

248 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

manner. When this pronouncement has had time to
sink into the ears of his listeners, he repeats “‘ wow,”
and continues to sound this impressive monotone at
intervals of a minute for several hours.

The above are the three owls which are most often
heard in the plains of Northern India. Sometimes all
three species, like the orators in Hyde Park, address
the world simultaneously from neighbouring trees.

There are numbers of other owls that disturb the
stillness of the night with more or less vigour, but it
would be tedious, if not impossible, to describe them
all. It must suffice to make mention of the low,
solemn booming durgoon durgoon, of the huge rock-
horned owl (Bubo bengalensis) and the wheezy
screech of the barn owl (Sirix flammea).

Another call, often heard shortly before dawn, is
doubtless usually believed to be that of an owl. This
is the deep, whoot, whoot, whoot of the coucal or crow
pheasant (Centropus sinensis), that curious chocolate-
winged black ground-cuckoo which builds its nest in a
dense thicket.

Unfortunately for the peace of mankind the coucal
is not the only cuckoo that lifts up its voice in the
night. Three species of cuckoo exist in India which
are nocturnal as owls, as diurnal as crows, and as noisy
as a German band. A couple of hours’ sleep in the
hottest part of the day appears to be ample for the
needs of these super-birds. From this short slumber
they awake, like giants refreshed, to spend the greater
portion of the remaining two-and-twenty hours in
shrieking at the top of their voices.

VOICES OF THE NIGHT 249

Needless to state these three species are the brain-
fever bird, the koel, and the Indian cuckoo—a tri-
umvirate that it is impossible to match anywhere else
in the world. Some there are who fail to distinguish
between these three giants, and who believe that they
are but one bird with an infinite variety of notes. This
is not so. They are not one bird, but three birds. Let
us take them in order of merit.

The brain-fever bird or hawk cuckoo (Hierococcyx
varius) is facile princeps. In appearance it is very like
a sparrow-hawk, and, but for its voice, it might be
mistaken for one. This species has two distinct notes.
The first of these is well described by Cunningham as a
“highly pitched, trisyllabic cry, repeated many times
in ascending semitones until one begins to think, as
ene sometimes does when a Buddhist is repeating his
ordinary formula of prayer, that the performer must
surely burst.’’ But the brain-fever bird never does
burst. He seems to know to a scruple how much
he may with safety take out of himself. It is not
necessary to dilate upon this note. Have we not all
listened to the continued screams of ‘brain-fever,
brain-fever, BRAIN-FEVER,’’ until we began to fear for
our reason? The other call is in no way inferior in
magnitude. It consists of a volley of single descending
notes, uttered with consummate ease—facilis descensus
—which may or may not, at the option of the per-
former, be followed by one or more mighty shouts
of BRAIN-FEVER. There is not an hour in the twenty-
four during the hot weather when this fiend does not
make himself heard in the parts of the country haunted

250 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

by him. His range extends from Naini Tal to Tuticorin
and from Calcutta to Delhi. Assam, Sind, and the
Punjab appear to be the only portions of India free
from this cuckoo.

The second of the great triumvirate is the Indian
koel (Eudynamis honorata). This noble fowl has three
calls, each as powerful as the others.

The first is a crescendo ku-il, ku-il, ku-tl, very
pleasing to Indian ears, but too powerful for the taste
of Westerns. The second is well described by Cunning-
ham as an outrageous torrent of shouts, sounding
“kuk, kith, kiti, kiti, kin, kita repeated at brief
intervals in tones loud enough to wake the seven
sleepers. When the bird thus calls its whole body
vibrates with the effort put forth. The third cry is
uttered only when the koel is being chased by angry
crows, and is, as Cunningham says, a mere cataract
of shrill shrieks: ‘‘ Hekaree, karee.”’

For the benefit of those unacquainted with the
ways of the koel it is necessary to state that that bird
spends much of its time fleeing before the wrath of
crows. It lays its eggs in the nests of these. And,
if one may judge from their behaviour, they suspect
the koel. The other two calls are heard at all hours
of the day and night, and it makes no difference to
the koel whether it is the sun or the moon, or only
the stars that are shining. He is always merry and
bright. The second call, however, is usually reserved
for the dawn. Hence this particular vocal effort is
rendered all the more exasperating, coming as it does
precisely at the time when, after the departure of a

VOICES OF THE NIGHT 251

“sable-vested night ” straight from Dante’s Inferno,
which has been embellished by the sluggishness of the
punkawalla, a certain degree of coolness sets in to
give some chance of a little refreshing sleep. Then is it
that the jaded dweller in the plains, uttering strange
oaths, rushes for his gun and seeks out the disturber
of his slumber. In case there be any unable to identify
the koel, let it be said that the cock is black from head
to foot, that he possesses a wicked-looking red eye,
that he is about the size of a crow, but has a slighter
body and a longer tail. The hen is speckled black and’
white. This bird spares not even Sind or the Punjab.
It visits every part of the plains of India, wintering
in the south and summering in the north.

The. third of the triumvirate, the common Indian
cuckoo (Cuculus micropterus), although in its way a
very fine bird, is not of the same calibre as its confréres..
It stands to them in much the same relation as Trinity
College, Dublin, does to the Universities of Oxford
and Cambridge. It has quite a pleasant note, which
Indians represent as Boutotaku, but which is perhaps
better rendered by the words “ wherefore, therefore,”’
repeated with musical cadence. It does not call much
during the middle of the day. It usually uplifts its
voice about two hours before sunset, and continues
until the sun has been up for a couple of hours. This
cuckoo is very common in the Himalayas and in the
plains of India from Fyzabad to Calcutta. Fyzabad
ought really to be renamed Cuckooabad. It is the
habitation of untold numbers of cuckoos. There
during the merry month of May the cuckoos spend

252 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

the night chanting anthems of which the refrain
runs kui-il, ku-il, ku-il, wherefore, therefore, brain-
fever, brain-fever, brain-fever. The Indian cuckoo
is very like the English cuckoo in appearance, and it
victimises the seven sisters (Crateropus canorus) and
other babblers, as does the brain-fever bird.

The night-loving cuckoos have demanded so much
space that the other vocalists of the hours of darkness
will have to be content with very brief notice.

The night heron (Nycticoran griseus) makes the
welkin ring with his guttural cries of “ waak, waak,”’
uttered as he flies after nightfall from his roost to the
pond where he will fish till morning. As he fishes
in silence the addition he makes to the noises of the
night is not great. The large family of plovers must
be dismissed in a single sentence. They, like many
cuckoos, regard sleep as a luxury ; hence their plaintive
cries are heard both by day and by night. The most
familiar of their calls is the ‘ did-he-do-it, pity-to-do-it,”
of the red-wattled lapwing (Sarcogrammus indicus).
The notes the rest of his family consist of variations
of the words titert, titers.

In conclusion, mention must be made of the night-
jars or goatsuckers, as they are sometimes called after
the fashion of the Romans, who believed that these
birds used to sally forth at night and milk goats. This
belief was based on two facts. First, the udders of
goats were often found to be empty in the morning ;
secondly, the broad gape possessed by the nightjar.
However, the character of these birds has now been
cleared. We know that their bills are wide in order

VOICES OF THE NIGHT 253

to seize large insects on the wing, and that if goats
yield no milk in the morning it is not the nightjar
who is to blame. Nightjars are brownish grey birds,
mottled and barred all over like cuckoos, for which
they are often mistaken. Two are common in India.
The first of these is Caprimulgus asiaticus, the common
Indian nightjar, whose call is heard only after night-
fall, and resembles the sound made by a stone skimming
over ice. The other nightjar is that of Horsfield
(Caprimulgus macrurus). Its note has been compared
to the noise made by striking a plank with a hammer.
The distribution of nightjars is capricious. They are
fairly common in the western districts of the United
Provinces.

Horsfield’s nightjar is abundant in the sai forests of
the Pilibhit district.

INDEX

INDEX

Actipiter nisus, 70, 164

Acridotheres ginginianus, 53, 113,
225-30

— tristis, 113, 225-30, 241

Adam, Mr, R. M., 222

Adams, 77

Adjutant, 86

Aegithina tiphia, 213

Aesalon chicguera, 117-20

— regulus, 116, 117, 164

Aitken, Mr, James, 154, 155

Alaudarius, Ti: ulus, 164

Alba, Herodias, 38

—, Motacilla, 162

Albifrontata, Rhipidura, 4, 214

Albinos, 42

Anas boscas, 64

— poectlorhyncha, 40, 64

Anastomus oscitans, 45

Anthus rufulus, 6

Antigone, Grus, 38, 197-203

Aguila bifasciata, 164

— vindhiana, 163

Arachnechthra astiatica, 3, 99;
218-224

— lotenia, 218

— zeylonica, 218

Ardea cinerea, 38

Ardeola grayti, 85, 106-15

Areya caudata, 65

— malcomi, 51

Asiatica,, Arachnechthra, 3, 99;
218-24

Asiaticus caprimulgus, 253

Astur badius, 70, 164

Ater, Dicrurus, 8, 41,227, 236
Athene brama, 246

Aurantius, Brachypternus, 8
Auriceps, Dendrocopus, 33
Avocet, 44 4
Avocetia recurvirostra, 44

Babbler, grey, 51

— jungle, 51

— white-headed, 212

Badius, Astur, 70

Bajra, 178

Baker, Stuart, 50, 91

Bamboo sparrow, 77

Banjo-bill, 44

Bank myna, 53, 113, 182, 225-30,
235

Banta, Mr., 242, 243

Barbet, green, 8, 19

Barn owl, 248

— swallow, 151

Barred-headed goose, 160

Batassiensts, Tachornis, 215

Batesian mimicry, 239

Baya, Ploceus, 180

Bay-backed shrike, 213

Bee-eater, 6, 19, 98, 213, 215, 244

— blue-tailed, 98, 156

— little green, 98, 156

Belenots mesentina, 241

Bengalensis, Bubo, 248

—, Pseudogyps, 6, 60

Bingham, Col. C. T., 240

Biology, peculiar position of, 238

Birds and Butterflies, 238-45

s 257

258

*“ Birds of Calcutta,” 224

“© Birds of the Plains,” 222
Birostris, Lophoceros, 86-go
Black-bellied tern, 40, 216
Blackbird, 211

—, Brewer, 242

Black bulbul, 49

Blackcap, 211
Black-headed bunting, 179
Black-winged kite, 165
Blanford, Dr., 66, 223

“* Blue jay,” 119, 182, 216
Blyth, 77, 123

** Bombay Ducks,” 55
Bonner, 57

Bourdillon, Mr. T. F., 17
Brachypternus aurantius, 8
Brachyura, Pitta, 19
Brahmany duck, 161

— kite, 212

— myna, 212, 217
Brain-fever bird, 51, 80, 249
Brama, Athene, 246
Brassicae, Pieris, 241
Brewer blackbird, 242
Brown fish owl, 175
Brown-fronted pied woodpecker, 33
Brown tree snake, 144
Bryden, Mr. A. H., 236
Bubo bengalensis, 248
Bubulcus coromandus, 45
Buchanani, Emberiza, 179
Bulbul, 146, 147

— (nightingale), 146

— basta, 147

— black, 49

— bostha, 147

— kola, 49

—, red-vented, 163, 212
—, red-whiskered, 4, 130-44
Bulbuls’ nests, 130-44
Bulbul, white-browed, 212
— white-eared, 163
Bunting, 178-81

— black-headed, 179, 180

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Bunting, grey-necked, 178, 180
— red-headed, 179, 180

Bush chat, 182

Bush-lark, 212

Butcher-bird, 182, 213
Butreron, 130

Butterflies, Birds and, 238-45

| Buzzard, long-legged, 163

Caerulus, Elanus, 165
Californica, Eugonia, 242
Calvus, .Otogyps, 60, 235
Cambaiensis, Thamnobia, 8, 162
Candidus, Himantopus, 45
Canorus, Crateropus, 51, 252
—, Cuculus, 50, 53, 116
Caprimulgus asiaticus, 253
— macrurus, 253
Carpodacus erythrinus, 75
Cattle egret, 45, 212
Caudata, Argya, 65
Centropus rufipennis, 6

— sinensis, 82, 248

’ Ceryle rudis, 168

Ceylonensis, Culictcapa, §
— Ketupa, 175
Chaffinch, 211

Chapman, Mr. Abel, 96
Chat, Bush, 182
Chicquera, Aesalon, 117
Chloropsis, 19

Cinerea, Ardea, 38
Coceystes jacobinus, 48

: Collaris, Corvus, 231

‘Colour Meanings of some British
Birds and Quadrupeds,” 188

Columbidz, 130, 172, 173

Comb-duck, 40

*« Common Birds of Bombay, The,”
40

Communis, Coturnix, 159

Coppersmith, 212

Copscychus saularis, 7

Coractas indica, 119, 182

Corby, 192, 236

INDEX

Coremandelianus, Nettopus, 39

Coromandus, Bubuicus, 45

Correlation of Characters, 47

Corvus collaris, 231

— frugilegus, 166

— macrorhynchus, 192, 236

— monedula, 166, 231-3

— splendens, 165, 225, 231

Cotton teal, 39

Coturnix communis, 159

Coucal, 82, 248

“Country Life,” 28, 234

“* Country-side Monthly,” 66

Crane, sarus, 38, 197-203

Crateropus canorus, 51, 252

Crested lark, 180

Cripps, Mr. J. R., 17

Cristata, Galerita, 180

Crocopus, 130

— chlorogaster, 127

— phoenicopterus, 127

Crow, 85, 100, 165, 192, 212, 225,
231, 236, 250

— jungle, 212

Crow-pheasant, 6, 82, 212

Cuckoo, common, 116, 211

— Indian, 251

— pied crested, 48-54

Cuckoo’s mate, 121

Cuckooabad, 251

Cuculus canorus, 30, 53, 116

— micropterus H., 251

Culicicapa ceylonensis, 5

Cunningham, 172

— Col., 249, 250

Currie, Mr., 176, 177

Cyanocephalus, Euphagus, 240

— Palaecornis, 7

Cyornis tickelliT., §

Darter, Indian, 14-18
Darwin, 20, 173
Daulias golzit, 146, 148
— luscinia, 146

— philomela, 146

259

Demoleus Papilio, 241
Dendrocitta rufa, 236
Dendrocopus auriceps, 335°
Dhayal, 9-13

Dicruras ater, 8, 227, 236
Dimorphism, sexual, 172
Display, nuptial, 187
Domesticus, Passer, 82, 241
Dove, 192, 211

—, little brown, 212

—, red turtle, 104, 172-7
a: ring, 174

—, spotted, 120, 212

—, turtle, 174

Drongo, 236

Dubius, Leptoptilus, 86
Duck, brahmany, 161

—, comb, 40

—, pintail, 161

—, shoveller, 161

—, spotbilled, 40, 64

—. wild, 64

Eagle, golden, 234

—, Pallas’s fishing, 40

—, steppe, 163, 164

—, tawny, 163, 164

Egret, 38

—, cattle, 45, 212

“« Eha,” 70, 213, 216

Elanus caerulus, 165

Emberiza buchanani, 179

— luteola, 180

— melaocephala, 180

Emeria, Otocompsa, 4, 131-44

Erythrinus carpodacus, 75

Eudynamis honorata, 51, 100,
250

Eugonia californica, 242

Euphagus cyanocephalus, 242

Eyesight of birds, 80

Falco jugger, 164
—, peregvinus, 164

260

Falcon, 69

—, laggar, 164

—, peregrine, 163, 164, 165

Fan-tailed flycatcher, 4, 213, 214,
236

Field,” 193

Fighting in nature, 234-237

Finch, gold, 74

— of roseate hue, 74-79

— rose, 74-79

Finn, 42, 45, 46, 224

Firetail, 161, 162, 217

Fishing eagle, 4o

Fish-owl, brown, 175

Flammea, Strix, 248

Flammeus, Pericrocotus, 21

Flamingo, 19, 91-97

Flavicollis, Gymnorhis, 105, 216

Flycatcher, 211

—, fantailed, 4, 213, 214, 326

—, grey-headed, 5

—, paradise, 45, 46, 100, 157, 215

—, red-breasted, 5

—, Tickell’s blue, 5

“Food of Birds in India,” 228

** Forest Creatures,” 57

“ Fortnightly Review,” 188, 189

Frog, caught by kingfisher, 169

Frugilegus, Corvus, 166

Fry, Mr. J. T., 66

Fulicata, Thamnobia, 214

Gadwall, 161

Galerita cristata, 180

Garner, Dr., 25

Garrod, Mr. A., 14

George Gissing, 56
Gingalensis, Lophoceros, 88
Ginginianus, Acridotheres, 53
—, Neophron, 55

Gissing, George, 56

Giu, Scops, 247

Glareola lactea, 204-210 Cd
Glaucidium radiatum, 247
Goatsuckers, 252, 253

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Goldfinch, 74, 211
Golden-backed woodpecker, 212
Golden eagle, 234

Golzit, Daulias, 146, 148
Goose, barred-headed, 160
—, grey-lag, 160

Graytt, Ardeola, 85, 106-15
Green finch, 211

— parrot, 181, 215

— pigeon, 19, 126-30
Grey-headed myna, 217

— wagtail, 217

Grey hornbill, 86-90

— lag goose, 160
Grey-necked bunting, 179
Grey wagtail, 28, 162, 167
Griseus, Nycticorax, 109, 252
Grus antigone, 38, 197-203
— sharpit, 197

_ Gulabi maina, 158

Gymnorhis flavicollis, 105, 216

Hafiz, 147

Haliaetus leucoryphus, 40

Harrial, 128

Harrier, 183

Hartert, Dr., 148

Hawks, light-eyed, 69

—, dark-eyed, 69

—, long-winged, 69

—, short-winged, 69

Hawk-cuckoo, 249

Hedge-sparrow, 53, 211

Herodias alba, 38

Heron, 38

—, night, 109, 157, 252

—, pond, 106

Hierococcyx varius, 51), 80, 100,
249

Himantopus candidus, 44

Hipsas trigonata, 144

Hirundo filifera, 153

— rustica, 150, 151, 152

— smithit, 152

Honeysucker, 99, 218

INDEX

Honorata, Eudynamis, 51, 100,
250

Hoopoe, 83, 90, 117, 185-96, 212

Hornbill, 86

—) grey, 86-90

Horne, Mr., 90;

Horsfield’s night-jar, 253

House-martin, 154

Hume, 72, go, 118, 148, 176, 198,
200, 207, 209

Humming-birds, 218

Lypsipetes, 49 *

Ibis ‘melanocephala, 44

Ibis, white, 44

Llerdi sena, 241

“Indian Birds,” 219

Indica, Coracias, 119, 182

ame Upupa, 83, 185-96

Lndicus, Sarcogrammus, 128, 252

Injury-feigning instinct, 22, 207

Instinct, injury-feigning, 22, 207

Intermedius, Molpastes, 163
“Tora, 212, 213

Ismene, Melanitis, 241

Lsocrates, Virachola, 241

Lynx torquilla, 120

Jackdaw, 166, 231-3

Jack snipe, 161

Jacobinus, Coccystes, 48

Javanica, Dendrocynca, 40

Jay, blue, 119

Jefferies, Richard, 211, 212, 216

Jerdon, 16, 77, 91, 105, 119, 181,
205, 223, 232, 233

Jesse, Mr. William, 23, 3, 24, 230,
235 *

Jhil out of season, 37-41

Jungle owlet, 247

Kestrel, 163, 164, 165
Ketupa ceylonensts, 175
Kipling, 232

261

Kipling, Lockwood, 215

King-crow, 8, 41, 104, 182, 185,
212, 227, 241

Kingfisher, 19, 167-71

—, common, 212

—, pied, 168

—, white-breasted, 212

King vulture, 60

Kite, black-winged, 165

—, brahmany, 212

—, common, 212

Koel, 50, 51, 100, 157, 212, 250

Kola bulbul, 49

Lactea, Glareola, 204-10

Laggar falcon, 164

Language of birds and beasts, 25

Lantus vittatus, 213

Lankester, Sir E, Ray, 129

Lapwing, red-wattled, 128, 252

Largest bird in India, the, 197-
203

Lark, 211

Laughing-thrush, Himalayan, 53

Lawn, birds on the, 80-5

Leptoptilus dubius, 86

Leucorodia, Plutalea, 44

Leucoryphus, Haliaetus, 40

Leucotis, Molpastes, 147

Linnet, 211

Liopicus mahrattensis, 31-6

Long, Mr. Walter, 194

Lophoceros birostris, 86-90

— gingalensis, 88

Loten’s sunbird, 212, 218-24

Luscinia, Daulias, 146

Luteola, Emberiza, 180

Macpherson, Mr. J., 66

Macrorhynchus, Corvus, 192, 236

~Macrurus, Caprimulgus, 253

Madras garden, the birds of a,
211-7

262

Maderaspatensis, Motacilla, 162,
214

Magpie-robin, 7, 9-13, 216

Mahrattensts, Liopicus, 31-6

Maina, golabz, 158

‘‘Making of Species, The,” 42,
240

Malcomi, Argya, 51

Mallard, 64

Marshall, Col., 66

—, Mr. G. A. K., 242

Martin, house, 154

—, sand, 211

Mason, Mr. C. W., 228, 240, 241

Mate, cuckoo’s, 121

Maura, Pratincola, 182

Melanicterus, Melophus, 180

Melanitis ismene, 241

Melanocephala, Emberize, 180

Melanocephala, Ibis, 44

Melanocephalus, Oriolus, 4

Melanogaster, Plotus, 14-18

—, Sterna, 40, 206

Melanotus, Sarcidornis, 40

Melophus melanicterus, 180

Merlin, 116-20, 163, 164

—, red-headed, 117-20, 164

Merops philippinus, 98

. — viridis, 6, 98, 215, 241

Mesentina, Belenois, 241

Michelet, 59

Micropterus, Cuculus, 251

Millet fields, Birds in the, 178-84

Mimicry, 52, 243

—, Batesian, 239

—, Mullerian, 239

—, protective, 10, 239

Minivet, 19-24

Missel-thrush, 211

Moda nulingadu, 125

Molpastes, 147

— intermedius, 163

— leucotis, 147, 163

Monedula, Corvus, 166, 231%

Morgan, Mr. R. W222

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Motacilla alba, 162

— maderaspatensts, 162, 214

— melanope, 162

Mullerian mimicry, 239

Munia, white-throated, 216

Mutation, 46, 64, 174, 225

Myna, bank, 53, 113, 182, 225-30

—, brahmany, 212, 217

—, common, 67, 84, 113, 182, 183,
212, 225-30

—, grey-headed, 217

—, pied, 85, 182

Natural Selection, 53, 173, 174,
236, 240, 243

** Nature,” 242

Neophron ginginianus, 60

‘* Nests and Eggs of Indian Birds,”
go

Nettopus coromandelianus, 39

Newton, Sir Isaac, 139

Nightingales in India, 145-9

Nightingale, Persian, 146, 147

Nightjar, 252, 253

—, common Indian, 253

—, Horsfield’s, 253

Nisus Accipiter, 70

Nulingadu, Moda, 125

Nuptial display, 187

Nycticorax griseus, 109, 252

Oates, 148, 231
Ocnopopelia tranguebarica, 104, 173
Open-bill, 45

Orange minivet, 21
Oriole, 4, 103, 157, 217
Oriolus kundoo, 103

— melanocephalus, 4
Orthotomus sutorius, 7
Oscitans, Anastomus, 45
Osmosteros, 130
Otocompsa, 147

—, emeria, 4, 131-44
Otogyps calvus, 60, 235

INDEX

Owl, barn, 248

—, brown fish, 175

—, rock-horned, 248

—» SCOps, 247

Owlet, jungle, 247

—, spotted; 212, 246
Oyler, Mr. Philip, 188, 189

Paddy bird, 85, 106-15, 212

Palacornis cyanocephalus, 7

— torquatus, 181, 215

Pallas’s fishing eagle, 40

Palm swift, 213, 215

Pammon, Papilio, 241

Papilio demoleus, 241

— pammon, 241

Paradise flycatcher, 45, 46, 102,
157

Paradisi,
215

Parakeet, 7, 19, 181, 213

Parrot, green, 181, 215

Parva, Siphia, §

Passer domesticus, 82, 178, 241

Pastor roseus, 158, 189

Peafowl, 19

Peregrine falcon, 164, 165

Pericrocotus flammeus, 21

— peregrinus, 21

Persian nightingale, 146, 147

Phasianide, 172

Pheasant, 19

Philippinus, Merops, 98

Philomela, Daulias, 146

Phil Robinson, 55

Phoenicopterus minor, 92

— rvoseus, 91-7

—, Crocopus, 127

Phylloscopus tristis, 7

Pied crested cuckoo, 48-54

— kingfisher, 168

— myna, 85, 182

— wagtail, 162, 3, 213, 214

Pigeon, green, 19, 126-30

—, Bengal, 127

Terpstphone, 45, 102,

263

Pigeon, southern, 127

Pintail duck, 161

Piping crow, 232

Pipit, 6

Pitta, 19, 216

Pitta brachyura, 19

Platalea leucorodia, 44

Ploceus baya, 180

Plotus melanogaster; 14-8

Pochard, 161

Poectlorhyncha, Anas, 40, 64

Polar regions, birds of, 42

Pond heron, 106

Pondicertanus, Tephridornis, 214

Porphyrio, 19

Poulton, Professor, 129, 240, 242,
243

Pratincola maura, 182

Pratincole, 204-10

Protective mimicry, 10, 239, 243

Pseudogyps bengalensis, 6, 60, 235

Purple-rumped sunbird, 212, 218-
24

Purple sunbird, 218-24

Quail, common, 159

R adtat: ’ Glauc at:
Raj Hans, 97

Rat bird, 65

Raven, 165, 231, 232, 234

Ray Lankester, Sir E., 129
Recurvirostra avocetta, 44
Redstart, 211

—, Indian, 4, 161, 162, 217
Red turtle-dove, 104, 172-7
Red-vented bulbul, 156, 163, 212
Red-wattled lapwing, 128, 252
Regulus Aesalon, 116, 117, 164
Rhipidura albifroniata, 4, 214
Ring dove, 174

Robin, black-backed, 63

—, brown-backed, 8, 63

—, Indian, 61-68, 162, 212, 214

247

264

Robinson, Phil, 55, 162, 174
Rock-horned owl, 248
Roller, 19, 119, 182, 185, 216
Rook, 25, 166, 211, 231, 232
Rose-finch, 74-9

Roseate hue, finch of, 74-79
Roseus, Pastor, 158, 181
Rosy starling, 158, 181
Rudis ceryle, 168

Rujfa, Dendrocitia, 236
Rufipennis, Centropus, 6
Rufiventris, Ruticilia, 4, 161
Rufulus, Anthus, 6
Ruticilla rufiventris, 4, 161

Sand martin, 211

Saras crane, 38, 197-203

Sarcidiornis melanotus, 40

Sarcogrammus indicus, 128, 252

“* Saturday Review,” 94

Saularis, Copsychus, 7, 9-13

‘*School of the Woods,” 194

Scops giu, 247

Scops owl, 247

Seena, Sterna, 167

Selection, Natural, 53, 173, 174,
236, 240, 243

Selous, Mr. Edmund, 25, 78

Sena, Ilerda, 24

‘* Seven sisters,” 252

Sexual dimorphism, 172

Shah bulbul, 216

Shama, 11

Sharpii, Grus, 197

Shikra, 69-73, 164

Shoveller, 161

Sinensis, Centropus, 82, 248

Siphia parva, §

Skylark, 116

Snake, brown tree, 144

Snake-bird, 14-8

Snipe, common, 161

—, jack, 161

Sparrow, 82, 211

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Sparrow, yellow-throated, 105, 157,
216

Sparrow-hawk, 69, 70, 163, 164

‘Species, The Making of,” 43

Sphenocercus, 130

Splendens, Corvus, 165, 225, 231

Spoonbill, 44

Spot-billed duck, 4o, 63

Spotted dove, 120, 212

— owlet, 212, 246

Sprosser, 146

Squirrel, little striped, 72

Stanley, Bishop, 96, 97, 124, 232,
233

Starling, 159, 182, 211

—, rose-coloured, 19, 158, 181

—, rosy, 19, 158, 181

Steppe eagle, 163

Sterna melanogaster, 40, 206

— seena, 107

Stilt, 44

Stone chat, 211

Strix flammea, 248

| Stuart Baker, 50, 91

Sturnopastor, contra, 85

Sunbird, 3, 19, 99, 212, 218-24

--, Loten’s, 212, 218-24

—, purple, 218-24

—, purple-rumped, 212, 218-24

Suratensis, Turtur, 120

Sutorius, Orthotomus, 7

Swala ladu, 151

Swallow, barn, 151

—, common, 150, 151, 205

—, wire-tailed, 149-56

Swallow-plover, 204-10

Swift, 153

—, palm, 213, 215

Swynnerton, Mr. C, F. M., 243,
244

Sykes’s warbler, 217

Tachornis batassiensis, 215
Tailor-bird, 7, 212

INDEX

Tawny eagle, 163, 164

Taylor, Mr. Alfred, 28

Teal, 161

—, cotton, 39

—, whistling, 40

Tephrodornis pondicerianus, 214

Tern, 45, 167-71, 204-10

—, black-bellied, 49, 206

Terpsiphone paradisi, 45,
215

Thamnobia, 61

— cambaiensis, 8, 63, 162

— fulicata, 63, 214

Thayer, Mr. A., 97, 188

Thereiceryx zeylonicus, 8

Thompson, Mr. R., 120

Thought, power of animals to ex-
press, 25-30

—, transmission of, 26

Thrush, 211

—, missel, 211

Tickell, 247

Tickelli, Cyornts, 5

Tilyer, 158

Tt ulus alaudarius, 164

Tiphia, githina, 213

Titmice, 211

Tomtit, 211

Torquatus, Palaeornis, 181, 215

Torquilla, Iynx, 121

Tranquebarica, Cinopopilia, 104,
173

Tree-snake, brown, 144

Treron, 130

Trigonata, Hipsas, 144

Tristis, Acridotheres, 113

—, Phylloscopus, 7

Turtle-dove, 174

ane 2 red, 104, 172, 177

Turtur suratensis, 120

Turumtt, 117-20, 164

Tutt, 76

102,

Upupa indica, 83, 185-96

265

Varius, Hierococcyx, 51, 80, 100,
249

Verner, Col. Willoughby, 94

Vivachola tsocrates, 241

Viridis, Merops, 6, 98, 241

Visitors, winter, to the Punjab
Plains, 157-66

Vittatus, Lantus, 213

Voices of the Night, 246-53

Vulture, 55-60

—, black, 60, 235

—, domestic, 55

—, king, 60

—, Pondicherry, 60

—, scavenger, 55, 60

—, white-backed, 60, 235

Wagtail, 85

—, grey, 28, 162, 167

—, grey-headed, 217

—, pied, 162, 213, 214

—, water, 211

—, white, 162

Wallace, 20, 129

Wallaceian theory, 127, 173

Warbler, 7

—, Sykes’s, 217

—, willow, 7

Water-wagtail, 211

Watt, James, 139

Westell, Mr., 233

White, Gilbert, 149, 150, 151

—, Birds in, 42-7

— ibis, 44

— wagtail, 162

— backed vulture, 60, 235

— breasted kingfisher, 212.

— browed bulbul, 212

— eared bulbul, 163

— headed babbler, 212

— throated munia, 216

“Wild Life in a Southern
County,” 211

Willow-warbler, 7

Winter visitors to the Punjab

Plains, 157-66

266 GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

Wire-tailed swallow, 149-56 Yellow-fronted pied woodpecker,
Woodpecker, golden-backed,!8, 212 31-6

—, pied, 31-6 -| Yellow-hammer, 179
Wood-pigeon, 211 Yellow-throated sparrow, 105, 157,
Wood-shrike, 214 216

Wren, 231 Yerbury; Colonel 240

Wryneck, 121-25

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