Bombay ducks; an account of some of the every-day birds and beasts found in a naturalist's Eldorado

•IOLOQY L.dRAIt

THE KING CROW

BOMBAY DUCKS

AN ACCOUNT OF SOME OF THE
EVERY-DAY BIRDS AND BEASTS
FOUND IN A NATURALIST'S ELDORADO
BY DOUGLAS DEWAR, F.Z.S., I.C.S.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF LIVING BIRDS
BY CAPTAIN F. D. S. FAYRER, I.M.S.

LONDON JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD

NEW YORK JOHN LANE COMPANY MDCCCCVI

3!OLO«Y

LIBRARY

G

WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH

PREFACE

SOME apology is perhaps necessary for the title
of this book, since the " Ducks " herein dealt
with belong not to the quack-quack tribe.
"Bombay Ducks" is a time-honoured Anglo-
Indian expression.

In the palmy days of the East India Company, when
the now-barren pagoda-tree showered its fruits upon all
who shook it, the European residents of the Western
Presidency were known as Bombay Ducks to distinguish
them from Bengal Qui-his and Madras Mulls.

In very early times " Ducks " was spelt " Duckys " and
is probably a corruption of the Latin duces= leaders or
"bosses."

Dwellers in Bombay are no longer called ducks,
nevertheless the expression Bombay Ducks or Bombay
Duck still survives.

It now denotes (I know not why) brittle pieces of
sun-dried fish which are eaten with curry in South
India.

It seems to me that the animals dealt with in this
volume, all of which are to be found on the " Bombay
side," have at least an equal right with pieces of dried
fish to be called " Bombay Ducks."

225413

vi PREFACE

The illustrations are reproductions of photographs of
living birds taken by Captain R. S. F. Fayrer, I. M.S.

Efforts have been made to produce, not so much a
series of pretty pictures as a number of likenesses that
will assist people to identify the originals when they
meet them in the flesh.

How far the photographer has been successful every
reader must judge for himself; but only those who have
tried to photograph living birds will be able fully to
appreciate the value of Captain Fayrer's work.

D. D.

These " Ducks " first made themselves heard in one or other
of the following newspapers: — The Times of India, The
Madras Mail, The Indian Daily Telegraph, The Morning Post
of India.

Since some have found their voices not unpleasant, they
have been allowed a second quack.

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. DOVES .... . 3

II. THE OCCUPATIONS OF ANIMALS . . .11

III. GREEN PARROTS 17

IV. THE TAILOR-BIRD 25

V. TAILS 33

VI. THE KING-CROW 39

VII. CONCERNING CATS 47

VIII. A LITTLE NURSERY AND ITS OCCUPANTS . 57

IX. THE SURVIVAL OF THE UNFIT ... 65

X. COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER . . . .71

XI. THE NATURALIST IN A RAILWAY TRAIN . 81

XII. THE CLOWNS OF THE FOREST ... 87

XIII. MASTER IMPUDENCE 93

XIV. KINGFISHERS 101

XV. THE BLUE JAY . . . . . in

XVI. THE SWARMING OF THE WHITE ANTS . .119

XVII. THE PHARISEE OF THE JUNGLE . . .127

XVIII. FLYING FOXES 133

XIX. THE HOOPOE . . . . . .139

XX. UNNATURAL HISTORY — ANCIENT AND MODERN 147

PAGE

x CONTENTS

XXI. THE GOLDEN-BACKED WOODPECKER. . 155

XXII. THE COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO . . . .161

XXIII. THE BATHING OF THE BIRDS . .167

XXIV. BRAIN v. MUSCLE IN NATURE . .173
XXV. THE KITE 181

XXVI. THE BRAHMINY KITE . . . .189

XXVII. A CURIOUS TRAIT IN ANIMAL CHARACTER 195

XXVIII. THE SEVEN SISTERS . . . .203

XXIX. THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY WASP . . 209

XXX. INDIAN CUCKOOS 217

XXXI. THE CROW-PHEASANT . . . .223

XXXII. A STUDY IN ANIMAL CHARACTER . .229

XXXIII. PADDY-BIRDS AND EGRETS . . . 235

XXXIV. ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH . . 243
XXXV. THE SPOTTED OWLET . . . .253

XXXVI. THE SHAPES OF BIRDS .... 261

XXXVII. WINGED FISHERFOLK . . . .269

XXXVIII. THE UGLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD . 277

XXXIX. NOISY BIRDS 283

XL. INDIAN SONG-BIRDS . . . .289

GLOSSARY 299

INDEX • 301

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

THE KING-CROW Frontispiece

SPOTTED DOVE 6

PIED WAGTAIL . . 14

THE ROSE-RINGED PARAKEET 18

THE INDIAN CORBY 60

PIED KINGFISHER 66

BRAHMINY MYNA 82

BEE-EATER 82

MYNA 84

SPARROW-HAWK 84

ROSE-COLOURED STARLING 86

COMMON KINGFISHER 102

WHITE-BREASTED KINGFISHER 104

PITTA . . . . . 108

ROLLER-BIRD OR "BLUE JAY" 112

HOOPOE 140

INDIAN HOUSE CROW 168

THE PARIAH KITE 182

BRAHMINY KITE 190

THE BABBLER (ONE OF THE SEVEN SISTERS) . . . 204

THE LARGE-CRESTED CUCKOO (Coccystes Glandarius] . 214
PLAINTIVE CUCKOO (Cucomantis Passerinus) . . .216
THE KOEL, OR BLACK CUCKOO (FEMALE) . . .218

PAGB

xii ILLUSTRATIONS

THE KOEL, OR BLACK CUCKOO (MALE) . . . .220

GREEN SHANK (ONE OF THE KUCH NES OF THE INDIAN

SHIKARI) 230

NIGHT HERON . . 232

PADDY-BIRD . . • .'••'• 236

THE NIGHT HERON . . 238

CATTLE EGRETS 240

COPPERSMITH 246

THE SPOTTED OWLET . . . « " . . . .256

TERN . , • . . . . .-•.'<;. . . 270

BLACK-HEADED GULL . ... .."•'.. . .272

YOUNG SCAVENGER VULTURE IN NEST . . . .278

SCAVENGER VULTURE ON NEST . '. . . . • 280

THE INDIAN ROBIN . . 294

BULBUL (RED VENTED) a . v . . • . - 296
RED- WHISKERED BULBUL . ... . . .296

BOMBAY DUCKS

B

" And all the jungle laughed with nesting songs,
And all the thickets rustled with small life
Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things
Pleased at the spring time. In the mango sprays
The sun-birds flashed ; alone at his green forge
Toiled the loud coppersmith ; bee-eaters hawked,
Chasing purple butterflies ; beneath
Striped squirrels raced ; the mynas perked and picked,
The seven sisters chattered in the thorn,
The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool,
The egrets stalked among the buffaloes,
The kites sailed circles in the golden air ;
About the painted temple peacocks flew."

The Light of Asia.

BOMBAY DUCKS

DOVES

DOVES are birds for which I entertain the
greatest respect. They remind me of cer-
tain urchins who were my companions at a
dame's school to which I was sent for the
sins of my early youth. Notwithstanding the fact that
the aforesaid urchins were the originators of all mischief,
the respectable ladies in authority were in the habit of
holding them up as models to be copied by the rest of
the school. Those boys were not hypocrites, they did
not falsely pretend innocence ; there was no need for
them to do so. Fortune was always kind to them : she
never allowed them to commit the fatal crime of being
found out. Thus they passed their early schooldays
chuckling at the sweet simplicity of the dames to whose
care they had been confided. So it is with doves. With-
out conscious efforts, these birds have succeeded in per-
suading mankind that they are paragons of virtue.
" The whole life and being of the dove," wrote Dr.

':JV4 ,V"il4':U BOMBAY DUCKS

.-. •. : Masiiis, " is -a pleasing idyl. They are chaste, gentle,
unsuspecting, full of tender affection, and deserve above
all others the epithet of 'the pious birds.' Without
guile, like doves, it is said in the Bible. Without guile
and free from anger, suffering all, even death, and not
once uttering a cry of pain, what other animal may
be compared to them?

" The dove alone, according to the ancients, is desti-
tute of gall ; and in a hundred popular rhymes and
love-songs, as well as in the metaphors of the medieval
wandering preachers, the praise of her innocence re-
sounds."

This may be taken as a fair statement of popular
opinion of the dove. Some people go further. Thus
dear old Eliza Cook says : " Linnets teach us how
to love, and ring-doves how to pray." Now I do not
wish to poke fun at that estimable and well-meaning
lady, but I am constrained to say that it is unfortunate
that she did not study the ways of the dove a little
before penning the above line. Had she but invested
eighteenpence in one of the cooing community, she
might have said of them : " They teach us how to
swear." But then, of course, the question would arise,
do men need to be taught that accomplishment ? I am
inclined to think that swearers, like poets, are born, not
made.

How delightful is the idea that doves are " free from
anger ! " I once knew a dove which was in a rage for a
whole week because it had been transferred from one
cage to another. It did not approve of the style of
architecture of its new habitation, so sat, for the space

DOVES 5

of one week, with ruffled feathers looking like a barn-
door fowl about to die. Not content with this, it swore
at every one who went near it.

Those who really believe that doves are incapable of
anger should make a point of seeing a couple of them
mobbing a tree-pie that has just breakfasted off their
eggs. Let me not be mistaken. I am not finding fault
with the doves. I hold that their anger is perfectly
justified under such circumstances.

The biblical doctrine of turning the unsmitten cheek
to the smiter does not apply to them. Since, however,
they act just as any other little bird would do under
similar circumstances, it is obviously incorrect to speak
of them alone as " free from anger." It gives one an
altogether false idea of the character of the dove. That
worthy bird is ever ready to take the law into its own
hands. Then, again, I have never been able to discover
any piety about the dove. Complacency it undoubtedly
possesses, the complacency of the self-made man. But
this surely is not piety !

" How," remarks Phil Robinson, who goes to the
opposite extreme and is very severe on doves, " if the
doves could read English poetry, would they put their
tongues in their cheeks and wink at each other, and
how the worse conditioned of them would explode with
laughter ! " He maintains that doves have acquired
their spurious reputation for saintliness because they
make such a fuss, such an amount of cooing over their
love affairs. To this must, I think, be added the general
butter-will-not-melt-in-my-mouth appearance of the
bird. A dove looks so defenceless ; but it cannot be

6 BOMBAY DUCKS

so helpless as it appears, otherwise the species would
long ago have become extinct.

When doves are not cooing they usually sit half
asleep on a telegraph wire, exposed to the gaze of every
bird of prey in the vicinity ; yet I have never seen a
dove carried off by any of the pirates of the air. How
is this ? It is not that doves are inedible ; dove pie is
not at all a bad dish. I speak as one having authority,
although I do so with bated breath, for fear of disturb-
ing in their graves Byron, Prior, Shelley, Thomson, and
all the other admirers of the dove. I repeat, I speak as
one with authority, for I was once sent to an arid and
inhospitable district in India where butchers and bakers
were non-existent and shikar there was none.

I was therefore restricted to a diet of chapatti and
dove, varied occasionally by a pea-chick, marked down
and shot sleeping after the shades of night had fallen, so
as not to offend the susceptibilities of the unsophisticated
villager. In some parts of India the peacock is ac-
counted sacred. Dove's flesh is a trifle insipid, but in
every way preferable to ddk bungalow fowl, while young
pea-chick is equal to Christmas turkey, but an old pea-
cock is the dickens !

Doves are in many ways beautiful birds, but their
beauty is not appreciated in India. In the first place,
they are to us common, everyday creatures, and human
nature is so constituted that it is unable to admire any
object which it sees daily. Then doves, as a rule, are
not showy. To quote " Eha " : " They rarely carry any
meretricious ornament, such as crests, or trains, or fancy
plumes, but they are all beautiful, and some of them

DOVES 7

exquisitely lovely. Yet their loveliness is not that of
golden orioles and kingfishers, but rather of clouds and
distant hills and soft sunsets."

There is, however, one marked exception, and that is
the bronze-winged dove (Chalcophaps indica). This is
a perfect rainbow of colour, and a full description of
it would occupy half a page. It must suffice that, as it
flashes through a shady glade, it appears to be a thing,
now of emerald-green, now of coppery bronze. It is
found only in the well-wooded parts of the country.
The commonest species of dove in India is the spotted
dove (Turtur suratensis). Looked at from a distance,
it appears a plain, dingy, reddish-brown bird. Closer
inspection reveals a russet-brown head and neck, set off
by a black tippet spotted with white. The tail and
wings are brownish with rufous spots. Its black-and-
white cape suffices to distinguish it from all other kinds
of dove. The ringdove (Turtur risorius) is also a bird
seen all over India. It is grey with a collar composed
of a broad black band, bordered on each side by a
narrow white one. It has a treble note co-co-coo.

Doves are strict vegetarians, and they subsist chiefly
upon grain. They seem to breed all the year round, and
considering the number of the birds existing in India,
one comes across remarkably few nests. It is not that
doves take extraordinary precautions to conceal their
nurseries. They build by preference in a babul tree,
which affords remarkably little cover. The nest escapes
detection because it is not of strictly orthodox con-
struction. Phil Robinson compares it to a heap of
spillikins. According to him, if you would make an

8 BOMBAY DUCKS

imitation dove's nest you have only to upset half a box
of matches. " As a boy," he writes, " I have sometimes
discovered the nest by seeing the eggs in it from below !
It is a mere skeleton, a network, and in its way a
miracle. In fact, it is not a nest at all." This, of
course, is not the poet's idea of the nest. The bard
pictures it as a delightfully woven structure, beautifully
lined with feathers and down. Saith Keats : —

" Warm as a dove's nest among summer trees."

A draughtier abode than a dove's nest it would be
difficult to imagine. To the naturalist, the ghost of a
nest constructed by the dove is most interesting. It
possibly throws some light on the origin of the wonderful
nest-building instinct. How this instinct arose is to me
one of the most difficult problems in natural history.
The primitive bird undoubtedly laid its eggs on the
ground — on the sand, or among rocks and stones.

Then some bird learned to lay them in the grass.
Next, perhaps, some species deposited them on a dense
shrub. Eggs so laid would be apt to slip down and be
lost, so any tendency to make a surface for the eggs by
laying a few sticks upon the bush would be to preserve
by the action of natural selection. By degrees the
instinct must have developed until we eventually arrive
at the wonderful nest of the weaver bird.

This is all pure conjecture, but it seems to me that
the nest-building instinct must have originated in some
such manner. Perhaps the dove has kept to the
methods of its early ancestors, while most of the other
birds have improved upon them. There is much to be

DOVES 9

said in favour of the dove's method, for, other things
being equal, the more pronounced the structure of the
nest, the more conspicuous is it likely to be. In this
Spartan nursery the dove lays two white eggs. Seen
from below, they may be mistaken for the sky, but
from above, they are presumably somewhat con-
spicuous. The owners of the nest, however, keep a
close watch over the nest, and doves, in spite of their
reputed gentleness, are quite able to drive off most
adversaries.

One reads much about the protective colouration of
birds' eggs, and many are doubtless coloured so as to
be inconspicuous in the nest or place where they are
laid. But it seems to me that the theory of protective
colouration is usually carried too far. This is a subject
to which I shall have occasion to again and again refer.
When there are eggs in the nest most birds keep near
it, and show themselves ready to fight any would-be
thieves. It is, I believe, upon this characteristic of the
owners of the nest, rather than the colouring of the
eggs, that the protection of these latter depends. Few
birds will dare to rob the nest of even a smaller bird
if the owner shows that he means fight. Under such
circumstances a great kite will fly ignominiously from
a pair of diminutive king-crows. An ounce of good
solid pugnacity is a more useful weapon in the struggle
for existence than many pounds of protective colouring.

THE OCCUPATIONS OF ANIMALS

IT is pleasant to recline in the shade of a stately
deodar with no company but one's thoughts, and
thus to gaze at the purple wreaths of tobacco
smoke as they ascend towards the blue heavens.
It is sweet to experience the cool Himalayan breeze
direct from the snowy mountains that fill the northern
landscape. It is very soothing to listen to the sleepy
hum of the insects, and to watch the little birds as
they flit from branch to branch of the neighbouring
trees. How desperately busy these tiny feathered
creatures seem to be ! They move as though their life
were a race against time. Yet they have nothing to
do save seek their food, which abounds on all sides.
As I contemplate them I ask myself the old, old ques-
tion, How is it that birds and beasts manage to pass
through life without succumbing to ennui, or, at least,
without being bored nearly to death ? To me the life
of a bird is incomprehensible, but then so is that of a
chaprassi. I admit that I am at present doing nothing ;
but I shall soon grow weary of this. 'Dolce far niente '
for a short time.

Animals, as a rule, do not loaf; it is not thus that
they solve the problem. Loafing is an art which but

ii

12 BOMBAY DUCKS

few living creatures understand. Lizards, crocodiles,
paddy birds, and chaprassis are the greatest authorities
on the subject. Animals have acquired the knack of
making much ado about nothing ; they have learned to
be very busy without doing anything. This accom-
plishment obviously differs from that of loafing. It is
one which animals have brought to perfection, and of
which many human beings — chiefly women — are very
able exponents.

There is overhead a wasp busy exploring the holes
in the trunk of a tree. Why he does this he probably
does not know ; he has no time to stop and think. He
is quite content to explore away as though his life
depended upon it. Five times within the last six
minutes he has minutely inspected every portion of the
same hole. All this labour is useless in a sense ; with-
out it, however, the wasp would in all probability die of
ennui. The wasp is not an isolated case.

Most animals are experts at frittering away time ;
they spend much of their lives in actively doing nothing.
Watch a canary in a cage. He hops backwards and
forwards, between two perches, as though he was paid
by the distance for doing so.

Look at a butterfly. It leads an aimless existence,
nevertheless it is always busy. A bee probably visits
twenty times as many flowers in the day as a butterfly ;
for all that the butterfly is always on the move.

When speaking of the swift in my volume, " Animals
of no Importance/' I noticed how long that bird took
to find the materials for its nest, how it went afar to
seek that which was at hand. This, although the result

THE OCCUPATIONS OF ANIMALS 13
of stupidity, is doubtless a blessing to the bird. Nest-
building affords great pleasure to it — the more pro-
tracted the amusement, the better for the architect.

The squirrel labours from early morn till late eve
laying up a store of nuts. When one storehouse is full
the industrious animal opens another, and then proceeds
to forget the existence of the first !

Go to the running stream and watch the kingfisher
at work. He does not select a suitable place and keep
to it ; he flies from rock to rock and continually makes
excursions up and down the river, and is thus enabled
to spend the whole of the day in fishing and yet not
overeat himself.

It may be asked, How do sessile animals solve the
problem ? The sea-squirt, the sponge, and the barnacle
are non-locomotive, and hence they cannot fritter away
their time as a butterfly does. I reply, that for these
degenerate creatures, sans eyes, sans teeth, sans every-
thing, there is no problem to solve. Sessile animals are,
to all intents and purposes, plants ; they are creatures
devoid of feeling. An oyster has no more soul than a
dandelion.

To return to the higher animals. The search for
food undoubtedly occupies a very large portion of their
day, even if they waste no time. It is not an uncommon
thing to find over one thousand seeds in the crop of a
granivorous bird. Suppose such a creature is able to
find and swallow two hundred seeds in an hour, then
the eating of a thousand represents five hours' solid
work. Insectivorous birds, such as wagtails, must eat
several hundreds of insects in a day. Animals that

i4 BOMBAY DUCKS

live upon bigger game, which cannot be caught with-
out much effort, no doubt often find that the day is
none too long to enable them to obtain a sufficient
meal.

It is a merciful provision of nature that herbivorous
animals, whose food is lying waiting for them on all
sides, have to eat a terrific quantity in order to satisfy
their hunger, otherwise such creatures would surely
soon grow weary of life. Animals spend much time in
sleep. The lower the development of the brain, the
more repose its possessor seems to need.

Some one has said that of the twenty-four hours
a wise man requires to sleep seven, a woman eight, a
child nine, and an idiot ten. The lower animals prob-
ably slumber from twelve to fourteen hours a day.
Most of them sleep from sunset to dawn, while almost
every animal enjoys a prolonged rest during the heat
of the day in the warmer weather.

Only yesterday I was watching a wagtail hunting for
insects amid the stones of a mountain stream. There
was no beating about the bush with him; he meant
business, and most methodical was his search. Then,
quite suddenly, into his downy shoulders went his head,
while one leg was retracted into his ruffled feathers,
and, then and there, on a stone in midstream, he took
forty winks. Presently he roused himself as suddenly
and renewed the hunt.

Every one must have noticed at the Zoological
Gardens that, except at feeding-time, the majority of
the animals are asleep. Of course, I am aware that
such animals do not live natural or healthy lives, and I

PIED-WAGTAIL

THE OCCUPATIONS OF ANIMALS 15

only allude to them to show what animals are capable
of in the way of sleep.

Lastly, animals spend no inconsiderable portion of
the day in play. The play of animals is too big a
subject to be discussed at the tail end of an essay. It
must suffice that nearly all the higher animals indulge
in play ; some go as far as to play regular games.

The life of an animal bears the same relation to that
of a human being as an anthem does to a polemic
oration. The anthem is made up of one short para-
graph ; the speech is replete with facts and figures.
The delivery of each may occupy the same time. In
the former, two or three phrases are sung and resung ;
in the latter, weighty sentences follow in rapid succession,
one upon the other.

It may be said that, if such be the case, if animals
have thus to drag out their lives, they cannot be happy.
This I deny. Animals are not aware of the fact that
they are frittering away their lives, that they do much
useless work. The singing of an anthem causes as
much pleasure to the chorister as the delivery of a great
speech to the orator.

I took out my pony this morning. She had not left
her stable for several days, except for walking exercise.
Was she bored by her long sojourn in the stable ? Not
in the least. She seemed very loath to leave it. During
the whole of the outward journey she was making
attempts to turn homewards, and when at last her
desire was realized, her pace was visibly accelerated.

The dog forms an exception. No doubt he does get
tired of doing nothing. The piteous wail of a hound

16 BOMBAY DUCKS

chained to his kennel affords proof of this. If further
evidence be demanded, there are the unmistakable signs
of pleasure exhibited by a dog when his master picks
up hat and stick. Man has taken away from the dog
his chief occupation, and often gives him little or nothing
to do in return. The same, indeed, applies to other
domestic animals, but they show no signs of ennui.
Between them and the dog there is a difference. The
latter has become the friend and companion of man,
and in consequence has acquired a little of his master's
restless spirit. The dog, therefore, stands upon a plane
above that occupied by the rest of the lower animals.

GREEN PARROTS

GREEN parrots bear living testimony to the
truth of the Psalmist's complaint that the
wicked flourish like the green bay tree. A
more aggressively flourishing tribe of wicked
birds it would be difficult to imagine. Green parrots
live on the fat of the land, and let all the world know it.
Nevertheless, their sins do not go altogether unpun-
ished. A very considerable portion of the parrot folk
are condemned to lifelong imprisonment in little metal
cages, which, when hung out in the sunshine, are as hot

as well, as a tropical country can be ! Such an

existence, however, does not appear to depress a parrot.
There is something sleek and self-satisfied about the
bird which no amount of affliction can obliterate. I
have never seen a " pretty Poll " who has not the com-
plaisant air of a self-made man. Some human beings
have a parrot-like expression. Such individuals appear
to be proud of the fact, for they invariably hold a very
good opinion of themselves. And it is but fair to them
to add that, in most cases, this opinion is justified. A
man with a parrot-like face is usually a good fellow.

Even the self-satisfaction of the green parrot is not
without justification ; the bird is beautiful. The com-
C 17

i8 BOMBAY DUCKS

mon form, which haunts most of our compounds in
India, is known to men of science as the rose-ringed
paroquet, or Palaornis torquatus. The grass-green
plumage of this species must be familiar to every one in
England, for the bird is on sale in every fancier's shop.
The two sexes do not wear exactly similar plumage.
The male has a rose-coloured collar and a black neck-
tie, while his wife has, by way of a collar, to put up
with an emerald-green ring round her neck, and, being
a mere woman, is obliged to go through life without the
luxury of a necktie.

If there be anything in phrenology, the green parrot
must have the bump of destructiveness very largely
developed. The bird is never so happy as when it is
destroying the crop sown by some poor raiyat; and, since
parrots are restrained by neither law nor a moral sense,
there is no hindrance to their self-indulgence, except the
small boys who are told off to watch the crops ; but
these urchins only serve to add zest to parrot existence.

Polly's larcenies would lose half their charm had
not the thief the pleasure of dodging the ill-aimed
stones of the small watchmen. The methods of green
parrots are copied from those of Indian jungle folk, or
perhaps the converse is the case. Of this each man
must judge for himself. It is for me but to state the
sober fact that if an unsophisticated villager desires the
wherewithal to build him a house, and if the aforesaid
villager lives in the neighbourhood of a "reserved
forest," he forthwith betakes himself into the said forest
and proceeds to cut down the twelve most promising
saplings upon which he can lay his axe.

THE ROSE-RINGED PARAKEET

GREEN PARROTS 19

In the same way, when a flock of green parrots
invades a wheat field, each bird does not confine its
depredations to one blade of corn until it is devoured.
That would be very poor sport. Every man, woman,
and child parrot selects a grain-laden stalk and, having
enjoyed one small beakful, bites off the head, and then,
with a wicked chuckle, proceeds to mete out similar
treatment to another head of corn. Needless to say,
the villager is no more fond of the parrot than the forest
officer is of the villager.

The diet of green parrots is by no means confined to
wheat. No grain crop comes amiss to the bird, and, if
there be no corn in Egypt, they make merry among the
fruit trees. Green parrots are, however, strict vege-
tarians. I would earnestly commend this fact to those
good people who attribute all sin in this world to the
eating of meat. Further, green parrots are teetotalers.
This should be borne in mind by those who declare that
the origin of all crime is to be found in strong drink.
Finally, no green parrot is blessed with so much as two
coppers to rub against one another. Let those who
assert that money is the root of all evil consider this
fact. Parrots are vegetarians, teetotalers, and care not
for filthy lucre, yet they are steeped in iniquity from
birth to death, from egg to exit. But, we may safely
leave these momentous facts to moral philosophers and
return to the parrot's bump of destructiveness. It is
the large development of this appendage which contri-
butes so largely to the bird's enjoyment of life.

That green parrots do derive an exceptionally large
amount of enjoyment from existence, no one, who has

20 BOMBAY DUCKS

watched a flock of them, can for a moment doubt.
Other causes contribute to this enjoyment of life. One
of these is the pleasure — pure and unalloyed pleasure —
which these birds derive from annoying other species.
A green parrot will gladly take the trouble to deviate
from its swift arrow-like course merely to hustle some
inoffensive little bird off its perch.

Then again, the tongue of a parrot differs from that
of other birds. It is constructed so as to give the bird
a strong sense of taste. This is a sense which must be
wanting in many birds, else how could they eat worms ?
Watch a pigeon feeding. This lovable bird will gobble
up a couple of hundred grains of Indian corn in half as
many seconds, which reminds me of the fact that our
Teutonic cousins seem to have queer ideas regarding
what constitutes a compliment.

I once heard a German tell an English girl, who was
making a very poor dinner, that she had a stomach like
a pigeon. It is possible that he meant that her appetite
resembled that of a dove. Whatever he meant, he was
very pleased with himself, until he saw the expression
of anger and disgust on the girl's face. Then he grew
sad. Pigeons are very graceful birds, but their manner
of eating does not commend itself to our British ideas.

This, however, is a digression. What I want to
emphasize is, that a bird which stows away its food at
such a rate cannot possibly taste what it is eating. The
same applies, in a lesser degree, to a dog. The parrot,
however, is an epicure.

Lastly, Polly has an ear for music. Not that its voice
is musical. The call of a parrot is a terrible one, and

GREEN PARROTS 21

any less optimistic bird would be greatly depressed at
having to go through life with a note which, to put it
mildly, is an exceedingly harsh squeak. The parrot,
however, so far as one can judge, is very proud of its
voice. It never loses an opportunity of making itself
heard. During its flight it habitually emits loud
screeches. Not only is the note harsh and loud, there
is in addition something particularly offensive in it.
What exactly this is, it is difficult to say, but I feel sure
that every one will agree with me when I say that the
bird's call is such as to make one want to punch its
head!

Evil though their character be, we must admit that
green parrots are very beautiful objects. They are
ornaments to the scenery of the country. As they fly
through the air, they look truly magnificent ; Lockwood
Kipling has happily called them " live emeralds in the
sun."

Parrots are eminently social birds. They almost
invariably hunt in little parties of six or seven. They
rarely, if ever, alight upon the ground. They delight
to sit upon the topmost boughs of trees. At night, they
roost together in large flocks, not infrequently in com-
pany with crows and mynas.

Green parrots nest in holes. They, as a rule, exca-
vate their own dwellings, their powerful beak being
their spade. Green parrots, I think, sometimes utilize
a ready-made hole in a tree, if one happens to be avail-
able. They certainly often nest in holes in buildings.

I have been assured that these birds sometimes
themselves excavate holes in buildings constructed of

22 BOMBAY DUCKS

soft stone. Now, I have very great respect for a parrot's
beak ; indeed, I positively refuse to handle a strange
parrot without first protecting my hands with a pair of
driving gloves. Nevertheless, I find it difficult to believe
that a green parrot's beak is capable of boring into
stone. Even if the feat were possible, I do not think
that " poor Polly " would attempt it, for the excavation
would certainly give him beak-ache, which must be
quite as painful as tooth-ache.

The common green parrot is found all over India,
except in the higher hills. Hence those who would
escape the noisy cries of our green friends have but to
shake the dust of the plains from off their feet and
ascend to the abode of the gods. The birds, however,
venture up to a height of about five thousand feet in
Southern India. Above this they will not trust them-
selves, for they are tropical birds, and love not a low
temperature.

Although green parrots are so widely scattered, they
are by no means uniformly distributed through the
peninsula. In Bombay, for example, they are almost as
numerous as the crows. In Calcutta they are not
plentiful, while in Madras one does not see a dozen in
the course of the summer. They are more abundant,
however, in what those who dwell in the Benighted
Presidency speak of as " the cold weather."

This uneven distribution of birds is a curious phe-
nomenon, and many species exhibit it. So far as I
know, no satisfactory explanation has been offered. It
does not appear to be a question of food-supply or
climate, for it often happens that a certain kind of bird

GREEN PARROTS 23

is found in only one of two places where the conditions
of life appear to be very similar.

There is another common green parrot, the rose-
headed paroquet (P. cyanocephalus). This is a very
beautiful bird, its green body being set off by a red
head, having a bloom like that on a plum. It is better
mannered than its commoner cousin. It has a more
pleasing voice, and affects forests rather than cultivated
land. It is, therefore, from the ryot's point of view, a
more desirable bird.

Indian parrots are good mimics, and can be taught
to talk. The best instructor is a phonograph, which
should continually repeat "poor Polly's" lesson. The
instrument should be put near the bird's cage and
covered up. Then it should be turned on. At first the
parrot will be somewhat alarmed. Then its alarm will
give place to surprise and curiosity. It will next put
its head on one side and listen to the words. After a
time, it will try to repeat them. The first attempts will
be very feeble ones. A little practice, however, will
make Polly perfect. A word of warning is necessary to
the would-be instructor of parrots. The phonograph
lesson should not last more than twenty minutes, or the
poor bird will get brain fever !

In America they have parrot schools, where for a few
dollars Polly is given a complete education !

THE TAILOR-BIRD

" A wren, light rustling
Among the leaves and twigs."

WERE a census taken of the birds of
Madras, the crows would come easily
first on the list ; but there would be
keen competition between the mynas
and the tailor-birds for the second place, and I should
hesitate to say whether the sparrows or the king-crows
would establish a right to the fourth place, a long way
behind the third. Abundant though they be, tailor-
birds are unknown to quite a number of people. It is
not that they avoid the public gaze or shun the
"madding crowd." Far from it. The tailor-bird is
essentially a creature of garden and verandah ; but he
is not arrayed in gay plumage and is very small, so
fails to attract the eye. His feathers are of sober hue,
but he makes up with vivacity what he lacks in brilliance
of plumage.

Little folks tend to be more vivacious than big ones.
The reason of this is, I suppose, that the little people
have less bulk of body to keep going, and consequently
have a larger stock of surplus energy. It is as well

25

26 BOMBAY DUCKS

that this is so. How ridiculous would a man of 6 feet
$ inches appear who habitually gesticulated and flung
himself about like a volatile Frenchman ! Equally
absurd would a goose be that flirted its tail and hopped
about as a tailor-bird does. There are, of course,
exceptions to this rule.

Some little men and women are as stolid as buffaloes,
and some small birds are as sedate as Mark Twain's
frog was after the shot had been administered to it.
But these are few and far between. They are merely
the exceptions which prove the rule.

I must now describe the tailor-bird, or, to give him
his full name and title, Orthotomus sutorius. He is just
a tiny greenish-brown wren-like bird ; indeed, he is a
relative of Mistress Jenny Wren, with whom we are so
familiar in England.

During the greater part of the year Mr. and Mrs.
Durzie are alike in outward appearance. The upper
plumage is greenish with a dash of gold or chestnut
on the head. This last is set off by a neat black
collar, visible only when the neck is stretched ; but as
the bird cannot sing without stretching its neck, and
as it sings, or rather makes a noise, all day long, the
black collar is not difficult to distinguish. The lower
parts of the bird are dull white, and are thus lighter
in colour than the back and wings. This arrangement
is very common in nature among many classes of
animals.

Of the birds clothed in sombre plumage, such as
snipe, sandpipers, and babblers, fully ninety per cent
are darker in colour above than below. Paradoxical

THE TAILOR-BIRD 27

though it may seem, this distribution of colour causes
an animal to be less conspicuous than it would be were
it of a uniform brown hue.

This is proved by the following experiment conducted
at the Natural History Museum, South Kensington.
In a square box, lined with grey flannel, are placed two
bird models, which are covered with flannel of the same
hue as that which lines the box. One model is painted
dark above and white below, the other is left un-
coloured, or, rather, is grey all over. The uncoloured
bird is the more conspicuous. The painted bird, by
counteracting the normal light and shade, becomes at
two yards' distance almost invisible. This may be one
of the reasons why so many birds, beasts, and fishes are
darker in colour above than below.

But to return to the description of the tailor-bird.
In the breeding season, that is to say, from April to
August, the two middle tail-feathers of the cock bird
grow to a greater length than the others and project two
inches beyond them as sharp bristles.

Such then are tailor-birds, of which a dozen or more
are to be seen in almost every garden in the plains of
India, flitting and hopping about among the shrubs and
plants looking for insects, and giving vent to their note,
which may be syllabized as to-wit, to-wit, to-wit, or
pretty, pretty, pretty. The sound varies greatly with
the individual. Some people object to the call of
the tailor-bird ; they complain that it " gets on their
nerves."

Personally, I would not willingly miss the joyous
note from the bird-chorus, although I am prepared to

28 BOMBAY DUCKS

say, with Colonel Cunningham, that whilst listening to
it " one realizes the beauty of the dispensation that has
decreed that in the animal kingdom there should be no
necessary direct ratio between size and vocal power ;
an elephant with a voice on the scale of that of a
tailor-bird would have been a nuisance to a whole
district."

The tailor-bird is interesting chiefly on account of
the nest it constructs, which is one of the most wonder-
ful things in Nature. The nursery in which the young
tailors are born is composed of one or more leaves
which are sown together by the parents. The bird's
beak is its needle, and the cotton is begged, borrowed,
or stolen. If the fruit of the silk-cotton tree be ripe,
the tailor-bird extracts cotton from this and spins it
into thread with beak and feet. If there be no silk-
cotton trees in the neighbourhood the bird often has
recourse to "the fibrous webbing at the bases of the
petioles of the common toddy palm."

A lady who resides in Madras informs me that she
once saw a tailor-bird spinning thread for its nest out
of a spider's web. The bird of course prefers its cotton
thread ready-made when it can find it, so does not
hesitate to rifle a lady's work-box if it espies one in an
accessible place. I would advise those who are fond of
watching birds to leave some pieces of cotton in the
verandah during the nesting season, and if there be
some cannas among the pot plants the chances are
that a pair of tailor-birds will elect to construct a nest
in that friendly verandah.

The method of nest-building varies with the kind of

THE TAILOR-BIRD 29

leaf. If it be a large one, the sides are drawn together
and stitched to keep them in situ. Exactly how the
sewing is performed and the knot made, I do not know.
I have not yet had the good fortune to watch the
process, nor do I know any person who has. If no
large-leafed plants are available in the selected site, the
bird has to content itself with smaller leaves, and it
sews two or more of these together. A leaf of tough
texture is, of course, a sine qud non ; one that tears
easily would not stand the strain of the weight of a
family of young durzies. I once came across a nest
of which the threads had torn the leaves very badly,
and as the youngsters had only just emerged from
the eggs, I was afraid they would come to an un-
timely end ; but the leaf did hold out, and the chicks
went forth into the world with all their little limbs
intact.

The nest, which is thus a kind of purse or pocket, is
well lined with cotton or other soft material, and looks
remarkably cosy when completed. It is almost invari-
ably placed within three feet of the ground, and is
usually in the neighbourhood of a human habitation.

There was a tailor-bird's nest this year in one of the
plants outside the verandah of the Grand Stand on the
" Island " at Madras. The nests are common enough,
but so cunningly are they wrought that they are not
easy to find. Last April, a friend of mine was trim-
ming his cannas when he noticed that one of the
leaves was withering, so cut it off. After he had severed
it from the plant, he discovered in it a nearly completed
tailor-bird's nest. He then stuck the leaf back into the

30 BOMBAY DUCKS

pot, hoping that the birds would continue the construc-
tion of the nest. But they quickly discovered that
something was wrong, held a consultation, and came to
the conclusion that the foundations were shaky, so built
a second nest on a sound leaf.

As soon as the nursery is ready, three, four, or five
diminutive eggs are laid in it. The tailor-bird, like
several other species, lays more than one type of egg.
In this case there are three varieties : those with a white
background with red blotches, those whose surface is
white and but faintly speckled with red, and those
which have a blue background blotched with red.

This presents a difficult problem to those who believe
that birds' eggs are coloured so as to render them
inconspicuous. I am unable to share this belief. In
nine cases out of ten, eggs are conspicuous objects in a
nest, and, even if they were not, it would be difficult to
persuade me that a bird, which habitually devours the
eggs of other birds, which is, so to speak, a professional
egg-stealer, would, when it has once discovered a nest,
be deceived into thinking it were empty because its
contents were inconspicuously coloured.

When a burglar has broken into a house he does not
at once leave it because he does not see the silver on
the dining-table. Nor does an egg-stealing bird which
has discovered a nest leave it without first carefully
scrutinizing the interior. Instinct teaches birds to
build their nests in hidden places, and if, in spite of
this, the nest is discovered, it is then too late to think of
saving the eggs.

The case of those birds which do not construct nests,

THE TAILOR-BIRD 31

but lay their eggs on the bare ground, is very different ;
such eggs are invariably protectively coloured, and so
well do they harmonize with their surroundings that
even a trained zoologist may take ten minutes or more
to discover a clutch of eggs which he knows to be lying
within five yards of where he is standing !

TAILS

THE late Richard Jefferies once defined man
as " an animal with arms." The definition,
so far as it goes, is a good one, for it is to his
arms, quite as much as to his superior brain,
that man owes his present supreme position at the head
of animal creation.

So much has been written regarding the large brain
of man that the other factor which has contributed to
his triumph is in danger of being utterly neglected.
The arms and brain of man are the two physical
necessities to him as a species ; take away either, and
he becomes something else. To endeavour to decide
which of the two organs is the more useful would be as
futile as to attempt to prove that the right wheel is
more essential to a dog-cart than the left.

Consider what a helpless creature man would be
were his arms replaced by a second pair of legs. We
human beings would still be dwellers in caves, living in
terror of the lion, the tiger, the wolf, and the wild boar.
On the other hand, arms, without a suitable brain, will
not make a man ; for monkeys have arms.

Since the rest of the animals do not possess these
organs^ they must be very helpless creatures as com-
D 33

34 BOMBAY DUCKS

pared with man. This they indeed are, but not so
helpless as might at first be supposed, because they
have other compensating organs.

The elephant possesses a trunk which is nearly as
useful as an arm. The sensitive upper lip of the horse,
the tapir, and other creatures, is a rudimentary prehen-
sile organ — an attempt at a hand. The beak of the
parrot, the crow, and the woodpecker, and the claws of
most birds perform many of the functions of the human
hand. The fore-limbs of some mammals, as, for in-
stance, the bear and the squirrel, are utilized in a similar
way.

In addition to these auxiliaries nearly every verte-
brate animal boasts a tail. To the naturalist this is
perhaps the most interesting of all organs. It is one of
the few luxuries which parsimonious Dame Nature
allows her children. Always a useful organ, the tail is
in hardly a single instance absolutely essential to the
existence of its possessor. I doubt if any animal exists
that could not manage to jog along through life without
its caudal appendage.

The organ seems, so to speak, to have arisen by
accident. Without desiring to dogmatise, I think it
may be laid down that the early ancestors of the vast
majority of existing back-boned animals were am-
phioxus-like creatures devoid of limbs. When these
appendages first budded forth it chanced that the hind
pair did not arise at the extreme end of the animal ;
they took origin some little way forward. And, as the
vital organs did not extend to the whole length of the
body, there remained a posterior portion of comparative

TAILS 35

unimportance to its possessor — a quantity of plastic
substance capable of being moulded into almost any
shape and utilized in all manner of ways.

The fish and the whale needed a propelling organ to
enable them the more rapidly to force their way through
the water ; the tail was pressed into service. The
squirrel and the fox felt the want of a warm counter-
pane to protect them from the chilly blasts of the cold
east winds, so Nature took the plastic tail, lengthened it,
covered it with thick, soft, fluffy fur, and thus presented
the animals with warm quilts.

In other cases Nature has made the tail into a prehen-
sile organ, so that its possessors have become very
expert tree-climbers, and are also able to utilize the
caudal appendage in carrying their young.

Some creatures inhabit damp marshes and hot
countries where flies abound, ready to sting them and
worry them to death. A fly-whisk is almost a neces-
sity to such animals, so Nature has made one for them
out of their tail.

The skunk hit upon a strange mode of keeping off
his enemies. He devised the plan of secreting a fluid
emitting the most disgusting odour, so powerful that
no animal will willingly venture near him. He needed
an advertisement of this fact, lest some animal should
attack him in mistake for an inoffensive creature, so his
tail was converted into an advertisement board. He
trots along slowly with his caudal appendage aloft, and
every animal recognizes it, so he is allowed to pass
through life unmolested.

The tail is a conspicuous feature in the anatomy of

36 BOMBAY DUCKS

birds. Most of the fowls of the air are able to boast
of a caudal appendage of sorts. Some possess resplen-
dent tails — the products, we are told, of sexual selection,
the admiration of the ladies for that which is beautiful.
In very many cases the tail acts as a rudder or steering
apparatus to its possessor during flight.

This is well seen in the king-crow, the swift, the swal-
low, and, indeed, in most fly-catching species. The tail
feathers of the woodpecker are very stiff and are of
great use in helping the bird to maintain its position
on the trunks of trees. In nearly every case the tail
is of use during the flight of its possessor. Nine birds
out of ten spread out their caudal feathers when they
take to their wings. The feathers of a bird's tail are
arranged so that the tail is almost impervious to air.
They are, moreover, provided with powerful muscles,
so that when the bird flies they can be spread out in the
shape of a fan with a curved surface, the concavity being
underneath. This is especially well seen in the flight
of a dove or a kite. Nevertheless, the tail is not indis-
pensable to a flying bird.

I once cut off, quite close to their bases, the tail feathers
of a pigeon ; the bird flew quite easily after the opera-
tion. The motion of the wings was perhaps rather more
rapid, and the flight generally more laboured ; nor did
the bird steer itself so well as usual. Therefore, the tail,
although both an ornamental and useful organ, is by no
means indispensable to a bird. As has before been
remarked, the caudal appendage is one of the few
luxuries which Nature allows her children.

In the case of some animals, the use of the tail is not

TAILS 37

so obvious. Take the lizard as an example. His tail
would appear at first sight to be of little or no service
to him, since he parts with it so readily. As a matter
of fact, the little reptile has many enemies ; of these,
the Indian crow is the chief. Now, when a crow attacks
a lizard, it naturally tries to seize him somewhere near
the middle. While the bird is striking at him, the rep-
tile starts to run away; the result is that the crow either
misses him or seizes him by the tail. If the latter
happens, the tail is swiftly detached, and the lizard
makes good his escape.

A few animals possess tails which apparently serve
no useful purpose. These are exceedingly interesting
creatures, for, if their tails really are useless, they are
anomalies that threaten to upset all the theories of
biological science. I do not know the use of the tail
of the rat, or the mouse. Yet we may be tolerably
certain that in each case the organ has some use or it
would not exist. I employ the word "use" in a very
wide sense. I hold an organ to be useful to an animal
if it help its possessors to obtain a mate.

Galton maintains that the action of Natural (or
Sexual) Selection is necessary to keep any organ up
to the mark ; that if the action of Natural Selection
is removed from any organ, that organ at once begins
to deteriorate. In other words, from the moment an
organ becomes useless to its possessor, that organ begins
to degenerate, and eventually disappears. Proofs of
this are seen throughout the realm of nature.

Many animals which spend their lives in utter dark-
ness, whether in the depths of the ocean, or in caves,

38 BOMBAY DUCKS

have lost not only their sight, but even their eyes.
Man's tail became useless to him, so has disappeared.
The whale's legs were no longer needed when it took
to an aquatic life ; they were, therefore, transformed
into fins.

Thus it is probable that, if the tails of the mouse
and the rat served no useful purpose, these animals
would long ago have been reduced to the state of the
guinea-pig. What, then, is the use of the tail in each
case? This is, indeed, a problem. These creatures,
being nocturnal in their habits, do not afford the
naturalist many opportunities of watching them.
Nevertheless, they move in such a rapid, silent,
mysterious way that it is more than possible that the
long supple tail assists them during locomotion.

THE KING-CROW

TURDY independence" sums up the character
of the king-crow (Dicrurus ater\ Needless
to state, this royal bird has no connexion with
the vulgar, plebeian crow. It is difficult to
account for the origin of this popular name. It is true
that the king-crow is clothed in glossy, shining black
plumage from the top of his head to the tip of his long
forked tail, but with this, all resemblance to the corvi
ceases. The two races have absolutely nothing else in
common. They are, moreover, sworn enemies.

Far more appropriate is one of the native names for
the bird, the kotwal ; which, being interpreted, is the
head officer of the chief police station. Every one who
is acquainted, on the one hand, with the methods of the
Indian police, and, on the other, with the habits of the
king-crow, will appreciate the title. This bird, who
should more properly be called the black drongo, is
the chief police officer of the feathered world. He
is inspector-general, commissioner, superintendent, in-
spector and constable, all rolled into one. He takes
upon his shoulders the burden of keeping in order the
whole bird population of India. His office is no sine-
cure, for although the fowls of the air are in general

39

40 BOMBAY DUCKS

law-abiding folk, there are not wanting among them

vagabonds, egg-stealers, nest-breakers, and other

criminals.

Among birds, as among human beings, the wicked
flourish like the green bay tree. Crows, kites, and birds
of prey live lives of iniquity, yet they have possessed
themselves of the land. They are so numerous that the
king-crow is flown off his wings in endeavouring to keep
them in something like order. He receives no fixed
salary for his police duties.

But, were you to ask the drongo if philanthropic
motives prompted him to do this work, he would put
his tongue in his cheek and split his sides with laugh-
ing. He is an Eastern. He lives up to all the best
traditions of the Oriental police by levying black-
mail at every opportunity. Moreover, he looks with
lenient eye on offences committed against the person
or property of others, becoming zealous in his duties
only when he has to investigate crimes of which he is
the victim.

The king-crow is of opinion that charity begins — and
ends — at home. Hence it comes to pass that the police
activity of the drongo is greatest during the nesting
season. At no other time has the bird any property to
look after. Nests are constructed from April to July,
and during these months a couple of king-crows chasing
a crow or a kite is a sight so common as to attract but
little attention.

Nearly every bird, no matter how small or weak, will
attack the animal which threatens its nest ; in this re-
spect there is nothing remarkable about the king-crow.

THE KING-CROW 41

He, however, differs from all other birds in the ferocity
of his attack and the eagerness with which he rushes
into the fray.

Like the London street cad, the king-crow thoroughly
enjoys a row. He never loses an opportunity of
picking a quarrel. If another bird so much as wink
its eye at His Royal Highness, that is held to be
sufficient provocation. To venture within twenty yards
of the tree in which the royal nest is situated is high
treason.

Now, since the drongo's nest is not so large as a lawn-
tennis ball, and is usually carefully concealed in a forked
branch of a leafy tree, it often happens that a quiet,
inoffensive bird, one who has never done anything
naughty, innocently settles in the tree only to be roughly
handled by the unreasonable owners of the nest. It is
superfluous to say that the crow never loses a chance
of " taking a rise " out of a king-crow. The interest
which the larger bird takes in the .nest of the smaller
is really quite affecting.

A crow is pottering about aimlessly, looking out for
mischief for idle claws to do, when it observes a couple
of drongos busily at work. " A nest, probably young
ones!" says Mr. Corvus Splendens to his noble self.
He then proceeds to wend his way towards the king-
crows, sailing along with that air of jaunty nonchalance
which cats and crows alone can assume.

"Morning! How's the nest and the dear little
angels?" caws he. In less time than it takes to relate,
the irate drongos have dashed at the crow, and are
trying to secure beakfuls of feathers out of his back.

42 BOMBAY DUCKS

The last-named is beating a hasty and somewhat
undignified retreat ; he is half sorry he came, his joy at
having angered the king-crows being tempered by the
fear of parting with a portion of his plumage.

The king-crow is the pluckiest of birds. It is difficult
to name the creature of which he is afraid. One day
I happened to pass under a low tree in which some
drongos were sitting. These birds began to swear
lustily. I looked up to investigate the phenomenon,
and saw that there were in the tree three young king-
crows, fresh from the nest and scarcely able to fly.

The birds were out of my reach, but notwithstanding
this the parents fluttered about my head in a state
of great excitement. Had I touched one of the
youngsters the father and mother would probably have
attacked my hand, and tried to take pieces of flesh out
of it.

I once saw a couple of drongos treat a monkey very
shamefully. The mammal was squatting in the middle
of the road, and, to avoid the wheels of my cart and
the lash of my whip, took refuge in a neem tree.

Now this tree happened to contain a king-crow's
nest. Before the monkey was half-way up the tree the
drongos were taking pecks at his head. The ape
looked very hurt at this outbreak of Hooliganism,
having of course no idea that the birds were merely
protecting their nest. He jumped into the next tree,
but the attack continued with unabated fury.

So the monkey moved on again, but the king-crows
still continued to make dashes at his head, which must
have been aching badly by this time. The monkey

THE KING-CROW 43

then jumped on to the ground and cowered at the base
of the trunk of a tree.

Still the little furies made swoops at him, so that he
took to his heels and ran until he had put a long
distance between himself and his foes.

I think sufficient has been said to show that king-
crows are able to look after their nests.

Before passing on to consider some other traits
of their sturdy character, a few words about the nest
and eggs may not be out of place. The former is
"a strong, neat cup of roots and grass," covered over
with cobwebs. It looks rather like a knot in a tree and
hence is very difficult to distinguish when the bird is
not sitting. The eggs are remarkable as being of three
distinct types. They may be pure white, the ground
colour may be white, spotted with red, or the general
colour may be salmon, spotted with red, brown, and
purple.

This is, I think, a very hard nut for those to crack
who maintain that eggs laid in nests are protectively
coloured. Needless to say, the same kind of young
bird comes out of each description of egg. The young,
when they first leave the nest, closely resemble their
parents, the chief point of difference being that the
lower plumage is spotted with white or grey. The
adult king-crow is a most beautiful object. Its beauty
is that of form and proportion rather than of colour.
It is the beauty of the athlete, of the racehorse, of the
tiger.

King-crows need to be of athletic build, for they live
exclusively on flies and insects, which they catch on

44 BOMBAY DUCKS

the wing. Their method of securing a meal is simple.
It is to take up a position on the back of a cow, or
horse (far enough forward to avoid the swish of the
tail), on a bare branch, a railing, a telegraph pole, or
any other " rod, pole or perch " from which a good out-
look can be obtained. From this point of vantage they
make little sallies into the air after insects. It is at
this juncture that the king-crow's forked tail is useful ;
it is by no means a mere ornament; it is the bird's
rudder, and a most efficient steering apparatus it makes.
The aerial movements of a king-crow, its graceful
flight, its rapid turns, its elegant curves, compel ad-
miration. The chased insect has not the ghost of a
chance.

Not long ago I witnessed a most interesting insect-
catching match at the Gymkhana Club, Madras, be-
tween the crows and the drongos. It was a case of
Gentlemen v. Players. The crows were the Gentlemen.
I use the word in its strict sporting sense. As to social
status, the crow is on a par with the professional card-
sharper, but as regards fly-catching he is an amateur.

It was Sunday evening, when, the Gymkhana being
deserted by human beings, the birds were able to enjoy
themselves without let or hindrance. The king-crows
were perched on the white railings, while the crows
were on the ground inside the enclosure. The sun had
just disappeared below the horizon and insects in-
numerable were upon the wing. These were the
quarry. The king-crows won the toss and put the
crows in first. As an insect came conveniently near, a
crow made a dash at it and in most cases missed it, then

THE KING-CROW 45

a king-crow would capture it and thereby score a point.
The " Pros " literally " ran round " the amateurs.

Never before has a more crushing defeat been in-
flicted upon an amateur team. Time after time the
drongos succeeded where the crows had failed. It was
amusing to compare the clumsy attempts of the corvi
with the neat, clean curves and turns of the drongos.
But the crows, although outclassed, did not give in.
The contest lasted until the umpires decided that the
light was too bad for play, and so ordered stumps to be
drawn.

Another proof of the masterful character of the king-
crow is the small amount of sleep in which he indulges.
Great men and drongos allow themselves only about
five hours' sleep in the twenty-four. The king-crows
are always the last of the birds to go to bed and are
usually the earliest to rise. Long before dawn, the
cheery, metallic, whistling note of the king-crow is to
be heard.

A short time ago one of these birds tuned up at 2.30
a.m. In the middle of the day they do not sing much ;
they are too earnestly engaged in the business of life
to indulge in the " chanting of foolish litanies " and the
like frivolities, but, as the sun begins to approach the
horizon, they allow themselves a little relaxation in
form of song.

In spite of all his cleverness, the king-crow is vic-
timized by a cuckoo. But we may say this for him,
that he is the dupe of no clumsy hoax. The cuckoo
in question is able to gain access to the nest only by
donning the plumage of the king-crow. The disguise is

46 BOMBAY DUCKS

almost perfect, the only flaw being that the cuckoo is
not able to disguise its zygodactyle feet. But the king-
crow does not notice such trifles. If he did he would
probably take the wily cuckoo for a deformed cousin
and offer him a ticket for a free dinner at the nearest
charitable institute.

CONCERNING CATS

HISTORY does not record the name of the
person who first conceived the idea of
domesticating the cat. All we know with
certainty is that the individual in question
was not an Englishman. Some people, learned in phil-
ology, assert that pussy was first domesticated in
Persia. The evidence upon which this theory is
based is the name "Puss/' which is alleged to be a
corruption of " Perse." Personally, I would not hang
a dog, much less consign a cat to Persia, upon such
evidence.

Wherever it was first domesticated, the cat soon
came to occupy a high position in human esteem.
This is proved by the fact that cat mummies have
been discovered in Egypt, where temples were dedi-
cated to the quadruped. How the creature succeeded
in thus ingratiating itself is a mystery to me. I have
studied the ways of the animal for some years, and
have been unable to discover a shred of respectability
about pussy's character. It is true that I admire the
magnificent way in which the cat always falls on its
feet when thrown out of the window. I once saw a cat
flung from the third floor "of a London house. Puss fell

47

48 BOMBAY DUCKS

lightly on her feet and strolled off in a most dignified
manner.

The cat is an ungrateful creature ; she attaches her-
self to localities, not to persons. Cat-lovers will prob-
ably take exception to this assertion ; but let them for
a moment compare their cats with their dogs. How
many cats have they possessed that would follow them
about wherever they went and refuse to leave them
unless tied up, or held back by force ? How many cats
have they owned that would receive them with great
demonstrations of joy after a short absence? How
many cats have they known that would invariably
come to their owner when called ? These are all attri-
butes of even a poor pariah dog.

The cat is selfishness personified. It is a discon-
tented creature, and manifests its discontent by emit-
ting that most abominable of sounds — a miau. It is
sly, cunning, and not over-valorous. It dislikes a bath,
and is, as a rule, incapable of real affection. It is a
savage, which has lost few of its ancestral traits. It is
the most contemptible member of the most cruel
family of mammals.

"No creature," writes Lockwood Kipling, "is more
independent than the cat. Its more complete domesti-
cation in the West is in reality mainly due to its love
of warmth. For the sake of comfort it will tolerate
humanity, and blink amiably at the fireside, but a
serene selfishness is at the basis of its character. The
Indian domestic cat is not bound to the family circle
by the need of warmth ; there is no fireside to speak of,
and it lives its own life."

CONCERNING CATS 49

Pussy consents to be semi-domesticated in the West
because she is cute enough to know that she is a gainer
thereby. She is petted and pampered, so in return
"blinks amiably" at, and purrs to, her benefactor.
There is no denying the fact that the cat is a very
intelligent animal. Feline toleration of the human
race is, then, comprehensible; but why do so many
human beings love the cat ?

One can of course easily understand why the whole
race of domestic servants in Europe look with kindly
eyes upon the miniature tiger. It is the scapegoat of
the genus servitor. It bears the burden of many break-
ages of crockery, not all of course ; to ascribe to pussy
all the damage sustained by the household china would
be tantamount to killing the goose that lays the golden
eggs, for it would lead inevitably to the rapid expulsion
of the cat — hence it happens that articles of crockery
have a foolish and disagreeable habit of coming to
pieces in the hands. Oh! fragile cups and saucers,
why come asunder at the gentle touch of Mary Ann ?

Then, again, cats keep down the population of mice,
hence the affection with which servants regard poor
pussy. But this does not explain the love which the
elderly spinster of all classes entertains towards a most
objectionable quadruped. Victor Hugo has, I think,
discovered the reason. According to him, " Dieu a
fait le chat pour donner a Vhomme le plaisir de caresser le
tigre?

People keep cats just because cats are felidce. The
cat is obviously a tiger in miniature, hence the fascina-
tion which it exercises over the human mind.

E

50 BOMBAY DUCKS

In the Middle Ages cats were feared rather than
loved, and, as we shall see, cats are not now, nor ever
have been, universally popular. The mysterious air of
the cat, its nocturnal habits, its terrible caterwaulings,
which often sound like the cries of human beings in
distress, and its shining orbs, all tended to cause the
belief that cats were witches' familiars.

Sailors, who are invariably superstitious, object to
having cats on a ship ; but when once a cat finds its
way on board it is usually allowed to remain there, for,
were pussy thrown overboard, a furious storm would
assuredly arise.

Before passing on to demonstrate the popular dislike
of cats, let me quote the excellent description of the
animal given by Bartholomew Angelicus : " He is a
full lecherous beast in youth, swift, pliant, and merry,
and leapeth and reseth on everything that is afore him,
and is led by a straw and playeth therewith, and is a
right heavy beast in age and full sleepy, and lieth slyly
in wait for mice, and is aware where they be more by
smell than by sight, and hunteth and reseth on them
in privy places, and when he taketh a mouse he playeth
therewith, and eateth him after the play. In time of
love is hard fighting for wives, and one scratcheth and
rendeth the other grievously with biting and with claws,
and he maketh a rueful noise and ghastful when one
preferreth to fight with another, and hardly is he hurt
when he is thrown down off an high place. And when
he hath a fair skin he is, as it were, proud thereof, and
goeth fast about, and is oft for his fair skin taken of the
skinner and slain and flayed."

CONCERNING CATS 51

As evidence of the general and, as I think, well-
founded dislike of the cat, I may cite the distich which
often accompanies the signpost on inns, bearing the sign
of " The Cat and Lion " :•—

" The lion is strong, the cat is vicious,
My ale is strong, and so is my liquors."

A Frenchman named Bertrand had to leave his native
country in a hurry, having been detected in a plot
against Cardinal Mazarin. He fled to the Hague, where
he opened a cutler's shop, setting up as a sign a picture
representing a cat and the Cardinal and wrote under
it : " Aux deux mechanics betes."

Among the natives of India, too, the cat does not
seem to be popular. This is evidenced by many native
proverbs. I quote two from Lockwood Kipling : " The
cat with mouse tails still hanging out of her mouth
says : ' Now I feel good, I will go on a pilgrimage to
Mecca,'" and "The cat does not catch mice for God."
Some people not merely dislike cats, they loathe
them with a great loathing. Napoleon was a case in
point.

Henry III of France is said to have fainted at the
mere sight of a cat. But the gentleman who "takes
the cake " is he who wrote many years ago to the "Spec-
tator " : " As I was going through a street of London,
where I had never been till then, I felt a general clamp
and faintness all over me, which I could not tell how to
account for, till I chanced to cast my eyes upwards,
and found that I was passing under a signboard on
which the picture of a cat was hung ! "

52 BOMBAY DUCKS

Even nowadays many people declare that they cannot
bear to be in the same room as a cat, a black one for
preference ; they assert that they can feel an uncanny
presence, even though the quadruped be not visible.

Personally, I have no objection to the company of a
well-behaved cat, but "poor puss" is not an animal
which appeals to me. I have lived too long in London
to cherish any friendly feelings towards the feline race.
Too often have I been awakened by the caterwaulings
which nightly emanated from some roof of bad repute.

We were unfortunate enough to have as our next-
door neighbour a lady novelist. " The woman writer,"
says Mr. Crosland, " is an offence in the sight of
Olympus." This sentiment seems scarcely polite, and
I am not prepared to subscribe to it until I have dis-
covered whether every feminine author keeps a Cats'
Home, as the lady writer in question did. The good
woman loved cats.

Now, to all those who are similarly disposed towards
pussy I would respectfully say : " Remember that cats
are not what they seem. During the day they look as
though butter would not melt in their mouths ; they
appear to be paragons of virtue, models of saintliness.
But what a difference in the night ! Then they become
fiends incarnate.

" Remember, ye possessors of cats, that you get the
benefit of your pets by day, but your neighbours get it
by night. You cannot keep cats and be popular."
To the neighbours I would say: "Keep an air gun."
I speak as one having special knowledge. I lived for
years next door to the aforesaid Cats' Home, and

CONCERNING CATS 53

succeeded in keeping the inmates on their side of the
garden wall. A cat, when once it has received the
charge from a "Gem" air gun, is a remarkably wary
animal. No cat ever ventured outside that Home with-
out keeping an eye on the windows of our house. If
any one appeared at a window the cat would show a
turn of speed that would do credit to any greyhound.

I remember on one occasion looking out of the window
and seeing the lady novelist stroking "dear pussy." The
creature was purring contentedly, and all went well
until it happened to catch sight of me. In less time
than it takes to say " Jack Robinson " that cat had put
three gardens between itself and me. The astonish-
ment of the lady writer at the seemingly extraordinary
behaviour of "puss" was good to watch. But cats are
not without their redeeming features. They catch mice,
and the bolder spirits among them will stand up to
a rat.

Further, the veneer of domestication covers the cat so
scantily that it is scarcely necessary to go into the
wilderness in order to study the ways of \hzfelida in a
state of nature. It suffices to watch puss. Note the
stealth with which she walks and the noiselessness of
her footfall. Contrast her silent gait with the noisy
pitter-patter of the dog. There is, of course, no neces-
sity for pussy to walk as though she were dodging a
policeman ; this practice is the survival of a trait
useful, nay indispensable, to the wild species, which
have to stalk over dried grass and shrivelled leaves a
prey which is keen of hearing and fleet of foot. Notice
the tremendous speed at which a cat can run and the

54 BOMBAY DUCKS

mighty springs of which she is capable. The best
manner of witnessing this is to throw a jug of cold
water over the cat when she is asleep in the garden.

Observe how cunning pussy is when engaged in
shikar. Notice the crouching attitude she adopts and
the stealthy manner in which she advances towards her
victim. Mark the tail : the tip is raised and is slowly
wagged from side to side. This is the only sign given
by the cat of the intense excitement with which she is
thrilled. A sportsman in India may, if he be fortunate,
see a tiger do all this.

The nocturnal proclivities of puss are nothing but a
survival of the habits of her ancestors. Most, if not all,
her cousins in the wild state hunt during the hours of
darkness. Their eyes are made for night-work.

There is, however, one difference between the cat and
wild carnivora which it is important to notice, other-
wise he who watches pussy will entertain an exagger-
ated idea of the cruelty of beasts of prey. When a
cat catches a mouse she tortures her victim before she
actually kills it. I do not think that the mouse suffers
much pain while the cat is indulging in her cruel play
at its expense. The little rodent is, I believe, half-
paralysed, and its senses completely numbed.

Men who have been carried off by lions declare that
they experienced no fright ; that, indeed, they scarcely
realized what was happening. Be this as it may, pussy
entreats her victim thus shamefully because she is not
hungry ; she indulges in shikar for pleasure, and not to
satisfy a craving for food.

The wild carnivora, although they thoroughly enjoy

CONCERNING CATS 55

hunting, rarely attack other creatures unless driven to
do so by the pangs of hunger. Under such circum-
stances, a beast of prey does not "play" with its
victim ; it gives it the happy despatch immediately on
catching it and proceeds to devour it. The tragedies
of nature are usually accompanied by but little cruelty.

A LITTLE NURSERY AND ITS
OCCUPANTS

A PAIR of white-browed fantail flycatchers
(Rhipidura albifrontatd) were considerate
enough to build a nest within a hundred
yards of the house in which I spent a
month's leave at Coonoor. The nest in question was
placed on a forked branch, the lowest in the tree, and
at a height of about ten feet from the ground. I use
the past tense advisedly, for the nest is no longer in the
tree.

After it had been vacated by the birds I had it
removed, and it is now the property of the Bombay
Natural History Society. The tree in which the nest
was built grows on the slope of a steep hill, so that one
had only to ascend a couple of paces in order to look
right down into the nest. This latter is a work of art.

If you would make an imitation of it, and, no matter
how deft your fingers be, the imitation would, I fear,
fall far short of the genuine article, you had best
purchase a small bunch of violets. The bunch should
be of the description sold by flower-girls for button-
holes. It should be well put together, the stalks being
tightly bound up with any fibrous material.

57

58 BOMBAY DUCKS

Having secured the bunch, the next thing to do is to
cut away the heads of the flowers, together with the
upper parts of the stems, until you have a hollow cup,
of which the base is formed of stalks closely pressed
together, and the sides of leaves. This must now be
lined with soft material of which the strands should
be delicately interwoven, and then, if a few cobwebs be
wound outside the stalks, you will have a tolerable
imitation of a fantail flycatcher's nest.

The Madras Museum possesses a specimen, but this
is not nearly so well put together as the one I am
describing. Birds of the same species display different
degrees of skill in the construction of their nests. Some
are more artistic than others. The fantail flycatcher's
nest seems absurdly small for the bird. This has to sit
on the nest, not in it

Imagine a canary resting on an egg-cup, and you will
have some idea of the picture presented by the sitting
fantail. In this elegantly-shaped, shallow, cup-like
nursery are deposited three cream-coloured eggs, spotted
with greyish brown. They are conspicuous objects and
may be distinguished at a distance of ten or twelve feet.

This is one of the many awkward facts which con-
front, at every turn, those naturalists who maintain that
all birds' eggs are coloured so as to render them incon-
spicuous when in the nest. It seems to me that such
men are slaves of a theory. So imbued are they
with the doctrine of protective colouration that they
are unable to see things as they are. But this is a
digression.

The eggs require ten or twelve days for their incuba-

A LITTLE NURSERY 59

tion. I believe that both birds sit alternately. When
the young hatch out they are of course ugly, large-
mouthed creatures, innocent of a single feather. At
first, they are very weak, and seem to have scarcely
strength enough to raise their heads to receive the
insects brought by their parents.

Their growth is, however, exceedingly rapid. When
three days old they are fully twice the size they were
when first hatched. They keep their fond parents very
busy seeking food for them. This consists entirely of
minute insects. Many of these are picked off the trunks
and branches of trees, some are taken off the ground,
while others are caught on the wing. Elegance marks
every movement of the fan tail flycatcher. It runs
swiftly among the branches, and every now and again
makes a pretty bow and spreads its tail ; then suddenly
it will make a little sally in the air, and return, with
easy sweep, to the place whence it started. In grace
of movement a fantail flycatcher is nearly equal to a
wagtail.

While seeking for food the parents never go far from
the nest. They keep a most jealous guard over this
precious structure, and most necessary is it that they
should do so, for crows are exceedingly fond of eating
young birds, and are always on the look out for a nest ;
and when they discover it, woe betide the occupants !
" Eha " thus describes this phase of the corvine charac-
ter, and that which he says is but too true : " What
I cannot forgive is the constant and ruthless massacre
of innocents that goes on where crows are allowed
to have their own way. They watch every little bird to

60 BOMBAY DUCKS

find out if it has a nest ; they count the days till the first
young sparrow flutters out on its untried wings ; they
pounce upon it and carry it to the nearest tree and
hold it under one foot and pick it to pieces, absolutely
callous to the shrieks of the parents as they flutter
round, distracted but helpless.

Small wonder, then, that every tiny bird hates the
crow with all the hatred of which its little heart is
capable. The crows caused these flycatchers much
annoyance. I was watching them performing their
nursery duties on the second day after their chicks
were hatched, when a great black corby alighted in
the next tree. Both fantail flycatchers immediately
attacked it, screaming angrily.

Their method of procedure was to make a series of
dashes at the back and tail of the crow, pecking at
it each time they approached. The crow did not
appear to mind this treatment very much. It took
it very philosophically. It, however, kept a keen eye
on its puny aggressors, and, now and again, tried to
seize one with its great beak, but they were always
too quick for it. The crow was looking about intently,
doubtless trying to locate the nest, for the conduct of
the fantails betrayed the fact that it was not far off.
In spite of the united efforts of the flycatchers, the
crow maintained its position. Presently it began to
caw. This brought up another " treble-dated bird."
The flycatchers then directed their attack against the
new-comer, leaving the first crow alone for a little.

Both corbies now began to caw loudly. After the
gallant little flycatchers had made over fifty dashes at

THE IN'DIAN CORBY

A LITTLE NURSERY 61

it, the second crow flew to a distance of a few yards.
The flycatchers again transferred their attention to the
first crow, which had maintained its position and was
still, I believe, looking about for the nest. Presently
the combined attack grew too hot for it, and it flew
away. Then the flycatchers re- transferred their atten-
tion to the second crow, which eventually moved on. So
excited had the fantails become that they continued
to scream and swear for some time after the corbies
had departed.

But, after a little, they calmed down and resumed
their search for food. The crows annoyed them in
this way not once, but many times. A few days later
I saw these birds mob another crow. The attack lasted
fully five minutes. This time it was well arranged.
The flycatchers took up positions on each side of the
crow and made alternate dashes at it. The corby had
its work cut out in defending itself. I never before
saw a crow display so much agility. Eventually it
grew tired of twisting its head from side to side and
flew off.

Being much interested in the plucky manner in which
the little birds drove off the crows, I thought I would
see what they would do to me if I made as if to take
their young ones. Accordingly, when both the parents
were near by, I moved up to the nest and stretched out
my hand towards it, but it was just out of reach.

The flycatchers made no attempt to attack me. I
think they were afraid of so large a creature as a human
being. When such birds as bulbuls, babblers, and white-
eyes alighted in the tree, in which the nest was situated,

62 BOMBAY DUCKS

the flycatchers did not molest them. Their instinct
taught them that these mild birds would not harm their
young. But all crows, kites, and hawks that ventured
near were promptly mobbed.

By the third day, the young birds had grown so big
that there was no room for them to lie side by side in
the nest. They lay jumbled together in a heap, of
which the summit was higher than the walls of the
nursery. By this time the tail and great wing-feathers
had begun to appear ; these, being in sheaths, made
their possessors look like miniature porcupines.

Their conduct in the nest was unlike that of any
other young birds I have seen. As a rule, the moment
a parent arrives, up into the air go all the gaping
mouths, and there is quite a hullabaloo, each youngster
being afraid he will be forgotten !

When the parent fantail came to the nest there was
no clamour among the young birds, and only one of
the three mouths opened. The decorous conduct of
the young flycatchers is, probably, to be attributed to
the action of natural selection ; for, living as they do in
such an insecure nursery, the young birds would almost
certainly fall out if they were of restless disposition, or
if, when the parents came to the nest, they clamoured
violently for food.

From the third to the sixth day the young birds did
not make any great visible progress. But from the
sixth day onwards they developed apace. On the
eighth day the white feathers on the eyebrow began to
show themselves, and on the tenth the young birds
looked quite presentable. The body was then covered

A LITTLE NURSERY 63

with downy feathers, those of the wings and tail being
fully developed and the white eyebrow completely
formed.

I had to leave Coonoor on the eleventh day after the
young birds were hatched, so was unable to witness the
first lesson in flying, which was given when they were
fourteen days old.

What human play or pageant is so entertaining as
the sight of young birds making their first attempts
at flight? The excited parents, while giving vent
to twitters of endearment and encouragement, make
little sallies into the air by way of example. They
are saying, in bird language, " Come, my dears, you are
quite old enough to fly. See how easy it is and how
delightful." But the young birds seem disinclined to
emulate their parents. They look fearfully around
them.

Again and again, the old birds exhort them ; but the
young ones still hesitate. They are afraid to trust
themselves to their feeble little wings, just as a child,
who cannot swim, fears to plunge, head first, into the
still water of a swimming-bath.

Eventually the bravest of the little creatures over-
comes its fears, and, amid the delighted cries of its
parents, essays a short flight. It flutters awkwardly,
but manages to reach a neighbouring branch, upon
which it alights, trembling with excitement and exulta-
tion. The battle is now half won. The other nestlings
follow the good example, and, one by one, they learn
how delicious is the sensation of sailing on outstretched
wings through the thin air. »

THE SURVIVAL OF THE UNFIT

IN the Garden of India there is a little hillock of
which I wot — a mound raised by the hand
of man from the great level plain. Upon the
summit stands the ruin of a Muhammadan tomb.
The white veneer of marble has fallen away, leaving
bare the cold greystone of the domed roof and the
crumbling bricks of the massive walls. The white
gown with which man clothed the building has been
swept away by Nature to be replaced by a garment
woven in her own loom — a garment composed of
flowered weeds and soft green moss. Apart from its
ruined state, the solidity of the pile proves that it
belongeth not to this superficial age.

Beneath the dome lie the ashes of some great
warrior, long since dead, whose very name seems to
have passed from the memory of man. His bones
lie neglected, for his whole race has died out.

From the mound a panorama of the fertile plain
is obtained. Exuberant life is visible all around. A
pied kingfisher (ceryle varid) hovers over the lake near
by; little birds are singing in the greenwood tree;
flocks of boisterous "green parrots" (Palceornis tor-
quatus) hurry overhead, nor do they hush their shrill
F 65

66 BOMBAY DUCKS

voices as they fly past the abode of the dead. Hard
by, from behind a picturesque bamboo clump, ascends
the blue smoke from a tiny hamlet.

Some of the little naked village children are actually
playing among the ruins of the tomb. It is an interest-
ing sight this. Those children are the sons of the soil,
they are little plebeians, descendants of the men who
once cringed and cowered before him whose tomb
is now a ruin, whose race is extinct, and whose very
name has been forgotten. How are the mighty
fallen !

Is not this a case of the survival of the unfit? Is it
not a paradox that the race of puny, ill-fed men should
have survived, while that of the warrior chieftain,
superior in intellect and physique, should have become
extinct ?

But look! two jackals are making their way out
of the cover at the base of the mound. Timid creatures
these, they look the picture of cowardice as they sneak
along, the tail between the legs. Is this not another
instance of the survival of the unfit? How is it that
these poor fear-stricken jackals are a flourishing species,
found all over India, while mighty animals, such as the
elephant, the lion, the giraffe, and the tiger, are fast
disappearing from off the face of the earth? The
question may be extended. How comes it that rats,
mice, moles, rabbits, hares, and the other small fry
of the mammalian world hold their own in the struggle
for existence, while the mammoth, the mastodon, the
glyptodon, the giant sloth and the great pterodactyle
reptiles have become extinct ? What mean these para-

PIED KINGFISHER

THE SURVIVAL OF THE UNFIT 67

doxes ? How reconcile them with the doctrine of the
survival of the fittest ?

In Nature the battle is not always to the strong, nor
the race to the swift. The survival of the fittest does
not mean the survival of the ideally fit, but of those
best adapted to their surroundings. Many are the
habitations of the earth, and Nature fills each of these
with the most suitable occupant at her disposal. Every
creature that now exists is a victor in the struggle
for existence. Every one has been offered a situation
by Nature and accepted it. The mole survives, not
because he is a magnificent, comely creature, but be-
cause he is willing to live a lowly life under the earth.
The brown rat flourishes because it is ready, for the
sake of life, to live in dark, noisome drains and eat
garbage.

Every animal now living has survived, because it is
willing to occupy the place assigned to it by Nature, no
matter how lowly that position be. Many animals
have, to use a figure of speech, preferred to perish
to thus occupying menial positions ; they have refused
to accept the station offered them by Nature; they
have elected to wage war with the giants of the earth
and have been defeated, and hence are known to us
only as fossils.

Other great animals have, so to speak, overreached
themselves, and hence are no more. There is no room
on this little earth for giants. They have all become
extinct, with the exception of the elephant, the whale,
and the giraffe, and these species are struggling against
their inevitable doom. So that even before man came

68 BOMBAY DUCKS

upon the scene, those animals to survive were by no
means always the ideally fit, but those who were best
able to adapt themselves to the nook or cranny in the
world that Nature assigned to them. Man, however,
has been more ruthless than even Nature in the destruc-
tion of the nobler mammals.

There is an ancient fable that tells of a staunch old
oak and a feeble sapling which grew side by side in a
forest. A mighty tempest came, the oak tree bravely
held up its head and haughtily refused to bow down
before the storm, so it was uprooted and died a noble
death. The sapling, on the other hand, meekly bent
before the stormy blast, acknowledging its supremacy ;
so the gale passed over it leaving it unharmed.

This fable explains the survival of the unfit.

Before man was evolved the world may be compared
to India in pre-British times. There were conquering
species and conquered ones. No one race stood head
and shoulders above all the rest. Now one species
established a supremacy, now another, but the position
was invariably a short-lived one, and, even while it
lasted, was constantly in jeopardy.

In those days, great pachyderms disputed with
monster edentates and powerful carnivora the supre-
macy of the earth ; sometimes one prevailed for a little,
sometimes another. Often these conquering species
existed side by side, maintaining a kind of armed
neutrality, half afraid of each other, and contemptuous
of the great mass of the animals, allowing them to
occupy those places in the earth which they themselves
could not fill. Then suddenly one species prevailed.

THE SURVIVAL OF THE UNFIT 69

This mammal was of no great size, nor was it very
muscular. Physically it was by no means the finest of
the denizens of the earth. It, however, turned into a
weapon an organ which hitherto ;had not been held
of much account — the brain. By using this wonderful
organ it learned to defeat strength by craft ; it further
learned that it was possible to adapt its environment to
itself, instead of adapting itself to the environment, as
all other animals were compelled to do.

But, for a long while the contest hung in the balance.
In spite of his large brain, in spite of the fact that he
was able to make implements of stone with which he
could sometimes kill the great carnivora, these latter
would often seize and devour man, so that he was forced
to take shelter in caves. But, as time wore on, his
brain enlarged ; he grew more skilful in the manufac-
ture of weapons, and soon asserted his supremacy. He
has not spared his mighty adversaries. One by one he
has swept them off the face of the earth, or forced them
to take refuge far from him in swampy places and
impenetrable jungles.

The big herbivorous animals he had to destroy, for
they required too much food. The elephant and the
camel he has allowed to remain because they have
consented to act as his slaves. But every great and
powerful animal, which refused to recognize his ascen-
dancy, has been swept off the face of the earth, or is
being hunted to extinction, so that our present fauna is
but a pigmy remnant. All that which is noblest has
disappeared.

Were I a poet I would write an ode to the gigantic

70 BOMBAY DUCKS

animals which have found this little earth too small for
them ; to the mighty flying reptiles the expanse of
whose leathery wings measured thirty feet, and which,
had they lived in these days, would have been capable
of flying off with a bullock ; to the great sloth-like
creatures — megatherium, glyptodon, and mylodon —
whose height was three times that of a tall man and
twice that of the average elephant ; to the huge hairy
mammoths ; to the giant mastodons, -whose tusks were
twelve feet in length; to the enormous lizards which
were large enough to swallow a sheep at a gulp ; to the
moa, once " the lord of the great Polynesian islands of
New Zealand."

When we contemplate such extinct monsters which
must be numbered among the unfit, the words "sur-
vival of the fittest " acquire a new significance.

COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER

N

O bird, except possibly the Indian crow,
has been the object of so much vilification
as the sparrow :

" The spink and the sparrow
Are the devil's bow and arrow."

So runs the country adage, and the farmers act up to
its sentiments. They unite to form "sparrow clubs."
These benevolent institutions are founded with the pious
object of destroying as many as possible of the arrows
of the Prince of Darkness. But the hatred of the
sparrow is by no means confined to the yokel.

Respectable ornithologists vie with one another in
inventing hard names for the pushing little bird. Thus
Lord Lilford called him Passer impudicus ; Tristram
dubs him Passer papisticus. Even more scathing is
Irby's name for him — Passer damnabilis. These de-
nominations, however, all pale into insignificance before
the expressive epithet of the farm labourer, which may
be Latinized into Passer sanguineus !

"The sparrow," writes Masius, "is a vulgar bird — a
proletarian, with all the cunning and vices of his class.
Slight and persecution are his inheritance. Even in the
Bible it is said, 'Are not two sparrows sold for a

7i

72 BOMBAY DUCKS

farthing?1 and in Aristophanes even seven are offered
for an obole. His dirty colour, his brown jacket, his
reddish-brown head and sooty cheeks, his dumpy figure,
his bustly flight, gait, voice, demeanour — in short, all
betray his low birth and vulgar mind.

" But the Pariah avenges himself on the society which
has expelled him by his truly cynical shameless-
ness. . . . The sparrow is an Atheos, a wild Communist,
but shrewd, active, and untiring. . . . When the bold
vagabond has fixed himself anywhere neither force nor
cunning is able to turn him out. Not in vain has he
associated with men, and learned from them craft and
wickedness. It is not easy to scare this paragon of
audacity, or to inspire him with respect. He is more
than a sceptic ; he is a decided freethinker. In pre-
sumptuous security, he seats himself on the nose or arm
of the fluttering, clappering ghost, to whom the charge
of the garden is committed. In its very shadow he
bids it defiance, and thus, it may be said, enjoys the
fruit of his wickedness with a heightened consciousness
of his transgression. If he has happily escaped from a
net or a pea-shooter, he makes a tremendous outcry ;
jeers at and abuses the awkward fowler from his hiding-
place, and anon the whole scoundrelly fraternity chime
in with all the power of their lungs."

This was, of course, written of the sparrow as he is
found in Europe. The Indian bird, although he belongs
to the same species — Passer domesticus — can give his
Western cousin points in the matter of evil-doing.
" London sparrows," writes Lockwood Kipling, " are
said to be familiar, but when compared with their

COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER 73

Indian brethren their manners are marked by dignity
and cold reserve." This savours of exaggeration. Under
no circumstances whatever can any sparrow be dignified.
Add 25 per cent to the impudence, 20 per cent to the
rowdyness, and 15 per cent to the vulgarity of the
cockney bird, and you will arrive at a tolerably accurate
estimate of the character of the sparrow that torments
us who live in this Land of Regrets.

Far be it from me to attempt to whitewash the
sparrow. I merely desire to present him in his true
colours. This being so, I cannot help saying that the
bird is not so black as he is depicted. He possesses
the virtues of his class equally with its vices. Like the
London cad, the sparrow is ever ready for a fight. He
allows himself to be drawn into an affray on the
smallest pretext. He is not wanting in pluck, for he
does not hesitate to attack a bird several sizes larger
than himself. This, however, is somewhat discounted
by the fact that he is perfectly well aware that, the
moment the fight begins, all his companions will come
to his assistance.

Still, the sparrow is a bold bird. His supreme in-
difference to the crows is a sufficient proof of this. Nor
is he afraid of man. I once stayed in an hotel in India
in which a colony of sparrows had taken up their
quarters, and enjoyed board and residence free of charge.
At meal times ten or twenty of them would take up
positions on the ledge of a dormer window and thence
swoop down upon the edibles whenever an opportunity
presented itself. The sparrow is said to be terribly
destructive to crops. So he is, but this is because he is

74 BOMBAY DUCKS

so numerous. We should also bear in mind that he
destroys large quantities of insects, some of which are
presumably injurious ones. Sparrows, in moderation,
probably conduce to the welfare of the farmer ; but,
unfortunately, it is not often that we have sparrows in
moderation. The truth of the matter is that it is not
so much what he does as the way in which he does it
that makes the sparrow so offensive.

For example, any fair-minded person will allow that
when a cock bird goes a-courting that bird is at liberty
to make a fool of itself. The sparrow, of course, does
this, and, if he ended here, no one would have a word
to say against the proceeding. But unfortunately the
sparrow is not satisfied merely with acting idiotically.
He insists on selecting for his trysting-place the window-
ledge of a busy man's study, and drives the unfortunate
occupant to the verge of madness by his " swellings "
and his "turkey-cocks." Nor is this the worst feature
in the sparrow's courtship. If the amatory professions
of the bird were genuine, if all his bowing and scraping
were the true outward expression of his inward feel-
ings, one would be content to put up with a great deal
at his hands.

As a matter of fact, sparrows of either sex are
incapable of any real conjugal affection. Cowper
discovered this trait in passerine character and thus
expressed himself: —

" The sparrow, meanest of the feathered race,
His fit companions finds in every place,
With whom he filches the grain that suits him best,
Flits here and there, and late returns to rest ;

COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER 75

And whom if chance the falcon makes his prey,
Or hedger with his well-aimed arrow slay,
In no such loss the gay survivor grieves,
New love he seeks, and new delight receives."

The above is gospel truth.

I know a man who once slew in succession seven
cock-sparrows. It happened in this wise. A couple
of sparrows determined to build in his verandah. He
willed otherwise, and, by way of showing that he meant
what he said, murdered the cock-bird. Did the widowed
hen sit and mope ? Did she shed tears of lamentation ?
Did she call upon the gods to witness the cruel blow
that had fallen upon her ? Did she " in soft murmurs
tell the trees her pain " ? Nothing of the kind. For
a minute or so she swore lustily at the slayer of her
husband ; she then flew away, to return five minutes
later with a second husband, and together they set to
work at the nest.

The second cock-bird shared the fate of number one.
The hen-sparrow then returned with number three,
and continued to replace her murdered husbands until
she had lured six to their destruction. Then my friend
stayed his hand. He was prostrated by the cruel and
cynical heartlessness of the hen-sparrow. But she
had her own way. She brought up a family in that
verandah.

I do not hold it to be an offence for a bird to build its
nest inside my house, provided the bird does not molest
the human inhabitants of the building. If a winged
creature chooses to rear a family in the space between
the ceiling-cloth and the rafters of my bungalow, I say,

76 BOMBAY DUCKS

by all means let it do so. That is not the site I should
have selected for a habitation, were I a bird, but that is
neither here nor there ; if the dirty, dark hole meets
with the approval of the sparrow, let it bring up its
family in it. It is only when the parents insult me
every time they enter or leave the nest, that I begin to
grow angry with the birds.

I naturally ask what I have done that they should
wake me every morning before sunrise, and, in the
course of the day, hurl at me all the swear-words they
know.

All sparrows behave thus, but, just as the Madras
crow is more impudent than any other crow, so does the
insolence of the Madras sparrow exceed the insolence of
every other sparrow, not excepting the London bird.
I am not exaggerating when I say that the sparrows
once evicted me from an hotel. I will not name the
hostel, for I do not consider that it deserves an adver-
tisement. It must suffice that the roof of the rooms
occupied by me had in its structure a number of iron
rafters provided with ledges. Upon these the sparrows
held shouting matches.

And "what a dissonance is the sparrow's tone ! Of all
the Babel confusion of bird tongues, there are few more
displeasing than this. All the boorish vulgarity of his
nature is expressed in that tone ! "

Well, I had to listen the whole day, not to one spar-
row, but to a large colony, and, judging by the uproar,
envy, hatred, malice, falsehood, deceit, and jealousy
reigned in that colony. I was awakened in the morn-
ing— my first in Madras— to find that the crows had

COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER 77

eaten up my chota haziri> and that the sparrows were
fighting over the crumbs left by the crows.

Throughout the day those sparrows mocked me. In
vain did I try to eject them. I flicked at them with a
towel. They flew out at one window and in at the
other, thoroughly enjoying the game. I continued the
unequal contest for forty-eight hours, and then, having
girt up my loins, betook myself to an hotel where the
sparrows did not trouble.

The sparrow is no respecter of persons. He swears
at crowned heads, treats viceroys with contempt, and
gibes at bishops. Nothing is sacred with him. He
forces his way into the seraglio and stares impudently
at the unveiled inmates. He struts into the halls of
justice, and there commits contempt of court He in-
vades church, chapel, and cathedral, and, as Lockwood
Kipling hath it, "perches on the organ pipes in full
blast, and chatters loudly through the sermon."

One of his favourite pastimes is to sit on a beam
under the eaves of the verandah and contemplate the
human occupants. His stare on such occasions is
equalled in impertinence only by that with which the
cockney, spending Saturday afternoon at Hampton
Court, annoys the occupants of the houseboats on the
Thames. Doubtless, if we only understood them, we
should find the personal remarks of the sparrow as
insulting as his stare. Needless to say, the sparrow is
not aware of his deficiencies. He thinks himself a
mighty fine fellow. And in truth he is not a bad-look-
ing bird, in spite of his squat figure, his coarse beak and
vulgar tail. In England, one seldom has the opportu-

78 BOMBAY DUCKS

nity of seeing the sparrow at his best, for there he is
nearly always begrimed with soot and dust, but in India
we can distinguish the smart grey crown that adorns
his head, and his white shirt-front and black tie. The
female is of course a homely-looking bird.

Where the sparrow makes a mistake is in imagining
that he is a fine singer. Any one who could disabuse
his mind on this point would be rendering a great
service, not only to mankind, but to the whole of the
bird world. This I fear is an impossible task. Until
the end of the chapter the sparrow will continue to
think that he alone of all birds can sing, and to look
upon the vocal attempts of all other birds as imper-
tinent imitations of his voice !

In this world one, or more, of three things are
necessary to ensure success. These are ability, impu-
dence, and a friend at court. Of the three, ability is by
far the least important, and may, I think, be neglected.
Impudence, on the other hand, may, without much ex-
aggeration, be said to be the one thing needful to
succeed in this wicked world.

Of this invaluable quality the sparrow has an in-
exhaustible supply. He is the most successful bird in
the world. He is the most numerous fowl in Asia and
in Europe. He has invaded America and taken the
country by storm. He is the revenge of the Old
World for the Yankee invasion. The sparrow has
lately extended his kingdom to Australia and New
Zealand, where he is now one of the commonest of
birds. But for the fact that young sparrow is a dish
highly esteemed by the crow, the whole of India would

COCK ROBIN'S MURDERER 79

be brown with sparrows. Thus the crow is not an
unmixed evil. But, in spite of his natural enemies the
sparrow is a very fortunate bird. His impudence and
"push" enable him to find food in places into which
more timid creatures fear to venture. His very com-
monness is a blessing to him. It saves him from being
caught and caged.

A sparrow, as such, has no market value. It is true
that he is sometimes caught, painted yellow, and
passed off on some innocent as a canary. But even
when this happens his captivity is not of long duration.
His happy purchaser takes him home and gives him a
bath, when lo ! the homely brown begins to show
through the dye. This is a sad calamity for the owner,
but a joy to the sparrow, for it means his liberation.
His little cage is opened, and he takes to his wings,
chirruping with delight to find himself free once more,
and vows that never again will he be such a fool as to
be caught by bird-lime.

THE NATURALIST IN A RAILWAY
TRAIN

IN most parts of India a kind of " general post " of
officials takes place at the commencement of
every cold weather. The authorities seem sud-
denly to discover that the majority of public
servants are stationed at unsuitable places, and there-
upon seek to remedy this state of affairs, to the great
profit of the railway companies. Having been an active
participator in the latest "general post," I have been
afforded an excellent opportunity of studying nature
from the interior of a railway carriage. It must, in
truth, be admitted that there are many worse points of
view, for one sees an astonishing amount of animal life
from a moving train.

The railway has now become quite an important
factor in the life of many birds, chiefly owing to the
fact that the iron road is accompanied by telegraph
wires. When first erected, these caused the death of
many an unsuspecting bird. The fowls of the air
enjoy so vast a space, free from obstacles, in which to
move about, that when flying they are not obliged to
look very carefully where they are going. If a bird
wishes to reach a certain place, it forthwith takes to its
G 81

82 BOMBAY DUCKS

wings and makes a bee-line for its destination. Its
chances of colliding with other birds are infinitesimal, it
is not afraid of running up against a lamp-post, tripping
up over a stone, or being run over by an omnibus or
cab, so it puts down its head and lets itself go in much
the same way as an athlete sprints a hundred yards
race.

Thus it happened that when the telegraph was first
erected many a feathered creature killed itself by
coming into violent contact with the wires, which, for a
time, were veritable death-traps. Calamities, such as
these, are now happily things of the past.

Birds profit by experience. They have learned to
avoid the treacherous wires during flight. They have
further discovered that a telegraph wire forms a very
comfortable perch, which that incomprehensible and
eccentric being — man — has erected for their special
benefit. Thus it happens that the traveller by railroad
sees a succession of birds perched upon the message-
bearing wires, as though they were sitting for their
photographs, for the passing of the train does not per-
turb them in the least. A telegraph wire is, however,
too attenuated to form a comfortable perch for some
birds. For such there are the poles and insulators
ready to hand, and of these the hawks and kites are
not slow to avail themselves.

Birds which feed upon flying insects are particularly
addicted to the telegraph wires, for these latter consti-
tute an ideal point of vantage from whence the bird
can look out for its quarry. Thus king-crows (Dicrurus
ater) are to be seen distributed along the whole extent

BRAHMINY MYNA

BEE-EATER

THE NATURALIST IN A TRAIN 83

of every railway, sitting on the wires until an insect
comes within range, when the drongos at once take to
their wings and give chase.

It is amusing to notice how the king-crow always
seeks shade when the sun is very hot. In the middle
of the day fully 80 per cent of the king-crow habitues
of the telegraph wire will be seen seated quite close to
a pole, so that its shadow falls upon them.

The roller (Coracias indica)y or blue jay, as it is more
commonly called in India, is another bird which is very
partial to the electric telegraph. It sits indiscriminately
on either wires or poles.

Doves, too, are very fond of resting on the wires.
They are not insectivorous birds, and are, consequently,
not on the look out for prey, but love to sit in the sun,
especially in the early winter morning when the air is
still chilly, and in this attitude they ponder over the
problems which agitate the feathered world. The pretty
little bee-eater (Merops viridis) is another frequenter of
the telegraph wires. Very beautiful he looks in his
green dress as he sits facing the line, and still more
striking is his appearance when he makes a sudden
dash at some Lilliputian quarry, for, when flying in the
glare of the sun, his plumage assumes a golden hue.

The birds perched on the telegraph wire, although
they absorb the greater part of one's attention, form
but a small fraction of the species to be seen during a
railway journey. It is no exaggeration to assert that a
traveller by rail from Peshawar to Madras should, aided
by a good field-glass, be able to distinguish fully one-
third of the commoner birds of India.

84 BOMBAY DUCKS

The train passes through most kinds of country. It
jogs along over barren usar lands, across fertile fields
coloured emerald-green by the young shoots of the
luxuriant crops, over broad rivers, past jhils great and
small, through bushy jungle, amid long feathery grass,
through forests, among bare rocky hills and green undu-
lating down-like country. Each of these tracts has its
characteristic species. Now a flock of mynas (Acrido-
theres tristis) comes into sight, chattering with delight
over some newly-discovered field rich in food. These
disappear and a pair of sarus cranes (Grus antigone)
absorb one's attention. The sarus is a strange bird,
which, like an Englishman, seems to take its pleasures
sadly ; it invariably looks depressed, although in reality
it is perfectly happy in the company of its spouse. The
crane and his wife form an inseparable and devoted
couple. When one is taken and the other left, the sur-
vivor is said soon to die of grief at the loss of its mate.

Scarcely have these tall creatures vanished from sight
than a flight of birds of a very different feather comes
into view — a screeching crowd of " green parrots "
(Palceornis torquatus) on their way to commit dacoity
in an orchard of ripening fruit. The train now wends
its weary way through a tract of marshy country, where,
here and there, a paddy bird (Ardeola grayii) may be
seen, lazily gazing into the water of some murky jhil.
Near by are some duck and coots swimming on the
surface of another sheet of water. Not far removed
from them is a stork, and overhead are flying a number
of white egrets (Bubulcus coromandus) and other kuchnes,
disturbed by the noisy train.

MYNA

SPARROW-HAWK

THE NATURALIST IN A TRAIN 85

Once again the land becomes parched, and a hoopoe
(Upupa indica\ Solomon's brilliant messenger, is seen
making its way with undulating laboured flight.

And so interminable numbers of birds appear in
rapid succession.

Nor are mammals wanting. These, of course, are
neither so numerous nor so conspicuous as the birds.
Apart from the domesticated animals, monkeys and
black buck (Antilope bezoarticd) are the mammals most
frequently seen from a railway train in Northern India.
The latter are now, alas, far less frequent than they
used to be.

Writers of fifty years ago speak of the vast herds of
these elegant herbivora which abounded in those days.
Such multitudes are almost unknown in most parts
of Upper India in this twentieth century. The com-
panies are now few and far between, and so sadly have
they diminished in size that a tiny herd, consisting of
one solitary dark-skinned buck, surrounded by his little
harem of fawn-coloured does, has become no uncommon
sight.

As the grey mists of dawn are lifting, or when the
sinking sun has become transformed into a great fiery
ball, seen through miles of dust and smoke, jackals
may here and there be observed sneaking furtively
back to their " earth," or from it, on their way to help
their comrades form a search-party which will presently
render the night hideous by its unearthly yells.

The fauna of the railway station is not devoid of
interest. There is such a fauna, for on this little earth
of ours there is no nook or cranny in which Nature has

86 BOMBAY DUCKS

not placed some of her children. Directly the iron
horse pulls up, a crowd of kites may be seen soaring
overhead, waiting for some scraps of food which a pas-
senger will assuredly cast away. Needless to say, the
crows are also on the war path, and, as they hang about,
most impudent beggars, close to the carriage wheels,
they get the pick of the food which is thrown out.

These bold birds, however, are not dependent on the
chanty of man ; they help themselves, being obviously
disciples of Dr. Smiles, whose book, " Self- Help," is so
popular in India. A goods train loaded with sacks of
grain pulls up at a station, and is at once invaded by
crows, who proceed to bore with their powerful beaks
holes in the sacks, through which they abstract the
corn.

The enumeration of the fauna of the railway station
would be incomplete without mention of the ubiquitous
sparrow (Passer domesticus). Then there is the half-
starved pariah dog, who is a regular institution at every
wayside station, attending all trains. Experience seems
to have taught him that charity is most rife among
Europeans, for he usually takes up a position on the
platform in front of a carriage occupied by them ; but
even their charity appears to be very uncertain, for his
attitude is suppliant, he wags his tail in a half-hearted
manner, he gives it the undecided motion that denotes
hoping against hope. His ribs are very conspicuous
objects, and the wistful look in his eyes makes one feel
almost sorry that one's baggage does not include an
assortment of juicy bones.

ROSE-COLOURED STARLING

THE CLOWNS OF THE FOREST

^ "^RUTH is sometimes stranger than fiction,
even in natural history. Thus Pliny, while
he swallowed the stories about dragons and
"^^ other fabulous creatures, refused to believe in
the existence of hornbills. Later naturalists were obliged
to acknowledge the occurrence of these " Rhinoceros
Birds," but declined to credit the extraordinary stories
that travellers told of their habits. Nevertheless, these
stories contained more than the proverbial grain of truth.
It is, to-day, an established fact that, when the
breeding season comes round, the lady hornbill is
barricaded up in a hole in the trunk of a tree, and
remains thus incarcerated until the eggs are hatched.
In order that the female may not starve to death a
window is left in her prison, through which the male
bird feeds her. This extraordinary habit seems to run
through the whole family of hornbills. The hole in
which the hen-bird is plastered up is usually situated
high in a lofty tree ; when she has taken her place in it,
both she and her husband proceed to close it up, except
for the slit above referred to, by means of earth mixed
with bird-droppings, or in some cases with droppings
alone.

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88 BOMBAY DUCKS

Here, then, among the hornbills, during the nesting
season, is a division of labour as complete as that
which prevails among human beings — the male goes
forth and brings back food for his family, while the
female stays at home and attends to domestic affairs.

How this strange habit arose it is difficult to imagine.
Its raison detre can scarcely be the protection of the
female while sitting on her eggs, for her enormous beak
is a weapon calculated to keep all raptorial birds at a
respectful distance. It would almost seem as if the
female hornbill is by nature a flighty young thing, a
gad-about, and that consequently her eggs, despite the
admonitions of her husband, used to suffer. She, no
doubt, tried to do her duty, but the attractions of the
gay world round about her proved irresistible ; her spirit
was willing, but her flesh was weak ; consequently she
and her spouse recognized that " durance vile " was the
only remedy.

Many weak-minded human beings pursue a similar
policy. I once knew a man at Cambridge who could
not bring himself to take sufficient exercise to keep his
body in health, so he hit upon the plan of starting out
with three shillings in his pocket, and taking a cab to
the railway station, which cost him two of his shillings ;
the last he used to spend on a third-class ticket to a
station twelve miles out, and, once landed there, he had
no option but to walk home.

I wonder whether any one has ever shot a cock horn-
bill at a time when his wife is plastered up in her nest.
It would be a cruel but interesting experiment. What
would the hen bird do when the cock failed to come

THE CLOWNS OF THE FOREST 89

and feed her ? Would she stick to her position and die
of starvation ? Would she break open the barrier and
thus put an end to her self-imposed imprisonment ? Or
would she sit at the window of her castle and endeavour
to attract, by the " sweet melancholy " of her voice, some
knight-errant of a hornbill ? I have never had the
opportunity of performing such an experiment, as, al-
though hornbills are fairly numerous in Northern India,
they seem very secretive with regard to the position of
their nests.

Hornbills are caricatures of birds, freaks of nature,
ludicrous clowns. There is not a single feature about
them which is not comical. Mr. Wallace thus describes
a hornbill nestling : " A most curious object, as large as
a pigeon, but without a particle of plumage on any part
of it. It was exceedingly plump and soft and with a
semi-transparent skin, so that it looked more like a bag
of jelly, with head and feet stuck on, than like a real
bird." If possible the adult is a yet stranger object.
The great hornbill (Dichoceros bicornis) is an enormous
creature. It is over four feet long. Its great beak
measures a foot in length and has a tremendous horny
excrescence, known as the casque, which causes the bird
to look as though it were wearing a cap.

What the utility of this " helmet " is to the bird no
naturalist has yet been able to discover. Buffon thought
that great injustice was done to the birds by their having
to carry about this enormous deformity; he imagined
that it hindered the birds from getting their food with
ease ! As a matter of fact, Buffon's sympathy was mis-
placed, for the casque is hollow, and so is almost without

90 BOMBAY DUCKS

weight. During flight the wings of this hornbill, like
those of most of its species, make a tremendous noise.
Wallace compares it to the puffing of a steam-engine
when starting with a train ; that the simile is not exag-
gerated may be judged by the fact that a flying hornbill
can be heard a mile away.

The voice of the hornbill is quite in keeping with the
rest of the bird. There exist certain toys with which
every one is familiar. Each takes the form of a clay
figure representing some animal. This is highly coloured,
and is placed on a miniature concertina. When the
concertina-pedestal is pressed a horrible squeak is pro-
duced, which is apparently intended to represent the
voice of the animal. It is only necessary to imagine
such a toy over two feet in length, with a two-feet
square concertina, in order to arrive at the voice of the
Bengal pied hornbill, a bird found in the sub- Hima-
layan forests. When a hornbill talks it puts body and
soul into its vocal efforts, its tail vibrates with each note,
just as that of a crow does at every " squawk."

Hornbills have eyelashes, a very unusual feature in
birds. This accounts in part for the knowing, comical
look of the creatures.

It is needless to say that these birds cannot eat their
food without buffoonery. They live chiefly on fruit, but
they will eat insects, lizards, fish, and even scorpions ;
each morsel of food that is picked up is tossed into the
air and caught in the huge beak !

Books on natural history state that hornbills are very
shy, retiring birds. This has not been my experience.
Recently, when I was sitting in a machan, waiting for a

THE CLOWNS OF THE FOREST 91

leopard, a pied hornbill alighted on the tree in which I
was hidden. After having screamed a short solo, he
caught sight of me, and although he was within three
yards of my machan he did not fly off in alarm, but
just cocked his head on one side and winked at me in
the most familiar manner. I was not surprised ; nothing
done by a hornbill could ever surprise me.

When coolies are beating the jungle for game the
hornbills of the neighbourhood usually follow the line,
passing from branch to branch overhead, apparently
enjoying the fun. These facts seem to negative the
idea that the birds are shy.

The flight of the hornbill is characteristic. It consists
of one or two rapid flaps of the wings, followed by a
bout of sailing, with the wings expanded and motionless.
Thus the line of flight is composed of a series of undu-
lations.

Hornbills seem to be gregarious birds. They buffoon
through life in little companies of six or seven. Fifteen
species of these weird creatures are to be found in the
Indian region. Of these, three patronize the " Bombay
side."

MASTER IMPUDENCE

WHEN first I read Phil Robinson's account
of the Indian squirrel I thought that the
writer had painted the little rodent too
black. That was in the days when I
lived in Northern India, where the squirrel is to outward
appearance a highly respectable animal. In that part
of the world he rarely ventures inside the bungalow.
Hence I used to regard him as a pretty little creature,
half bird, half mammal, a four-legged denizen of the
trees, a quadruped companion of the fowls of the air, a
light-hearted inhabitant of leafy bowers.

It is true that I recognized that the squirrel was not
sweet-tempered, that upon the least provocation he dis-
played " anger insignificantly fierce," that his voice was
not beautiful ; but these drawbacks were, in my opinion,
more than set off by the fact that he is always amusing
and pretty to watch. A stay in Madras compelled me
to change my opinion of the animal, and to admit
frankly that Phil Robinson was right when he said that
every action of the squirrel, the very whisking of its
tail, is an offence. I now regard Sciurus palmarum as
the most impudent of all " the Tribes on my Frontier."
I am aware that many people regard the rascality of

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94 BOMBAY DUCKS

the crow as unsurpassable. It is nothing of the kind.
I verily believe that the average Madras squirrel could
give the local crow its ten worst sins and then easily
prove itself the greater villain.

When a crow invades the bungalow it does so with a
more or less guilty air. J. K. Jerome says that only
cats and Nonconformists have consciences ; I think that
the Indian crow should be added to this list. In any
case, I have noticed that when a crow is about to
commit a felony in my bungalow, he approaches it
unostentatiously : he does not court observation, he will
not commit the crime if he knows that your eye is
upon him.

The squirrel has no such scruples. Even as I write one
of those villains is actually committing theft under my
very nose. He is perfectly well aware that I am watch-
ing him : he does not care two straws for that, he knows
that, without moving, I can do him no harm, so he
keeps one bright, wicked little eye upon me while the
other is fixed on the food of my grackle (Eulabes
religiosa) or hill myna, as the species is popularly and
incorrectly called. This bird has every day for its
breakfast a plantain and a saucer of bread and milk.
This latter is the object of the squirrel's designs. The
nimble little rodent climbs up the leg of a bamboo
table — there is nothing, by the way, which a squirrel
cannot climb — and, having reached the cage, he inserts
between the bars his two forepaws and thus abstracts,
piece by piece, the myna's breakfast.

Strangely enough, the myna does not seem to resent
the larceny. He sits on the perch and watches with an

MASTER IMPUDENCE 95

utter want of concern the barefaced abstraction of his
property.

Now, I submit that, impudent as he is, the Indian
crow would not invade my study and steal my bird's
food while my eye was upon him. It is true that crows
habitually commit larceny in my bungalow — theft in a
dwelling-house is, I believe, the correct name in India
for this particular offence — but they do so only when
my back is turned or when I am sleeping the sleep of
the just. Not only does the squirrel openly commit
theft, but he glories in his misdeeds.

Yesterday I hurriedly entered my study and found a
squirrel sitting on the table and chattering to himself at
the top of his voice. I maintain that the most reckless
crow would not dare to take up a position on my desk
and proclaim the fact to the whole household by a series
of loud and offensive " squawks."

What with the crows, the sparrows, and the squirrels,
I literally have to fight for my daily chota haziri. The
crows and sparrows attempt to steal only when I am
asleep. The squirrels are bolder. When I am lying
in bed awake, they creep into the room, climb up the
leg of the table, and help themselves to the toast under
my very eyes.

I sometimes sit up suddenly while Master Squirrel
is in the act of grappling with a piece of toast that is
reluctant to leave the rack. He bounds out of the
room like greased lightning, and, as likely as not, upsets
a cup in his alarm. When he is safely in the verandah, he
turns round and abuses me roundly. Master Impudence
never loses an opportunity of adding insult to injury.

96 BOMBAY DUCKS

But the language of the squirrel on such an occasion
is as London milk is to neat whisky, when compared
with what he says when "a lurking villain crow," who
has been watching the theft from afar, pounces down
upon him in the verandah and robs him of his booty.
Then, indeed, is the wrath of the little mammal a sight
for the gods !

It seems to me that the Madras squirrel is especially
depraved. As I have already said, in Upper India
the squirrels never, or, at any rate, very rarely, enter
bungalows. It is true that in that part of the world
the doors and windows are protected from the inroads
of insects by chiks, but these are usually so ill-fitting
as to form no sort of a barrier to a pushing squirrel.
The fact of the matter is that the Madras squirrel is to
the squirrel of other parts of India what the cockney is
to the rustic, or the town sparrow is to his country
cousin.

Colonel Cunningham bears me out in this. He
states that in Calcutta they rarely invade the interior of
houses, and he ought to know, for he lived there for
thirty years. The Madras squirrel is as much at home
among the rafters of a room or in the punka ropes
as he is among the branches of a tree. He nests by
preference in the bungalow, and, such are the ways of
native architects and builders, that the interior of the
bungalow furnishes endless eligible sites which are
snatched up as eagerly as unlet houses in Madras at
the beginning of the winter season.

Not being a dog in the manger and having no use for
the various crannies under the roof, I should have no

MASTER IMPUDENCE 97

objection to the squirrels appropriating them for their
nests if they did not expect me to find them building
materials. That is the worst of a squirrel; you give
him an inch, and he takes an ell ; you allow him a free
site for his nest, and he destroys a brand-new " Curzon "
topee because he takes a fancy to the materials of which
it is made.

Having constructed the nest with ill-gotten materials,
Mr. and Mrs. Impudence proceed to stock it with young
squirrels. The nest, I may say, is not much to boast
of in the way of architecture ; it is merely a mass of
hay, wool, and soft fibrous material, in the middle of
which is a hole. Here the youngsters first see the light.
Two, three, or four are usually born at one time, and
ugly little beasts they are. They are blind, and have
not a hair on the body, but, curiously enough, the skin
shows distinct signs of the light and dark stripes which
are so characteristic of the adult.

It is, of course, a matter of common knowledge how
the squirrel acquired his stripes. It was before the days
of the British raj, when there were no bridges across
the Ganges. Hanuman had to cross that sacred river
on urgent business, and, no boat being available, the
animals obligingly offered to make a living bridge for
him.

Unfortunately, the backs of some, notably the porcu-
pine, were not quite so soft to walk upon as could be
desired, so Hanuman slipped, and his fingers, when he
fell, rested on the squirrel's back and made five dark
marks on it, which have since remained.

The beauty of the squirrel is his tail. That is a most

98 BOMBAY DUCKS

important organ. The animal does nothing without
consulting it. Every time he utters his shrill, penetrat-
ing cry the tail beats time. A vibration of the caudal
appendage is synchronous with every movement. It
is also an index of the animal's state of mind. When
a squirrel is enraged the tail performs wonderful gyra-
tions. Jerdon says that " when alarmed the hairs of its
tail are erected at right angles like a bottle brush." It
is, perhaps, not superfluous to say, by way of comment,
that the alarm in this case is that of the squirrel, not of
the hairs of the tail !

Even the Madras squirrel has its redeeming features.
Away from the bungalow it is a delightful creature — as
playful as a kitten and as full of spirits. Two or three
squirrels delight to gather together in an open space
and there indulge in play. One will come up behind
another and pretend to bite his tail, whereupon he
upon whom the prank is played jumps high into the
air and dashes off, followed by his comrade. After a
little run, the first squirrel turns suddenly round and
faces his pursuer, who then jumps over him. Hide-and-
seek is another popular game with squirrels.

Sciurus palmarum is a much smaller animal than he
looks. He is mostly tail, and so weighs very little.
Indeed so light is he that he can safely trust himself to
any branch that will bear a myna. Squirrels delight to
crawl about bushes and nibble the more succulent parts.
When walking along by a hedge one often sees a
branch moving like a reed shaken by the wind, and, on
approach, discovers that a squirrel is the cause of the
movement. Most squirrels have a roosting-place or

MASTER IMPUDENCE 99

"dray" in some aged tree — often a tamarind or a
banyan. As a rule they select a tree which is nearly
hollow, of which the gnarled trunk is riddled with holes.
Thus there are many entrances to the nest.

Usually quite a colony lives in one tree, and as the
sun is setting the little mammals are fond of chasing
each other about the tree, dashing in and out of the
various holes in the trunk. There is such a tree in
the compound of the Adyar Club at Madras, which the
squirrels and the spotted owlet (Athene bramd) have
altogether appropriated. Before it is quite dark the
squirrels retire to their lair, where they enjoy sweet
repose until the sun again shows his face. They then
emerge and bask for a little in his comfortable rays.
The sun bath over, the members of the colony leave
the tree, one by one, each to follow his own devices and
desires.

KINGFISHERS

KINGFISHERS must be numbered among
the commonest birds in India. They are
fowl which observe Friday every day of
their lives. They do this because they like
fish. Quite a large number of the winged community
subsist on a fish diet : there are the cormorants, the
osprey, the fishing owl, and a host of other interesting
fishermen, accounts of which would certainly fill a
large book.

Three species of kingfisher are very common in all
parts of India. Alcedo ispida, the common kingfisher,
of course occurs; this bird is distributed all over the
Old World. The variety found in India is much smaller
than the one we see in England, and used to be con-
sidered a different species and called Alcedo bengalensis.
Naturalists, however, are now agreed that both the
large and the small races form but one species. The
difference in size is usually attributed to climatic influ-
ences ; it is held that in the hot climate of India the
bird does not attain its full devolopment.

With all due respect to those who entertain this
theory, I would point out that the common kingfisher
found in those parts of the Himalayas where the winter

101

102 BOMBAY DUCKS

temperature falls to 16° F. in the night time is no larger
than the Madras bird. Mr. Blanford says that this
kingfisher is not found in the Himalayas. This is
certainly not the case. I have seen dozens of specimens
of the birds in those mountains at altitudes of 5000 feet
and even higher. The common kingfisher has the
typical build of the tribe : its neck and tail are short, its
bill is long, and its figure distinctly dumpy. The breast
is ferruginous, and the wings and back light blue, the
blue of the former having a greenish tinge. The feet
are coral-red. A white patch on the side of the neck
completes the bird's uniform.

As it sits on a branch overhanging water, with its
head buried in its neck, but bobbing up and down with
spasmodic jerks as though it had a slight attack of
St. Vitus's dance, the bird puts one in mind of a
shrivelled-up Blue Hungarian bandsman dressed in a
uniform three sizes too large for him. When, however,
a fish shows itself the kingfisher becomes sprightly
enough. It slips into the water at a considerable angle
and reappears with its tiny quarry, which it first dashes
against a stone and then swallows. The whole process
is accomplished in about five seconds, and is performed
with ridiculous ease.

No piece of water, which contains fish or Crustacea,
is too small to serve as a preserve for the common king-
fisher. I once saw one sitting up over a pool, not three
square yards in area, which had formed in a hole by
the roadside.

A pair of kingfishers inhabit the Victoria Regia pond
in the Botanical Gardens at Madras, another make the

COMMON KINGFISHER

KINGFISHERS 103

Boat Club their head-quarters and dive off the landing-
stage, a third affect the culvert at the tee of the seventh
hole of the "Island" golf links; indeed, almost every
piece of water in Madras has its special kingfisher.

Birds are essentially stationary creatures. The average
non-migratory bird, if we except swallows and swifts,
does not, under ordinary circumstances, ever wander
more than a mile or two from what may be termed its
head-quarters. Even migratory birds content themselves
by travelling to and fro between their summer and
winter quarters. A pair of kingfishers select a stretch
of water and remain upon it until death parts them.
They guard the fishing ground, when once it is selected,
as jealously as a European power guards a new sphere of
influence which it has established.

The common kingfisher is not a noisy bird. When it
rests it rarely if ever utters a sound ; when, however, it
dashes along, just over the surface of the water, it emits
a peculiar whistling call.

The next kingfisher which demands our attention is
the beautiful white-breasted form — Halcyon smynensis.
This is the commonest kingfisher in Southern India.
He is one of our noisy birds, his unpleasant scream
being one of the most familiar sounds in Madras.

He is distinguishable from the species already de-
scribed by his larger size, his white breast, his more
brilliant plumage, and the white bar on his wing, which
is seen only during flight. Many birds have a similar
white bar. The use of this to its possessor is a mystery.

In the case of gregarious birds, such as mynas, it is
supposed to be useful as a mark of warning. One of

104 BOMBAY DUCKS

the little flock sees danger and flies off; the flash of
the white in his wings attracts the attention of his com-
panions, and they follow him without knowing why they
are flying away. But the white-breasted kingfisher is
not a gregarious bird, hence in his case the white bar
cannot have this meaning.

It has been suggested that it serves as a recognition
mark, a mark whereby the male and female can dis-
tinguish one another from other kinds of kingfishers.
This may be so, but it seems to me that, if the kingfisher
has any difficulty in recognizing his wife, and I am far
from asserting that he has, his difficulty would be in
distinguishing her, not from a bird of another species,
but from others of her own kind.

The white-breasted kingfisher is an organism full of
interest to the zoologist, since it appears to be under-
going evolution before our very eyes. Those who do
not believe in the theory of evolution — and there are
still some persons who do not — urge as an objection to
the theory that they see no signs of changing structure
in the animals round about them ; these are apparently
fixed and stable, and not undergoing any modification.

It is true that Nature does not work in a hurry, that
most of the alterations which are being effected are
coming about so slowly as to be imperceptible to human
eyes. There are, however, exceptions, and the white-
breasted kingfisher is one of them.

The proper hunting ground for a kingfisher is ob-
viously water of some description or other, but this
particular species is often found far away from water.
It is one of the common birds of our gardens, and is

KINGFISHERS 105

found even in compounds which contain no fishing
places.

I once saw a white-breasted kingfisher hawking in-
sects on the Poona racecourse, just as you may see the
" blue jay " hunting them on the Madras course. There
is no water near the course at Poona. The fact of the
matter is, the kingfisher is changing its habits. It finds
that fishing is a poor profession, so is giving it up and
going in for insect catching. It is becoming less and
less of a fish-eating bird and more and more of an
insectivorous one. It has advanced to such a stage that
a sheet of water containing fish is no longer a sine qua
non of its existence, as is the case with most kingfishers.
Hence I make so bold as to prophesy that in years to
come the white- breasted kingfisher will lose completely
the knack of fishing ; it will altogether forsake the water
and obtain its living just as a roller does, and may one
day even tackle snakes !

This bird can be kept in captivity. In 1900 Mr. E. W.
Harper sent to the Bombay Natural History Society a
most interesting account of some white-breasted king-
fishers which he was keeping as pets. " Last summer,"
he wrote, "having obtained another white-breasted king-
fisher, I determined to adopt a different method of feed-
ing it. Small pieces of raw lean meat were pushed
down the bird's throat, until, in a day or two, it took
the meat of its own accord. This meat diet was varied
with pieces of fish, the bird always striking its food (as
it would have done a live fish) upon its perch three or
four times before swallowing it. This was done with
a jerking movement of the whole body.

io6 BOMBAY DUCKS

" Lizards, shrimps, and grasshoppers are greedily ac-
cepted as dainty morsels by this bird. Although I
have had the bird about nine months, yet I have never
seen it drink. Its meat and fish are always placed in a
jar containing three or four inches of water, into which
it plunges its massive beak to take out its food. I might
also add that the bird sometimes immerses its beak in
the water, instantly withdrawing it with a shake of the
head, even when not feeding." Mr. Harper adds, " the
average weight of food eaten in one day is if ounces,
or equivalent to about twenty-one minnows."

The third kind of kingfisher found in Madras is the
pied one — Ceryle varia. The plumage of this bird is
black and white, and has been aptly compared to that
of a silver-spangled Hamburg fowl. This species is the
finest fisherman of all. It looks for its prey, not while
sitting on a perch as most kingfishers do, but while
hovering over the water, and dropping into it like a
stone when it espies its quarry. This bird has very
powerful pinions, and will spend long periods on the
wing without resting on terra firma. Now it hovers
with rapidly vibrating wings high above the surface of
the water, then it dashes off to a considerable distance,
and again hovers ; next it makes as if to dive ; it drops,
but suddenly checks itself, and flies off with a twittering
scream, to hover again over another part of the water ;
perhaps this time it espies a likely fish and drops into
the water, completely disappears for a moment, then
emerges with its victim.

Some observers declare that this bird never dives
without catching a fish. This I cannot believe. I have

KINGFISHERS 107

often seen the bird drop into the water and come out
again without apparently having caught anything. It
is of course possible that it may have seized some
minute water insect and swallowed it at a gulp. Mr.
Harper's kingfisher consumed in a whole day the
equivalent of twenty-one minnows. That bird was in
captivity, and did not take so much exercise as a free
bird would ; hence we may double the allowance of
the wild kingfisher. If then it catches a fish every
time it dives, forty plunges would suffice to procure
it a day's food.

Every one who has observed the habits of this king-
fisher knows that it dives very many more than forty
times in the course of the day. It seems to hunt from
morning to night. The birds are of course not always
on the move. They frequently rest. One or two pied
kingfishers are usually to be seen sitting on the telegraph
wires which run across the River Cooum parallel with
the Mount Road, Madras.

Kingfishers nest at the end of holes excavated in
river banks. During the breeding season, which com-
mences in December, numbers of nests, or rather the
entrances thereto, may be seen in the banks of the
Adyar River. The excavations are six feet or more
in length, so that it is impossible to reach a kingfisher's
nest without extensive digging. Nor are the passages
which lead to the nest straight. But the nest is not
much to look at. The white eggs are laid on the bare
earth, and are mixed with fish-bones cast up by the
birds.

Kingfishers, like most birds, object to having their

io8 BOMBAY DUCKS

domestic affairs pried into. They will not actually
attack the human being who tries to get at the nest,
but they raise a tremendous hullabaloo. All kingfishers
make similar nests. In some parts of India, however, the
white-breasted form appears to be changing its habits
as regards nest building, just as it is doing with regard
to fishing. According to Mr. E. C. Steuart Baker, the
white-breasted kingfishers found in Cachar do not ex-
cavate their nest, but build a roughly constructed one
of moss amongst rocks or large stones.

Kingfishers are exceedingly unfortunate in having
attracted the attention of the poets. Very few of these
gentry can ever have seen any of the birds, but all of
them have heard of them, and this they think suffi-
cient to warrant their writing on the subject. Let me
give a few choice specimens of what the poets are
capable of.

Howitt writes of " the scarlet plume of the halcyon."
We must, however, not be too severe upon this bard.
It is quite possible that some wag dipped a sparrow in
red ink and showed it to the poet as a kingfisher. The
average poet seems to regard the bird as a sort of
melodious seagull, having the habits of the bald coot.
This the following quotations will prove : —

(1) " Bird of calm that sits brooding on the charmed wave."

(2) " When winter halcyons, flickering on the wave,

Tune their complaints, yon sea forgets to rave,
Loud winds turn zephyrs to enlarge their notes,
And each safe nest on a calm surface floats."

Phil Robinson, in the " Poets' Birds," quotes thirty
equally idiotic effusions. But Shelley beats all records ;

PITTA

KINGFISHERS 109

no Yankee blood-curdling yarn -spinner could equal

him.

" Upon a drooping bough with nightshade twined,
I saw two azure halcyons clinging downward,
And thinning one bright branch of amber berries
With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay
Those lovely forms, imaged, as in a sky."

Had he described a couple of kingfishers sitting on a
merry-go-round, drinking ginger-pop and eating apple
tart, the poet would have been equally near the truth.
The worst evil one can wish to a bird is for it to fall
into the clutches of the poet !

Eighteen different kinds of kingfisher are found in
India, and a group of birds more interesting to the
biologist does not exist. As we have seen, the white-
breasted kingfisher affords striking evidence on behalf
of the theory of organic evolution ; the group, however,
prove no less conclusively, in my opinion, the insuffi-
ciency of the theory of natural selection alone to account
for the origin of all new species.

All kingfishers and their allies (except the aberrant
form described above) have similar habits ; why then
the great diversity in their colour ? We see in Madras
the little blue kingfisher and the black-and-white species
living side by side, each equally successful in the struggle
for existence, and each carrying on the same trade;
surely, then, if their colouring is due to the action of
natural selection, both species should resemble one
another in appearance. Yet as a matter of fact they
do not.

What has caused this divergence ? This is a question
to which a satisfactory answer has yet to be found. Let

i io BOMBAY DUCKS

us not be mistaken. I do not deny the adequacy of
natural selection to produce new species. Undoubtedly,
numberless species have arisen as the result of the
weeding out of the unfit ; but it seems to me that
natural selection alone is unable to explain organic
evolution. It is undoubtedly a factor in the origin of
species and probably the most important factor, but it
appears to be but one of many factors, several of which
have yet to be discovered.

H

THE BLUE JAY

E is not a jay at all ; but the misnomer is
perhaps a pardonable one, for in more
respects than one the bird resembles the
true jays, and I am told that the European
roller {Coracias garrula), a near relative of the Indian
blue jay, is known in parts of Germany as the Birch
Jay. American visitors to India, however, make no
such mistake. You never hear one of them call the
roller a jay. They dub him the Surprise Bird, a name
which admirably suits both him and the paddy bird, for
when either takes to its wings a startling transformation
occurs. The dingy heron is suddenly metamorphosed
into a beautiful milk-white bird, while the untidy
nondescript-coloured roller is transfigured into a gor-
geous harmony of light and dark blue, into a bird
flying the Oxford and Cambridge colours, putting
one in mind of Putney on Boat-race Day.

Beauty is often a curse to its possessor ; it certainly
is in the case of the Indian roller. This bird has a wide
distribution. It is, or should be, found all over India ;
but, alas ! it is not. It is a significant fact that the bird
is not common in the Presidency towns.

"Eha" does not even mention the roller in "The

in

ii2 BOMBAY DUCKS

Common Birds of Bombay." The bird is far from
abundant in either Calcutta or Madras. A couple
of blue jays live on the " Island " in the last-named
town ; but I cannot call to mind any others within
municipal limits. It is not that the roller shuns cities
and towns. Far from it. The bird is very common in
Lucknow ; I have seen as many as twenty of them
studded over the maidan in front of the Oudh and
Rohilkand railway station. Nor can we explain the
rarity of the bird in Madras by assuming that the
climate is unsuited to the roller.

The bird is common enough a hundred miles inland,
and becomes rarer as one nears Madras. Any one who
travels from Bangalore by the day train can verify this
assertion for himself.

The truth is that European and American women
are responsible for the rarity of this beautiful creature.
It is one of the many victims of the abominable practice,
indulged in by some women, of wearing birds' plumage
in their hats. If this custom does not die a speedy
death, all the most beautiful birds will, ere long, be
swept off the face of the earth, in spite of the laws
passed with a view to bird protection ; for such laws are
easy to break. Few can be aware of the enormous
trade that is carried on in birds' skins.

Every number of " Bird Notes and News," the journal
of the Society for the Protection of Birds, contains
an entry similar to the following : —

" At the feather sale at the Commercial Sale Rooms,
London, on igth April, 1904, there were 161 pack-
ages of osprey feathers, of varying quantities, these

ROLLER-BIRD OK. ''BLUE JAY

THE BLUE JAY 113

being all the plumes of the various egrets and small
eastern herons, with a few of the common heron (A.
cinera). Of birds of paradise from New Guinea, there
were 3255, chiefly P. apoda ; of Impeyan pheasants
from the Himalayas, 648 ; of Indian rollers (blue jays)
no fewer than 3913, with also a large number of East
Indian pigeons (wings), and pittas, Indian owls, parrots,
and jungle cocks. One firm catalogued 469 Chinese
mandarin ducks. The remainder of the birds were
mostly from America, comprising 52,628 humming
birds, and numerous cardinals, tanagers, trogans,
toucans, parrots, etc. There were also a large quantity
of wing quills from pelicans, swans, geese, turkeys, and
eagles."

At the June sale ten cases of peacock-feathers were
sold, each case containing about 100 Ib. of feathers.
Thanks to the efforts made by the Society for the
Protection of Birds, of which the Honorary Secretary
for India is Mr. W. Jesse, F.Z.S., Meerut, United Pro-
vinces, many ladies now have scruples about wearing in
their hats the corpses of little birds.

As an antidote to this, the " Trade " has started the
fiction that " ospreys " are now manufactured artificially.

This has been more than once " shown up." It is
not possible to manufacture such artificial plumes, and
I hope that no statements to the contrary made by the
feather trade will delude any lady into thinking the
contrary.

But we must return to our blue jay, who, as we have
seen, is no jay at all ; nor is he nearly related to the jay
family. The rollers constitute a curious little clan,

H4 BOMBAY DUCKS

isolated from all other tribes. They show affinities
to both bee-eaters and kingfishers, especially to the
latter. Indeed, rollers are the terrestrial counterparts
of kingfishers : they are kingfishers which do not fish.
Both families are clothed in brilliant plumage, and
in each the sexes are alike. Both nest in holes, and
both lay white eggs. These last two characteristics,
however, do not count for much as evidence of re-
lationship, being merely the consequences of similar
habits.

It is almost a law of nature that those species of which
both the cock and the hen bird are clothed in gay
plumage lay whitish eggs and either nest in holes, or
build covered nests. There are exceptions to the rule,
which cannot be dealt with in this place. The reason of
this general provision of nature is not far to seek. The
hen, when she is sitting on her eggs, is liable to be
attacked unawares by birds of prey; hence it is obviously
to the interest of the species that she be as incon-
spicuous as possible, unless, of course, she be a bird, like
our universal friend the crow, fully capable of looking
after herself, or like the king-crow, a real fighter.

Thus it has come to pass that, in many species of
birds, the hen is clothed in sombre plumage, even when
the cock bird is arrayed, like Joseph of old, in a coat of
many colours. It is, however, obvious that if a species
nest in a hole, there is no necessity for the hen bird to
be inconspicuous, hence among kingfishers, woodpeckers,
rollers, and bee-eaters, which build in holes, both sexes
rejoice in brilliant plumage.

Again, if a bird nest in a dark place, it is important

THE BLUE JAY 115

that its eggs should be as conspicuous as possible, for a
bird cannot count, and if the hen is unable to see her
eggs, she will not be able to tell when some of them get
separated from the others. For this reason, it is my
belief — but the belief is not quite orthodox — that natural
selection has caused the eggs of birds which nest in
holes to become white.

One of the puffins, which nests in a dark burrow, lays
coloured eggs, and actually whitewashes them to make
them conspicuous! This sounds as though that bird
was a " real cute one," but I believe that the action is
instinctive, that the bird does not know why she white-
washes her eggs.

Thus the fact that hen rollers and hen kingfishers are
both gaily attired and lay white eggs, does not count
for much as evidence of kinship. But in other respects
they betray evidences of relationship. Both possess
remarkably ugly voices. I have already dilated upon
the vocal achievements of the beautiful white-breasted
kingfisher, which is so common in Madras ; I may now
mention the fact that one of the Australian kingfishers
has earned for himself the name of the laughing jackass.
The Indian roller has a peculiarly ugly croaking note,
and when angry emits " a grating cry or scream."

The members of both families are inclined to lead
solitary lives. Although their food differs widely in
nature, both families obtain it by like methods. King-
fishers take up a position on a rock, stone, or branch
overhanging water, and sit motionless until an unwary
fish comes along; then, in less time than it takes to
relate, the little fisherman has dived into the water,

ii6 BOMBAY DUCKS

come out again, dashed his prey to death on a stone,
and swallowed the luckless fish.

The roller obtains his insect quarry in a very similar
way. He takes up his position on the summit of a post,
or on a railing, or a telegraph wire, and sits there motion-
less, pretending to be asleep. As a matter of fact, he is
keeping a very sharp look out. Presently he espies an
insect moving on the ground below, whereupon he flies
to the ground and returns to his perch with the insect
inside him. Both kingfishers and rollers must have
marvellous eyesight. A roller will " spot " an insect in
the grass twenty of thirty feet away and fly down and
seize it.

The white-breasted kingfisher is, as we have seen, an
example of a bird which is undergoing evolution under
our very eyes. As generation succeeds generation, this
bird goes in less for fishing and more for insect catching,
so that now he often lives and flourishes far away from
water, feeding almost entirely on insects. Hence his
habits approximate very closely to those of the roller.
There is, consequently, nothing wildly improbable in
the hypothesis that, far back in the dim vista of time,
there was no distinction between rollers and kingfishers,
that the ancestral roller-kingfisher was a brilliantly
coloured bird which picked up a living in a varieiy of
ways, sometimes catching insects and at others fish,
those that lived near streams naturally devoting them-
selves more exclusively to fish catching, and those which
dwelt on the plains, far from water, contenting them-
selves with hunting insects.

Thus two races, having distinct habits, were formed,

THE BLUE JAY 117

and the kingfishers and the rollers proper came into
being. It is necessary to say that the roller's diet is by
no means confined to insects. The bird is not only
able to swallow a toad, but to digest the unsavoury
amphibian. A correspondent informs me that on two
occasions he saw a roller devour a small snake. I have
watched both kingfishers and rollers for hours together,
and have never observed either species drinking. The
former bird, when diving for his quarry, probably con-
sumes as much liquid as he requires ; but how does
the roller obtain the wherewithal to wet his whistle?
That organ must surely require wetting sometimes,
especially in Northern India before the monsoon has
burst. Perhaps he drinks on the sly.

This abstemiousness is not peculiar to the Indian
roller. The European bird, writes Mr. W. J. Gordon,
"would seem to be the total abstainer of the bird
world, for we are gravely assured that 'it has never
been known to drink.' "

Although we must admit that the blue jay sets a
noble example to the over-ardent votaries of Bacchus,
we cannot help wishing, with Mr. Gordon, that the bird
would drink a little, if only for the benefit of his voice,
which is very dry and thirsty sounding.

The Indian roller is sacred to Vishnu. It must be
a very fine thing to be a sacred fowl, but I imagine
that the blue jay would sell for a mere song its garment
of sanctity. The bird must strongly object to being
made captive, even though it be caught only to be
liberated at the Durga Puja.

Four species of roller are found in India. One of these

ii8 , BOMBAY DUCKS

is Coracias garrula^ the European form. This bird some-
times visits the hospitable shores of Old England, where
it is promptly shot by the bird-collector ; but, as a set-off
to this treatment, its appearance is recorded in the news-
papers.

According to books on ornithology, the bird has
been noticed in England " about a hundred times since
it was first recorded by Religio Medici Browne in 1644."
In other words, a hundred specimens of the bird have
been shot in England, and probably not one in ten of
the hundred slayers could have told you anything about
the habits of the bird from personal observation.

Burma boasts of her own special blue jay, known to
science as Coracias affinis. It resembles the Indian
species very closely, and, were it not rank heresy to say
so, I should feel inclined to maintain that the Burmese
bird is but a variety of the Indian one. Certain it is
that the two species interbreed freely.

Lastly, there is the broad-billed roller — a beautiful
green and blue bird with vermilion beak and legs. It
inhabits leafy forests and does not visit towns. This
genus, like the other, exhibits local variations, and one
ornithologist tried to make three species out of it, and
had he been allowed to have his own way he might
have made a dozen more ; but the majority of zoologists
stoutly resisted temptation. The result is, that instead
of our having a number of species of broad-billed
roller, so alike that it would need a committee of
experts to distinguish one from another, we have one
species only, which can be recognized at sight.

THE SWARMING OF THE
WHITE ANTS

ET night the white ants swarmed ; to-day
fallen wings are scattered in thousands over
the floor of the bungalow. What a strange
phenomenon is this swarming of the ter-
mites ! It unfailingly accompanies the first rain of the
monsoon, whether this comes in June, as in Upper
India, or in October, as it happens in Madras. Scarcely
is the ground thoroughly saturated with moisture when
the swarms of white ants arise, apparently from no-
where ; and, if they happen to appear at night-time,
they make for the light and thus invade the bungalow.

Each of these myriads of swarming termites is pro-
vided with two pairs of large wings. Nevertheless, the
insects appear to have but little control over their move-
ments ; their flight reminds one of the tottering of a
child when first it trusts itself to its weak little legs.
The wings are ephemeral structures ; their possessors
are given no time in which to grow accustomed to them,
for they are used for an hour or two and then cast off
to perish. Notwithstanding this, they are beautiful
objects ; each is exquisitely fashioned, every one is the
work of a master hand

119

120 BOMBAY DUCKS

Nothing shoddy is turned out in Nature's workshop ;
even organs which will be used but for an hour are
finished with the utmost care. The mayfly, the winged
life of which endures not a whole day, could not be
more accurately constructed were it intended to last for
a thousand years. The mollusc, that spends its whole
life buried in the mud at the bottom of the ocean,
secretes for itself a most beautiful shell — a shell which
man does not see to admire until it is cast up on the
shore by the waves, long after its possessor has passed
away.

The birds and the lizards, however, care nothing for
the workmanship of the wings of the termites. To
them the insects are merely so many fatted calves
waiting to be eaten. The day that sees the swarming
of the termites is for the birds and the lizards a red-
letter day, it is their jour de Pan, the one day in the
year when they are provided with more food than they
can eat.

Hagen tells of a swarm of termites in America where
the insects formed a dark cloud, preyed upon by hundreds
of birds, which so gorged themselves that they could
not close their beaks ! Yesterday the swarming of the
white ants took place in the evening, so the lizards
devoured the lion's share. Many of these reptiles must
to-day be suffering from internal pains similar to those
endured by many a schoolboy on Boxing Day. Tiny
little lizards were to be seen running about the walls of
the bungalow, seizing and devouring termites not very
much smaller than themselves. They found the wings
most difficult to negotiate, and most ludicrous did they

SWARMING OF THE WHITE ANTS 121

look as they went about making frantic efforts to
swallow the insects' wings.

If these lizards had possessed a little knowledge of
natural history they would have deserted the walls and
made merry on the ground among the termites that
had already shed their wings. But perhaps it was as
well for them that they did not, for had they been
able to devour a whole white ant at a gulp many
of them would, ere this, have suffered the sad fate of
the King of England who partook too plentifully of
lampreys.

By this morning all the white ants had disappeared
as mysteriously as they came. Nothing of them was
left, save a few hundred thousand wings. What has
become of the owners of these wings? Many were
devoured by lizards; some fell victims to other enemies;
a few have lost their wings and apparently their way,
for they are crawling aimlessly about and are being
rapidly appropriated by the black ants, which are
careering along excitedly, looking at each wing they
pass, to see if perchance it have not a fine succulent
white ant attached to it. When the black ant does
alight upon a termite he seizes it with his powerful
jaws and bears it off in triumph to the nest. But what
has happened to the termites which have not been
devoured? Surely all have not perished? These are
questions to which it is not easy to give a satisfactory
answer.

As every one knows, termites are not ants ; they are
totally different insects. They resemble ants only in
that they are social organisms that live in colonies, of

122 BOMBAY DUCKS

which most of the members are sexless creatures. The
settlement is composed of a royal couple, whose sole
function is to produce young, and the workers and the
soldiers, who conduct all the rest of the affairs of the
little nation. The neuters have no wings. The kings
and queens are born with these organs, but lose them
early in life. The winged swarms that appeared yes-
terday are the sexual forms ; they are potential royalties ;
each has in it the making of a king or queen, if it can
secure subjects.

At one time it was believed that the object of the
swarming of white ants was the foundation of new
colonies. It was thought that the winged creatures
paired during flight or immediately after their wings
had fallen off, and then each couple founded a new
colony. This belief has been somewhat shaken recently
by Grassi, who has made a prolonged study of the
termites which live in Sicily. He declares that nothing
comes of the flight, that it is utterly destroyed, that
each component individual is devoured by some bird
or beast ; not one survives. Further, these winged
termites are very silly creatures ; they never make the
least attempt to escape from the lizards which prey
upon them ; they sit still and allow the little reptiles
to stroll up to them and swallow them. Fritz Muller
laughs at the idea of a pair of these helpless creatures
founding a new colony. As well, he thinks, place a
couple of new-born babes on an uninhabited island to
establish a new nation of human beings !

It seems to me that Grassi and Muller are mistaken.
The swarming of the white ants must be of some use

SWARMING OF THE WHITE ANTS 123

to the species, or it would not take place. If all the
winged forms composing the flight were devoured by
enemies, there could be no object in the swarming.

Philanthropy is a virtue unknown in nature. The
universal practice among the lower animals is, Every
species for itself, and the devil take the hindermost.
Each species lives for itself and solely for itself. I find
it impossible to believe that every year millions of
termites take to themselves wings merely in order that
the insectivorous birds and the lizards may over-eat
themselves. These considerations alone seem sufficient
to disprove the assertions of Grassi and Muller.

Not a few naturalists think that some of the in-
dividuals which compose the swarms return to the
nests from which they emerged, or go to other nests,
there to be received as kings and queens. This theory
is very possibly correct, although it is not supported
by any direct evidence. Indeed, there is the objection
that in every colony of termites a few individuals are
found which are known as reserve queens, individuals
which, if suitably fed by the workers, will develop into
queens. But it is obvious that such potential royalties
cannot be produced indefinitely without the infusion
of fresh blood into the colony.

It has further been suggested that these winged
forms, although so helpless, may possibly contain
stored up within them sufficient nutriment to keep
them alive until some of the eggs they lay develop
into workers. These, directly they are hatched, will
feed and look after the royal pair. In support of this
hypothesis we have the experiments of Professor Perez,

124 BOMBAY DUCKS

in which he actually succeeded in obtaining some workers
from a royal couple which were placed in captivity un-
attended by neuters.

Thus it is possible that some of the winged forms
which appeared last night have been received into nests
which are already established, have set up a new
dynasty, and are to-day being acclaimed as kings and
queens by thousands of loyal subjects. It is, further,
almost certain that, of all the termites that showed
themselves yesterday, a few couples have paired, escaped
destruction, and managed to find holes or dark corners
in which to lay eggs that will produce workers which
will one day attack our property. But there is no
denying the fact that the vast majority of yesterday's
swarm have perished.

This enormous waste of life is a very common occur-
rence among Nature's humbler servants. In the case of
some creatures it is probable that, of many thousand
young which are hatched, only one, or possibly two
come to maturity; all the remainder are cut off early
in life.

Nature knows two methods of maintaining a species.
One is for the parent to give birth to thousands of
young and leave these to fend for themselves as best
they can, trusting that, out of the multitude, a few will
reach maturity and in their turn produce offspring.
The other method is for the mother to give birth to but
few young and to tend these few with the greatest care,
until they become old and strong enough to look after
themselves. In the end the results are the same, which-
ever method be adopted, but the former is the more

SWARMING OF THE WHITE ANTS 125

primitive one ; it is the more wasteful, and suited only
to small and lowly-organized creatures.

It may seem strange, seeing how numerous white
ants are in India, that naturalists know so little about
their life-history. The percentage of bungalows in this
Land of Regrets which are free from these pests must
be small. Almost daily do we discover some fresh
evidence of their ravages.

Their latest exploit has been to devour the most
savoury portions of my cricket-bat ! Yet we know so
little of their life-history. The fact is that the condi-
tions of the life of termites are so peculiar that it is
most difficult to watch them. They shun both light
and air. They are creatures of darkness, and black are
their deeds. Except for the short time that they
possess wings they seem unable to live if exposed to
light. They do everything in secret. They discover
by some unknown means a decayed beam in the roof
of the bungalow ; the whole colony forthwith set to and
proceed to tunnel through the wall from bottom to top.
If perchance they come to a hard part into which they
cannot dig, they go to the surface of the wall and there
construct of mud a covered tunnel to hide their comings
and goings.

They have soft, succulent bodies, highly esteemed as
food by insectivorous animals ; hence their fear of
showing themselves. When taken out of the dark,
underground world in which they live, they will do
nothing, and, as the naturalist cannot observe them
without light, matters are at somewhat of a deadlock.

There are supposed to exist nearly a thousand

126 BOMBAY DUCKS

species of termites, of which about one hundred have
been described. Of the habits of three of these we
have a fair knowledge. There is thus a large field of
investigation open to any one who possesses the faculty
of seeing through a brick wall.

THE PHARISEE OF THE JUNGLE

"That self-applauding bird, the peacock, see ;
Mark what a sumptuous Pharisee is he.
Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold
His radiant glories, azure, green and gold.
He treads as if, some solemn music near,
His measured steps were governed by his ear,
And seems to say, ' Ye meaner fowl, give place !
I am all splendour, dignity and grace.'"

i

peacock has been the innocent cause of
many a fight between the British soldier
and the Indian villager. We can hardly
wonder at a great desire on the part of Mr.
Thomas Atkins to shoot the bird, for, as it rises labo-
riously out of a wheat-field, about four feet in front of
the sportsman, it forms a mark which it is impossible to
miss, and, when it has fallen, it is a grand trophy.
Every feather of the bird is a poem of beauty. It is,
therefore, not surprising that, in those parts of India
where the bird is held sacred, the soldier sometimes
overlooks the notices which prohibit the shooting of it.

The sacredness of the peacock is the one Hindu
superstition with which I am able to sympathize ;
unfortunately the superstition is very local, and the
result is that in the few districts in which it prevails the
most gorgeous of Indian birds is fairly common, while

127

128 BOMBAY DUCKS

it is a comparatively rare object in all the other parts of
the country. The mischievous monkey is everywhere
an object of veneration to the orthodox Hindu. One
could wish that this superstition were more local and
that of the sanctity of the peacock more widespread.
However, we must be thankful for small mercies. It
is well that peafowl are protected in some parts of the
country.

The peacock is a typical Asiatic. His habits remind
one of those of a non-Europeanized raja. He leads a
lazy, useless life among the ladies of the harem. He
lives for display. " The poor bird," said Chrysippus,
"is created only for its tail." Had the Greek said that
the bird was created for its train he would have been
nearer the mark, for the tail of the peacock is a very
insignificant affair ; the train is formed by the great
growth of the feathers which are known to ornithologists
as the upper tail-coverts, since in most birds they merely
cover the upper part of the base of the tail.

The gait of the peacock is pride personified. As he
walks, his looks, like those of an oriental prince, seem to

express the words,

" Ye meaner fowl, give place.
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace."

The beauty of the peacock has always fascinated
Westerns. King Solomon used to import the bird from
distant Ophir ; while Alexander the Great sent one of
these gorgeous creatures to Athens, where the people
used to assemble in great crowds to see it.

The luxurious Romans imported the peacock as a
table bird. It was served up in a dish ornamented by

THE PHARISEE OF THE JUNGLE 129

its feathers. This ingredient of the menu must have
afforded the Roman cooks grand opportunities of in-
dulging in a little sharp practice. I suspect that the
same feathers used to do service a great many times and
often ornamented dishes composed of game humbler
than the peacock.

We are told that one Marcus Aufidius Lurco dis-
covered how to fatten peafowl, and, in quite a short
time, earned 60,000 sesterces at this occupation. In the
Middle Ages peacock pie was a dish served up at every
grand feast. The pie took the shape of the bird. The
head and train protruded from the crust, and the beak
was gilded.

Mediaeval knights used to swear by the peacock.
Later on men took to swearing by peacock pie. " By
cock and pie, sir," said Justice Shallow, " you shall not
go away to-night."

A mistaken, but widespread fancy attributes to pea-
fowl very ungainly legs, of which the bird is supposed
to be heartily ashamed. Solomon appears to have
inaugurated the idea, and the rest of the world ac-
cepted it.

"The peacock," said a mediaeval writer, "is a bird
well known and much admired for his daintie coloured
feathers, which when he spreads them against the sunne,
have a curious lustre, and look like gemmes. Howbeit
his black feet make him ashamed of his tail. And,
therefore, when he seeth them (as angrie with nature
or grieved for that deformitie) he hangeth down his
starrie plumes, and walketh slowly in a discontented fit of
solitary sadnesse, like one possest with dull melancholic."
K

130 BOMBAY DUCKS

A similar belief prevails in India. There is a country
saying which may be thus rendered : " The peacock
danced merrily until he caught sight of his legs, when
he was ashamed and wept bitterly."

According to Lockwood Kipling, the supposed ugli-
ness of the feet of the peacock is thus accounted for :
" The peacock and the partridge, or, as some say, the
myna, had a dancing match. In those days the peacock
had very pretty feet. So when he had danced the
partridge said, ' Lend me your feet and see me dance.'
They changed feet, but instead of dancing the deceitful
partridge ran away and never came back again ! "

But let us leave these frivolities and return to sober
science. Peafowl belong to that large family of birds
which does not build nests. In such cases the young
are born covered with down and usually in a condition
to fend for themselves. The peahen lays her eggs in a
hole scratched in the ground and lined with grass or
leaves. The breeding season seems to vary considerably
in the different parts of India.

The favourite haunts of peafowl are wooded, well-
watered areas, but they often occur in cultivated country,
especially in Upper India, where they are protected in
many places. In such districts, at the harvest seasons,
the birds appear to spend most of the day in fields of
ripening crops, and dozens of them may be flushed in
the course of an afternoon's quail shooting. Peacocks
are very abundant in some of the groves attached to
temples ; such birds may be said to be in a semi-
domesticated state. Indeed, peafowl seem to be as
ready to attach themselves to man as their related

THE PHARISEE OF THE JUNGLE 131

species which have already been domesticated. It is
strange that peacocks have not become popular pets.
Possibly this is owing to the absurd English superstition
which accounts peacocks' feathers " unlucky," whatever
that may mean. Perhaps it is due to the fact that the
bird has a penetrating voice, which is best described as
that of a very lusty cat.

Unfortunately peafowl are prone to give the world
the benefit of their vocal music in the dead of night.
However, cats habitually do this, yet cats are popular
pets among certain classes of people. In Upper India
I have more than once been awakened when camping,
and thought that I heard the cries of some one in sore
distress, but found that I had only been disturbed by
the conversation of a couple of peacocks !

These birds, whatever they may have been doing
during the day, invariably roost in trees at night. In
localities where they abound, it is possible to distinguish,
before it has grown quite dark, great black things high
up among the leaves of tall, thick trees ; these are
roosting peafowl. When camping in inhospitable dis-
tricts, where one's dak and provisions arrived only at
irregular intervals, I have often been reduced to shooting
peafowl while roosting, and then literally smuggled my
victims into camp in order not to offend the suscepti-
bilities of the country folk !

Young peafowl make most excellent eating, quite as
good as Christmas turkey, but an old cock bird can give
points as regards toughness to any dak bungalow
murghi. In addition to grain, of which the birds are
especially fond, peafowl feed on young buds and shoots,

132 BOMBAY DUCKS

insects and lizards. They also eat snakes, and hence
are useful birds to have in the compound.

As is known to everybody, peafowl are sexually
dimorphic. The male only carries the gorgeous train.
The female is by comparison a bird of sombre hues.
Darwin explains the beauty of the male bird by the
theory of sexual selection, the preference of the females
for showy husbands, while they themselves are not
similarly arrayed ; for were they thus resplendent they
would be very conspicuous when sitting on their eggs,
hence Natural Selection has tended to keep the plumage
of the females of a dull, uniform colour. However, it
seems to me that this theory fails to account for all the
brilliant hues of the male bird, for all the wonderful
markings on each of the feathers of his train. Nor does
the theory of Wallace, that these are the expression of
the great vital force, of the abundance of energy in
which the bird rejoices. Animal colouration forms one
of the most interesting of scientific studies, and it seems
to me that explanations have yet to be found of not
a few of the shades and markings which render the
plumage of many birds so indescribably beautiful.

The science of animal colouration is in its infancy ;
yet popular books on natural history give one to under-
stand that the last word has been said on the subject.

FLYING FOXES

EVERY one interested in bats should make a
point of taking a morning ride along the
Westcott Road, Madras, in order to see the
flying foxes going to bed. In a compound
within a stone's-throw of the Club are some tall casua-
rina-trees which form the dormitory of the frugivorous
Cheiroptera of Royapettah. Since a bat has no clothes
to take off when it goes to bed, having merely to fly up
to a branch, catch hold of it with the hooks at the
posterior end of the wings, and then let itself hang, the
process of retiring for the night, or, rather, the day,
should not be a long one. Nor would it be if these
winged mammals were amiable creatures. But, alas !
more cross-grained, surly brutes do not exist! It is
one of the strangest freaks of Dame Nature that she
should have granted wings — the emblems of purity — to
one mammal only, and that the most unclean, loathsome,
and ill-tempered of them all.

Some time after the sun has shown himself above
the trees, and long after the fowls of the air are up and
doing, the flying foxes begin to think of going to bed.
These great creatures, the expanse of whose wings is
over a yard, come sailing up from all directions, and, for

134 BOMBAY DUCKS

a time, wheel round the roosting trees. After a little,
one of the bats approaches a branch, catches the hook-
like claws of his hind limbs over it, and allows himself
to hang. When once a bat has thus taken up a position
on a bough, he looks upon that particular bough as
his own especial property, just as a human being ap-
propriates a compartment of a railway carriage ; but
whereas Homo sapiens only stares angrily at another of
his species who dares to intrude, Pteropus edwardsi not
only glares at any other bat that makes so bold as to
venture on to the branch appropriated by him (for bats
are not blind), but attacks it with teeth and claws, and
at the same time shrieks, "Why the deuce can't you
keep out of this ? " or words to that effect. The intruder
then remarks, in a screech, that had he known the class
of bat that was accustomed to hang out on that branch
he would not have defiled himself by hooking on to it !
Having thus relieved his ruffled feelings he betakes
himself to another part of the tree. Eventually, all the
desirable boughs are occupied by flying foxes ; but still
many of the animals are without accommodation, and
fresh ones continue to arrive. Then the real fun begins.
Little tiffs, such as that described above, pale into
insignificance before the squabbles which now take
place. Each of those thousand odd bats has made up
its mind to roost in one of those four trees, and each of
those already hanging on is equally determined to have
a branch all to itself. Hence the place becomes a verit-
able pandemonium, and the noise of the fighting and
squabbling can be heard everywhere within a quarter-
mile radius.

FLYING FOXES 135

The best way to see the fun is to follow the fortunes
of one particular bat. The other day I fixed my atten-
tion on one stout fellow who had taken up a position at
the lower end of a bare branch at the top of a tree.
The bough was at least a couple of yards in length and
hence was obviously intended "to seat five." A few
seconds after this bat had comfortably settled himself
for the day, another came up and quietly hooked on
to the upper end of the branch. The first comer im-
mediately proceeded to abuse him roundly, and sidled
up to him with great speed, in precisely the same way
as a man, hanging by his arms from a horizontal bar,
moves himself along by sliding first one hand and then
the other along the bar. The intruder waited for him
to come quite close up and then flew off swearing,
leaving the prior occupant in sole possession. This
individual then edged back to the lower part of the
branch. He had scarcely arrived there before another
bat hooked itself on to the upper end of the bough.
Exactly the same comedy was acted, the original
possessor again asserting his prior claim. But he had
constantly to fight for it. Within three minutes I saw
him drive off five intruders.

This is but a specimen of the kind of thing that
takes place simultaneously all over the tree. Since
bats appear to dislike each other's company so in-
tensely it is strange that they always roost in large
colonies, and invariably in the same tree. Possibly
they do so for the sake of safety. A sleeping flying
fox is a conspicuous object; and were he alone the
eagles, kites, and crows might give him a bad time.

136 BOMBAY DUCKS

After about two hours' constant vituperation and
righting, things begin to quiet down a little. By this
time it is probably long past nine o'clock. The quiet
is, however, only relative ; throughout the day the
squabbling seems never to entirely cease ; the whole
colony appears to be in a state of stifled wrath, ready
to bubble forth at any moment. Some of the bats
seem to suffer from sleeplessness, and such individuals
take good care that their immediate neighbours shall
keep them company. A bat will suddenly, and without
any apparent provocation, attack its sleeping friend.
A fight of course ensues which, as likely as not, will
spread ; for a flying fox, like an Irishman, seems always
ready for a row. Such fights invariably end in two
or three individuals being jockeyed out of their places.
The bats thus evicted seek new roosting-stations, and
these become the centres of fresh squabbles.

Perhaps about 4 p.m. is the quietest part of the
day ; for by this time the bats begin to realize that the
hour is at hand when they must be up and doing, so
that it is a case of " now or never " if they want any
sleep that day. The bat colony then looks like a
number of dried cocoanuts hanging from trees — cocoa-
nuts round the upper part of which a black membrane
has been wrapped. This appearance is due to the fact
that the wings and fur of a flying fox are not the same
colour. The former are almost black, while the fur
is of a reddish-brown hue. If the day be very hot, the
bats hang by one wing and fan themselves with the
other.

While yet the sun is above the horizon the early-

FLYING FOXES 137

rising members of the community awake from their
disturbed slumbers, and make preparation for the work
of the night. They take to their wings and fly about
over the roosting -trees. Gradually they are joined
by their companions who, one by one, spread out their
leathery pinions ; and soon the whole colony is in
motion. The mere fact of flying through the air seems
to put the creatures in a better frame of mind, for the
discordant clamour above described is no longer heard.
It is replaced by another cry, which, if not pleasing
to the ear, does not set one's teeth on edge. The flying
fox, as it sails through the air with easy motion, gives
vent to a sound intermediate between the " quack " of a
duck and the " caw " of a crow.

As the veil of darkness begins to fall over the face of
the earth, the members of the bat colony cease from
circling round the roosting-trees and fly off in various
directions in long columns, each bound for some orchard
or fruit-tree.

Flying foxes live almost exclusively on fruit; and
greedy brutes they are. Each one probably devours
more than its own weight of fruit during the night, and
doubtless destroys as much as it consumes. Seeing
that the population of fruit-eating bats within munici-
pal limits must number several thousands, it is not
surprising that one's butler is continually assuring one
that fruit is difficult to procure in Madras. The
amount of damage done to orchards by these flying
foxes must be enormous. Indeed, letters of complaint
have appeared in the " Madras Mail " from those who
have suffered at the hands of the frugivorous Cheiroptera.

138 BOMBAY DUCKS

Jerdon is my authority for saying of flying foxes :
" The flesh is esteemed good eating by some. Colonel
Sykes calls it delicate, and with no bad flavour, and
states that it is eaten by the native Portuguese. Many
classes in the Madras Presidency also eat it." Arise,
then, ye epicures who love to tickle your palates with
the savoury flesh of these winged mammals, arise and
make hay while the sun shines, for in Madras, near the
Club, lives a whole farmyard of fine, well-fed flying
foxes, only waiting to be eaten !

THE HOOPOE

NO garden is worthy of the name if it possesses
not a lawn of emerald grass, soft as velvet ;
likewise, no lawn in India is complete unless
it be ornamented by one or two hoopoes.
Delightful birds, these, and as unique as delightful.
There are no birds like unto them. Theirs is a profes-
sion of which they enjoy a monopoly. They are the
only birds which habitually dig into the springy turf for
their insect food. Snipe, sandpipers, and innumerable
other birds probe the soft mud of river-bank, marsh, or
jhil for their prey ; the hoopoe alone is able to force its
long beak deep into dry soil. The bill of the ordinary
long-billed bird is soft and pliant ; that of the hoopoe is
hard and stiff.

The hoopoe, then, as regards its manner of obtaining
food, is a kind of dry-land snipe. It is, of course, in no
way related to the snipe ; the resemblance of the beak
in the two species is but the result of similarity of habit.
The snipe wades in water, so has long legs ; the legs of
the hoopoe are very short, so short that the bird has to
walk very primly in order to keep its tail from touching
the ground.

Hoopoes are exceedingly numerous in India. It is

139

140 BOMBAY DUCKS

but necessary to betake oneself to any open space,
preferably a lawn refreshed by recent rain, in order to
see some of these charming birds. In case there is any
one who is not acquainted with the hoopoe, it will, per-
haps, be well for me to say that the head and neck of
the bird are fawn-coloured and ornamented by a crown
of buff, edged with black — a crown which, according to
the Mohammedans, was given to the bird by King Solo-
mon, in recognition of meritorious services ! The wings
and tail are composed of broad and alternating bars of
black and white ; these form a bold and pleasing con-
trast to the fawn of the head and neck : indeed, it is
difficult to imagine a happier combination of colour and
pattern than that presented by the plumage of the
hoopoe.

One would naturally imagine a bird so clothed to be
exceedingly conspicuous ; but the hoopoe is not so
noticeable as one would expect, for its colours har-
monize with its environment. Yet it is a conspicuous
bird, and, since it feeds in open places, is obliged to
protect itself by means of a ruse when danger is at hand
and there is no time to fly away.

" On the approach of a hawk or other enemy," writes
Mr. W. P. Pycroft, " it throws itself flat upon the ground,
drops its crest and spreads out its wings and — heigho !
as if in obedience to the magician's wand, our bird has
vanished ; what appears to be a bundle of rags remains
in its place." I myself have never seen the hoopoe act
thus, but can well believe it does.

I know a parson who once did a similar thing. He
was gardening, and was wearing the oldest of his old

THE HOOPOE 141

clothes (and that is saying a great deal, for his living
was not a fat one), when he saw a lady parishioner
driving in at the gate. With admirable presence of
mind, the parson rammed his hat down over his eyes,
stretched out his arms, and remained motionless in this
attitude. The lady drove past him, learned at the door
that he was not at home, and drove away again, little
suspecting that the innocent-looking scarecrow was her
spiritual adviser ! There is, however, this difference
between the parson and the hoopoe. The former con-
sciously imitated a scarecrow, while the hoopoe's imita-
tion of a bundle of rags is unconscious. It sees danger,
is very frightened, and crouches in its abject terror.
When it does this it has no idea that it is mimicking
anything.

It is, I think, important] to bear this in mind, because
books dealing with mimicry sometimes give us the idea
that the mimicry is conscious, whereas it is nothing of
the kind. While the hoopoe is feeding, its crest is com-
pletely folded back, and looks like a prolongation of the
attenuated beak. But, directly a human being ap-
proaches, the bird stops probing into the ground and
regards the intruder suspiciously. If the bird be fur-
ther disturbed his crest is instantly erected, and he flies
away.

Seen from a little distance, the hoopoe is so very
beautiful that one is naturally desirous of approaching
nearer ; but close inspection means a sad disillusion-
ment. The cinnamon -coloured feathers, which from
a little distance looked so soft and clean, are seen to
be coarse, dry, and untidy, and here and there patches

142 BOMBAY DUCKS

of bare skin may be visible. The full beauty of most
birds cannot be appreciated except upon minute in-
spection. To this rule the hoopoe forms an exception.

Let us, then, content ourselves with watching him at
a little distance. The crest of the bird, which was
erected at our approach, gradually sinks, and feeding
is resumed. Now, a hoopoe taking a meal always puts
me in mind of a passenger hurriedly devouring dinner
at a railway station. The bird feeds as though it were
eating against time. It plunges its long beak into the
turf with what appears to be feverish haste, seizes some-
thing, and swallows it at a gulp. It then takes a hurried
step, and again plunges its beak into the ground. Be-
sides excavating those insect larvae known as " ant
lions," which set traps for unwary creeping things, the
hoopoe digs up each and every kind of subterranean
grub. It also feeds upon ants, small beetles, and grass-
hoppers. The bird must have a most voracious appetite,
since, notwithstanding the fact that it eats so quickly,
it spends most of the day in seeking food.

Hoopoes live in couples, and usually feed in com-
pany. When they fly they sweep through the air in
undulating curves. Most beautiful objects do they
appear as their vibrating wings flash in the sunlight.
They then look, as Colonel Cunningham well says,
more like great butterflies than birds. The hoopoe,
though it seeks its food entirely on the ground, is gifted
with no mean powers of flight. Mr. Phillips states that
a trained hawk almost invariably fails to catch it.

Hoopoes are pugnacious birds and are treated with
great respect by their neighbours. Even the redoubt-

THE HOOPOE 143

able king-crows dare not take liberties with them. The
other day, as I was walking through a compound, I
came across a pair of hoopoes feeding on the grass.
A king-crow, which was perched on a tree hard by,
made a dash at an insect and passed close to one of
the hoopoes. The latter appeared to regard this as an
affront, for he pecked savagely at the passing king-
crow ; the latter, having no mind to act as a target for
the hoopoe, changed its course. Presently it had oc-
casion again to pass quite close to the hoopoe, and the
latter again pecked at it viciously. The king -crow
then decided to go and hunt insects in a less dangerous
place.

Hoopoes are, upon the whole, silent birds. They
sometimes emit a curious little note, which Colonel
Cunningham syllabizes as "uk, uk, uk, uk, uk." They
can boast of no kind of song.

Like the common barn-door fowl and a great many
other birds, hoopoes indulge in a daily dust -bath.
Sometimes one may surprise them just before sunset
rubbing their feathers in the soft cleansing powder
which lies in a thick layer upon the less-frequented
parts of the road. I have never seen a hoopoe bath-
ing in water ; I have an idea that the bird, like cats
and Tibetans, and unlike Scotsmen, has a theory that
water is injurious to the skin and should be only ad-
ministered internally.

Both sexes are clothed alike, and as they are showy
birds one would surmise that the hoopoe nests in a
hole. This surmise is correct. The birds will build
in almost any description of hole, in a cavity in the

144 BOMBAY DUCKS

trunk of an old tree, in a hole in the wall of a house
under the eaves, or in a hole in a bank. The entrance
to the nest is often so small that it seems impossible
that a hoopoe could squeeze through it.

But it is the feathers that make a bird ; take away
these, and what remains is but a fraction of the original.
A sparrow will pass with the utmost ease through an
aperture which is scarcely larger than a wedding ring.
A hoopoe's nest is an exceedingly unsavoury affair.
Any sanitary officer would unhesitatingly condemn it
as totally unfit for habitation ; but birds, like natives of
this country, seem able to thrive in spots so odoriferous
as to paralyse European olfactory nerves ! The nest is
just a bundle of rags, feathers, and rubbish, and has no
distinctive shape or form.

Mr. William Jesse states that he once came across a
hoopoe's nest into the structure of which a dead hoopoe
had been worked. This is surely practising economy
with a vengeance. Pallas states that he found a
hoopoe's nest "within the exposed and barely decom-
posed thorax of a human body, with seven young birds
just ready to fly, which defended themselves by a most
foetid fluid." It is in the face of facts such as these
that I find it difficult to accept the theory of sexual
selection, according to which the beautiful plumage and
the magnificent songs of birds are due to the aesthetic
tastes of the females.

Books on Indian natural history state that the nesting
season of the hoopoe is from February to May. These
limits, however, must be considerably extended. Last
January two hoopoes brought up a family in an old

THE HOOPOE 145

tree in Madras. I further came across a nest in June
at Gonda, in Northern India. The nest was in the mud
wall of a stable, just below the roof. The nest is quite
easy to find. It is only necessary to watch some
hoopoes in the earlier months of the year, and, if they
are nesting, you will be able to track them to their lair
without difficulty. The parent flops lazily along, right
up to the nest. It may feed the young from outside, or
may enter the nest and remain there for a few seconds.

If you see a hoopoe visit any hole ten or twenty
times in the course of an hour, you may be absolutely
certain that it has a nest in that hole. Birds which nest
in holes take no precautions to conceal the fact that
they are going to the nest, as many birds, which build
exposed nurseries, do. In the former case there is no
need for caution, in the latter there is.

I have often amused myself by sitting quite close to
a nest in a hole; the parent returns with some tasty
morsel for the youngsters, and is disgusted to find an
ogre sitting near the nursery. As a rule the bird will
fidget about for a little outside the nest, in the hope
that the intruder will take himself off, and, if this does
not happen, it will boldly enter the nest. From four to
seven eggs are usually laid by the hoopoe ; these are
pale blue or greenish white in colour.

Two species of hoopoe are found in India, but they
are so similar that it seems unnecessary to divide them.
One form is called the European hoopoe (Upupa epops)
and the other the Indian hoopoe (Upupa indica). They
are distinguished by the former having some white in
the crest. But most birds in Northern India display
L

146 BOMBAY DUCKS

more or less white, and these are regarded as hybrids
between the Indian and European forms.

The hoopoes which occur in Burma have rather
longer beaks than those found in India proper, so some
species-makers want to form yet another species of him.
The hoopoe frequently visits England and would breed
there if it were allowed to do so ; but the moment the
beautiful bird sets foot on our shores it is shot by some
collector, who then proceeds to boast about his exploit.
The consequence is that the hoopoe is a very rare bird
in England, and is likely to remain so until severe
measures are enacted against that enemy of nature, the
collector of birds.

UNNATURAL HISTORY: ANCIENT
AND MODERN

ris one of the most curious facts of history that,
intil quite recently, men, although they noticed
inimals and wrote about them, seem never to
nave taken the least trouble to observe their
habits. In ancient and mediaeval times zoological
writers were perfectly content to rely on hearsay.
They were not naturalists in any sense of the term.
They were plagiarists, who did not profess to have even
seen most of the creatures about which they wrote,
much less to have observed their habits. Every writer
in the Middle Ages copied largely from Aristotle and
Plato, and incorporated in his works every traveller's
tale he heard. No story seems to have been too
childish, no occurrence too improbable, no exaggeration
too great, no description too grotesque, to be credited
by mediaeval zoologists. Their bestiaries are crowded
with animals that have never lived, while the accounts
of those which do exist are altogether untrue.

Take the case of the races of men which, according
to mediaeval writers, peopled the various parts of the
earth. The pigmies first demand our attention. Maunde-
ville gives a graphic description of them ; they are of

148 BOMBAY DUCKS

" lytylle stature," being " three span long " ; but they
are " right fair and gentylle." They marry when they
are six months old and live " but six year, or seven at
the most." Next come the dwarfs. These are small
men, but bigger than the pigmies. They possess the
useful property of being able to live on the smell of
apples.

Want of space prevents more than the mention of
mermen and mermaids, crane-headed men, headless
men, neckless men, noseless men, and men minus one
or all the other organs. There were, also, one-eyed
men, four-eyed men, tailed men. Then there was the
hippos, the counterpart of the centaur of classical
writers. The monstrum triceps capite vulpis, draconis et
aquilcz deserves special notice, as showing the lengths
to which mediaeval imagination used to go. This was a
creature with a human body and legs covered with
scales, having three heads resembling those of a wolf, a
dragon, and an eagle. One of the arms was that of a
man, while the other was an eagle's wing. The finish-
ing touch to this monster was a horse's tail !

As specimens of the creatures which fill up the
mediaeval bestiaries I may mention unicorns, phoenixes,
cockatrices — the products of cocks' eggs — dragons, rocs
— birds that used to amuse themselves by swooping
down and carrying off elephants — basilisks, griffins,
camel-leopards, and dozens of other grotesque creatures.

As has already been remarked, the ancients, even
when they wrote about the birds they could see every
day of their lives, made no attempt to study their
habits or manner of life ; they were content to relate all

UNNATURAL HISTORY 149

kinds of absurd stories regarding them. For example,
it was universally believed that kingfishers laid their
eggs on the sea, which kindly kept calm for a fortnight
to enable them to incubate successfully.

The hoopoe was supposed to contain within it a
stone, which, when placed upon the breast of a sleeping
man, compelled him to reveal all the crimes he had
committed. The pelican was said to feed its young
with its blood, a supposition which any one could have
disproved by casually watching the breeding operations
of this bird. The death-song of the swan was another
mediaeval myth which has persisted even to the present
day, for there still exist people who believe that a swan
when it is about to die, sings most sweetly.

Not very long ago men imagined that to look a toad
full in the face meant instant death ! Even in this
twentieth century there are plenty of writers of un-
natural history. I remember reading, not many years
ago, in an English daily paper, of a girl who, when she
cried, shed the ray florets of daisies (the paper called
them " petals "), instead of tears. The sea-serpent con-
tinually crops up, but we must pass over this important
creature ; we will not insult him by crowding him into
the middle of a chapter.

Nowadays, most children are instructed in the rudi-
ments of zoology, and are taught to use their reasoning
faculties, so those who manufacture unnatural history
have to proceed far more warily than they used to.
They usually confine themselves to stories of unusual
intelligence on the part of some animal.

There is, for example, the dear old "chestnut" about

ISO BOMBAY DUCKS

the elephant, which every child is made to read. It
will be remembered that the sagacious creature was
taking a constitutional through an Indian bazaar. It
happened to turn its trunk in the direction of a dirzie
who was at work, and this individual pricked the
elephant's trunk with his needle. The elephant passed
quietly on. The next day it came strolling through
the same bazaar and, as it passed the dirzie who had
pricked its trunk, soused him with dirty water, which
it had carefully secreted in its trunk. This is held up
as an example of the way in which the noble quad-
ruped revenged itself on its tormentor.

Let us suppose the facts are as stated — I am far
from believing this, but let us for the moment suppose
them to be true — what evidence is there to show that
the elephant squirted water by way of revenge ? If it
did so, it would have to understand that tailors in
white clothes dislike dirty water. Now, how could an
elephant possibly know this? If there is one thing
which it enjoys more than another, it is having water
thrown over it ; an elephant never loses an opportunity
of dashing water over itself with its trunk, and the
animal would naturally expect every other creature
to like what it likes.

If one does a good turn to a small child who is
sucking a sweet, that child will, if it be of a nice
disposition, and not old enough to know better, prob-
ably take the sweet out of its mouth and offer its
benefactor a suck ! This it does, not in order to annoy
the latter, but by way of showing its gratitude. So
that, if the elephant did squirt the water over the

UNNATURAL HISTORY 151

tailor, it probably thought that it was doing an act
of kindness.

Not many months ago, I read in a popular magazine
of Natural History of some pigeons which took offence
at something done by the owner of a garden, in which
they were in the habit of feeding. The offended birds
took counsel among themselves and then went away,
and, having gathered together some other kindred
spirits, proceeded to devastate the garden, uprooting
plants and plucking the flowers.

The " Spectator " used to be a great disseminator of
unnatural history. I am glad to be able to say that
the paper has since mended its ways, and now publishes
most excellent articles on birds and beasts by those
who are really acquainted with their ways. As an
example of what used to appear, let me quote the
following, which has been republished in a book entitled
" Cat and Bird Stories." The paragraph is headed
" Feline Mourners." Says the writer : " A lady told
me that there was a pet cat in her family, who was
very fond of this lady's mother. When the latter was
in her last illness, the cat was continually with her,
lying on the bed. The lady died, and the cat was, of
course, not again admitted to the room, though pre-
senting herself again and again at the door. When the
coffin was being carried downstairs, the cat happened
to appear, and, on seeing it, uttered a shriek. . . . The
sound made was entirely unlike those made by cats
under any circumstances whatever, unless it be the cry
made when in sudden pain."

Let us for the moment go so far as to suppose that

152 BOMBAY DUCKS

the cat was devotedly attached to the old lady who
died, and that it understood the nature of death ; we
must further suppose, if we are to credit this absurd
story, that the cat knew what a coffin was, could dis-
tinguish between it and any other box, and when it saw
it, inferred that the remains of the deceased were shut
up in it. Further, since the cat screamed the moment
it caught sight of the coffin, it must have put two and
two together in an incredibly short space of time.

Of all the disseminators of unnatural history the
British poets are the most deserving of censure.
Tennyson, Morris, and Sir Edwin Arnold are excep-
tions, but all the rest, as Phil Robinson rightly observes,
"betray a systematized lack of sympathy with the
natural world which is expressed in formulated pre-
judices."

The greatest calamity that can overtake a bird is to
fall into the hands of the average British poet. No
myth is too nonsensical to be swallowed by that worthy.
The bards are quite content to echo all the absurd
statements of the ancients. The bird of paradise has no
feet, so sleeps on the wing, lays and hatches her eggs in
mid-air. The pelican sacrifices her life in order to give
her young ones a single meal. How the young fare
after the mother's death, we are not told ; presumably
the father then " chips in," and after him the uncles and
aunts shed their " life blood " in order that the young
hopefuls may have a meal. The swan, of course, sings
before death. Says Byron : " There, swan-like, let me
sing and die."

All the other common birds receive similar treatment

UNNATURAL HISTORY 153

at the hands of the poets, who are quite content to
repeat worn-out fictions and to set forth absurd inven-
tions. Few of them have any true sympathy with
Nature, hence their works are collections of unnatural
history. Nevertheless, they claim to be the " ministers
and high priests of Nature."

British poets do not know, even, which are the
commonest birds in the United Kingdom. If one
trusted to them for one's knowledge of ornithology, one
would think that every bush in England contained at
least half a dozen linnets. As a matter of fact, the
linnet is a rare bird. Probably, not one poet in ten has
ever seen one except through the bars of a cage.

Pale blue is a beautiful colour. Cambridge is, there-
fore, the favourite university with the ladies. In the
same way, the word "linnet" is very pleasing to the
ears of the poet, hence his partiality to the bird.

THE GOLDEN-BACKED WOOD-
PECKER

i

golden-backed woodpecker (Brackypter-
nus aurantius) is the only member of the
Picidae family I have seen within Madras
municipal limits ; other woodpeckers may
visit the city of Madras, but I have never seen them.
If they do come at all, it is only at rare intervals ; pos-
sibly the profession tax keeps them at a distance.
Brachypternus aurantius is in its way a handsome bird.
Its figure, it is true, is not beautiful, being workmanlike
rather than ornamental. Its plumage, however, is as
gaudy as the illustrations in the " tuppence coloured "
picture-books of the Lord Mayor's Show, which are
hawked in the streets of London on the 9th of No-
vember.

The cock bird has a crested head of the brightest
crimson. The upper part of his back is rich golden
yellow, which becomes olive-brown lower down, and
black towards the tail. The wings are similarly coloured,
except that the feathers are marked with large white
spots. The sides of the head are white, relieved by
bold black streaks. The breast and lower parts are
black and white.

156 BOMBAY DUCKS

The hen bird differs but slightly from the male. She
has the crimson chest, but the feathers of her head,
instead of being tipped with crimson, are spotted with
white. That so trivial a difference should be due to
sexual selection I find it difficult to believe. The
species nests in holes in trees ; hence there is no reason
why, so far as protection is concerned, the hen should
not exactly resemble the cock in outward appearance.
This is by no means the only point in the colouring
of the woodpecker which needs elucidation.

Although the tribe displays a great variety of colour,
no tint of blue is, I believe, ever seen in the plumage.
Again, the young birds of some species are more gaily
coloured than the adults — a most unusual phenomenon.

The woodpecker, being a highly specialized bird, is a
perfect example of adaptation to environment. Its
peculiar form is the expression of its unusual habits.
Its beak is powerful, and is used as a pickaxe. With
it the bird can excavate a nest in decaying wood, or
dig out the insects which lurk in rotten timber. The
bird also, by tapping its beak, frightens out of their
lair insects which are hiding in the bark ; and woe
betide them when once they show themselves !

The woodpecker is provided with a chameleon-like
tongue, which is armed with backwardly-directed bristles
and a plentiful secretion of saliva of the "stick-fast"
variety. The tongue is shot out at the insect with
lightning speed, and in less than the twinkling of an
eye the luckless creature is being hustled down the
woodpecker's gullet.

One enthusiast thus describes the bird's tongue :

GOLDEN-BACKED WOODPECKER 157

" It has the appearance of a silver ribbon, rather, from
its transparency, of a stream of molten glass, and the
rapidity with which it is protruded and withdrawn is
so great that the eye is dazzled by following its motions ;
it is flexible in the highest degree."

Now, I must confess that my eye has never been
dazzled in following the motions of the woodpecker's
tongue, for the simple reason that it is unable to follow
them, nor do I believe that any other human eye can.
Imagination must, I think, be the source of the above
description. I daresay if we could see the movement
of a woodpecker's tongue at work it would look like a
stream of molten glass !

Watch a toad, or even a lizard, catching insects, and
what you appear to see is the poochee taking a voluntary
jump into the mouth of its enemy. The insect, of
course, does nothing so foolish. The motion of the
toad's tongue is so rapid that the human eye cannot
follow it. If tapping does not cause the insects to
leave their hiding-place in the bark, the woodpecker
drags them out by inserting its sticky tongue in the
crevices. As the insects in question are mostly ants,
I do not feel very deeply for them. The world can well
spare a few ants.

The woodpecker's tail is not ornamental. As regards
looks, it is but an apology for a tail. It is composed of
a business-like set of bristles, which are very stiff and
point downwards. But, ugly as they are, the bird
could ill afford to lose them. They support it during
its gymnastic performances on the trunks of trees.
The breast of the woodpecker is flatter than that of

158 BOMBAY DUCKS

most birds ; this, also, is an adaptation to its scansorial
habits.

Lastly, the bird's feet are admirably adapted to climb-
ing. Its claws enable it to cling without effort to the
smoothest bark. Some woodpeckers have four toes ;
our friend with the golden back has but three, nor does
the loss of one appear in any way to interfere with its
powers of locomotion. It can run up the stem of a
toddy palm as easily as a human being can walk across
the road.

The woodpecker is a tree-trunk acrobat. The bird
adopts a unique method of progression ; it moves in a
series of jerks, just as a mechanical toy does, except
that the movements of a woodpecker are as silent as the
flight of a bat or an owl. Head, tail, and legs all work
together, and jerk the bird whither it listeth. It usually
progresses with its head pointing upwards, and can
move with equal ease upwards, downwards, sideways,
and in a straight line or spirally. The agility of the
bird baffles description. It moves as though there were
no such thing as gravity.

For gymnastic prowess, a woodpecker I saw the other
day "fairly takes the cake." I was out one morning
after a night of heavy rain and beheld a woodpecker
disporting himself in the angle formed by the forked
trunk of an old tree. The bird was dancing up and
down like a jack-in-the-box, flirting his wings with each
movement. I turned my glasses on to him and saw
drops of water flying every time he shook his wings.
The bird was taking a bath in the water that had
collected in the hollow formed by the bifurcation of the

GOLDEN-BACKED WOODPECKER 159

trunk. He was bobbing up and down in the little pool,
just as the orthodox lady bather at Margate does ;
but instead of clinging for dear life to the bathing-
machine rope the woodpecker held on to the trunk of
the tree.

Presently he ran a little way up one limb of the
trunk, shook himself, and then jumped upon the other
limb. This was quite a feat, for the bird's head was
pointing upwards and his breast was, of course, pressed
close to the trunk, both before and after the leap, so
that the bird had to turn a complete semicircle while
in the air. Then, after another dip or two, the bird ran
up the trunk, hopped on to a branch, flew off, and was
soon lost to view amid the foliage of a distant tree.

The woodpecker is not much of an aeronaut ; his
powers of flight are to some extent sacrificed to his tree-
climbing propensities. His flight has been well de-
scribed as " first a flutter, then a dip with closed wings."
But this suffices to carry him from tree to tree, and the
bird seems very proud of being able to fly at all, as he
nearly always utters his laughing scream while on the
wing.

The golden-backed woodpecker lays its eggs in a
hole in a tree. It may either scoop out the nest itself
or utilize a natural hollow. The bird has enough in-
telligence to make use of a ready-made hole, but there
is a limit to its intelligence. Mr. William Jesse once
found some eggs laid in the hollow of a decayed branch
exposed to the sky ; the bird had nevertheless cut out
a hole on the under-side, although it was quite un-
necessary! But we must not laugh at the bird for a

160 BOMBAY DUCKS

little mistake such as this. Human beings sometimes
do equally silly things.

A carpenter was once given an order to make a dog
kennel to accommodate a retriever and her puppy. The
kennel arrived. Although one-chambered, it had two
entrances, a large and a small one. On being asked
why he had made two doors, the thoughtful carpenter
replied that he had made the big one for the mother
and the small one for the puppy !

Woodpecker's eggs, like those of nearly all birds
which lay in holes, are white. In such cases it is
important that the eggs should be conspicuous, other-
wise some might become separated in the dark from
the main clutch and so fail to be hatched. Birds cannot
count, but they can see.

There are fifty-six species of woodpeckers found in
India, and all of these, with the exception of one genus,
comprising three species, nest in cavities in trees. The
exceptional genus, which is known to ornithologists as
Micropternus, lays its eggs in holes made in the large
ants' nests which are attached to the branches of trees.
As woodpeckers feed chiefly on ants, their laying eggs
in the nests of these insects is obviously a case of
adding insult to injury.

But the Micropterni seem to be in every way dis-
reputable birds. Blanford informs us that they have a
"peculiar, strong, unpleasant smell," and that "their
plumage is almost always smeared with a gummy sub-
stance derived from ants' nests, and the heads of ants
are often found attached to their tail-feathers."

THE COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO

EVER since that far-off day in the prehistoric
past, when some unknown Aryan shikari
captured a pair of Gallus ferrugineus and
domesticated them, the fowl has been the
constant companion and friend of man. The utility of
the hen bird soon rendered her indispensable to human
beings, while the proud bearing and the valour of the
cock gained for him the admiration of mankind.

Idomeneus bore on his shield at the siege of Troy
a representation of the gallant chanticlere. The war-
like Romans held the birds in high esteem ; they were
in the habit of using them as augurs. The method of
ascertaining the will of the gods was to place food
before the sacred birds. If the grain was consumed
quickly, the omen was favourable ; if, on the other
hand, the fowls were slow in disposing of the victuals,
the omen was evil. Since both cocks and hens have
a habit of devouring their food as though they were
travellers, determined to have their money's worth,
eating dinner at a railway restaurant with the train
waiting impatiently outside, it was not often that fowls
gave an unfavourable omen. On one memorable occa-
sion, however, they seem to have been off colour ; the
M 161

162 BOMBAY DUCKS

pullarius must have been trying experiments with them,
for they refused the food offered them. This was too
much for Claudius Pulcher, who was consulting them ;
he fairly lost his temper, seized the recalcitrant birds,
and threw them into the sea, with the remark, " If you
won't eat, you rascals, you shall drink ! "

Our mediaeval ancestors highly honoured the cock.
Gerald Legh asserts that "the Cocke is the royallest
birde that is, and of himself a king, for Nature hath
crowned him with a perpetual diademe, to hime and
his posteritie for ever. He is the valliantest in battle
of all birdes, for he will rather die than yielde to his
adversarie.' The cock, moreover, was believed to be
able to impart his valour.

Porta writes : "If you would have a man become
bold and impudent, let him carry about the skin or
eyes of a lion or cock, and he will be fearless of his
enemies — nay, he will be very terrible unto them."
Extract of cock was held to be a cure for con-
sumption.

The prescription runs : " Take a red cock, cut him
into quarters, and put him into an earthenware pot
with the rootes of fennell, parcely and succory, corans,
whole mace, Anise seeds, and liqorice scraped and
slyced, two or three clean dates, a few prunes and
raysons." Then add half a pint of rosewater and a
quart of white wine and stew the whole gently for
twelve hours. A teaspoonful of the resulting broth
should be taken twice a day.

The fowl, alas ! has now fallen from his high estate,
especially in India. In this country, although it is the

THE COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO 163

true home of gallinaceous birds, the murghi is a very
degenerate creature. Natives do not understand the
art of breeding, as their miserably undersized cattle,
horses, and donkeys, and their mongrel pigeons, demon-
strate. Indian poultry, however, are worse than under-
sized ; they exhibit a strong leaning towards pachy-
dermism — a fatal creed for a table bird. This the
traveller is able to verify for himself at any ddk
bungalow, for murghi will inevitably appear on the
table, and the would-be diner, after many ineffectual
attempts to get his degenerate teeth into the bird
sacrificed to him, is obliged to console himself for his
unsatisfied appetite by singing gently : —

" That bird must have crowed when they built

the Tower of Babel,
'Twas fed by Cain and Abel,
And lived in Noah's stable,
All the shots that were fired on the field

of Waterloo

Couldn't penetrate or dislocate
That elongated, armour-plated,
Double-breasted, iron-chested,
Cock-a-doodle-doo."

All the various breeds of poultry were at one time
supposed to be descended from the common Indian
jungle fowl. It is now, however, thought that Cochins
and Brahmas have possibly arisen from other an-
cestors.

The Scrapers are a dimorphic family of birds — the
sexes differ in appearance. The males are more showy
and larger than the females. This is supposed to be
due to sexual selection, that is to say, the preference of

164 BOMBAY DUCKS

the ladies for gaily-coloured husbands. Each cock does
his utmost to secure a goodly harem of hens. In order
to gratify his ambition he must be of gallant appear-
ance, of winning manners, and a good fighter. The
former qualities enable him to obtain wives and the last
to retain them when once secured.

The Rabbi Jochanan says : " Had the law never been
given us, we might still have learned politeness from
the cock, who is fair spoken to the female in order to
win her. ' I will buy thee a dress/ he whispers in the
hen's ear, ' a dress that shall reach down to the very
ground.' And when the victory is achieved, he shakes
his head solemnly and cries, 'May my comb perish if,
when I have the means, I do not keep my word.' "

If the cock and hen birds differ in appearance, they
exhibit still greater diversity in character. The cock is
a warrior, valiant, careful of his honour, hot-tempered,
albeit prudent, proud, and vain. The hen is the type of
good-tempered bourgeoisie, humble, prone to cackle,
subservient to her husband, foolish, and affectionate.
The carefulness with which she bruises every grain of
corn, lest it should hurt the soft palates of her chicks,
the way in which she teaches her children to scrape the
ground to make it yield up its good things, the tender
manner in which she gathers her brood under her wings,
and her anxiety and solicitude if one stray from her,
are among the most homely and the sweetest sights in
nature. But it is unnecessary to dilate upon the affec-
tion of a hen for her chickens ; let it suffice that it has
been made the subject of one of the most beautiful
similes in the Bible.

THE COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO 165

Cruel man must cause the poor foolish bird many an
anxious moment when he sets her to rear up ducklings.
It is truly pitiful to watch her distress when the unruly
brood betakes itself to the dreaded water.

There is a story told of a goose that saw a hen in
this predicament, and swam up to her to cackle a few
words of comfort. The hen seized the opportunity to
jump upon the goose's back. The latter, although a
little scandalized at the hen's familiarity, was too kind-
hearted to shake her off, so swam with her alongside her
duckling children. The hen enjoyed her trip so much
that she repeated it the next day.

Then the goose, who hailed from Scotland, determined
to float a company to take distressed hens for trips on
the water at 2d. a — but stay ! Methinks I hear the gentle
reader complain of a pulling sensation in the leg. This
will never do. Let us hie back to the young chicks.

It is characteristic of the Gallinae that their young are
hatched in a highly developed state, and not blind,
naked, and helpless, as is the case with most young
birds. The downy chick is so precocious a baby that it
needs no nest to protect it, consequently the hen does
not build one, but lays her eggs on the hard ground.
While yet inside the shell the chick calls out to let its
mother know that it is prepared to face the troubles and
dangers of this life ; then the excited parent breaks the
little bird's frail prison by pecking at it. An opening is
soon formed and the young chick emerges, ready for a
good solid meal as soon as its mother has taught it how
to eat, a lesson that is quickly learned.

Although born in so highly developed a condition, the

166 BOMBAY DUCKS

young bird differs greatly in appearance from either of
its parents, and has thus to pass through a transitory,
a hobbledehoy stage, before it assumes the adult plu-
mage. Most birds live through this period hidden away
in the nest, but the poor fowl has to do so in public.
Hobbledehoys are always awkward, ugly creatures, and
the pullet forms no exception ; a more ungainly bird it
would be difficult to find.

THE BATHING OF THE BIRDS

i

is on the side of the Mount Road,
Madras, near Munro's statue, a miniature
pond formed by the overflow from a water-
pipe. To this pool all the larger birds of
the neighbourhood repair for bathing purposes. Every
one passing the place, a little before sunset, will almost
certainly see one or two crows, some mynas, and possibly
a kite, enjoying an al fresco bath. It is a pleasure to
watch the birds at their ablutions, for, while splashing
about in the water, they are obviously as happy as the
proverbial king.

Time was when scarcely a day passed on which I did
not witness, from beginning to end, the toilette of one
or other of the feathered creatures. That was in the
Himalayas. In those mountainous regions water is a
precious commodity during the greater part of the year.
Deep was the sorrow of my mali that my little garden
did not boast of a reservoir. Necessity, as usual, proved
the mother of invention : the mali discovered an old
galvanized iron bath, which he converted into a tank
and placed in the middle of the lawn.

When I perceived the outcome of the gardener's
ingenuity, my first impulse was to say hard words and

167

168 BOMBAY DUCKS

issue peremptory orders for the removal of the unsightly
tub. But, even while I shouted for the bearer, a myna
alighted upon the rim of the bath (which was nearly
full of water) and then proceeded to take a header into
the liquid element !

I had never seen a myna do anything like this before,
so a struggle took place within me between the naturalist
and the artist ; needless to say, the former prevailed.
The bath was allowed to remain and disfigure the garden.
In a few days it had become the recognized bathing
place and drinking fountain of the birds of the vicinity.

The crows ruled the roost. When they came to
bathe, all the other birds had to make way for them ;
for, in the feathered world, the strong invariably take
precedence. Now crows, notwithstanding all their
bravado, are not courageous birds. Nothing will in-
duce one of their corui to plunge into water beyond
his depth. When it is a matter of bathing in one or
two inches of water the crow is as bold as the famous
Baltic Fleet. He will strut valiantly into the midst of
the shallow pool, flutter his wings, and even duck his
head in the water. But when it comes to a galvanized
iron bath, in which the water may be eighteen inches
deep, the crow behaves very differently. I never saw a
crow brave enough to trust himself to the abyss of my
bath.

The modus operandi of the bather was to take a firm
grasp of the rim of the bath with both feet. He would
then, still gripping for dear life, plunge his head and
neck into the water and agitate them violently, and, at
the same time, flap his wings and wag his tail. By

THE BATHING OF THE BIRDS 169
these means he would contrive to splash over himself a
considerable quantity of water. Next, the bird would
fly to a tree near by, shake himself as a dog does, and
then begin violently to preen his feathers, dressing in
turn all parts of his plumage, twisting his wings about
in the most wonderful manner, and undergoing all
kinds of acrobatic contortions in his endeavours to
make his beak reach the more inaccessible parts of his
anatomy. Presently, the crow would fly back to the
bath, again duck his head and neck, and then return
to the tree to resume the preening of his feathers.
Perhaps he would go back to the water a third, a
fourth, or even a fifth time, evidently enjoying his bath
so immensely that he found it difficult to tear himself
away from the water.

The mynas were more venturesome than the crows.
They used to plunge into the water and disappear
completely beneath the surface. But even they found
that they had to summon all their courage before
taking a dive. The bathing myna would perch on the
edge of the bath and look for some time wistfully at
the water, as much as to say, " Dare I ? " just as a child
will do before entering the sea. As a rule the complete
immersion would be led up to by a number of half
plunges.

The myna would hop from side to side of the bath ;
at the second or third hop he would allow the tip of his
tail to touch the water. Then, with each subsequent
jump, more of the body would be immersed, until
finally the bird would do a tout a fait and disappear
entirely. Having made this final effort the myna, look-

i TO BOMBAY DUCKS

ing very bedraggled, would fly off to a neighbouring
tree in order to complete his toilette. Sometimes, when
the water in the bath was low, so that a great dive of
twelve inches was necessary to reach it, the would-be
bather could not bring himself up to the point of taking
the plunge. After much hopping to and fro, he would
fly away, vowing, I doubt not, to take an extra good
bath the next day, calling upon the saints to witness
the fact that never again would he miss his bathe, no
matter how low the water should be ; in short, making
all manner of good resolutions.

During the winter months the birds used not to visit
the bath until the sun had had time to warm it. Birds
do not like their bath water quite cold.

The bathing of the kite is a very sedate operation.
It is accompanied by none of the splashing and flapping
of wings which characterizes crows and mynas. The
ungainly bird wades leisurely into the water and squats
down in it for a few minutes. It then seeks some con-
venient spot and there remains motionless, with wings
and tail expanded to the uttermost.

Kites may often be seen in such an attitude, face to
the wall, on the ledge of the spire of the Fort Church in
Madras. Vultures bathe in much the same way as
kites do. They select a gently sloping river bank and
enter the water to a depth of three or four inches.
There they remain for a few minutes, sometimes motion-
less, sometimes sedately flapping their wings. They
then walk out of the water, shake their great pinions,
and stand perfectly still, until the sun dries their out-
stretched wings.

THE BATHING OF THE BIRDS 171

The smaller birds naturally require less water for
their bath. Sparrows are quite content with a puddle.
It affords fine safe bathing. The blithe little tailor-
birds and the sprightly honeysuckers bathe in palm
leaves, filled during the night with

"... that same dew, which sometimes on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls."

Fairy baths, these, and surely filled by the elf who

" I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear."

Other birds prefer a dust to a water-bath. The beau-
tiful little bee-eaters bathe in this way, as does the
hoopoe, and our friend the barn-door fowl.

When driving into the Adyar Club, Madras, you may,
if you are fortunate, come upon two or three bee-eaters
squatting with ruffled feathers in the dustiest part of the
road, and rubbing their plumage in the soft dust with
the utmost enjoyment. Then, after much preening of
feathers, the little company of birds take to their wings
and, uttering their faint little twitters, perform graceful
curves in the air, becoming alternately green and gold
with the changing angles of their wings.

There seems no reason why some birds should like
water-baths, while others prefer net toy age a sec. It is
presumably merely a matter of taste. Some birds take
both kinds of bath.

In addition to their ordinary evening bathe, most
birds indulge in a shower-bath whenever it rains, and I
think they enjoy this form of bathing best of all, pro-
vided the rain be not too heavy. They literally revel

172 BOMBAY DUCKS

in a gentle shower. First one wing, then the other, is
opened, the tail expanded, and the feathers ruffled in
order that the soft water may penetrate to the skin.
And when the rain is over, what a drying, what a
shaking of wings and preening of feathers, take place !
The bird world turns itself temporarily into a great
Toilette Club. Then, the universal wash-and-brush-up
over, the birds go forth on gladsome wing, looking as
fresh and sweet as an English orchard after a shower in
the merrie month of May.

BRAIN v. MUSCLE IN NATURE

NO observer of animals can fail to have
noticed how they seem to lack brain-power.
Judged by human standards, a bird or beast
is but a stupid creature. If, however, we
measure the other organs of animals by a similar
standard, we shall not find them wanting. The adapta-
tion of nearly every species to its environment compels
our admiration. Some are wonderful athletes, others
are possessed of marvellous strength, others exhibit
incredible powers of endurance ; in short, there is no
physical characteristic in which some animal is not
pre-eminent. There exist dozens of animals that are
physically superior to man. But, notwithstanding this
superiority, they are all his slaves, for mentally he is
head and shoulders above them. Muscle is no match
for mind.

Why is it that, of all the millions of animals, only
one species — Homo sapiens — has "gone in for" brain
development on a large scale ?

Other things being equal, it is obvious that the animal
with the largest brain has the best chance of survival in
the struggle for existence. As compared with brain
power all other qualities are of minor importance. If

173

174 BOMBAY DUCKS

the legs of one antelope are half an inch longer than
those of another, the former has certainly, other things
being equal, an advantage in the struggle for existence.
But other things are so rarely equal. A slight advan-
tage, such as this, may be easily counterbalanced by
luck.

Two antelopes may be feeding together, when they
are seen by a beast of prey. They fly together, and
the faster one soon begins to lead, but he happens to
stumble into a quagmire ; his neighbour profits by his
mistake and takes another course, so that the poor
creature who is floundering in the soft mud is fallen
upon and devoured by the pursuer, while its less speedy
companion escapes.

On the other hand, it is easy to see how a little extra
brain-power can assist a species. A cute antelope may
not be particularly fleet, nor very strong, but he will be
careful to choose as feeding grounds places where he
cannot be surprised, and, when he is chased, he will
follow the course best adapted to his mode of pro-
gression ; carefully avoiding all soft ground, he will profit
to the uttermost by his knowledge of the locality ; he
will run, as far as possible, in a straight line, so that his
pursuer will not be able to cut off corners.

Hundreds of athletic species, which are known to us
only as fossils, might to-day be living, if, when the
struggle for existence began to press hardly upon them,
they had had the wit to build boats and sail away to
some corner of the earth where the competition was a
little less keen. Every organ of every animal is subject
to variation, and the brain forms no exception.

BRAIN v. MUSCLE IN NATURE 175

How is it, then, seeing the enormous advantage in the
struggle for existence which the possessor of a large
brain enjoys, that natural selection has not developed
more clever animals with large brains ? How is it that
all existing species are not as cunning as the proverbial
serpent? Why is the average animal so lacking in
intellect ?

It is hardly necessary for me to adduce proof of this
deficiency of brain-power among animals. Even Mark
Twain noticed it ; that humorist does not think much
of the wit of an ant !

A pair of swifts once selected as the site for their nest
the gateway of one of the colleges at Oxford. This
was against regulations. So the college porter removed
the nest.

The birds immediately began to build another on the
identical site. This was also ruthlessly destroyed. The
birds, with greater perseverance than intelligence, tried
to construct a third nest in the same place. This was
not obstinacy on the part of the swifts. They were
unable to put two and two together ; their brain-power
was insufficient to enable them to understand that man
objected to their nest being built on that particular
site.

A dog is supposed to be an intelligent animal, but it
will run away from a stuffed bear. An elephant, who is
the wise man among animals, will actually pick up its
own goad and hand it to the mahout !

But why multiply instances showing the limited
brain-power of animals ? Dozens of examples will
occur to every one of my readers. It must not be

176 BOMBAY DUCKS

thought that I assert that natural selection does not
produce brain development among animals. It does.
The crow is, in this respect, an enormous advance on the
oyster. What I maintain is that, seeing the importance
of the brain, we might have expected that this would
have been developed in animals in preference to the
other organs of the body. Yet it is the physical rather
than the mental parts of animals which have been
developed. Can we explain this phenomenon ?

Herbert Spencer attributes the great development of
the brain of man to the fact that he possesses a hand —
an organ whereby he is able to appreciate space in three
dimensions, and to understand the nature of solids.
Every animal, which is not gifted with a grasping organ,
possesses but a small degree of intelligence. This
assertion, however, even if true, does not explain much.
For we naturally ask, Why have not all creatures
developed grasping organs ?

It seems to me that the secret of the lack of brain
power of animals lies in the fact that the brain is an
organ which takes long to reach maturity, and which, in
the early stages of development, is not of great use to
its possessor. It is scarcely necessary to adduce proof
of these two assertions. It is a matter of common
observation that, long after a man begins to decay
physically, his brain continues to develop. While we
may take half a dozen new-born babes, who are poten-
tially the cleverest men in the world, and set these upon
an uninhabited island and they will surely die, in spite
of their large brains. Dame Nature takes into account
only the present value of an organ. She selects those

BRAIN v. MUSCLE IN NATURE 177
animals which are, for the time being, best able to take
care of themselves, best adapted to their environment.
She pays no attention to potentialities.

If any one were kind enough to leave me a legacy of
£1000 — a most unlikely contingency — I should be
deeply grateful, and think all manner of good things
about that person ; but if any one, in recognition of my
services to mankind, were to leave to me, or my family,
£1,000,000, payable one million years hence, I should
not say as much as " Thank you." The present value
of a cheque for £1,000,000 dated January ist, 1,001,906,
is nil. So is the present value of a baby's brain.

A tiger will not refrain from eating up a spotted deer
because the latter, if spared, will develop into the
cleverest spotted deer that ever gambolled in the jungle,
Natural selection acts upon young and old alike ; but it
is the young developing creatures upon which Nature
comes down with so heavy a hand ; probably not one in
a thousand of these reach maturity, upon an average.
It is obvious that a most brilliant young animal may
easily prove no match for the "old hand" of only
mediocre ability. Hence the shortness of the period of
helplessness is the feature most conducive to the preser-
vation of a species — not necessarily a short period of
development, but a short period of helplessness. Hence,
in the lower forms of animal life, the young hatch out
as larvae, able to take care of themselves in the struggle
for existence, or, if helpless, are protectively coloured to
a marvellous degree. So long as Nature is hampered in
this manner, so long as she is obliged to manufacture
animals at express speed, she has no opportunity of

N

i/8 BOMBAY DUCKS

giving her creatures a large brain, which takes time to

make.

Millions of organisms which, properly speaking, have
no brains, make a very fair fight in the universal
struggle. A large brain, however, will greatly assist a
species the moment it is fully developed. It is, there-
fore, obvious that, if Dame Nature can only hit upon
some device whereby the young of a species are pro-
tected until they are practically full-grown, she will be
able to develop in them large brains, and then that
species will do wonders.

Nature has solved the problem. The solution is the
evolution of mothers. It is obvious that if the full-grown
members of the species can be made to protect and fight
for the young ones, their development need not be rushed,
they need not, so to speak, be hastily put together;
time and care may be lavished in the making of them.

Hence the origin of the maternal instinct. The
greater the protection given by the parents to the young,
the greater the time that can be devoted to the develop-
ment of the animal. It may be asked, if this was all
that Nature needed — the evolution of mothers — how is
it that, since this has occurred, all the higher animals
are not as clever as man, or nearly as clever? The
answer is that the maternal instinct, while favourable on
the whole to the species, may be fatal to the individual ;
and if all the individuals perish, what is to happen to
the species ?

Animals with young are at a disadvantage in the
struggle for existence. It probably has happened that
many races of animals have perished owing to the

BRAIN v. MUSCLE IN NATURE 179

excessive development of this instinct. The parents
would not save themselves by deserting their offspring ;
consequently the whole family perished. Among most
species the protection to the young afforded by the
parents is so inadequate that, of the young ones, it is
the physically strong, rather than the mentally power-
ful, that tend to survive.

One animal, however — Homo insapiens — in which the
maternal instinct was highly developed, learned to take
shelter in caves and to barricade the entrance to his
shelter, so that the females were able to bring up their
young without fear of molestation. There was then no
need for the development of these to be hurried. The
weakest of the family perished from disease and hunger
while still under their mother's care, but the healthy
children emerged, some years after birth, equipped with
a large brain, so that they were able to overcome the
superior strength of the other animals by craft, and
the most crafty of insipient mankind survived and left
offspring.

Thus Homo sapiens appeared upon the scene. He is
the animal which pinned its faith to the brain, and his
faith has not been misplaced. He has sacrificed every-
thing to the brain. Almost all his other organs — his
legs, arms, eyes, teeth — have been allowed to de-
generate, but his brain has been kept up to the highest
possible efficiency. He now reigns supreme over all
the animals, which, so to speak, put their money on
muscle, on brute force. These backed the wrong horse,
and therefore are now the servants of those who staked
their all on the brain.

i

THE KITE

Kites that swim sublime

In still repeated circle, screaming loud."

kite furnishes a good example of what
political economists call "place value." A
kite nestling found in England will sell for
£2$, while in India the bird will not fetch
even the price of the biblical sparrow. It was not ever
thus. Time was when the kite was as common in the
United Kingdom as it now is in India. Kites of a
species (Milvus ictinus) nearly allied to the Indian bird
used to exist in London in their thousands in the
" good old days " when the conservancy arrangements
were such that the streets offered plenty of food for
carrion-feeders.

As civilization and sanitation advanced, the kites
found that refuse, which is their ordinary food, was
growing beautifully less, hence they had to resort
largely to the farmyard and the game-preserve to sup-
plement their more normal diet — a change of habit not
welcomed by farmers and gamekeepers, who then began
to shoot at sight every kite that came within range.
Thus the species grew scarce. And when once this
happens in England the end of that species is not

far off.

181

182 BOMBAY DUCKS

The rarer the bird, the greater its value to the col-
lector; hence every uncommon species is shot to
extinction. The kite is now just not extinct in Eng-
land. Its extermination has been prevented only by
the fact that a few landowners have interested them-
selves in the bird and are protecting it. The kite,
however, flourishes in the East, and is likely to do so
for many years to come. It will be a very long time
before India is Europeanized to such an extent that
the kites have to subsist on poultry.

The kite (Milvus govinda) is one of the commonest
birds in the " Land of Regrets." It is so very common
there that it does not receive half the attention it de-
serves. Were it a rare bird we should marvel at its
wonderful powers of flight. Indeed, the new arrival in
India, if he ever notices natural objects, is perhaps
more struck by the kites than by anything else in this
country. Colonel Cunningham writes, after thirty
years' residence in India, that he was so impressed by
the kites that it seems only yesterday that he first saw
them wheeling over the stream of the Hooghly.

I cannot refrain from quoting his description of
them : " In truth, they are very beautiful birds. Their
bright, bold, brown eyes and cruel talons are splendid
objects ; the soft shading of their plumage is admirable,
especially when seen at a short distance, as the great
birds glide gently to and fro, passing and repassing
through alternate zones of sunshine and shadow ; no-
thing can prevent their flight, with its easy evolutions,
smoothly sweeping spires and headlong plunges, from
being an endless source of delight to the onlooker."

THE PARIAH KITE

THE KITE 183

But, in order to fully appreciate the flying prowess
of the kite, it is necessary to have been the victim of
his larceny. You are perhaps eating a solitary break-
fast, in the open, and your thoughts are far away.
Suddenly you become aware of a presence, and a
second later you behold a kite elegantly sailing away,
carrying in its claws the mutton chop you were about
to eat ! I have seen a kite swoop down, snatch away
a bone from between a dog's paws, and be out of
reach before the dog had realized what had happened.

Mr. Jesse, in his account of the birds of Lucknow,
writes : " On one occasion my khansama was walking
across the compound with a bone on a plate when
down swooped a kite and seized the bone, which, how-
ever, it dropped, knocking off the man's turban." On
another occasion a kite carried off a tame squirrel from
the shelter of its master's arms.

Well has Lockwood Kipling written of the athletic
bird : " The kite is a notorious thief; no other creature
is so splendidly equipped for larceny, for no other can
snatch so unerringly and escape so securely." " When
the kite builds look to lesser linen," says Autolycus.
In addition to possessing marvellous powers of flight
and accurate steering, the kite is able to use its claws
as hands. It does not seize its food with its beak, as
most birds do ; it snatches it away with its claws, and,
unless the stolen object is too large to be swallowed
entire, transfers it to its mouth during flight.

It is interesting to compare the methods of the kite
with those of its rival thief, the crow. When the latter
bird espies something edible, he looks all round him

1 84 BOMBAY DUCKS

to see if the coast is clear ; then he hops or sidles up
to the desired object, and, having again taken a look
round, seizes the food with his beak. A kite, on the
other hand, directly he catches sight of anything
edible, swoops down and snatches it with his claws.
If a crow and a kite "spot" a piece of meat simul-
taneously, the kite will have carried it off before the
crow has finished wondering whether he can safely
approach the object.

I have sometimes known a kite miss the object at
which it was aiming. But this was invariably due to
nervousness ; the kite does not quite like taking any-
thing from the hand of that mysterious creature, man.
It feels that this is a risky operation, and resorts to it
only when very hard put to it to obtain food.

Kites and crows live side by side, feed upon the same
food, and obtain it in similar ways, thus it is but
natural that the two species should not be on very good
terms with one another. The crow is afraid of the kite.
No crow will admit this, but it is nevertheless true.
Often and often have I seen a party of crows squabbling
over a piece of food ; suddenly the fighting ceases, the
crows look scared, and a kite swoops down and carries
off, in its talons, the bone of contention, and thus acts
the part of the peacemaker. Fortunately for the crows,
the kite is itself not over- valorous, nor are its intellectual
powers great.

The poet Spenser was not far from the mark when
he spoke of " the foolish kite." In spite of its superior
size, strength, and powers of flight, the kite is not infre-
quently "scored off" by the crow.

THE KITE 185

This happens mostly when the scavenger has dined
well, rather than wisely. This, I regret to have to
say, happens whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Having gorged himself to bursting point, the kite likes
to sit on the ground and meditate. A couple of crows
then appear on the scene ; one settles in front of the kite
and the other behind him. The posteriorly situated
crow then makes an attack a tergo. The kite turns
savagely on the aggressor. This is the opportunity for
which the front crow has been waiting ; he attempts to
remove one or more of the glead's tail feathers. After
a little the irate scavenger flies off, amid corvine jeers.

Kites can scarcely be called birds of prey. They
usually aim at more humble game. They are content
to live on refuse. It is not that they do not like nice
fresh meat; far from it. There is nothing that a kite
enjoys so much as a tender little bird ; but, before you
can eat your hare, you have to catch him, and kites are
lazy and cowardly. They choose the line of least re-
sistance, and that is to pick up dead matter.

However, if a sickly little bird or a feeble nestling
presents itself, the kite " makes no bones " about carry-
ing it off. Sometimes the kite, in spite of the vigilance
of the parents, manages to carry off a young crow. If
he can get away before the parents discover what has
happened, all goes well so far as the kite is concerned ;
but if the crows catch him red-handed, it is the very
dickens !

Not many days ago the conversation of a ckoto haziri
party, at which I was present, was interrupted by a
great commotion overhead in a tree, and, looking up,

186 BOMBAY DUCKS

we saw a crow abusing a kite. The kite looked at the
crow in such a way as seemed to say : " Oh, you
naughty rude woman ! How can you demean yourself
by calling me such shocking names ? " And when we
beheld all the fury of the crow virago we could not help
sympathizing with the kite, who looked piety itself.
Then we noticed that he was holding, under one claw,
part of a young crow.

The other part of the unfortunate bird was doubtless
inside him, and it was nothing but the mad fury of the
crow, and the occasional feints she made at pecking
the plumage of the slayer of her young one, that
prevented the part of the crow nestling outside the kite
joining the portion inside it. After having perceived
the cause of the wrath of the crow, one could scarcely
sympathize any more with the kite. Had any other
bird been victimized, I should have experienced keen
sorrow for the bereaved parent, but for a crow, no ! All
sympathy on crows is sympathy wasted. I regarded
her, not as a sorrowing parent, but as Satan rebuking
sin.

Interference on my part did not appear to be called
for. Presently the kite flew off, carrying in its claw the
remains of the young crow. The mother bird followed
him up, swearing like a bargee, and, for all I know, she
may still be giving that kite a bit of her mind.

The above episode renders it obvious that crows
have good cause to dislike kites. The reason of the
hatred towards them displayed by king-crows is not so
apparent; but then drongos attack all birds. Sometimes
the crows and king-crows unite in mobbing a kite, the

THE KITE 187

individual differences of the two former being forgotten
in face of a common foe.

A kite's nest is a very untidy affair. It is composed
of coarse twigs, is sometimes lined with mud, and
almost invariably contains a number of disgustingly
dirty rags, some of which are utilized as lining for the
nest ; most of them, however, appear to be regarded as
ornaments, since they are allowed to hang down and
flap in the wind. Rags are by no means the only
trinkets to be found in the nest. Brickbats, and, in
Northern India, pieces of kunkur help to add to the
beauty of the structure.

Kites usually build their platform-like nests in the
fork of a strong branch of a tree, but they sometimes
nest on mosques, temples, and old buildings. December
and January are the commonest nesting months. A
kite's nest is not a difficult object to see, being about
three times the size of a football. The eggs are white
in colour, splashed with red or brown. Two seem to
be the usual number of a clutch.

I have already remarked that kites are not possessed
of a vast amount of brain-power, and when nesting their
stupidity knows no bounds. A Calcutta kite was once
discovered trying to hatch a pill-box ! This perform-
ance is, however, eclipsed by that of the kite which
Mr. Littledale found sitting tight upon a hare's skull.
One can only surmise that these objects must originally
have been stolen as ornaments for the nest. But the
kite, having a short memory, soon forgot the history of
the foreign object and then mistook it for an egg.

Greater proof than this can scarcely be adduced to

1 88 BOMBAY DUCKS

show that birds during the nesting season are mere
automata, creatures of impulse, driven by some inborn
force to do many actions of which they understand not
the meaning. The more one studies nature, the more
does one become convinced of this.

" I once found," writes the American naturalist, Bur-
roughs, " the nest of a black and white creeping warbler
in a mossy bank in the woods, beneath which was an
egg °f the bird. The warbler had excavated the site
for her nest, dropped her egg into the hollow and then
gone on with her building." This conversion of birds
into mere automata at the nesting season is perhaps the
most wonderful phenomenon in nature.

It is obvious that if birds did not, at certain seasons,
throw intelligence to the winds and become mere auto-
mata they would neither build nests nor sit on the eggs
they laid. A bird which has never seen a nest, one, for
example, which was hatched out in an incubator, will at
the appointed time build a nest of the usual pattern,
yet such a bird has had no experience to guide her.
When, therefore, a bird sets itself for the first time to
collect materials and to weave them into a nest, it is not
consciously making a nursery for its chicks, it cannot
know why it is collecting sticks. It probably never puts
this question to itself. It is content to obey blindly an
impulse planted in it by Him who watches over the
little birds, and teaches them how to hold their own in
the struggle for existence.

THE BRAHMINY KITE

Brahminy kite (Haliastur lindus) is a
puzzle to naturalists. Its habits are ob-
viously those of a kite, but it looks too fine
a bird to be a scavenger ; it seems too
well dressed to be a performer of Nature's dirty work.
Hence the bird used formerly to be placed among the
sea-eagles.

Nowadays, naturalists seem inclined to dethrone it
from its former high position, to regard it as an ass in
a lion's skin, and to declare that, although it has the
colour of the eagle, which, according to Shelley, "sits in
the light of its golden wings," it is but a scavenger.
However, the question is not yet decided. One is at
liberty to regard the bird, either as a degraded eagle, or
a glorified kite. Blanford declines to commit himself,
and in this he is perhaps wise. He says : " Haliastur
has been classed alternatively with the sea-eagles and
with the kites, and is allied to both."

But the systematic position of the bird is after all
not a matter of great importance. Let us leave orni-
thologists to squabble over this, while we take a look
at the bird and study it as it is.

It is one of the commonest birds in Madras. Let me

189

I9o BOMBAY DUCKS

say, for the benefit of those unacquainted with it, that
the general hue of its plumage is a bright, rich chestnut,
but its head, neck, lower parts, and the tip of its tail,
are white, Each white feather has a brown shaft, but
this is not visible except at close quarters. From a
distance the bird appears chestnut in colour, with a
snowy head and breast. Such is the adult creature ;
but it is not until the young Brahminy kite is nearly a
year old that it assumes this beautiful plumage.

When it first leaves the nest, early in the year, it is a
dingy brown bird, and, although it undergoes a number
of changes in appearance, it remains a brown bird until
the winter. Hence young Brahminy kites often pass
for the common pariah bird. However, nothing is
easier than to distinguish the two species, no matter in
what stage of plumage. The tail of the pariah kite is
more or less forked, the two outer feathers on each side
being a trifle longer than the inner feathers. The tail
of the Brahminy kite is fan-shaped. It is nicely rounded
off, the outer feathers being slightly shorter than the
inner ones.

In general habits the Brahminy very closely resembles
the common kite. Both birds are gifted with wonderful
powers of flight. They will remain on the wing for
hours, soaring high above the earth, with but an
occasional movement of the wing.

On one occasion I watched a Brahminy kite circling
over the River Cooum at Madras. For fully five minutes
the bird did not once flap its wings, yet it was moving
the whole time. The wind furnished the motor power,
and a slight depression of the wing, or a twist of the tail,

BRAHMINY KITE

THE BRAHMINY KITE 191

sufficed to guide the bird. Thus it circled round and
round, without effort, looking for its prey. Brahminy
kites seem, like their vulgar relatives, to be almost
omnivorous. They pick their food off the water by
preference, while the common kites hunt over dry land.
Thus the two species may be said to divide the land and
water between them ; but, unfortunately for the peace
of the community, each frequently encroaches on the
preserve of the other ; this leads to a considerable
amount of mutual abuse, which takes the form of
squeals.

Some authorities declare that the Brahminy kite lives
chiefly upon insects. This is not so ; the bird will
devour insects, as it will eat most things, but it lives
chiefly upon garbage, which it finds floating on the
water, and on frogs and crabs, which abound in paddy-
fields. Numberless Brahminies are seen when one is
out snipe-shooting near Madras, and these birds make
no bones about carrying off a wounded snipe if they are
given half a chance. On one occasion, when I was
shooting duck, one of these kites made off with a teal
that I had wounded. I fired at him to punish him for
his impudence, but he flew off, apparently unscathed,
carrying his quarry.

Some naturalists declare that Haliastur catches fish,
much as an osprey or fishing-eagle does. Thus Colonel
Sykes says : " It occasionally dips entirely under water,
appearing to rise again with difficulty." I do not believe
that the bird ever does this ; the worthy Colonel must
have mistaken some other species for a Brahminy kite
upon this occasion.

192 BOMBAY DUCKS

The bird, however, does sometimes (very rarely I
think) snatch with its claws a small fish or a prawn
that is swimming near the surface of the water. Colonel
Cunningham thus describes some fishing operations
which he witnessed on a pond that had, owing to the
drought, become very shallow : — " For several days the
numbers of arrivals steadily increased, so that for a
time the neighbourhood of the pond was thronged by
hundreds of birds in various stages of plumage, and
filling the air with clamorous cries as they flew in
bewildering mazes over the water, or sat among the
branches of all the surrounding trees. Every now and
then one of the moving crowd would suddenly stop to
sweep along over the surface of the pond, and rise
again, grasping a little glittering fish, which he either
carried off to be devoured at leisure on a tree, or disposed
of while on the wing, just as common kites do when
hawking in a swarm of white ants." Such sights are
not seen every day.

Another observer witnessed " a Brahminy kite kill
and eat a kingfisher that had carried off a small fish on
which the kite was in the act of swooping." Truly
there were giants in those days !

Brahminy kites sometimes come into collision with
the crows ; but then, what bird or beast does not do
this? In Madras the crows treat their larger neigh-
bours with great respect, having no liking for the feel of
their powerful claws. But in places where Brahminy
kites are uncommon birds, the crows mob them, as they
do all strange birds.

Crows are very conservative. They hate any new

THE BRAHMINY KITE 193

addition to the local fauna, and they show their dislike
in no uncertain way, as a cockatoo, which recently
escaped from captivity in Madras, discovered. The
Brahminy kite is very fond of hearing its own voice,
which is best described as a disagreeable squeal. It is
uttered while the bird is on the wing.

The nest is built high up in a tree, often a palm-tree.
It is not much of a structure if regarded from an archi-
tectural point of view ; nevertheless, it is less bulky and
less untidy than the nursery of its plebeian cousin, the
pariah kite. It is composed of sticks roughly put
together and lined with leaves or mud. The eggs are
dirty white, sometimes splotched or speckled with
reddish brown. The Brahminy kite rejoices in a great
variety of names. Many Anglo-Indians call it the fish-
hawk. Mr. Thomas Atkins calls it the bramley kite,
which is his way of pronouncing Brahminy kite !

The Mohammedan name for the bird is Ru-Mubarikt
which, being translated, means " lucky face." The bird
is so called from a superstition that, when two armies
are about to enter into an engagement, the appearance
of one of these auspicious birds over the head of either
of the armies means victory to that side. Now, since
there must be quite a dozen Brahminy kites hovering
over every army in the field in India, each side should
always go into battle feeling cocksure of success.
Garuda is the Hindu name for the bird, which is sacred
to Vishnu. That god selected the bird as his vehicle,
and it would be impossible to imagine a finer steed; but
the bird, of course, is not up to weight.

Mr. P. V. Trivikrama Rau writes in the " Calcutta
o

194 BOMBAY DUCKS

Review " : " Whenever Garuda, the vehicle of Vishnu,
is seen, Hindus pay their veneration to it by touching
their cheeks with their fingers as they repeat a Sanskrit
verse which, when rendered into English, is as follows :
1 1 bow to thee, king of birds, and (as such) the vehicle
of Vishnu, whose parts are coloured crimson and whose
neck is bright as the moon.'" Now, I presume that
Mr. Trivikrama Rau is here indulging in a little
Oriental hyperbole.

It would be all very well for the pious Hindu to act
thus when he lives in a place where one only sees a
Brahminy kite once in a blue moon, but it is surely
expecting too much of the Madras Hindu to do all this
whenever he sets eyes on one of these birds. Every one
in Madras must see dozens of Brahminy kites daily,
and I cannot bring myself to believe that he does and
says all the above every time he beholds one. Mr.
Trivikrama Rau also tells us that the sight of a Brah-
miny kite "on any day, and particularly on Sunday
mornings, is considered lucky, for it is believed that it
is then returning from Vishnu, whom it has gone to see
on the previous evening." The Madras Hindus are
certainly in luck's way, for every one of them may
depend on seeing a dozen or more Brahminy kites
every Sunday morning throughout the year.

A CURIOUS TRAIT IN ANIMAL
CHARACTER

INTENSE dislike of all strange objects that live
and move is a characteristic common to all
species of animals which are sufficiently organized
to have likes and dislikes. In man the character-
istic is seen in the hatred of foreigners which prevails
among savage and partially civilized races. When the
heathen Chinee tries to keep the " foreign devil " out of
his country, he is merely giving expression to a feeling
which he has inherited from his animal ancestors — the
hatred of strange species.

The savage, when he sets upon and slays the white
man who ventures into his domain, is but giving rather
more forcible expression to the same feeling. The
London street-boys, when they follow and shout out
after any person displaying some peculiarity of dress,
are doing much what gregarious animals do when a
strange species suddenly appears in their midst.

A mammal or a bird regards every other species
with which it is acquainted either with intensely hostile
feelings or with supreme indifference. When it is sud-
denly confronted with a strange new species it is, for
the moment, nonplussed. It, however, gives itself the
benefit of the doubt, sets down the new creature as

i96 BOMBAY DUCKS

hostile, and acts accordingly. If it be small or weak,
it makes itself scarce when it catches sight of the
stranger ; but if it be strong or gregarious, it forthwith
proceeds to mob the intruder. The Indian crow, being
a bold, powerful bird of gregarious habits, is an excel-
lent subject upon which to study the feelings excited in
an animal by a strange species.

Recently there arose a tremendous commotion among
the crows in the fort at Madras. I looked out of the
window to see what had happened, and observed a
large white object flit by, followed by a mob of excited
crows. The white object settled in a tree and I then
saw that it was a cockatoo, which had evidently escaped
from captivity. Its pursuers all perched in the tree, as
close to it as discretion permitted. Their clamours
filled the air.

The cockatoo thought that the summit of the tree
would be a better strategic position, so climbed up to
the topmost branch, with the twenty or thirty crows in
attendance. None of them seemed to care to com-
mence the attack. One or two made feints, but a
threatening snap by the cockatoo caused them to
desist. So the cockatoo and the crows remained there,
glaring at each other. I think that the former, as he
sat in that tree, confronted by the black rabble, must
have hankered after the fleshpots of Egypt which he
had left behind ; he must have felt that liberty, after all,
was not the sweet thing which it is said to be. Never-
theless, he showed a bold front to the black crew.

These, however, did not mean to let him escape.
They were content to await developments. After a

A CURIOUS TRAIT 197

little, the cockatoo flew off; then there was a tremendous
uproar among the crows, which, with one accord, gave
chase. The clamour continued for some time, but I
did not again see the cockatoo. The poor bird must
eventually have been torn to pieces by the crows,
unless he was rescued by his owner. Probably not one
of those crows had previously set eyes on a cockatoo.
They therefore could not have had any scores to pay
off. They merely mobbed him because he was a
strange, bizarre, living object, and their instinct teaches
them to regard all such creatures as their enemies.

In Oudh, last cold weather, I put up a large owl out
of a mango-tree. It was in the middle of the day and
the crows were about. Two of them caught sight of
the owl during his short flight to the next tree, and at
once proceeded to mob him. They took up a position
on each side of him, sitting as close to him as possible,
so that he was literally wedged in between them.
Neither crow, however, seemed inclined to commence
the attack.

In a campaign of this kind, the words " masterly
inactivity" may be said to sum up corvine tactics.
The owl was not enjoying himself, for, in addition to
having a " ribald crow " on each side of him, I was
looking at him from below. He therefore took to
flight. The crows gave chase, taking pecks at his back.
I could not follow the rest of the hunt, since, as organs
of progression, legs are no match for wings. Presently,
however, the two crows returned to the Bagh and,
judging by their cries of exultation, one at least of
them must have secured a beakful of owl's feathers !

ip8 BOMBAY DUCKS

Here, again, the owl cannot be called an enemy of
the crow. It is true that there is one species which is
said to wring young crows' necks in the dead of night ;
but this owl did not belong to that species. The crows
merely set upon the owl because it was a strange crea-
ture, and they regard all strange creatures as enemies,
and mobbing is the treatment meted out by crows to
their foes. Allied to this hostility to all strange-looking
creatures is one of the most curious phenomena in
nature — the brutal way in which a wounded animal is
treated by its fellows. Instead of caring for it and
tending it, they set upon it and kill it, being, apparently,
quite indifferent to its cries.

The other day, while driving along the main street of
Madras, I saw a crow whose legs had been tied to its
tail. It looked a most ludicrous object as it ran along,
and fully twenty crows were accompanying it, regarding
it with hostile eyes. They probably eventually pecked
it to death. I am told that there used to be a Madras
Civil Servant who hated crows with a great hatred.
It was his wont to catch these birds, shave off their
feathers, and paint the bare skin red or blue. The
birds thus disfigured were, on liberation, immediately
set upon by their fellows and killed. "This habit,"
writes Lockwood Kipling, is "reported to have sug-
gested a stratagem by which omnivorous gipsy folk
catch crows. A live crow is spread-eagled on his back,
with forked pegs holding down his pinions. He flutters
and cries, and the other crows come to investigate his
case and presently attack him. With claws and beak
he seizes an assailant and holds him fast. The gipsy

A CURIOUS TRAIT 199

steps from hiding and secures and pinions the second
crow. These two catch two more, the four catch four
more, and so on, until there are enough for dinner, or
to take into a town, where the crow-catcher stands
before some respectable Hindu shop and threatens to
kill the bird he has in his hand unless the Hindu pays
for its liberation."

It is a well-known fact that cattle almost invariably
attack and gore to death one of their companions
which is in great distress. The case of the crows kill-
ing their shaven and painted companion is almost
certainly to be explained by supposing that they mis-
take it for some strange bird. They mob it for the same
reason that they mobbed the cockatoo.

It seems to me that the attacks of animals on their
companions in sore distress may be accounted for in
the same way. The crows, or the cattle, or whatever
be the animal in question, do not recognize their com-
panion on account of its strange antics ; they take it
for some enemy and attack it.

It may seem highly improbable that animals should
make such mistakes. We must, however, bear in mind
that the attacking animals are at the time so excited as
to be almost beside themselves. The cries of a fellow
in distress exert a most extraordinary effect on the
species. The howls of a companion will often drive a
dog almost mad.

I have sometimes been looking at a pariah dog,
which for no apparent reason suddenly begins to howl.
The other dogs of the village rush up excitedly, but,
seeing no enemy, they begin to attack one another.

200 BOMBAY DUCKS

The howling of their companion has excited them so
greatly that they have suddenly and momentarily lost
their senses. So it may be with the cows or cattle
when they attack a companion in distress. They rush
up to the scene, maddened by the cries of their fellow,
and see some object performing strange antics, so,
without waiting to consider what they are doing, they
attack it.

The naturalist, Hudson, looks upon this strange
instinct which makes animals kill a companion in dis-
tress as the perversion, not of the instinct which teaches
animals to mob all strange species, but of that which
teaches gregarious creatures to go to the assistance of
a companion attacked by some enemy. According to
him, when the individuals of a family are excited to a
sudden deadly rage by the cries of distress of one of
their fellows, or by the sight of its bleeding wounds,
or when they see it frantically struggling on the
ground, or in the cleft of a tree or rock, as if in the
clutches of a powerful enemy, they do not turn on it
to kill it, but to rescue it. But there is no enemy to
see, so they, in their blind rage, attack the one living
thing present— the wounded friend in this case — in
mistake for an enemy.

Whether the theory here put forward or that of
Hudson meets with acceptance, it is obvious that this
habit of attacking friends in distress is not wanton
cruelty ; it is a blunder of a useful instinct. It may
seem shocking to us that animals are so ready to de-
stroy life. We must, however, remember that the char-
acters of animals are moulded by natural selection ;

A CURIOUS TRAIT 201

that in the animal kingdom there are no Ten Com-
mandments. Among animals killing is no murder.

Natural selection, if allowed to work unchecked, pro-
duces a number of races which think only of themselves
and their offspring ; a fauna of Ishmaelites, of which the
hand of every species is upraised against all others.
This indiscriminate hostility is necessary in the interests
of the species ; it is exercised in self-protection, and
not from wantonness. There is nothing Nero-like in
the character of most animals. For the safety of the
species it is necessary to consider every creature a foe
until it has proved that it is not.

As young animals grow up, they are, so to speak,
educated to distinguish at sight an enemy from a
harmless species. But if a new creature appear, they
have no experience to guide them, so rely upon their
instinct, which teaches them that all unknown organ-
isms are enemies. They therefore attack it and destroy
it, if strong enough to do so. By acting in this way
they are on the safe side. It may be a harmless crea-
ture, or merely a suffering member of their own species,
but they do not stay to consider this. Delay may
mean death, so they either flee from the strange object
or set upon it and kill it.

THE SEVEN SISTERS

"The seven birds . . . that never part."

BABBLERS are the Bohemians of bird society.
The Seven Sisters are to the rest of the
fowls of India what the denizens of the
Quartier Latin are to the remainder of
Parisian Society. There is much to be said for an
unconventional, restraint-free life. The poets, from
Horace downwards, have hankered after such an exist-
ence.

It is, indeed, no small thing to be able to eat what
one likes, drink what one likes, say what one likes, and
do what one likes. Babblers enjoy all these advan-
tages, and many more. Were there ever before, through-
out all the geological ages, any birds so utterly in-
different to personal appearance? If a crow were to
show himself in public in the unkempt condition of
the average babbler, he would be forthwith socially
ostracized ; he would be blackballed by every corvine
Club and never receive an invitation to dinner. Crows
are great sticklers for etiquette, whereas babblers care
not a fig for appearances.

" Liberte, Fraternite, Egalite " is the motto of these

203

204 BOMBAY DUCKS

birds, and they flourish under their republican con-
stitution. There must be close upon a hundred
species of babblers scattered over India. The family
is an enormous one, and the most characteristic ornitho-
logical feature of the country. Go where you will in
the " Land of Regrets," you will not be able to dodge
the babblers. In every station, whether on the hills or
plains, you will be confronted by companies of Seven
Sisters.

In scarcely any two provinces will the same species
greet you, but you will have no difficulty in recognizing
each new form as a near relation of those you have
already met. " I have often amused myself," says
Jerdon, writing of the sisterhood, " in imagining that
they are not inapt representatives of the Hindus ;
certainly as far as their frequent congregating together,
and their incessant noisy chattering and gabbling,
they agree ; and were I disposed to carry on the
similitude further, it would not, I think, be a difficult
task. It is not a little remarkable, too, that in southern
India there are several kinds which in some measure
correspond in geographical distribution with the princi-
pal Hindu races of this part of the country."

What gives these birds so strong a family likeness
is the slovenly appearance they all present. Babblers
represent all the degrees of untidiness. First and
foremost comes the Crateropus canorus, the common
babbler of the plains of Upper India. This bird looks
as though it were in imminent danger of falling to
pieces ; its tail appears to hang by a mere thread, and
its wings droop as if they were broken.

THE SEVEN SISTERS 205

It may be likened to the human being who refuses
to recognize the use of a hair-brush, who persists in
wearing dirzie-ma.de clothes, although his friends warn
him that he will one day be mistaken for a scarecrow,
and who, as often as not, forgets to put on a necktie.

This babbler has, further, a voice which is a very fair
imitation of the sound produced by a rusty axle in
motion. Passing upwards, through a host of inter-
mediate species, we come to another landmark, in the
shape of Malacocercus somervillei^ the common Bombay
babbler, which, as "Eha" describes, "reminds you of
old Jones who spends the day in his pyjamas." Even-
tually we ascend to the Madras babbler, Malacocercus
griseus, which must be considered as the " toff" of the
babbler brotherhood.

This bird is so well known, being found in numbers
in every garden in South India, that all description is
superfluous. No one but a blind man can help remark-
ing the chattering greyish-brown birds with yellowish
white heads which abound in Madras. The first ones
I saw introduced themselves to me as I was driving
out of the railway-station yard, three minutes after my
arrival.

Some of these babblers are more hoary than others.
I think that the older birds exhibit the whitest heads.
The white on the head of the babbler fledgling is
certainly not conspicuous. Babblers differ from all
other birds in that the unit of the community is not
the individual, nor even the family, but the Club.

Babbler society is made up of a number of little Clubs,
each composed of from seven to a dozen members ;

206 BOMBAY DUCKS

hence the popular name Seven Sisters, or Brothers,
applied to the commoner forms. " The man in the
street " has no word by means of which he can speak
of a single member of the species. It is impossible to
talk about "a seven sister." Nor is this defect in the
popular vocabulary a serious one, for where, outside a
museum, do you see a solitary babbler? Is it possible
to think of one of these birds without a friend to which
it can babble ?

These little Clubs are not mere family affairs, for a
babbler is a monogamist, and has at the most four
children ; and two and four make but six. Each little
company of Seven Sisters is just an informal, free-
and-easy, go-as-you-please Club, composed of members
drawn together by identity of interest. Every babbler
is greatly attached to its Club ; even when bringing up
a family the parents feed in company. The reason for
this is not far to seek.

A babbler is a feeble little bird. Its beak is but a
puny weapon, and its power of flight is so limited that
it is probably unable to take an uninterrupted journey
of a hundred yards. It is, therefore, obvious that,
had the species not learned to profit by the homely
proverb "union is strength," it would long ago have
been swept off the face of the earth in the fierce
struggle for existence. Thanks, however, to their clan-
nishness, babblers are among the most widely distributed
of birds in India.

It requires a very smart fowl to circumvent a party of
Seven Sisters. Directly one of them espies an enemy
it gives the cry of alarm. This is followed by a general

THE SEVEN SISTERS 207

excited twittering and screaming. Then the various
members of the little company take cover, and remain
silently in hiding until the danger is passed. Some
babblers will unite and boldly beat off a bird which
attacks them. The Madras ones are not so brave;
they hold discretion to be the better part of valour.

So, for the sake of safety, the members of each little
company keep together, hopping about and rummaging
among fallen leaves for the minute insects upon which
they feed.

The tiny community has no leader. All the members
are equal. Any one may take the lead, and the rest
seem to follow as a matter of course. As they saunter
along together, the babblers keep up a constant flow of
small talk. Their voices are not beautiful, and those
not familiar with the birds are apt to mistake pleasant
conversation for squabbling.

"Fighting?" says Phil Robinson, "not at all; do
not be misled by the tone of voice. That heptachord
clamour is not the expression of strong feelings. It is
only a way they have."

Dick says : " Well, Bill, what luck ? " "A bit of all
right," replies Bill, with his mouth full. " Going strong,
Jane?" asks Harry, as he discovers an insect on the
under side of a decayed leaf. " What do you think ? "
squeaks Jane. "Old Bob's having a fine blow out!"
remarks Tom, casually. Jack suddenly calls out: " My
eye ! here's a find," and then the whole Club rushes to
see what he has found, each member chattering at the
top of his voice.

It is wonderful how rare fights among babblers are.

208 BOMBAY DUCKS

A Club of human beings under such circumstances
would not be half so amiable ; there would be constant
bickerings and squabbles. Cliques would be formed,
which would soon terminate the existence of the Club.

Good fellows though babblers be, they have their
enemies. The Brain-fever Bird, that wicked Indian
cuckoo, selects the sisterhood as her victims. She places
her egg among the beautiful glossy blue eggs of the
Seven Sisters, and thus forces these to perform her
nursemaid's work. But they do not seem to mind ;
they take things far too easily to be bothered by the
strange appearance, voice, and habits of one of their
nestlings. Nothing worries these birds. If one of them
ever writes an autobiography he will certainly give his
book the title " Hurrah for the life of a babbler ! "

THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY WASP

OF all " the Tribes of my Frontier " none are
more deserving of notice than the solitary
wasp. Their ways are of even greater
interest than those of the social hymenop-
tera, whose praises have been so admirably sung by
Maeterlinck, Grant Allen, and others. Perhaps it is the
lonely life led by the solitary wasps that gives them
so much character ; for character they certainly have.
" So whimsical," writes Burroughs, " so fickle, so for-
getful, so fussy, so wise, and yet so foolish, as these
little people are ; such victims of routine and yet so
individual, such apparent foresight and yet such thought-
lessness, at such great pains to dig a hole and build a
cell, and then at times sealing it up without storing it
with food or laying the egg, half finishing hole after
hole, and then abandoning them without any apparent
reason ; sometimes killing their spiders, at other times
only paralysing them ; one species digging its burrow
before it captures its game, another catching its prey
and then digging the hole ; some of them hanging the
spider up in the fork of a weed to keep it away from
the ants while they work at the nest, and running to it
every few minutes to see that it is safe ; others laying
p 209

2io BOMBAY DUCKS

the insect on the ground while they dig ; one species
walking backwards and dragging its spider after it, and
when the spider is so small that it carries it in its
mandible, it still walks backwards as if dragging it,
when it would be much easier to walk forward. A
curious little people, leading their solitary lives and
greatly differentiated by their solitude, hardly any two
alike, one nervous and excitable, another calm and un-
hurried ; one careless in her work, another neat and
thorough ; this one suspicious, that one confiding ;
ammophila using a pebble to pack down the earth in
her burrow, while another species uses the end of her
abdomen — verily a queer little people, with a lot of
wild nature about them, and a lot of human nature too."

A multitude of solitary wasps are found in Madras,
many of which invade our houses and build their nests
inside them. One of these, one of the Eumenidae,
recently forced herself upon my notice. She is known
to entomologists as Rhynchium brunneum. She has no
popular name. I use the pronoun " she " advisedly,
for among wasps the male is an unimportant creature.
He is smaller than the female, and takes no part in the
construction or the provisioning of the nest.

The female of this particular wasp is about three-
quarters of an inch long, her waist is short and thick,
her body is brownish red in colour, marked posteriorly
by three black bands which run across the body. Her
glassy wings are of a brownish-yellow hue. Thus her
garments are neither very beautiful nor very showy.
She is clad in quiet, businesslike clothes which are
quite in keeping with her calm, industrious habits.

THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY WASP 211

A lady wasp of this species came, a little over a
month ago, into a bedroom through an open window
and began at once to look about her for a suitable site
for her nest. Her attention was soon attracted by a
wooden bed. In this she found some ideal nesting-
places — the holes in the upright posts intended to
receive the poles for mosquito curtains. Having
elected to nest in these six-inch-deep cavities, the wasp
promptly set to work to prepare them for her eggs.

She flew out of the window, to return in a few
minutes, carrying between her front legs a pellet of
mud, fully half the size of her body. She herself had
prepared this pellet by means of her jaws and saliva
out of dust collected on the roadside. She flew with
it into the cavity, and proceeded to line it with mud.
Having utilized her load, the industrious insect flew
off and returned with a second load, and a third, and
a fourth.

In a short time she had lined the hole, and the mud
soon set as hard as mortar. I believe that directly the
nest is lined the wasp lays an egg in it, but of this I
cannot be sure, for it is impossible to see what is going
on at the bottom of a hole six inches deep and less
than an inch wide. It is therefore possible that the egg
was laid at a later stage in the proceedings. The nest
has now to be provisioned, for when the grub emerges
from the egg in its underground cell it will need food.
Accordingly the wasp mother goes forth to seek pro-
vender for her offspring upon which she will in all
probability never set eyes. Consider for a moment
the significance of this. We have, here, an insect toil-

212 BOMBAY DUCKS

ing all day long for her offspring which she will never
see. I do not think that she even knows that her eggs
will give rise to young wasps. She toils for the benefit
of these because that strange internal force which we
call instinct compels her to do so. She knows not
what she is doing, yet no human parent could work
harder in the interests of her offspring. Analogy
would lead us to think that the female wasp loves her
children. Yet this is impossible. The question thus
arises therefore in the case of the higher animals, how
much of their solicitude for their offspring is due to
affection and how much to blind instinct?

The grub which the egg will produce is both car-
nivorous and voracious, and, what is more, it must be
fed upon fresh meat. Here, then, is a difficult problem
which the wasp has to solve : how to provide fresh
meat for her offspring. It is obviously useless to kill
some creatures and place them underground, for by
the time the young one hatches out the food will have
become putrid. If, on the other hand, she catch some
feeble creatures and put them alive into the nest,
they will wriggle and struggle, so that, if they do not
damage the egg, they will at least knock it away from
them. This would be fatal were it to take place, for
the grub, when it first emerges from the egg, is so weak
that it cannot move by so much as a hair's breadth,
so that it will starve to death unless it is hatched right
in the midst of its food-supply.

Let us see how the wasp solves the problem. She
presently returns carrying a thin greenish caterpillar
quite as long as herself. She flies with it into the

THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY WASP 213
nest. She carries it lengthwise, grasping it with all
her six legs. Having placed it in the cell, she flies out
of the window and soon returns with another cater-
pillar of the same kind. When this is safely deposited
in the nest she goes off for a third. Let us now
take out and examine one of these caterpillars. It is
apparently alive and unwounded, but, if alive, it is
certainly completely paralysed, since it never makes
the slightest motion. It is therefore evident that the
wasp has done something to it. Has she killed it or
merely paralysed it ?

Leon Dufour, who first studied the ways of the
hymenopteron Cerceris, which stores the nest with
weevils, was of opinion that the wasp killed her prey
and injected into it some antiseptic liquid to keep it
fresh during the weeks or days her eggs took to hatch.

The great French entomologist Fabre, whose work,
"Insect Life" (of which there is an English edition),
every one should read, discovered that the antiseptic
theory is incorrect and that the wasp only paralyses its
prey. He proved conclusively that the wasp merely
pricks the motor nerve centres of her victim and thus
completely paralyses it. He actually saw a Cerceris
wasp perform the operation. As she was returning
with a paralysed weevil, Fabre snatched it away from
her with pinchers, instantly throwing a living weevil
in exchange. "The manoeuvre," writes Fabre, "suc-
ceeded perfectly. As soon as the Cercercis felt the
prey slip under her body and escape her, she stamped
with impatience, turned round, and, perceiving the
weevil which had replaced hers, flung itself upon it and

214 BOMBAY DUCKS

clasped it in order to carry it away. But she promptly
perceived that this prey was active, and then the drama
began, and ended with inconceivable rapidity. The
Cerceris faced her victim, seized its proboscis with her
powerful jaws, and grasped it vigorously, and while the
weevil reared itself up, pressed her forefeet hard on its
back as if to force open some ventral articulation. Then
the tail of the murderess slid under the Cleonus, curved
and darted its poisoned lancet swiftly two or three
times between the first and second pair of feet. In a
twinkling all was over. Without one convulsive move-
ment, with no motion of the limbs, such as accompany
the death of an animal, the victim fell motionless for
ever, as if annihilated.

"It was at once wonderful and terrible in its rapidity.
Then the assassin turned the weevil on its back, placed
herself body to body with it, her legs on either side of
it, and flew off. Three times I renewed this experiment
. . . the same scene always occurred."

In like manner does the wasp Rhynchium, of which
we are speaking, paralyse her victim, with, however,
one difference. There is in the weevil but one motor
centre, so that the wasp has only to stab it in one place
in order to completely paralyse it ; a caterpillar, how-
ever, is a composite creature, having several motor
centres ; hence it has to be stabbed in three places
before it is rendered quiescent — in the neck, in the hind
part of the thorax, and in the abdomen. The first
stroke gives the front part of the body its quietus, the
second paralyses the front pro-legs, and the last stills
for ever the movements of the hind pro-legs. The

THE LARGE CRESTED CUCKOO (COCCYSTES Gl.ANDARIUS)

THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY WASP 215
wasp has a wonderful knowledge of the anatomy of
caterpillars ! " It is," writes Fabre, " in this triple blow
that the infallibility, the infused science, of instinct,
appear in all their magnificence."

These words are in the main true, but more recent
investigations have shown that instinct is, in this case,
not absolutely infallible. The wasp does sometimes
make a " boss shot." It occasionally happens that a
stab fails to reach the nerve ganglion. When the wasp
has stored the cell with eight caterpillars she closes
it by roofing it with mud. I believe that eight is the
number of caterpillars she allows to each egg, but there
again I speak not with certainty.

These observations were made at random and were
often interrupted. After the cell had been closed there
was still plenty of room left in the hole in the bed-
post ; in this space the wasp laid another egg, killed
more caterpillars, and then closed the cell with mud,
making the top of the roof flush with the summit of
the post. She then proceeded to stock the hole in the
bed-post, behaving in precisely the same way as before.
Having completed the second nest, she forthwith began
to line the third hole with mud, and was stocking it
with caterpillars, when I cut short her life. I had to
sacrifice her in the interests of science, in order to find
out the species to which she belonged.

Five days after she had closed the first nest I opened
it, and found that all the caterpillars had disappeared,
and that a great fat white grub, fully an inch in length,
had taken their place. This had emerged from the
egg, and then devoured all the caterpillars. The length

216 BOMBAY DUCKS

of time that the eggs require to hatch varies with
different species, and is often considerably longer than
the time occupied by the Rhynchium egg.

The larva soon passes into the pupal state. It does
not spin a cocoon as the silkworm moth does. The
transformation into the imago or adult occupies less
than three weeks. As there is no cocoon, one might,
if the creature could live in the light, watch the won-
derful metamorphosis actually taking place, but light
appears to kill the pupa. About seventeen days after
the egg had been laid I dug out another pupa. It had
assumed the adult wasp-like form, was almost white in
colour, and looked what it was — an unfinished wasp.

Over the last cell I tied a piece of muslin to make
a cage into which the imago would have to fly on
leaving the nest, but I might have spared myself the
trouble. Twenty-five days after the closing of the cell,
I noticed that a hole had been gnawed in the muslin,
and, looking into the nest, I saw a hole through the
roof of the cell and knew that the wasp had flown. She
had been able to adapt herself to circumstances. She
had used her jaws, with which instinct had taught her
to rasp away the roof of her cell, to cut a hole in the
muslin, and thus gained her liberty.

PLAINTIVE CUCKOO ^CUCOMANTIS PASbERINUS)

INDIAN CUCKOOS

IN the matter of cuckoos India can give points to
the British Isles. The good folk at home see
only one species of cuckoo, and that spends less
than half its time on the British shores ; we in
India, on the other hand, can boast of an avifauna
in which the sub-family cuculince is represented by no
fewer than thirty species.

Lest the above statement should excite the righteous
indignation of British ornithologists, let me hasten to
say that it is not strictly true, that it requires a little
modification.

Species of cuckoo, other than the common or garden
Cuculus canorus, have been seen in England outside
the Zoological Gardens. Three bold species have, at
divers times, visited the shores of Albion, and warm
was the reception each received.

Thanatology is a science carried to perfection in the
Homeland. So-called naturalists shoot, at sight, every
strange bird. In 1871 an American Black-Billed
Cuckoo was seen at Belfast and shot. On five different
occasions the Yellow-Billed Cuckoo — the American
Rain-bird — has visited our shores only to be put to
death. A similar fate overtook the two Great Spotted

217

218 BOMBAY DUCKS

Cuckoos that at different times ventured to set foot in
the United Kingdom. Woe betide the strange bird
who ventures near the hospitable shores of England !
But let us leave this unpleasant subject. Let us turn
to the Indian cuckoos, which are not persecuted by man.

The European cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) is a regular
visitor to India. In the Himalayas during the months
of April, May, and June its melodious voice is heard
unceasingly from early morn to dewy eve. This bird
does not venture in great numbers into the plains ; but
it does come, and has been seen as far south as the
Godavery District.

The two essentially Indian cuckoos are our ubiquitous
friends — the Brain-fever bird and the Koel. The former
is known to scientists as Hierococcyx varius. It is also
called the hawk-cuckoo, on account of its resemblance
to a hawk. Its face is its fortune ; for the little birds,
when they see it, are said to mistake it for a hawk, and
so allow it to drive them out of their nests and deposit
its eggs in them. The "seven sisters" are its usual
victims.

The brain-fever bird is, perhaps, the noisiest creature
in India. It can boast of a variety of calls ; the one of
which it is most fond and which it utters throughout
the hot weather, both by day and by night, is a pene-
trating crescendo, "brain fever, brain fever, BRAIN FEVER,"
which pierces one through and through. The koel
(Endynamys honoratd) is another vociferous cuckoo,
which exhibits a great predilection for the climate of
Madras. In that part of the world it is only less
common than the crow. The male is a glossy black

THE KOEL, OR BLACK CUCKOO, FEMALE

INDIAN CUCKOOS 219

bird, which, when seen during flight, looks like a
slenderly built crow with an extra long tail. The
female is a brown bird spotted with white. This species
makes the crow do its nursemaid's work for it.

Needless to say, the Indian grey-necked crow is not
the bird to be bluffed out of its nest by an ass in a
lion's skin in the shape of a hawk-like cuckoo. If the
hen-cuckoo went up threateningly to a crow and tried
to enter the nest, the crow would probably remark,
" Very sorry, ma'am, full inside, try outside ! " It there-
fore becomes necessary for the koels to resort to artifice.
The female, who is inconspicuously coloured, remains
in the background, while the showy black cock bird
swaggers up to the crow's nest upon which the pair
have designs. As a rule, the mere sight of an adult
male koel drives a crow almost mad with fury.

Nothing is commoner in India than the sight of a
couple of crows chasing a koel. Indeed, the cuckoos
are most unpopular with birds of all classes. They are
the outlaws of the bird world ; so they usually keep well
to cover. When they do venture into the open they
usually make a wild dash, like that of a boy from one
" base " to another when playing at rounders.

Upon this occasion, however, the koel turns his un-
popularity to account. If the sight of him is insufficient
to provoke the crows at the nest to give chase, he begins
to insult them. " Call that thing a nest ? " he says
mockingly. " Why, if I could not raise up a more re-
spectable structure than that I would lay my eggs in
some other bird's nest!" The crows, of course, will
not tolerate this kind of thing. They give chase.

220 BOMBAY DUCKS

Now, in a race between a koel and a crow the latter
has about as much chance of winning as a cart-horse
would have if pittied against a Derby winner. The
koel, however, is content to keep just ahead of his
corvine pursuers ; thus he lures them from the nest,
and meanwhile his mate is placing her egg in it. When
the male bird hears his wife's voice he knows that the
fell deed is done, and so puts on a spurt and leaves his
pursuers far behind, screaming as he disappears from
view : " Get back to the nest, you blockheads, the eggs
are getting cold ! "

The crows realize that this is really their most
sensible course. On their return they fail to recognize
the prank which has been played upon them ; and so
hatch out the strange egg along with their own. But
the curious thing is that when the young koel is
hatched, its foster-parents do not wring its neck, but
tend it most carefully.

Birds, when sitting on their eggs or looking after
their young, are mere automatons, creatures of instinct.
At this period they seem to cast intelligence to the
wind, and to obey implicitly the promptings of instinct.
Instinct teaches a bird to feed all the young in its
nest without questioning their origin. We may thus
account for the care which the crow parents lavish upon
their koel foster-children.

But we have yet to overcome a further difficulty.
How is it that when the young koels first begin to fend
for themselves they are not set upon by the strange
crows of the neighbourhood and devoured ? A crow,
as a rule, never loses an opportunity of attacking a

THE KOEL, OR BLACK CUCKOO, MALE

INDIAN CUCKOOS 221

koel. Here would be a golden opportunity for them ;
they would experience no difficulty in catching or de-
stroying a newly fledged cuckoo.

Some authorities have thought that during the earlier
part of their life young koels retain the crow smell, and
so are let alone by the strange crows they encounter.
I do not think that this is the explanation.

Smell does not appear to play an important part in
the life of a bird. Of all the avine senses that of smell
seems to be the least well developed.

So far as my observation goes, it is the male koel
which is chiefly attacked by the crows. I do not re-
member ever having seen a female chased ; she is so
different from the cock bird in appearance that it is
possible that the crows do not know that she is a koel.
Now young koels of both sexes resemble the female
in plumage, and I think that it is to this fact that they
owe their immunity from attack.

Cuckoos are, indeed, wonderful creatures. They are
not content with victimizing poor helpless little birds ;
they select as their victims and dupes the boldest and
bravest of the feathered race. The brain-fever bird
victimizes the social and alert babblers. The koel
chooses crows, of all birds.

Another cuckoo, the Drongo-cuckoo (Surniculus
lugubris)) goes one better. It selects as its dupe the
valiant and ever-vigilant king-crow. As we have
already seen, the king-crow is, during the nesting
season, a little fury. It will attack any bird or beast
that ventures near its nest. It takes no account of
size. The cuckoo that desired to victimize it might be

222 BOMBAY DUCKS

as big as the mythical roc ; but this would profit the
parasitic bird little : the king-crow would stand up to it.
It is by craft, not by " bluff," that the cuckoo succeeds
in " scoring off" the drongo. Surniculus lugubris is,
perhaps, the most wonderful example of mimicry in
nature. It has adopted the dress of the drongo. It is
black all over and has a forked tail. It is said to be a
very uncommon cuckoo.

I do not know whether I have ever seen a live species
or not, for I cannot distinguish it from a king-crow.
I am not ashamed of this admission : for the king-crow
himself is in this respect no better off than I am. I
submit that if A cannot distinguish B from his (A's)
own brother, it is surely not to be expected that I,
a stranger, can do so !

The drongo-cuckoo has a smart appearance and a
straight flight, and thus differs from the majority of
cuckoos, which are slovenly birds, the kind of birds
which, if they wore clothes, would slouch about with
their hands in their pockets and their hats on the back
of the head. The drongo-cuckoo, the lion in the ass's
skin, is allowed to hover about in the neighbourhood
of a king-crow's nest, and seizes the opportunity of
depositing an egg when the back of the owner of the
nest is turned.

India boasts of some respectable cuckoos, that is
to say, cuckoos which build nests and do not shirk
parental responsibilities. The best known of these
is that widely distributed bird, the coucal, or crow-
pheasant. He is a personage of sufficient importance
to demand a chapter to himself.

THE CROW-PHEASANT

deep, sonorous "whoot, whoot, whoot"
of the crow-pheasant is one of the most
familiar of the sounds which greet the rising
sun in India. Centropus sinensis, although
it is to be heard at all hours of the day, prefers to
indulge in its vocal exercises in the early morning or at
the sunset hour; hence its cry is often mistaken for
that of some belated, or early-rising owl.

The crow-pheasant, however, is not an owl. With
the exception of the voice, there is nothing owl-like
about the bird. It is not a creature of the night. It is
just a respectable cuckoo which brings up its own
family. Needless to say, the other members of the
cuckoo tribe disown it. It is not admitted to any of
the cuculine clubs.

For the benefit of those who are not initiated into
the mysteries of cuckoo society, I may say that the
qualifications for admission to one of their clubs are,
firstly, zygodactyle feet, and secondly, the making of
the following solemn affirmation : " I bind myself
never, under any circumstances whatsoever, to do my-
self that which it is possible to make others do for me."
The coucal is able to satisfy the former of these con-

223

224 BOMBAY DUCKS

ditions, but cannot honestly attach its signature to
the affirmation.

The crow-pheasant is not a bird of great beauty.
Nevertheless, I think that "Eha" is a little severe on it
when he dubs it a great, awkward bird. I myself
rather admire its shape, and should have nothing to
say against the bird, did not its plumage not partake so
much of the nature of patchwork. Its head, body, and
tail are black, and its wings chestnut in hue. Black
and brown do not form a happy combination. Why
the birds of both sexes are thus attired I know not.
This is one of the many unsolved problems of animal
colouration.

Were the thing not impossible, one would think
that at some beanfeast long ago the crow-pheasant
must have imbibed a little too freely, and then, in a
moment of maudlin friendship, exchanged wings with
some brown bird. For the wings do not match the
rest of the plumage, nor are they large enough for the
bird, hence its decidedly laboured flight. The smallness
of its wings, however, does not worry the coucal, for it
does not use those appendages much. It lives in thick
cover, although it often ventures out in the open to feed.
When alarmed, it flaps up to the nearest tree and then
disappears from view in a mysterious way. As a tree-
climber there is no other bird of the size which can
approach a crow-pheasant.

It is most amusing to watch him seeking his break-
fast, which consists chiefly of insects. The bird picks
his food off the ground and hunts by preference in the
neighbourhood of water. His walk is best described

THE CROW-PHEASANT 225

as a "mincing gait." He evidently does not mean
to trip, for he lifts his feet absurdly high at each step.
He never hops ; he would not do anything so vulgar.

The manner in which he picks up his food is in
accordance with his gait. He does not, like the hoopoe
or the common or garden fowl, greedily gobble up
everything he comes across. He picks and chooses.
He gives one the idea that he is an epicure. Whether
this is so or not, he undoubtedly feeds with great
caution.

His whole attitude is that of looking before he leaps.
He goes systematically along a hedge, casting, as he
progresses, frequent glances to right and left, oc-
casionally pulling something small out of the ground —
presumably a grub or an insect. Now and again, he
will penetrate the hedge, for, like small boys, he is
addicted to worming his way into dense thickets merely
for the fun of the thing.

Having eaten up everything to his taste in the
vicinity of the hedge, the crow-pheasant will take to
the open, progressing with the same mincing steps and
looking about with the utmost wariness, and if he
perceives a human being, he will at once make for the
nearest tree. If the coast seems clear, the bird con-
tinues his stately progress. Suddenly he espies a
grasshopper. He then casts off his phlegmatic air and
makes a most undignified dash at the insect. The
latter is usually too quick for him, and hops off, but
the crow-pheasant is not to be denied ; he jumps after
it, being assisted by his wings.

An exciting chase usually ensues, in which it is not
Q

226 BOMBAY DUCKS

safe for the sportsman to lay his money on either the
little insect or the great fowl. The grasshopper often
doubles, and is of course followed by the coucal, which,
when making a sharp turn, often expands one wing,
using it as a steering apparatus. The bird is said also
to eat lizards and snakes. He possibly eats small
frogs, for I have often seen crow- pheasants wading in
water.

The nest is an interesting object. It is usually
situated in the midst of some impenetrable thicket, for
a coucal dislikes having his family affairs pryed into.
It is a great structure, about the size of a football,
composed chiefly of sticks. It is roofed in and has the
entrance at the side. In spite of its size, it is usually
so well concealed that it is not an easy thing to
discover. Sometimes, when one knows for certain that
there is a nest in a thicket, it is impossible to find that
nest without pulling down the greater part of the bush
round about it. I once spent a couple of hours looking
in vain for a nest which I knew to be in a thick hedge ;
then I told off two peons to find it without doing
any damage to the hedge. They professed their
inability to discover it, but I do not believe they made
very sustained efforts to find it ; I rather fancy they
regarded the duty as beneath the dignity of their
position ! Whether this was so or not, it is certain that
the crow-pheasant is an adept at concealing his home.

The coucal is usually described in works on natural
history as a shy bird. It is certainly exceedingly shy
in Madras, much more so than it is in Northern India.
The reason of this difference in behaviour is not ap-

THE CROW-PHEASANT 227

parent, for besides the innocent "griff" who shoots the
bird in mistake for a pheasant, the lower caste Hindu
folk of all parts of India, and most Mohammedans, look
upon the flesh of the bird as a great delicacy. Hence
the coucal is frequently trapped.

Yet the bird in Northern India is comparatively
tame. In Madras, too, it is trapped ; there are usually
two or three wretched-looking crow-pheasants to be
seen in the Moore Market. These are kept in cages
so small that their tails are crushed up against the
wires, and the poor birds look the picture of misery,
and are doubtless as unhappy as they look.

Even worse is the plight of the king-crows which are
caught and kept in cages. These birds are, presumably,
not eaten, and I do not think they are kept as pets, for
so lively a bird as a king-crow could not live long in a
cage. They are, presumably, caught and ill-treated
merely to induce kind-hearted folk to pay for their
liberation.

This is commonly done with crows. These birds
are trapped and then taken to a Brahmin by some
disreputable character, who threatens to destroy them,
then and there, unless the Brahmin pays for the bird's
liberation. It is surely time that these practices should
be made punishable by law.

A STUDY IN ANIMAL CHARACTER

A WELL -KNOWN naturalist declares that
"among animals there is not the same
diversity of individual character as among
men, nor the same variety ; all the in-
dividuals of one species are cast pretty much in the
same simple mould." It is true that the character of
birds and beasts is less complex than that of human
beings ; nevertheless, among the higher animals there
is sufficient complexity of character to allow of very
great variation. So far from animals of the same
species being cast in the same mould, they often
exhibit very marked differences in manners, habits,
temperament, and tastes. Just as no two creatures are
alike in bodily form, so do no twain exactly resemble
one another in temperament.

A stroll in the garden will furnish evidence of this.
You come upon a company of "seven sisters" rummag-
ing among dried leaves and picking up unconsidered
trifles. The birds are, of course, keeping up a running
conversation. Babblers, like Madrassi coolies, can do
nothing without singing and shouting. One of the
little company catches sight of you and informs his
friends of your presence. The more timid of the

229

230 BOMBAY DUCKS

brotherhood immediately fly off. The rest remain
eyeing you suspiciously, and wondering what they
shall do. Presently the fright of those which have
already betaken themselves to cover communicates
itself to some of the birds which have maintained their
ground. Such fly to shelter. You approach nearer.
This is the signal for others to take to their wings, and
perhaps all have left, except one sturdy fellow, who
looks at you in such a way that he seems to say : " I'll
be blowed if I move until I am obliged to."

Here, then, we have in this little company of six or
seven a number of types of character, ranging from
excessive timidity to great temerity. The " seven sisters "
do not form an isolated case. Almost every company
of birds exhibits a similar phenomenon. We know so
little of Nature's wild creatures that our books con-
tain no accounts of these distinctions in character.
Naturalists are content to describe the typical member
of each species ; they omit to mention the thousand
and one variations from it.

This, doubtless, accounts for the origin of the idea
that all animals of a species are cast in the same mould.
To take an example, the Indian crow is described as
a bold, bad bird, which leads a depraved life of aimless
vagabondage. This is doubtless a true description of
the typical crow. But there are degrees of wickedness,
even among crows. It is possible that some of the
corvi lead useful and admirable lives. For aught I
know, there may be crow philanthropists, crows which
spend their life slumming, holding tea-parties, delivering
lectures, and doing other good works.

<BH

GREEN SHANK (ONE OF THE KUCH Nits OF THE INDIAN SHIKARI)

STUDY IN ANIMAL CHARACTER 231

We catch but fleeting glimpses of wild animals ;
hence it is not easy to study their idiosyncrasies. For-
tunately, there are the domestic animals. These come to
our help. Every horse, cat, dog, cow, and fowl has its
own little character, which is displayed in its actions.
It is to these creatures that we must turn if we should
study character among animals.

Two fox-terriers allow me to share the bungalow
with them, so that I have an excellent opportunity of
observing their idiosyncrasies. They are what the Babu
would call he-dogs, and rejoice in the respective names
of Tony and Bob. So great is the diversity of charac-
ter which they exhibit that, after watching them for
a few weeks, one feels capable of writing a canine
" Sandford and Merton."

The lineage of neither of these dogs is unimpeach-
able. There are bars sinister on the escutcheon of
each. Bob is a stolid, squarely built animal, exhibiting
distinct traces of the bull-terrier. He reminds one of
a Dutch burgher; he is eminently respectable, although
not of prepossessing appearance. Tony is a lanky dog,
a canine " daddy-long-legs." He has been allowed to
run to seed and has developed into a fragile weed of a
hound. He has a pretty face, but his beauty is not
patrician; it is, in fact, distinctly plebeian, being that
of a glorified pariah dog. His worst enemies could not
call him phlegmatic, but they might hint that he is
afflicted with St. Vitus's dance.

Bob's character is in keeping with his appearance.
There is in it much of sterling merit. He is an austere
dog, despising the vain pomp and glory of this world.

232 BOMBAY DUCKS

He knows what obedience is, although he sometimes
acts as if he did not. He is slow to make friends
among men, but once made he retains them by faithful
devotion. He is not demonstrative in his friendship.
He has been known to wag his tail ; but he performs
this action sedately and decorously, I might say, half-
heartedly. He never dreams of wagging the whole
posterior end of his body, as some dogs do. He is
enthusiastic over nothing, not even his food. You
hand him a bone ; he accepts it with a blase indiffer-
ence which is quite refreshing. He has no pretty,
winning ways, no mischievous tricks. He is essentially
a man's dog.

Tony is what the women-folk call an "affectionate
dog " — this means that he makes friends with every
stranger who comes within the gates. The more
strange the person, the more pleased is Tony to see
him. He is fond of all men, and loves eatables as
himself. He is as partial to the kitchen as a schoolboy
to the tuck shop. Mischievous, restless, and disobedient,
Tony is the canine counterpart of the bad boy whose
diary we all read with delight.

Bob, although, unlike the volatile Tony, he does not
spend his days in cutting mad capers, in trying to
catch his own tail and committing other such frivolities,
likes exercise in moderation. He is distinctly fond of
shikar, and is quite content to sit half the day under
a tree contemplating with eager eyes the squirrels,
which are disporting themselves among the branches
and openly insulting him. At night, when the squirrels
are asleep in their dreys, the musk - rats give him
sufficient exercise to keep his body in health.

THE NIGHT HERON

STUDY IN ANIMAL CHARACTER 233

Tony spends his days in running about like the pro-
verbial March hare. Except when asleep, he is never
still. He is not a good sporting dog. His idea of
shikar is to chase an aged, inoffensive rooster, or to
bait some unfortunate tethered calf.

Bob leads a sober and orderly life. I have never
seen him looking dishevelled. Tony, on the other hand,
reminds one of the inky-fingered, dirty-collared, tie-
less urchin, who habitually plays truant. He cannot
enjoy a run in the garden without discovering a dirty
puddle. This, in his opinion, requires investigation.

Tony, by the by, investigates everything ; he has an
inquiring mind. The invariable result of his investiga-
tion is that the dirtiest portions of that puddle find
themselves transferred to the person of Tony. They
are borne off triumphantly, clinging to his paws and
body. Tony then proceeds to make the grand tour of
the house, leaving behind him footprints, not on the
sands of time, but, what comes to much the same thing,
on the drawing-room carpet. When thus bespattered
with mud, Tony is always more demonstrative than
usual. He jumps up at each of his human friends in
turn, and, heedless of their remonstrances, proceeds to
make their garments as muddy as his own feet.

Bob has not many dog friends. He is naturally re-
served ; he makes no advances to his neighbours. His
solemn face, muscular frame, and powerful teeth pre-
vent these from forcing themselves upon him. Tony is
"hail-fellow, well met" with every Dick, Tom, and
Harry of a pariah dog. He draws the line at nothing.
No animal is too disreputable-looking, too mangy, too

234 BOMBAY DUCKS

much of a cur to be Tony's friend. The result of this
cosmopolitanism is that he and all the bazaar dogs of
the neighbourhood are as "thick as thieves." Tony
hates Bob with a mighty hatred, and Bob loathes Tony
with a great loathing. The consequence is that when
the heroes meet there is much growling and gnashing
of teeth. For this reason they are not allowed to see
much of each other. It is hoped that they will one day
settle down to a kind of armed neutrality.

PADDY-BIRDS AND EGRETS

i

paddy-bird, alias the pond heron, alias
the blind heron, alias Aideola grayii^ is one of
the few animals that really understand the
art of loafing. Unlike the majority of the
feathered tribe, he makes no pretence of being busy.
He does nothing all day, and does not try to hush up
the fact. Nor does he endeavour to delude himself into
believing that the day is not long enough for the work
he has to get through. The paddy-bird lives chiefly on
frogs.

I do not know the extent of the appetite of a pond
heron, never having had to cater for one. Nevertheless,
were I given the contract to feed a number of them,
I would not allow more than three frogs per head per
diem. If any bird clamoured for more, I would promptly
set him down as a glutton, and make him mortify the
flesh by fasting once a week.

Now, to a professional fisherman, the capture of three
frogs per day is not an Herculean task, yet this con-
stitutes the average daily labour of a paddy-bird ; it is
not sufficient to debar the bird from belonging to a
trade union. I am of opinion that every pond heron,
when about to die, might say with truth, " I have never

235

236 BOMBAY DUCKS

done an honest day's work in my life ! " He stands all
day, presumably because he is too lazy to sit, looking as
though he were thinking of his grandmother, or posing
for his photograph. He does not often condescend to
seek his prey. He prefers to wait for the food to come
to him, which it seems to do with unfailing regularity.
The bird is a philosopher, his philosophy being of the
description enunciated in the well-known song entitled
" You've got to have 'em, whether you want 'em or not "
(the " 'em" in this case denoting mothers-in-law, measles,
etc.). Although he does not strictly follow the advice
to open his mouth and shut his eyes and see what
somebody sends him — for it is Utopian, impossible of
attainment — he does what in the end comes to much
the same thing. He stands with his mouth shut and
eyes open until a juicy frog passes his way, when he
seizes and swallows it.

Up-country the paddy-bird is so absurdly tame as to
receive the name of " blind heron." Those that dwell
in Madras are far more wary. I suspect that they are
highly esteemed as table-birds by the unsophisticated
Madrassi ; hence the unusual shyness.

The paddy-bird flies as little as possible. He takes
the minimum amount of exercise necessary to keep
himself in good health, just sufficient, indeed, to stave
off attacks of liver. During most of the day he takes
up his position in some puddle, where he stands motion-
less for hours, by preference in a strange attitude. He
would make a perfect artist's model. If he could only
look pleasant he would be a subject after the heart of
the photographer. But so sad a bird is he that I fear

PADDY BIRD

PADDY-BIRDS AND EGRETS 237

the exhortation, " Think of 'er," would scarcely raise a
smile from him.

As he stands and contemplates his image in the
murky waters of the village pond, he forms a strange
contrast to dhobis — the other denizens of the tank — who
seem to work with might and main, the livelong day,
trying to dash garments to pieces against a rugged
stone, under the impression that they are doing a little
washing. The look of silent contempt which the paddy-
bird bestows on the perspiring, grunting washerman
would make the latter feel very uncomfortable if he only
had the leisure to notice it. The dhobi and the paddy-
bird form perfect contrasts ; yet they have one common
feature. They are both anomalies. The washerman1 is
the exception which proves the rule that Orientals are
placid individuals who never do a stroke of unnecessary
work. The blind heron is the exception which proves
the rule that birds are active, busy, bustling creatures.

The paddy-bird, to adapt one of Mr. Phil Robinson's
happiest phrases, sits all dingy gray and flies all white.
As he loafs on the margin of the murky water he is an
inconspicuous object. His brownish plumage, dirty
yellow beak, and dingy green legs are all of the hue
of the environment. As he takes to his wings the
bird is transfigured. He is changed, as if by fairy touch,
into a beautiful milk-white bird. His pinions are large,
their under surface is snow-like, and they are so con-
spicuous as he floats through the air that they distract
the eye from all else. The human eye is able to obtain
only a general impression of a moving object. A flying
kingfisher is a flash of light blue, and a redstart one

238 BOMBAY DUCKS

of fiery red. The most conspicuous feature of the
moving thing seems, as it were, to obliterate, to render
invisible, all others.

Thus, when horses are racing, the attitude which is
so striking as to swallow up all others is that of the
straining animals with extended legs. As a matter of
actual fact, the horses' legs are doubled up under the
body just as frequently as they are stretched out. The
doubled-up horse is, however, not a striking object, so
the eye fails to retain it, and notices only the pant-
ing steeds with outstretched legs. This phenomenon
accounts for the fact that photographs of racing horses
are almost always disappointing ; they appear unnatural
anfl seem to exhibit the animals in all manner of im-
possible and awkward attitudes.

During flight the paddy -bird emits at intervals a
guttural croak — not a cheerful sound, but one in keep-
ing with the character of the bird. When at rest his
appearance is not prepossessing. His attitude is mis-
anthropic. He looks as though he shunned the com-
pany of other birds, and desired above all to be allowed
to remain in peace. Yet the paddy -bird is not a
quarrelsome creature. Dozens will sit in a row along
the margin of a lake, separated by short intervals, and
not one will take the least notice of any of the others.
I have never seen two paddy -birds fighting. I have,
indeed, seen one fly up to where another was standing,
but the latter promptly flew away, without even casting
a backward glance at the intruder. The truth is that
it requires two energetic persons to organize a fight, and
where are these to be found in paddy-bird society ?

THE NIGHT HERON

PADDY-BIRDS AND EGRETS 239

At the advent of the monsoon, when the frogs begin
to croak in deafening chorus, the male birds "go
a-courting." They assume nuptial ornaments which
consist of a ruff and some maroon feathers. The hen
birds deck themselves out in similar finery, which is
very annoying of them, for they thus present to natur-
alists a very awkward problem. Neither natural nor
sexual selection will explain this change in both sexes.
The dingy brown hue cannot be improved upon so far
as the former is concerned, and, if this be doffed in
deference to sexual selection — the preference of the
ladies for bright colours — how are we to account for the
change in the female? It would rather seem that
the change is an adventitious one, connected with the
reproductive function, and not in any way benefiting
the bird.

It is scarcely necessary to state that the paddy-bird's
nest, which is built in a tree, is an untidy structure,
made of sticks, and is, in every way, in keeping with
the general character of the bird.

The cattle egret (Bubulcus coromandus) is nearly
related to the paddy-bird.

Never did two kinsmen present a greater contrast.
The pond heron is solitary, inconspicuously coloured,
and sluggish even for a heron. The cattle egret is
gregarious, conspicuously clothed in white, and is the
most energetic member of the heron tribe. It does
not wait for its food to come to it, but " walks up " the
insects upon which it feeds. It not infrequently makes
a cow act as its beater.

Insects, whatever Lord Avebury may say to the

240 BOMBAY DUCKS

contrary, are not intelligent creatures. They seem to
lead a blissful, happy-go-lucky life. They refuse to be
worried ; they decline to be always on the qui vive
watching for the devourer who may never come their
way. If they are caught, well — they are caught. That
is the long and the short of it. It is true that Nature
has given many of them clothes calculated to render
them as inconspicuous as possible, but most of the
insects seem unable to understand how to profit by
their disguises. It is useless to dress up an ass to look
like a lion, if the animal will persist in braying upon
every possible occasion.

Whenever there is a commotion in the grass the
grasshoppers and their friends jump into the air and
thus show themselves to their enemies ; whereas, had
they the common sense to lie low, they might not be
detected. Of course there is the point of view of the
insect. I can quite imagine one turning round and
saying : " It is all very fine for you to talk of sitting
still in presence of danger. Try it yourself. If you
were seated in your garden quietly taking afternoon
tea and you saw a great monster, as big as the Albert
Hall, coming towards you and making the earth shake
as if it were in the throes of an earthquake, I am
prepared to bet you two to one in antennae that you
would take to your heels and run for your life ! "

Well, perhaps, there is after all something to be said
for the insects, but the stern fact remains that, when
surprised by a cow, they jump out of the way of its
feet and find they have leapt out of the frying-pan into
the fire, for, before they realize what has happened,

PADDY-BIRDS AND EGRETS 241
they find themselves being roughly hustled down what
they take to be a dark cavern, but which is, in reality,
the gullet of a myna or an egret. These birds look
upon cattle as organisms created solely to act as beaters
for them. It is, therefore, quite evident that there is
no need for an egret to be inconspicuously coloured in
order to obtain its meals. It may dress as it pleases.
It affects white except when it goes a-courting, when
it arrays itself in gorgeous plumes and is then as proud
as 'Arriet when she issues forth resplendent in her
Sunday finery.

The difference in the food consumed accounts for the
difference between the two species in habits and
appearance.

When I want to shoot a black buck I don incon-
spicuous clothing and go forth alone into the jungle
and stealthily stalk my game. But if I am after quail
or snipe I take no pains to render myself incon-
spicuous. I like friends to accompany me and employ
beaters to put up the birds. In the former case I hunt
a la paddy-bird, in the latter I do a little shikar after
the manner of the cattle egret.

ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH

A' L Anglo-Indians are acquainted with the
voice of the coppersmith bird, although,
possibly, some do not know him by sight.
His unceasing, monotonous, metallic Tonk,
tonk, tonk is perhaps the most striking of all the
familiar sounds of an Indian garden. It is this which
has given him his popular name. His note bears a
remarkable resemblance to the sound of a hammer
tapping upon metal. And, as the human coppersmith
in the gorgeous East seems to spend most of his day
in aimlessly hammering copper, it is easy to trace the
origin of the bird's name. Indeed, the resemblance has
struck both Indians and Europeans.

The notes of different individuals of the species are
often of a different pitch. Some call more rapidly than
others : when therefore two neighbouring birds sing
simultaneously they give rise to the phenomenon of
musical beats. The note of the coppersmith is by no
means unpleasant ; nevertheless, in this, as in all other
cases, familiarity breeds contempt, and most Anglo-
Indians are of opinion that they hear too much of the
bird, and agree with Lockwood Kipling that "when
you are down with fever and headache, you wish the
noisy bird would take a holiday or go on strike."

243

244 BOMBAY DUCKS

Since the coppersmith's note is not confined to the
breeding season, it is presumably not a love song de-
signed to attract the attention of the opposite sex.
Further, every bird seems to be able to emit but one
note, and, as it will pour this forth by the hour at times
when apparently there is not another member of the
species within earshot, the note cannot be conversa-
tional.

I believe that the song of most birds is simply an
ebullition of surplus energy, an expression of perfect
health, an outward and audible token of pure and un-
alloyed happiness. I do not mean to say that birds
cannot communicate vocally with one another, for they
can and do. Their calls are, however, sharp, short notes,
easily distinguishable from their songs.

Just as a man, when he is in good health and spirits,
will sing while having his bath, so do the little copper-
smiths pour forth their notes. In the former case, the
pleasing contact of the water braces the nerves and
forms the immediate stimulus ; in the latter, it is sun-
shine that sets the birds' vocal cords in motion.

Coppersmiths love not the cold ; consequently they
do not ascend the hills. In Northern India, during the
cold weather, their voice is completely hushed ; but as
soon as the warmer days come, the birds strike up ;
and, the hotter the weather, the more vociferous they
grow. Thus the coppersmith bird might be called
nature's thermometer. It will not, as a rule, sing if
the temperature falls below 70°, while the warmer the
weather, the louder is its note. In Madras the ther-
mometer is rarely in the sixties ; hence all day and

ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH 245

every day we hear the coppersmith "toiling at his
green forge."

The fact that the bird will not sing when the weather
is cold bears out the theory that its note is merely an
expression of happiness. When the temperature is
low the coppersmith is miserable, so refuses to sing.
Nature may be cruel in many respects. She is un-
doubtedly a hard task-mistress, for she ruthlessly de-
stroys all the unfit. She is not a philanthropist ; she
provides her children with neither hospitals nor alms-
houses, for she has no halt or maimed or blind to look
after. Her creatures perish the moment they become
weakened by disease. Is this cruelty, or is it the truest
kindness ? Is it better to prolong a sick animal's misery,
or to destroy the suffering creature ?

The drastic procedure of Dame Nature is certainly
fraught with good results. All her creatures enjoy
perfect health, health such as is vouchsafed to few
civilized men. Birds and beasts in their natural state
are therefore perfectly happy, and the songs which fill
the welkin are the expression of this happiness.

The coppersmith is not a difficult bird to see ; he is
not of a retiring disposition, nor does he attempt to
avoid publicity. He likes to sit upon the topmost
bough of a lofty tree ; as often as not he selects a
branch devoid of leaves, and there pours forth his
eternal Tank, tonkt tonk> wagging his head from side to
side by way of beating time. The result of this head-
wagging is that the bird's note seems to come from a
direction other than it really does, and, on this account,
it is difficult to " spot " the bird, in spite of its loud note
and conspicuous perch.

246 BOMBAY DUCKS

Ornithologists have saddled this bird with the name
of Xantholcema hczmatocephala. Since many persons
will find this rather a mouthful, it is necessary to
remark that it is scientifically correct to call the bird
the crimson-breasted barbet. He is a coarse, showy
bird. He may often be seen in the Moore Market at
Madras, and, not infrequently, hawkers in the Mount
Road offer the bird for sale. There are usually some
coppersmiths in the Museum, in a cage near the en-
trance. These birds are made to share a dwelling
with other species, such as Brahminy mynas. Under
such conditions the coppersmiths never survive long.
It is not that they are killed by the other inmates
of the cage or that they cannot endure confinement.
The reason of their speedy death is that the grain
which is meat to so many birds is death to the copper-
smith. If the latter be fed purely on fruit, he will
often survive long in captivity. But the captive bird
is not happy ; no matter how warm the weather be, he
never goes to work at his forge.

But this is a digression. To return to the appear-
ance of the bird. It always puts me in mind of a
woman who " makes up " very carelessly, who is not
only exceedingly lavish of the paint, but does not
understand how to shade it off gradually. The general
colour of the bird's plumage is greenish, but on close
inspection many greyish-white feathers are seen to be
mingled with the green ones. There is a daub of
crimson on the forehead and another on the throat.
The sides of the face are pale yellow. The legs are
coral-red. The build of the bird is exceedingly coarse.

•BBR

. .

COPPERSMITH

ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH 247

The sparrow, when seen side by side with the copper-
smith, looks almost a gentleman ! The coppersmith is
the coarsest bird of my acquaintance, with the excep-
tion of the vulture. The coarseness of this latter, how-
ever, is of a different type; it is that of the despised
outcast, while that of the coppersmith is the coarseness
of a Whitechapel prize-fighter.

The coppersmith belongs to the barbet family. This
is represented in India by seventeen species. The
whole clan resemble one another very closely in habits.
All live almost entirely on fruit. All have a loud,
monotonous note. All are essentially tree-hunting
birds. I do not remember ever having seen a barbet
sitting on the ground. All nest in holes in trees.

The flight of every member of the family is un-
dulating. The barbets are thus what men of science
call a well-marked natural family. When you have
once seen one, you cannot mistake its relations, nor
confuse them with any other birds. The woodpeckers
are perhaps their nearest relatives.

Coppersmiths nest only once in the year, about
March in most parts of India, but earlier in Madras.
The bird excavates a hole in a tree in much the same
way as a woodpecker does. The coppersmith's beak,
however, is not so efficient a pick-axe as that of its
more highly specialized cousin. For this reason barbets
usually select a place in a tree where the ants have
been at work, and the wood is, in consequence, begin-
ning to decay. When once the site has been decided
upon, the excavation of the nest does not take long.
A couple of days usually suffice.

248 BOMBAY DUCKS

The birds, both male and female, work like Trojans,
and in this respect set a good example to human work-
men. The husband and wife labour at the nest in
turn. Each relief lasts about a quarter of an hour.
The nest has no lining of any kind ; the eggs are laid
on the bare wood, and the young, when hatched, have
to lie on this hard couch. It has never been my good
fortune to follow closely the nesting operations of
the coppersmith. However, a pair of green barbets
(Thereiceryx zeylonicus) once nested in an old pipal
tree in my garden compound at Fyzabad, and so
afforded me an opportunity of noting some of their
habits.

Although the green barbet is found in most parts of
India, he is not so well known as his cousin, the copper-
smith. His cry is a loud Kurtur, kurtur, kurturuk.
He would be a handsome bird but for his face. This is
not sarcasm. Among birds the face is not so vital a
feature as with human beings. A fine figure and
beautiful feathers, rather than good features, determine
whether a bird is handsome or otherwise. The plumage
of the green barbet leaves little to be desired. Essen-
tially a bird of the greenwood tree, it partakes of the
hue of its surroundings. As it flies among the branches
its plumage appears to be of a uniform rich leafy green —
the colour of the foliage in England after a rainy July
day. Some brown feathers are visible in the head and
neck, giving them a golden sheen under the influence of
the sun's rays.

The bird has, however, a bare patch of yellow skin
round each eye, which gives it a worn, haggard appear-

ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH 249

ance, and greatly detracts from its beauty. Jerdon states
that these naked patches are inflated when the bird
emits its note. I have not been able to verify this, for
the bird, when it pours forth its monotonous song, likes
to conceal itself in tall, leafy trees.

To return to the nest in my compound. It was
excavated in a bare branch of a pipal tree (Ficus
religiosa) about ten feet above the level of the ground.
The entrance to the nest pointed upwards, but was so
well shaded by the foliage above that it was not flooded
by some heavy rain that fell before the young birds
were fledged.

Upon one occasion I watched the mother leave the
nest, and then took up a position immediately under it,
in order to ascertain whether she would venture in with
me so near at hand. In a few minutes she returned,
but, seeing me, alighted on a branch above that con-
taining the young birds. There she sat and contem-
plated me. She next flew to a neighbouring branch,
then back again. After thus behaving for about three
minutes she summoned up her courage and flew into
the nest. I could almost have touched her as she did
this, so close was I. She made no pretence of con-
cealing the whereabouts of the nursery, for, not only
did she enter it before my eyes, but as soon as she was
inside, she and the youngsters began talking loudly.
In this case maternal anxiety seems to have got the
better of prudence. On another occasion I saw a
parent bird enter the nest with something in its beak.
I wanted to have a good look at it as it emerged, so ran
up close to the nest, but, as I did so, trod on some dried

250 BOMBAY DUCKS

leaves, and the bird took alarm and flew out again
without having fed her children. She went to the next
tree and there stood and looked at me with a very large
berry in her beak ; she remained for some time in that
attitude, and then, herself, swallowed the fruit. Judging
from the efforts she made in disposing of it, the berry
must have been an exceedingly hard one, and I take
credit to myself for saving a young barbet from a
violent attack of indigestion !

Barbets, like most birds, are very unwilling that any
animal should approach their nest. One afternoon a
myna chanced to perch upon the bough in which the
above-mentioned nest had been excavated. Imme-
diately afterwards one of the parent barbets happened
to return. Without a second's hesitation it flew at the
astonished myna, who had no idea of the existence of
the barbet's nest. The myna hopped with great speed
on to the next branch, and there stood looking at the
barbet, and his attitude expressed mingled surprise and
pain caused by the thought that any bird could behave
so rudely to hkn. The barbet again "went for" him,
and the myna, mystified, but thinking discretion the
better part of valour, flew away. And he did well, for
a myna is no match for a barbet. Indeed, if we may
believe Layard, this latter is an exceptionally fierce bird.
He states that a barbet kept in captivity used to devour
its fellow-prisoners, who were inoffensive munias.

I hoped to witness the first attempt at flight of the
young barbets, but was doomed to disappointment, for,
being "by thronging duties press'd," the time I was able
to devote to the young barbets was limited. I, however,

ALEXANDER THE COPPERSMITH 251

saw indications that the time was at hand when the
youngsters would trust themselves to the air, for their
voices became more powerful, and the visits of the parent
birds to the nest grew less frequent. As they began to
wax strong, the youngsters would take it in turn to look
out of the window of the nest and contemplate, with
awe-struck eyes, the wondrous world.

At first they did not fear me, but would watch me
with great curiosity; after a few days, however, curiosity
gave way to fear, the birds seemed to learn that man
was an enemy to be shunned, for they would disappear
as soon as I approached the nest. One day I passed
by and saw no little bird looking out, nor did any
sound come from the nest. In vain did I wait to hear
the well-known cry. Then I realized that the young
barbets had begun in earnest to fight the battle of life.

Barbets are said to nest in the same hole year after
year. It is not easy to prove this assertion ; indeed,
the only way of doing so would be for some person who
has a fixed abode in India to catch a bird whose nesting
place was known and to tie a piece of cotton to its leg, or
give it some other recognition mark, and then wait and
see whether it nested in the same hole next year.
Jerdon states that the same nest is repeatedly used,
and that each year fresh excavations take place, so that
the original cottage in which the whole family once
pigged must in course of time develop into what a
house-agent would call a " palatial mansion."

So closely do the habits of the coppersmith resemble
those of the green barbet, that the above account of
the nesting operation might apply equally well to either

252 BOMBAY DUCKS

species. In the Madras Museum there is an exhibit of
a coppersmith's nest which was cut in a casuarina tree.
The exhibit shows a young hopeful, looking out of the
nest, with a wide-open beak, its invariable attitude when
it catches sight of its parents. In nature, young birds
do not, I think, as a rule, put their heads so far out of
the nest, but the fact that the bird in the Museum does
so has the advantage of enabling one to see that in
plumage it differs from the adult in the absence of the
crimson patches on the head and breast !

THE SPOTTED OWLET

PLINY describes the owl as the "very monster
of the night." The Indian spotted owlet
(Athene bramd) goes one better than Pliny's
bird, for, in addition to being the very mon-
ster of the night, it is the terror of the early and the
closing hours of the day. This amusing little creature
is the characteristic night bird of India. Just as the
Indian day would be unthinkable without the crows, so
would the night not seem itself were there no spotted
owlets to disturb our slumbers.

When I first came to the "gorgeous East" I was
sent, presumably by way of introduction to the rigours
of the climate of this delightful country, to a station on
the borders of the Punjab desert. Life in a desert is
not without its advantages. For example, mosquitoes
are conspicuous by their absence. There are some
climates at which even the anopheles draws the line.
During the winter months I had not much to complain
of, save that the surrounding country was brown instead
of green. The place was merely Aden without the sea
and the rocks. By the middle of March the bungalow
was an oven, hence beds were placed outside. In our
compound was a great banyan tree, which was the con-
cert hall of some spotted owlets.

253

254 BOMBAY DUCKS

I noticed that Colonel Cunningham states that the
spotted owlet is noisy only at nightfall and dawn.
" During the course of the night," he writes, " they are
usually very silent." This statement is doubtless true
of the Calcutta owlets, which are possibly somewhat
subdued and overawed by the vice-regal presence. The
spotted owlet of the United Provinces is not thus kept
in order, it behaves most riotously the whole night. I
do not go so far as to assert that the histrionic per-
formances of every bird continue unceasingly through-
out the night ; all I say is that the incantations never
cease. If it is not one bird that originates them, then
it is another.

The goings-on of this owlet in Northern India are
thus described by Mr. W. Jesse : " It keeps up a
succession of street fights ; and its squabblings and
screechings are worse than a whole parish of cats
collected in one back area." The owls in our banyan
tree became such a nuisance that a court was held, and
the birds were condemned to death. One holiday was
devoted to an archery meeting. The result of this was
that the whole family of jungle owlets suddenly de-
parted unto their fathers. We, like the murderer of
poor cock robin, had killed them with our bow and
arrow. After that, our nights were comparatively
peaceful. Our sleep was then disturbed only by such
trifles as distant owlets, pariah dogs, jackals, brain-
fever birds, and dust storms.

I was next sent to the hills, where the spotted owlets
ceased from troubling. Athene brama is scattered all
over India, and, indeed, over most parts of Southern

THE SPOTTED OWLET 255

Asia, but it does not ascend the hills to any great
height. If you would evade these birds without going
to the uttermost parts of the earth, you must either flee
to the hills or betake yourself to Ceylon.

Eighteen months of Himalayan breezes, direct from
the snows, sufficiently restored my shattered constitu-
tion to enable me again to face the spotted owlets.
This time I was sent to the " Garden of India." The
owlets were, if possible, more numerous and more
vociferous than they had been in the desert. I thought-
lessly rented a bungalow, of which the roof was com-
posed of a double layer of tiles. This is a most
excellent arrangement for warding off the heat of the
sun, but it has the drawback of forming a nesting-place
after the heart of the spotted owlet.

I do not know how many birds used to spend the
day among the tiles ; there may have been twenty of
them, or there may have been two hundred. The
worst of spotted owlets is, that they will all insist on
speaking simultaneously. There will perhaps be five
of them sitting in a row. Number one begins to
chatter, then all the rest join in and try to shout the
first man down, just as the "seven sisters" do. The
result is the most dreadful uproar, and any one who did
not know the birds would think that there was murder
in progress.

As a matter of fact, this is how the owlets enjoy
themselves. Englishmen take their pleasures sadly ;
spotted owlets take them noisily. It is as impossible
as it is unnecessary to describe the cries of the spotted
owlets. It must suffice that it is a superb blend of

256 BOMBAY DUCKS

caterwauling and screeching in B flat. Our owlet
friends in the roof used to remain comparatively quiet
from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. This was presumably their sleep-
ing-time. From the latter hour spasmodic outbursts of
screeching would be heard. About five o'clock the birds
used to emerge.

The spotted owlet is the most diurnal of the strigidae.
He does not object to daylight in the least. Only
yesterday morning, at about half-past seven, I saw one
of these birds sitting on the stump of a defunct tree.
Cunningham states that he saw a pair of them flying
about, and quarrelling fiercely, over a glaring high road
near Delhi, in the full blaze of the early afternoon of an
April day, and when the hot wind was raging like the
blast from an oven.

Owls are built for night work. They have very large
eyes, long ears, and their plumage is so constituted that
they can fly absolutely noiselessly. They are birds of
prey, and have to hunt in the silence of night, when the
hum of insects is still, and the noises of the day are
hushed ; hence the necessity of silent flight. Most owls
lie low during the day ; not so much because the sun
hurts their eyes as on account of the rough handling
they receive at the hands of the rest of the feathered
folk. Birds are like boys at school, they set upon every
strange individual which shows itself. Some owls sleep
in trees ; such find it very difficult to elude their pur-
suers if they once expose themselves. They have no
haven of refuge to which they can flee. Not so with
the spotted owlet. It has a lair in the shape of a hole
to which it can retire when mobbed. Consequently, it

THE SPOTTED OWLKT

THE SPOTTED OWLET 257

is very bold, habitually venturing forth in daylight.
Thus the other birds grow accustomed to it, and do not
so often molest it.

During the day the spotted owlet is, of course, civil
enough to the other birds of its acquaintance. At
night, however, its manner changes. No sooner has the
sun sunk below the horizon than it assumes a cock-of-
the-walk air, and then makes no bones about punching
the head of a king-crow, or any other bird which ought
to be abed.

The spotted owl is a ludicrous little creature. One
cannot look at it without laughing. The moment the
bird notices that you are watching it, it crouches in the
most ridiculous manner, glares at you, and then treats
you to abuse of which the quality is such that it would
do credit to any coster. When you begin to laugh, the
bird flies away in a huff.

Athene brama lives chiefly on insects, but it will
attack shrews, mice, lizards, and small birds. Some-
times an unusually bold owlet ventures inside the bun-
galow in order to hawk the moths attracted by the
light.

The bird breeds in February or March, and lays its
eggs in the hole of a tree or building. The eggs are
white, as are those of almost every bird which nests in
a dark place. Birds cannot count above two, so that if
eggs which are laid in semi-darkness were not white,
some of them might become separated from the main
body without being noticed by the bird, and so fail to
be hatched.

In India, as in England, owls are accounted birds of
s

258 BOMBAY DUCKS

evil omen. According to my friend B. Kaccoo Mai
Manucha, Rai Bahadur (whose book, " The Hindu
Home Life," should be read by all), "If you love a
person who does not return your love, offer a dish of
meat prepared with an owl's flesh, and as soon as it is
tasted, he or she will be head over ears in love with
you."

Listen to this, ye languishing maidens and love-sick
swains, listen ! How is it that ye are so sad when
spotted owlets innumerable are living in your neigh-
bourhood ?

But, stay, let me not raise false hopes ! Not only has
the owl, like the proverbial hare, to be caught before he
is cooked, but when the bird is cooked, it is necessary
to induce the object of your affections to eat him.
This may prove a difficult task in this age of sordid
epicureanism ; nevertheless, one can but try : it should,
after all, be possible to cunningly disguise the flesh in a
well-thought-out savoury.

Owl's flesh has yet another useful property, as any
native will tell you. If a wife finds her husband in-
tractable, if he persists in staying late at the club,
losing money at bridge, and so is not at home at the
dinner-hour, all the wife has to do is to give him boiled
owl's flesh to eat, and he will, if he eats it, henceforth
be as butter in his wife's hands.

But no rose is without its thorn. In spite of all the
virtues inherent in the bird's flesh, you must "never
allow an owl to rest on any portion of your building,
as that means ruin to the inmates."

This must be true, because Kaccoo Mai says so ; yet

THE SPOTTED OWLET 259

dozens of owls have sat and squabbled on my double-
tiled roof, and I have hitherto managed to avoid the
bankruptcy court. I say this in no boasting spirit,
but simply by way of encouragement to those who
may one day chance to see, sitting on their roof, a
spotted owlet.

THE SHAPES OF BIRDS

f I "^HE enormous and sudden advance made

|f by zoological science in the latter half of

I the nineteenth century has been followed

by a reaction. During the last ten or

twelve years that particular branch of knowledge has

made comparatively little progress. Darwin and

Wallace completely revolutionized biology. They shed

the light of the highest genius on the darkness which

had hitherto brooded over the study of life. Their

researches gave an enormous impetus to natural science.

Nor were these the only stimuli. The theory of natural

selection met at first with very bitter opposition on all

sides. This opposition stirred up the Darwinians to

new exertions.

Unfortunately the opposition was very shortlived.
The triumph of the theory of natural selection was as
speedy as it was complete. It would, I believe, have
been more profitable to biological science had the con-
flict been of longer duration. Natural selection has
won all along the line. It has proved itself able to
explain a large number of phenomena, it has overcome
a multitude of difficulties. Facts which were at one
time urged against it are now held to be among the

261

262 BOMBAY DUCKS

most powerful arguments in its favour. It is to-day
almost universally accepted as a solution of all biologi-
cal problems. It has come to be regarded with almost
superstitious reverence as the master-key which is able
to open the doors of all the passages which lead to the
secret chambers of Nature. So great is our confi-
dence in the powers of this master-key that we have
even neglected to put it to the test in some cases. It
has succeeded in very many instances, we therefore
assume that it must be successful in all. It has un-
locked the main doors, hence we deem it unnecessary
to try it with smaller ones.

In other words, zoological science is in danger of
stagnation. I admit that much useful work is being
accomplished. Never before were so many workers in
the field. A mass of new facts is accumulating. Daily,
fresh contributions are added to our zoological know-
ledge. But each worker restricts himself to one small
portion of the field, so that the main theory has made
but little progress.

It is time that there was a fresh stocktaking ; that
the new facts discovered were co-ordinated, and their
relations to one another and to the main theory studied.
At present the tendency is to attribute almost super-
natural powers to natural selection, to believe that it is
the key to every biological problem.

If we ask why an animal is of such-and-such a colour,
we are told natural selection has given the creature its
colour as being that best suited to its needs. If we say
that we fail to see how that particular colour is more
useful to the animal than every other, we are told that

THE SHAPES OF BIRDS 263

as soon as we learn all the habits of the creature in
question we shall see how perfectly its colour is adapted
to its mode of life. This may be so. Nevertheless this
kind of argument is not scientific. It tends to stifle
inquiry, which is the true spirit of science.

The fact is that natural selection is a horse ridden to
death. It is indisputably a most important factor in
organic evolution, but are we justified in regarding it as
the only factor? It is unable, I think, to explain many
natural phenomena. One of these is the varying shapes
of nearly allied animals.

Certain it is that the general form of a class of
organisms is determined by natural selection, but are
the thousand and one shapes seen among closely related
creatures all to be explained by saying that were these
of any other form they would perish in the struggle for
existence ?

Birds afford a striking example of the many shapes
which may be assumed by creatures of very similar
habits. I recently visited the Nilgiris, and spent many
hours in a wood which might appropriately be called
" The Flycatchers' Wood." No fewer than five species
of that family are common in the wood of which the
area is less than 5000 square yards. All these species
have very similar habits.

To enumerate them. There is first the white-browed
fantail flycatcher (Rhipidura albifrontatd)^ a bird too
well known to need detailed description. It will suffice
that its chief characteristic is the tail, which it continu-
ally spreads out into a fan. This appendage is about
three and a half inches long, that is to say, equal in

264 BOMBAY DUCKS

length to the rest of the bird. Next comes the black
and orange flycatcher (Ochromela nigrirufa], which looks
for all the world like a robin. Its tail is only two inches
long, while the body is three. Then there is the grey-
headed flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis). This, too, is
a squat-figured little bird. The Nilgiri blue flycatcher
(Stoparola albicaudata) next demands notice. In shape
it differs from all the three birds mentioned above. Its
tail is relatively short, and its body slim and elongated
by comparison with the grey-headed and black and
orange species. Moreover, it is sexually dimorphic.
The male is indigo blue, while the female is brownish.
There remains Tickell's blue flycatcher (Cyornis tickelli).
This is a beautiful little bird, differing in shape from the
birds already mentioned to such an extent that, quite
apart from its distinctive plumage, it would be im-
possible to confound it with any of them. I did not
see the paradise flycatcher (Terpsiphone paradisi), but
the bird is found in the Nilgiris and probably visits the
wood in question. The male of this species, when he
comes of age, has a tail sixteen inches long ; that
is to say, four times the length of his body, while the
tail of the hen bird makes up but half of her total
length.

These birds, which display considerable variety as
regards shape, have very similar habits. They all feed
on insects, which, to quote Mr. Gates, they either catch
on the wing, starting from a perch to which they usually
return several times, or by running with the aid of their
wings along the limbs of trees. I believe that of those
the fantail species alone runs along the branches of

THE SHAPES OF BIRDS 265

trees. Mr. Gates adds, " they seldom or never descend
to the ground."

This statement is not strictly true. I have repeatedly
seen the fantail, the grey, and the black and orange
species on the ground. But the point I desire to em-
phasise is that their methods of obtaining food are all
very much the same. Were all the species of the same
colour and shape, I think few observers would be able
to distinguish one species from another, merely by
watching their methods of securing food. Their varied
nesting habits would, of course, serve to distinguish
them.

Here, then, we have five species of birds, living side
by side, under similar conditions and eating the same
description of food, obtained by like methods, yet
arrayed in totally different plumage and of varying
form.

Passing over the differences in colouration, let us con-
fine ourselves to configuration. Why are these birds
not all of the same shape? They are related to one
another ; all are descendants of a common ancestor,
and, as we have seen, their methods of obtaining food
are not marked by any considerable differences ; why,
then, are they not all of one shape — the shape best
suited to flycatching birds ?

I do not think for a moment that it is possible
successfully to maintain that the shape of each par-
ticular species is so important to it that, were the bird
of any other shape, it must perish in the struggle for
existence. The paradise flycatcher disproves such an
hypothesis. The male and female differ considerably

266 BOMBAY DUCKS

in form, yet both are equally successful in obtaining
food, and both secure it in the same manner. More-
over, the young male has a tail four inches in length,
but, later on, he grows one sixteen inches long, yet he
continues to obtain food in the same manner. Thus
a difference of twelve inches in the length of his tail
does not appreciably affect his ability to find food.

Even if we could demonstrate that each species takes
the shape best suited to its mode of life, if we could
prove, for example, that the Nilgiri blue flycatcher
would be greatly handicapped in the search for food
were his shape that of the grey-headed flycatcher, this
would not be sufficient. If natural selection alone is
responsible for the shape of an organism, we must
prove that every step in the transition from the common
ancestral form to that of the present species was a
distinct gain to the species. This point is often lost sight
of by those who invoke the aid of natural selection to
explain every zoological difficulty. It seems to me that
the great diversity in shape exhibited by birds having
similar habits merely shows that there are several
equally good methods of accomplishing an object.

If Nature desires to call into existence a number of
flycatching birds, she is not obliged to cast all in exactly
the same mould ; she is able to create many different
forms of organism, all well adapted to the work before
them. The general shape is of course determined by
natural selection, especially in the case of highly
specialized birds, such as woodpeckers, kingfishers, and
swifts. But, even in such cases, considerable diversity
of form is permitted. The less specialized the habits

THE SHAPES OF BIRDS 267

of a bird are, the greater is the latitude as regards
shape allowed to it.

The shape of organisms is due to the action of a
large number of forces, of most of which we are totally
ignorant. Natural selection does not interfere unless
the variation in shape tends to benefit or injuriously
affect the possessor. In the former case, the beneficial
shape tends to be perpetuated and to cause the species
to spread at the expense of other less-favoured ones.
In the latter case the injurious variation leads to the
extermination of the creatures in which it appears.

Natural selection, like the stone walls of a labyrinth
of lanes, marks certain limits within which variations as
regards shape may persist. So long as the variations
are such as do not affect the mobility of a species, its
ability to obtain food, or its relationship to its environ-
ment, natural selection does not in any way interfere.

The causes which have produced this diversity of
shape among allied species and genera have yet to be
discovered. We are not at present in a position to say
why some birds are large and others small, why some
are slim and others stout, why some have pointed
wings and others round ones, why some have broad
heads and others narrow ones. It is useless to pretend
that natural selection explains all these phenomena. It
is better to be honest and frankly admit our ignorance.

WINGED FISHERFOLK

GREAT is the community of the winged
fisherfolk, and varied are its methods of
securing its prey ! Madras, being well sup-
plied with sheets of water, is largely patron-
ized by our feathered fishing friends. The kingfishers —
the most able exponents of the piscatorial art — have
already received our attention ; we may, therefore, pass
them over and proceed at once to study the ways
of some of their professional brethren. Of these the
osprey (Pandion halicetus) is, to my mind, facile prin-
ceps. There is, in nature, no finer spectacle than one
of these great birds at work. Watch it as it makes its
way high over the water, now flapping its broad pinions,
now gliding as a kite does. Suddenly something below
arrests its attention. It hovers for a second, its wings
then close and it drops like a falling stone. It enters
the water with a mighty splash, sending up showers
of spray, and disappears for a moment. A second later
it emerges, the water pouring off its back and wings,
with a fish in its talons. It then betakes itself to some
suitable place in which to devour its quarry.

The osprey is a winter visitor to India. It is abun-
dant about the great backwaters of the east coast.

269

2;o BOMBAY DUCKS

There must be half a dozen of these fishermen which
carry on their trade in the Pulicat Lake. The back-
water at Ennore has also its complement of these
magnificent birds. Seen as it rests on a pile marking
the channel of the canal through the shallow lake,
the bird may be easily mistaken for a large kite, its
length being six or seven inches more than that of the
common kite. Its head, breast, and lower parts are,
however, white. There is a broad black bar running
down each side of its neck. The back and wings are
dark brown. But it is by its habits rather than its
appearance that one recognizes the osprey.

The fishing operations of the terns, or sea-swallows
as they are sometimes called, fall rather flat after those
of the raptorial bird. When a tern dives there is none
of the mighty splash which marks the performance
above described. The tern does its work so neatly
that it enters the water with little more commotion
than that made by a falling pebble. The tern is
to the manner born. It comes of a long line of fisher-
folk.

For myriads of generations its ancestors have dived
after their finny prey. The osprey, or fish-hawk as it is
often called, is, on the other hand, a bird of prey which
has taken to fishing. It is, so to speak, an amateur ;
exceeding skilled, it is true, but nevertheless, by com-
parison with the sea-swallow, an amateur. One natur-
ally expects to see a tern dive for its food, but to
witness a great bird of prey tumble headlong into the
water, like a falling boulder, takes one's breath away.

It is the great skill of the tern which causes its

WINGED FISHERFOLK 271

performance to appear commonplace. What bird is
there more graceful than the swallow of the sea?
There is something truly fascinating about it as it sails
through the air. The easy motion of its long wings
puts me in mind of a perfectly trained racing eight
paddling up to the starting-post before a race.

Terns resemble swallows in many respects. The
former are, of course, larger and of lighter hue. There
is a marked difference, too, in the mode of flight. If a
tern reminds one of a rowing eight paddling along, the
swallow resembles the eight racing at high pressure.

No one can fail to recognize a tern. If you see a
slenderly-built bird of whitish tinge, with long swallow-
like wings and a forked tail, a bird which sails along
easily over water, sometimes diving for a fish, more
frequently picking something off the surface of the
water, you may set that bird down as a tern.

Three species are common about Madras. The most
abundant is the gull-bird tern (Sterna angelica). This
is the least beautiful of the terns, but albeit a handsome
bird. It may be seen any day looking for its quarry
over the Cooum. Its under parts are pure white, its
beak and legs are black, and it has also some black,
more in summer than in winter, about the head. Its
tail is not very deeply forked.

A far more striking bird is the Caspian tern (Hydro-
progne caspid). It is the largest of the terns, being
twenty inches in length. By its size you may know it,
also by its black head and coral-red bill.

The third of the common Madras terns is the black-
bellied tern (Sterna melanogaster). This is a bird one

272 BOMBAY DUCKS

frequently sees when out snipe-shooting, since it does
not confine its operations to rivers ; indeed, it is more
partial to marshes and tanks. The breast and lower
parts are black. The tail is deeply forked, hence this
species is easily distinguishable from the other two
common terns. It is a very elegant bird.

The transition from the tern to the gull is an easy
one ; so slight are the anatomical differences that some
ornithologists look upon both groups as one family.
The gull, however, is more stoutly built and flies differ-
ently. It is not so graceful. A gull looks best when
riding on the water like a duck. It possesses great
powers of flight, but is not the equal of the tern in this
respect ; its wings are smaller in proportion to the size
of the body, hence gulls are often seen resting on the
water, an attitude which terns rarely adopt, although
their feet are webbed and admirably fitted to act as
propellers.

Gulls are fond of fish, but they are inclined to be
lazy. In preference to fishing for themselves they will
follow a ship and pick up the scraps thrown overboard
by the cook, or will hang about near a human fisherman
for the sake of the fish rejected by him. Almost any
day, half a dozen laughing-gulls may be seen in attend-
ance on the fishermen of the Cooum, waiting for what
these latter cast away, for there apparently exist aquatic
creatures at which even a Cooum fisherman draws the
line!

A number of crows usually keep the gulls company.
There is consequently a great scramble for the leavings

WINGED FISHERFOLK 273

of the net, stand-up fights sometimes taking place
between " a lurking villain crow " and a gull over a
tit-bit.

A number of gulls inhabit the Thames in London,
and feed almost exclusively on the bread thrown to
them by the passers-by. These gulls have now become
quite an institution, and many clerks and other City
men make a point of feeding them every day.

On the voyage to and from England gulls follow
the steamer for the greater part of the journey. It is
on these occasions that one is best able to realize the
flying powers of a gull. The birds keep pace with a
P. and O. steamer with ridiculous ease. A dozen flaps
of the wing in a minute suffice to enable them to out-
distance the ship.

The commonest gull in Madras is known to natural-
ists as the laughing-gull (Larus ridibundus). Why it is
so called I have never been able to discover. It is
difficult to describe this or any other gull in such a way
as to render its identification an easy matter, unless, of
course, the bird be held in the hand.

The laughing -gull may be distinguished from the
brown-headed gull, which also visits Madras, by the fact
that the wing of the former is the shorter by over an
inch and its first quill is white, with black edges and
tip, while in the latter species the quill is black, with
a subterminal white band. To recognize a free bird in
this way is about as easy as catching it by putting salt
on its tail. Then, again, young gulls differ considerably
in appearance from the adults. Lastly, most species
are seasonally dimorphic ; in winter the head is usually

274 BOMBAY DUCKS

white, while in summer it becomes dark brown or

black.

We must, in conclusion, consider a fishing bird of
a very different type. I refer to the little cormorant
{Phalacrocorax javanicus). This fowl, if not found
actually within the limits of Madras city, is plentiful
enough on the Red Hills tank and other sheets of
water, fresh or salt, in the neighbourhood. The little
cormorant is a duck-like bird of which " Eha " seems to
entertain a very low opinion. " I dare say," he writes,
" it often passes for a sort of black duck, but it differs
from a duck as a gentleman differs from a loafer. The
cormorant is a thoroughly shabby bird, with a large
ragged tail, and coloured all over a sordid black, like
the Sunday coat of a Goanese cook."

Here I am obliged to respectfully differ from " Eha."
I consider the little cormorant a handsome bird, and as
a swimmer or a diver it has no equal. It has the power
of suddenly changing its specific gravity. One moment
the bird is floating, cork-like, on the surface of the
water, the next it is sinking like a stone. I once saw
a wounded cormorant give three determined men half
an hour's chase in water less than three feet deep.
The bird had been shot to provide for the " inner
men " of our boat coolies, so they rushed eagerly to
seize their booty, but the bird, although wounded, had
no intention of surrendering. Whenever a pursuer
drew near, the cormorant dived and, thirty seconds or
so later, reappeared at a distance of several yards.
That cormorant must have dived thirty times before it
was secured.

WINGED FISHERFOLK 275

Had it not been made into a curry that night, the
German Emperor would undoubtedly have sent it a
telegram and probably decorated it. The sight of
three men being repeatedly " scored off" by the bird
would have been most ludicrous, had one not known
that the poor creature was wounded and fighting for
its life.

The little cormorant lives exclusively on fish, for
which it dives. It is most voracious. I have never
taken the trouble to count the number of fish put away
by a cormorant in the course of a meal. One observer
did, and saw the bird swallow 108 fish in the course of
an hour and a half.

The heathen Chinee, with diabolical cuteness, makes
the cormorant fish for him. He puts a rubber ring
round the bird's neck, so that it cannot swallow its
prey. It is, therefore, obliged to disgorge its booty
into its master's basket. This is exploitation of labour
if you like.

What a grand simile for the labour agitator ! Just as
a wicked Chinaman robs the poor cormorant of its
earnings, so does the abominable capitalist exploit the
working man. Therefore down with the bloated aristo-
cracy, and let the honest worker enjoy twelve hours'
play and twelve hours' sleep, and spend the remainder
of the day in manly toil !

But this is a digression. It is only fair both to the
cormorant and its master to say that the Chinaman now
and then allows the bird to eat a fish, just to keep it in
a good temper !

The meal over, the little cormorant betakes itself to

276 BOMBAY DUCKS

a post, upon which it squats with its wings partially

expanded, looking like a church lectern.

Cormorants are very fond of perching on piles, from
which they contemplate the world in solemn silence;
in such an attitude they always put me in mind of the
pillar saints of old.

THE UGLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD

MEN may differ as to which is the most
beautiful of the fowls of the air, but
there can be no two opinions as to
which is the ugliest bird in the world.
This proud distinction, I submit, indubitably belongs
to the white scavenger vulture {Neophron ginginianus\
better known as " Pharaoh's chicken." Naturalists vie
with one another in calling the creature names. " Eha "
stigmatizes it as " that foul bird." Colonel Cunningham
grows quite eloquent in his abuse of the Neophron tribe.
According to him, they are " truly ' base and degrading '
objects " ; " any close acquaintance with them," he
writes, "and specially a near view of them, as they
wander about over heaps of rubbish in quest of their
loathsome food, can only tend to arouse a sense of
wonder that any birds should have succeeded in be-
coming so repulsive. St. Beuve, in writing of Talley-
rand, affirms that " it takes a great deal of trouble to
become wholly depraved," but Neophrons have certainly
spared no effort to attain that end. Perhaps the
question will be asked : " Why discourse upon this
unlovely bird ? "

Let me answer it in anticipation. Firstly, the creature

•277

278 BOMBAY DUCKS

is,Uike Ally Sloper, a true friend of man. How we
should get on without him in that land of primitive
sanitation — India — I know not. Secondly, this vulture
is, in South India, or, at any rate, in some parts of the
Madras Presidency, a sacred bird.

The ancient Egyptians, also, seem to have held " His
Riverence" in high esteem, for several portraits of the
nearly allied Egyptian species are displayed in the
museum of antiquities at Cairo.

Before dilating upon the virtues of the noble fowl
it is necessary to describe it. The bird is delightfully
easy to depict. There is no other creature like unto it.
It is about the size of a kite. Its plumage is dirty white,
except the tips of the wings, which are shabby black.
The neck is covered with feathers, which stick out like
the back hairs of a schoolboy. These are, if possible,
rather dirtier-looking than the rest of the plumage, and
frequently assume a rusty hue. Its bill is yellow, so
are its naked face and its legs.

As " Eha " remarks : " It does not stand upright, like
the true vultures, but carries its body like a duck and
steps like a recruit."

There is told a story, which has by this time become
quite a seasoned " chestnut," of a keen " griffin " going
out with his gun on the day after his arrival at his first
station in India. His bag for the day consisted of one
Neophron ginginianus. This he sent, on the advice of
a fellow-subaltern, to his Colonel's wife, with a polite
note expressing the hope that she would accept the
results of his first day's shikar. The inventor of this
story might read with benefit a certain address de-

YOUNG SCAVENGER VULTURE IN NEST

UGLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD 279

livered by a certain Viceroy of India at a University not
a thousand miles from Calcutta.

The scavenger vulture is found all over India ; when,
however, you come to the neighbourhood of Delhi his
beak becomes less yellow and he grows larger. Need-
less to say that this is quite sufficient provocation for
the manufacture of a new species.

The scavenger vulture of the Punjab is known as
Neophron perenopterus. This multiplication of species
is doubtless a very fine thing. But it makes things
exceedingly unpleasant for the birds that live in the
region where the races fuse with one another. These
birds do not know what to call themselves : their bill is
too yellow to allow their admission into the perenopterus
clan, and too dusky for the ginginianus tribe to have
anything to say to them. In such a case it would, I
think, be as well to round off matters by creating a
third species — Neophron neither-one-thing-nor-the-other.

Of the feeding habits of Pharaoh's chicken the less
said the better. It eats filth of any and every kind, and
is quite content to subsist upon food which the vultures
proper reject as unfit for vulturine consumption. Mr.
Finn puts the matter in a nutshell when he states that
the bird is " appallingly accommodating of stomach."

Most vultures seek their food by soaring high above
the earth, and thus commanding a wide expanse of
country. When a vulture espies a carcass it at once
wings its way earthward. Its neighbour, who is soaring
at a distance of some miles, sees it depart, and follows
it. The second bird's neighbour does likewise, so that
there are, in quite a short time, half a dozen or more

280 BOMBAY DUCKS

vultures feeding on the carcass, to say nothing of a
rabble of crows. The scavenger vulture adopts a differ-
ent procedure. There are in every town in the East
certain places where its food is almost invariably to
be found; these it visits in turn. It is a good flier,
and when seen upon the wing looks quite a respectable
fowl. The under parts of its wings appear pure white
in the sunlight, and the black border gives them a
finish.

The nest of the scavenger vulture is in keeping with
the character of the bird. It is a mass of sticks, dirty
rags, and other rubbish heaped together anyhow. It is
sometimes placed on a stout forked bough of a large
tree ; more often it is to be found on a building.

For many years some of the Madras Neophrons have
utilized the steeple of the Scotch kirk as their nursery.
As soon as one pair of vultures has brought up its
family, the site is seized by another couple ; hence,
during most of the cold weather a lady vulture is to be
seen " sitting " high up in the steeple.

This species seems rarely to lay more than two eggs.
Frequently, as in the illustration, one only is laid. The
egg is the solitary beautiful thing connected with
scavenger vultures. Its colour is dark red or crimson,
richly blotched with russet. These hues, alas ! wash off.
The bird will have nothing to do with cleanliness in any
shape or form ; if you want to keep her eggs you must
have them unwashed. Yet even this most degraded of
birds is not without its virtues. The hen scavenger is
a good mother. It takes a lot to make her leave the
nest The bird at the kirk allowed Captain Fayrer and

SCAVENGER VULTURE ON NEST

UGLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD 281

myself to come within a few feet of her and take a
photograph. Mr. William Jesse states that upon one
occasion, when he wanted to take the egg, the hen
vulture refused to budge, and had to be poked off the
nest with a stick. This behaviour is not altogether due
to the maternal instinct; the bird is of a sluggish
disposition, shows little fear of men, and is easily tamed.
One of these fowls used to be kept as a pet in the
Madras Museum ; it recently died of paralysis.

The young scavengers, when they leave the nest, are
sooty brown in colour, and in consequence are often
taken for members of a different species. Then,
gradually, white feathers show themselves, so that,
after a time, the birds have a speckled appearance.
Eventually they emerge resplendent in the adult plum-
age. Is this transition from dark to light the result of
sexual selection ? Can it be that the lady vulture has
taste in dress ; that dirty white is to her what the hues
of a sunset sky are to human beings ?

We have, in conclusion, to regard the fowl in its
sacred aspect. The scavenger vulture is the last bird
around which one would have expected to see the halo
of sanctity, and I believe that I am right in saying that
the Hindus do not regard all scavenger vultures as
sacred, but merely a chosen few. These may be seen
at Conjeeveram, in the Madras Presidency, by those
who are not sinners. Those of us who are scathed by
the wickedness of the world may see, hanging up in
the Madras Museum, a photograph of the holy birds
being fed by a Brahmin. These birds are said to be
metamorphosed human beings. I forget their former

282 BOMBAY DUCKS

names, nor do I remember the why and the wherefore
of the punishment inflicted upon them by Siva. But
what matters this? Are not dates and facts but the
dry bones of history ? Let us have the flesh and blood
of myth and tradition and leave the dry bones to
others.

We are told that the Conjeeveram vultures are very
aged ; to be, for once, exact, they are twenty or thirty
hundred thousand years old — more or less ; but their
eyes are not dim, and they have the invaluable gift of
feeling the presence of a sinner. When a sin-stained
human being approaches the portals of the temple,
they refuse to show themselves. This, taken in con-
nexion with the fact that thousands of men have seen
these sacred birds, says much for the moral condition of
the Madras Presidency.

NOISY BIRDS

A article on the subject of noisy birds re-
cently appeared in the "Spectator." It
is evident that the writer is not personally
acquainted with India. Had he been, he
would certainly have taken some of his examples of
noisy fowls from the avifauna of this country. It is
true that India can boast of no quiet bird so vociferous
as the campanero or bell-bird of America, whose voice
is said to carry for three miles, that being about the
distance " which would be selected (by preference) by
its auditors ! " However, as generators of noise, horn-
bills are not very far behind the bell-bird. The flapping
of the wings of that most extraordinary of birds — the
Great Hornbill — can be heard a mile away, the sound
resembling that made by a railway train. The voice
of the bird, moreover, carries a distance of many
furlongs.

The writer in the "Spectator" declares that England,
although it cannot boast of many vociferous birds, has
some " which can hold their own with all but the most
strenuous voices of the bird population of other lands."
As a matter of fact, there is only one such bird in
England, and that is the corn-crake. Take away this

283

284 BOMBAY DUCKS

from the British Isles, and there is no bird left nearly
so noisy as a dozen of our commonest Indian birds —
birds which haunt our gardens and housetops.

As a sound-producer the corn-crake (Crex pratensis)
is worthy of all respect ; it has a faculty of " getting
on the nerves " in a manner that might excite jealousy
even in the breast of the Indian brain-fever bird. The
corn-crake, or land-rail, as it is often called, is a
summer visitor to the British Isles; stragglers have
been heard of in India, but the bird does not properly
belong to avifauna of that country.

Upon arrival in England it takes up lodgings in
a cornfield, one next to a house by preference. Every
evening, as the shades of darkness steal o'er the land,
the bird tunes up. It has but one note — a raucous,
rasping "crake." The bird shouts "crake" a hundred
times a minute without a break until sunrise. It is
impossible to drive the bird from the field in which it
has taken apartments ; at least, all the attempts I
have made failed miserably. Yet some of them were
well planned out and marked with determination.

Upon one occasion, the whole of a large and in-
dignant household turned out into the fields, and,
having formed a line, attempted to drive the crake
before it. As the line approached the middle of the
field the bird became silent. We hoped that it was
running away. Presently we heard behind us, " Crake,
crake, crake ! " Again and again, the line was formed
and the field beaten, but all in vain. The crake always
managed to get behind us. This behaviour is fully in
accordance with the description of the habits of the

NOISY BIRDS 285

bird given in books on ornithology : it rarely flies, and,
if chased, sprints along the ground amid the corn and
" never runs straight, but makes as many turnings as a
hare." After tramping the fields for nearly an hour, the
aforesaid household returned home with the poor satis-
faction of having provided some amusement for the bird.

I am told that debating societies are often at their
wits' ends to find subjects for debate which have not
been discussed ad nauseam. If this be so, I would
suggest as a new subject — " Which is the more deserv-
ing of the title * Brain-fever Bird,' the Indian hawk-
cuckoo or the corn-crake?" Anglo- Indians will, of
course, plump for the Oriental bird, which certainly has
in its favour one strong point : it names the disease it
tries to give you. It shrieks : " Brain fever, brain fever,
BRAIN FEVER," until you think its syrinx must burst !
But which is the greater evil — a succession of series
of crescendo notes or one continuous rasping sound ?

The Indian bird is certainly assisted by the climate.
It makes a noise only in the hot weather. It avoids
the hills. It does not patronize the city of Madras, for
the reason that the climate is rarely warm enough for
it. It cannot sing to advantage when the thermometer
stands at anything like 90° in the shade. Nay, in the
Punjab, when the iced drinks hiss as they come into
contact with the parched throat, is its ideal climate.
But you can see and shoot a brain-fever bird, which is
more than you can do to a corn-crake.

Take away the latter bird from the English team,
and what have you left? A lamentable "tail" com-
posed of rooks, magpies, and starlings. I do not take

286 BOMBAY DUCKS

account of such birds as peewits and curlews, for these,
although blessed with loud, penetrating voices, shun
human habitations ; they are denizens of lonely moors
and fens, where any bird or man is at liberty to raise
his voice to the uttermost without being dubbed "noisy."
If the English team is sadly weakened by the absence
of the corn-crake, the brain-fever bird is scarcely missed
from the Indian eleven. His cousin, the koel (Eudy-
namis honorata), who is very partial to Madras, is an
efficient substitute. Indeed, he is often called the brain-
fever bird in this part of the world, but never by those
who have listened to the real article. His crescendo
" Kuil, kuil, kuil," heard both by day and by night, is a
noise of which any fowl might be proud.

The white-breasted kingfisher is another noisy bird
very common in Madras. His harsh scream is only
too familiar to us. But we tolerate it for its beauty's
sake. As he dashes through the air, with the sun
shining on him, he is a truly magnificent object — a
dazzling flash of blue, of which the brilliance is en-
hanced by a setting of chocolate and white.

In spite of his small size, the spotted owlet can hold
his own, as regards vociferousness, against all comers.
It is true that his caterwaulings cannot be heard
three miles away. If they carried that distance the
inhabitants of India would all be deaf mutes. In the
vicinity of Madras there must be between six and
seven hundred spotted owlets to the square mile, so
that, if their voices were audible three miles away, and
all spoke at once, we should spend our nights listening
to a chorus of about two thousand spotted owlets.

NOISY BIRDS 287

The peacock is another Indian bird whose histrionic
efforts " take a lot of beating." Like so many noisy
birds, he prefers to raise his voice in the night time.
His note resembles a loud, plaintive, very much
drawn-out " miau," such as a lusty cat might emit. In
some parts of India pea-fowl are accounted sacred
birds and are often semi-domesticated, roosting in the
trees near a village and feeding on the crops. When
camping near such a village, for the first time, one is
apt to pass a sleepless night, thanks to the pea-fowl, the
jackals, and the village dogs.

The boisterous screams of those ruffians the " green
parrots " are not often heard in Madras ; nevertheless,
these birds must be numbered among the noisy members
of society. They are very numerous in many mofussil
stations, while in the city of Bombay they are as
abundant as mynas. The voice of the green parrot
does not get on the nerves ; it is, on the contrary,
pleasant to the ear, being heard only for an instant as
a flight of the birds dashes overhead upon felony intent.
Of all the cultivator's enemies, the green parrot is the
chief.

Another noisy bird, which is very common in most
parts of India, but which, for some reason or other,
avoids Madras, is the Indian magpie (Dendrocitta rufa).
Although nearly related to the English magpie, this
bird is of very different appearance, being dark brown
with greyish wings and tail. This latter is over a foot
in length. The Indian pie lives chiefly in trees. It
goes about in small companies, which spend half the
day in loudly squabbling among themselves and the

288 BOMBAY DUCKS

other half in robbing birds' nests. The green barbets
would take a prominent position among the noisy
members of bird society in any country. Their note is
loud, persistent, and penetrating ; but they are not found
in Madras itself. There their cousin, the coppersmith,
replaces them. He is not nearly so noisy as they, but
he is an untiring musician, and thinks it impossible to
have too much of a good thing, when that good thing
happens to be his own voice — a characteristic which he
shares with some human beings.

Indian birds exist which have remarkably loud voices
for their size, to wit, the ubiquitous tailor-bird and the
iroa. These are so small that they would go comfortably
into one's watch-pocket, yet their voices can be heard
at a distance of two hundred yards or more. Were
these birds as large as the great hornbill, and their
voices increased in proportion, they would be formidable
rivals of the American bell-bird. But they are not as
big as hornbills, and we must take things as they are
and not include them among our noisiest birds. They,
however, deserve a place in the second rank, with the
crows, the babblers, the black partridges, the king-
crows, and the other minor poets.

INDIAN SONG-BIRDS

HAVING discoursed upon the noisy birds
of India, it is but fitting that we should
give the songsters an innings, for we have
some song-birds in the East, notwith-
standing the article of the Anglo-Indian creed, which
declares that in the country of his adoption birds do not
sing, that they caw, croak, squeak, and make all manner
of objectionable and abominable noises, but sing — no !
This article of belief is a gross libel on many birds.
Nevertheless, those who subscribe to it are able to plead
extenuating circumstances, for, as we have seen, India
is the happy hunting ground of a whole army of noisy
birds, many of which are exceedingly abundant, and
not only exasperate the European beyond measure by
their importunity, but drown the melody of those birds
which have tuneful voices.

" The nightingale, if she should sing by day
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better musician than the wren."

India possesses some song-birds which can hold their
own against all comers. This any unprejudiced observer
will admit. The Englishman is, of course, not an un-
prejudiced observer. It is impossible to bring him to
believe that the song of any foreign bird can equal the
u 289

290 BOMBAY DUCKS

avine melodies of the homeland ; and from his point
of view he is undoubtedly right. Here in India the
associations are wanting which endear to him the voices
of the feathered folk at home. Yet a real live nightin-
gale sometimes visits India. It is true that the melodious
bird does not venture far into that uninviting land.
Nevertheless the Persian nightingale (Daulias golzi)
does pay parts of the Punjab a visit in the cold weather.
Many are taken to Calcutta in captivity. Since a good
specimen will fetch as much as Rs.2OO in the Calcutta
market, it is not surprising that some men make it
their profession, and a cruel profession it is, to catch,
imprison, and then send these birds to the city by the
Hooghly.

Of the permanent residents in India, the shama
(Cittocincla macrura) is perhaps the finest singer. This
bird is not likely to be heard in any large town. It
loveth not the unseemly din of the city. It lives
among shady hills, and, if we would hear its splendid
voice in its full magnificence, we must betake ourselves
to one or other of the great forests of India. A fine
songster, nearly related to the shama, and which is
found in nearly all parts of India, is the magpie robin
or dhyal (Copsychus saularis). This is a charming
creature, having the confiding habits of the robin, the
bright colouring of the magpie, and the voice of the
canary. It is nearly always found near human habita-
tions. It is essentially a garden bird, nesting in holes
in trees, or buildings. I once found a magpie robin's
nest in the dilapidated wall of a stable. It generally
breeds from April to July.

INDIAN SONG-BIRDS 291

I am ashamed to say that I had known the bird
for a long time before I became acquainted with its
song. One day, my work detained me late, so, instead
of going to club as usual, I took a stroll in the garden ;
my progress was soon arrested by an exceptionally fine
song, of considerable power and great compass : on
looking up, I discovered, to my great surprise, that the
vocalist was a common magpie robin which was sitting
on a bare branch. Since that day I have listened to its
voice so frequently that it is a mystery to me that
I had never heard it before.

How is it possible to explain this want of knowledge
of the song of the common birds of India? Of course,
the human ear is a strange organ. It continually re-
ceives thousands of vibrations, capable of being per-
ceived as sound by the brain, which are never heard at
all, sounds which, so to speak, pass in at one ear and
out of the other. Soft sounds seem never to be per-
ceived unless the ear is consciously or unconsciously
listening for them.

In the early morning and late afternoon, when most
of the Indian birds pour forth their song, the ear is
greeted by myriads of sounds, many sharp and powerful,
so that the soft musical ones, which do not grate upon
the auditory nerve, are apt to pass unnoticed.

Then one walks so little in India. When driving,
the rumbling sound of the carriage wheels drowns, to
a great extent, the songs of the smaller birds ; under
such circumstances, these can be heard by listening for
them, and, in order to listen for a sound, one has to
know it. If we in India could only indulge in country

292 BOMBAY DUCKS

walks as we do in our own land, we should soon learn
to recognize and to love the tunes of the commoner
singing birds. But alas ! a country walk in India
without grassy downs, gay hedgerows and leafy-
glades, is apt to have a depressing effect on the exiled
European, so he takes his exercise in the form of
games.

The plumage of the cock dhyal is glossy black,
except the breast, abdomen, and sides of the tail, which
are white. The bird is also marked by a broad white
band on each wing, seen when the latter is closed. The
animal has, therefore, a smart appearance ; it is always
spick-and-span, and struts about in a most sprightly
manner ; its jaunty air is heightened by the fact that
the tail is carried erect. In the female the black of the
plumage is replaced by a slaty colour.

The magpie robin will live in captivity ; it, however,
is not often seen as a caged bird, for its cousin, the
shama, having a more beautiful song, is more highly
esteemed. The dhyal spends a good deal of its time in
trees, as often as not among the bare branches, so that
it is always easy to see. From such a position it will
pour forth its song in one continuous stream. Its notes
are bright and joyous ; they exhibit great compass and
variety, while the volume of sound emitted is consider-
able for so small a bird, yet the bird just misses being
a really great singer. Its notes are not marked by that
absolute purity which constitutes so much of the beauty
of the song of the nightingale, nor is its voice so mellow
or sympathetic as that of the blackbird.

The magpie robin, like many great human singers,

INDIAN SONG-BIRDS 293

pours forth its song in a blase, unfeeling sort of way, and
thus reveals its own character, for it is a solitary bird ;
the male is but rarely seen about with his wife. As
Mr. Hudson has pointed out, the charm of the song
of some birds — as, for instance, that of the willow wren
— consists in the very human character of their notes,
a feature which makes their song sink deep into one's
heart. There is but little of this in the voice of the
magpie robin, but, for all that, he is no mean singer and
daily pours forth his beautiful notes, which fall on the
dull senses of the stolid native or the unhearing ears
of the indifferent European.

No account of the songsters of India would be com-
plete which did not notice the dainty pied wagtail— the
most charming of birds, which nests about our houses
and gladdens them with the soft, sweet song, which it
pours forth at all seasons of the year.

The Indian robin is another of our singing birds. It
is found all over India ; but robins south of the Goda-
veri River differ slightly from those which dwell in
Northern India. Hence ornithologists recognize two
distinct species of Indian robin. It is not a difficult
bird to recognize, being quite a robin in build and
habits. It differs from the robin we know in England
in wearing, instead of a red waistcoat, a red seat to
its trousers. The cock bird is blackish and the hen
brownish ; both have a narrow white bar in the wing.
It hops about the garden in a very familiar way, just
as the English robin does. It nests in all manner of
queer places, in a hole under the thatch, in the midst of
a pile of stones, or in a cranny in a wall. The nest is

294 BOMBAY DUCKS

not easy to find, for the bird absolutely refuses to enter

when it knows that any one is watching it.

Some time back, when walking in a suburb of
Madras, I was stepping over a low prickly-pear bush,
when two young robins fluttered out, almost from
under my feet. They could scarcely fly, so young were
they, consequently I am sure they came out of a nest,
and that the nest was somewhere under the prickly-
pear. Nevertheless, half an hour's search was not
sufficient to reveal the nest, which must have been in
the midst of the bush, and prickly-pears demand
respectful treatment. All the while I was poking
about for the little nursery the parent birds sat on
branches near by and swore at me. But when, event-
ually, I had to admit defeat and depart without having
set eyes on the nest, the notes of anger were speedily
replaced by little songs of joy.

The Indian skylark must be recognized as one of the
chief of our esteemed singing-birds, since its song is in
no way inferior to that of its cousin found in England.
We do not hear much of the Indian bird because the
crows never give it a chance. Their rowdy noises drown
the skylark's song.

A more vociferous singer and one which it would
take a whole army of crows to swamp is the white-
browed fantail flycatcher (Rhipidura albifrontata). This
sprightly bird has a loud and cheerful song of six or
seven notes: these, says Mr. Ferguson, remind one of
the first bars of the " Guards' Valse."

The golden oriole is one of the few birds which have
the twofold gift of a melodious voice and beautiful

THK INDIAN ROBIN

INDIAN SONG-BIRDS 295

plumage. Dame Nature is inclined to be parsimonious.
If she arrays a bird in very handsome clothes, she is
usually content to allow it but a poor song. In the
same way, most of the birds which are endowed with
sweet voices are plainly attired. She has, however,
been very generous to the oriole. She has lavished
upon it with no unsparing hand the most brilliant
yellow and golden tints to be found in her paint-box,
and, in addition, has taught the bird to utter a note
very agreeable to human ears. The mellow peeho^
peehO) or loriot, loriot, as the French syllabize the
note, is perhaps the most pleasing of the sounds which
issue from the mango tope.

The Malabar whistling thrush (Myiophonus horsfieldii),
commonly known as "the idle schoolboy," is one of the
most characteristic song-birds of Southern India. But
he does not visit Madras ; his haunts are " far from the
madding crowd." He is abundant on the West Coast.
I do not know what constitutes his eastern boundary,
but probably he does not occur east of the Shevaroy
Hills. He is seldom found far from water. He loves
to whistle his merry tune to the accompaniment of
running streams. " Few birds," writes Eha, " have been
endowed with so rich a voice, and it would be world-
famous as a songster if it could only learn a tune. It
is always practising, but makes no progress." It com-
mences to whistle a cheery lay and then suddenly
stops short ; it is this habit which has earned for it the
name of " the idle schoolboy."

The Bhimraj or larger racket-tailed drongo (Dts-
semurus paradiseus) deserves a place of honour among

296 BOMBAY DUCKS

the song-birds of India. According to Mr. Gates, this
drongo " has a really fine song, and is perhaps the best
singing- bird of the East." This statement should,
however, be accepted with reserve, for, in my opinion,
Mr. Gates is not a first-class judge of the quality of a
bird's song. He speaks of the magpie robin as only
" a fairly good songster." After this one is surprised
at no opinion of his regarding the vocal powers of a
bird. The truth of the matter is that the Bhimraj,
which is just a glorified king-crow — one having a crest
and a tail twenty inches long — is a perfect mimic.
According to Jerdon, it will " imitate all sorts of sounds,
as of dogs, sheep, cats, goats, poultry, and the notes of
many birds ; hence it used to be called by some Hazar-
dastan, or the bird with a thousand tales (not tails).
Blythe had one that imitated the fine song of the shama
to perfection." The Bhimraj makes an excellent pet.

There are in India, as in every country, a whole host
of birds which perhaps scarcely merit the name of
song-birds, but which, nevertheless, emit very pleasant
sounds ; such are the bulbuls, mynas, bee-eaters, and
king-crows. None of these are very great musicians,
but we should be sorry to lose their voices. Were
there no bulbuls our hill stations would lose half their
charm, and were the mynas and the king-crows to
disappear the plains of India would become very
dreary.

It is probably quite incorrect to include the cuckoo
among the song-birds. Nevertheless I am going to do
so, for the simple reason that there are few birds
of which the note is more pleasing to my ear. I have

BULBUL (RED VENTED)

•: •".•"•*«• * * «c« ' '•

' €«'«"•* •«««««CCttt

RED WHISKERED BULBUL

INDIAN SONG-BIRDS 297

no sympathy with the cross-grained old poet who spoke
of the " leud Cuckoo " and said, " I pray to God will fire
her bren." Rather would I cry with Wordsworth —

" O Cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird ?
Or but a wandering voice ?

Darling of the spring.

No bird : but an invisible thing —

A voice or mystery."

The European cuckoo visits India. I have never
heard it in the south of the peninsula, but others have
been more fortunate. From April to June the Hima-
layas resound with its familiar call. The bird is there,
as in England, the harbinger of spring. A Himalayan
station in springtime is a sight for the gods. It is a
parti-coloured island cast in a magenta sea, for the
rhododendrons are in bloom. The spiraea hedgerows
have felt the touch of spring ; their snowy flowers have
come forth in such abundance as to obliterate the
foliage. The horse-chestnut trees have awakened from
their long winter sleep ; they have opened out their
emerald fans, and over these profuse Nature has
showered "ten thousand waxen pyramidal flowers."
Here and there a mass of the pale yellow blossom
of the mimosa trees forms a pleasant contrast to the
deeper tints of the horse-chestnut inflorescences.

The little hill gardens are gay with English flowers :
roses, carnations, honeysuckle, geraniums, phlox, portu-
lacas, nasturtiums, and sweet peas vie with one another
for supremacy, and turn the flower-beds into patches
of brilliant colour. In the far distance the great snow-

298 BOMBAY DUCKS

clad mountains watch over all. When the cuckoo
pours forth his " sovereign cry " amid such surroundings,
one feels that it is good to live and that there is no song
equal to that of the cuckoo ; but perhaps the truth
of the matter is contained in the lines —

" Not in thy double note the magic lies,
But in the fields and woods, the streams and skies."

GLOSSARY

Bagh. Grove or garden planted with trees.

Chapatti. A thin, flat cake made of unleavened bread, and

commonly eaten by the natives of Northern India.
Chaprassi. Lit. a badge-man. A servant who runs messages.
Chik. A number of thin pieces of bamboo strung together

to form a curtain. Chiks are usually hung in front of doors

and windows in India with the object of keeping out

insects, but not air.
Chota haziri. Early morning tea.
Dak. Post.
Dak bungalow. Government rest-house. Sometimes a cook

is attached to the dak bungalow, and he caters for visitors

if they wish.
Dhobi. A washerman.
Dirzie. A tailor.
Durga Puja. A religious festival observed by the Hindus

of Bengal.
Jhil. A lake, broad tank, or any natural depression which

is filled with rain-water at certain seasons.
Kuch ne. Lit. " nothing." A term applied by native beaters

to all non-game birds seen when one is out shooting.
Kunkur. Lumps of limestone with which roads are metalled

in Northern India.

Machan. A platform erected in a tree, upon which the sports-
man sits while waiting for his quarry.
299

300 GLOSSARY

Maidan. A flat, open space.

Mali. Gardener.

MofussiL The outlying parts of a province as opposed to

headquarters.
Murghi. Fowl.
Poochee. Insect.
Raj. Government.

Ryot or rayat. Husbandman, cultivator.
Shikar. Hunting or shooting.
Shikari, (i) The man who goes hunting or shooting.

(2) The native who accompanies him and directs

the beat.

Topi or toper. Sun-helmet.
Usar. Land on which a saline deposit has formed.

INDEX

Ant, black, 121.
„ white, 119-26.

Babbler, 26, 61, 203-8, 221, 229,

288.
Babbler, Bombay, 205.

,, Madras, 205.
Barbet, 247-51.

,, crimson -breasted, 246.

„ green, 248, 251, 288.
Bat, 133-8, 158.
Bee-eater, 83, 114, 171.
Bell bird, 283.
Bengal pied hornbill, 90.
Birds of paradise, 113.
Birch jay, ill.
Black ant, 121.

„ partridge, 288.
Blind heron, 235.
Blue jay, 83, Hi-i8.
Blue jay's nest, 114.
Brahma, 163.
Brahminy kite, 189-94.
,, kite's nest, 193.
„ myna, 246.
Brain-fever bird, 218, 221, 284.
Brain power, 173-9, J87.
Bronze-winged dove, 7.
Bulbul, 6 1.

Campanero, 283.
Canary, 12, 58, 290.

Caspiantern, 271.

Cat, 47-55, 131.

Cattle egret, 239-41.

Cochin, 163.

Cockatoo, 196.

Coots, 84, 108.

Coppersmith, 243-52, 288.

Coppersmith's nest, 247.

Cormorant, 101, 274.

Corn-crake, 283.

Coucal, 222-7.

Crane, sarus, 84.

Crimson-breasted barbet, 246.

Crow, 21, 25, 34, 37-9, 41, 44, 59,

7i> 73. 76, 86, 94-6, 114, 135,

167-70, 176, 183, 192, 196, 219,
230, 272, 280, 288.
Crow-pheasant, 222-7.
Crow-pheasant's nest, 226.
Cuckoo, 45, 208, 223.

„ drongo, 221.

„ European, 218.

„ hawk, 218, 285.

,, Indian, 217-22.
Curlews, 286.

Dhyal, 290.
Dove, 3-9, 36, 83.

,, bronze- winged, 7.

,, spotted, 7.

„ ring, 7.
Dove's nest, 7.

301

302 INDEX

Drongo, 186.

,, cuckoo, 221.
Duck, 84.

Eagles, 135.

,, fishing, 191.
Egret, cattle, 239-41.

,, white, 84, 113.

Fish-hawk, 193, 270.
Fishing eagle, 191.

,, owl, 101.

Flycatcher, black orange, 264.
»» grey-headed, 264
,, Nilgiri blue, 264.
,, paradise, 264.

Tickell's blue, 264.
,, white - browed fantail,
57-63, 263, 294.
Flycatcher's nest, white - browed

fantail, 57.
Fowl, 161-6, 171.

,, Indian jungle, 163.
Fox, 133-8.

Golden-backed woodpecker, 155-60.
,, woodpecker's nest, 159.
Golden oriole, 7.
Crackle, 94.
Green barbet, 248-51, 288.

„ parrot, 17-23, 65, 84, 287.
Green parrot's nest, 21.
Gull, 272.
Gull-bird tern, 271.
„ laughing, 273.

Hawk, 82, 140, 142.

,, cuckoo, 218, 285.

,, fish, 193, 270.
Heron pond, 235.

,, blind, 235.
Hill myna, 94.
Honeysucker, 171.

Hoopoe, 85, 139-46, 149, 171,225.
,, European, 145.
,, Indian, 145.
Hoopoe's nest, 143.
Hornbill, 87-91, 288.
,, Bengal pied, 90.

great, 283.
Hornbill's nest, 87.

Indian cuckoo, 217-22.

,, jungle fowl, 163.

„ magpie, 287.
Iroa, 288.

Jackal, 66, 85, 287.
Jay, birch, ill.

,, blue, 83, 111-18.
Jay's nest, 1 14.

King-crow, 9, 25, 36, 39-46, 82,

114, 143, 186, 221, 288, 296.
King-crow's nest, 43.
Kingfisher, 7, 13, 101-10, 114-16,

149,2 37, 266, 269.
Kingfisher, blue, 109.

,, common, 101-3.

,, pied, 65, 106.

,, white-breasted, 103-6,

109, 115, 116, 286.
Kingfisher's nest, 107.
Kite, 9, 36, 40, 82, 86, 135, 167,

170, 181-8, 190, 192, 269, 278.
Kite, Brahminy, 189-94.
Kite's nest, 187.
Koel, 218, 286.

Land-rail, 284.
Laughing gull, 273.
Linnets, 4, 153.

Magpie, 285.

„ English, 287.

INDEX

303

Magpie, Indian, 287

,, robin, 290-3.
Mayfly, 120.
Monkey, 128.
Myna, 21, 25, 84, 98, 103, 167-70,

241, 250, 287, 296.
Myna, Brahminy, 246.

„ hill, 94.

Nests, 7, 21, 28, 43, 57, 87, 107,
114, 143, 156, 159, 160, 187, 193,
226, 239, 247, 257, 280.

Nightingale, 290.

,, Persian, 290.

Osprey, 101, 191, 269, 270.
Owl, 197, 223, 256.

,, fishing, 101.
Owlet, spotted, 253-9, 286.

Paddy-bird, 12, 84, in, 235-41.
Paddy-bird's nest, 239.
Paroquet, rose-headed, 23.

,, rose-ringed, 18.
Parrot, 34, 113.

„ green, 17-23, 65, 84, 287.
Peacock, 6, 127-32, 287.
Peewits, 286.
Persian nightingale, 290.
Pharaoh's chicken, 277.
Pied kingfisher, 65, 106
Pied wagtail, 293.
Pigeon, 20, 36, 151, 163.
Pond heron, 235.

Protective colouration, 9, 30, 43, 58.
Puffin, 115.

Redstart, 237.
Ringdove, 7.
Robin magpie, 290-3.
Roller, 83, 105, 111-18.

Roller, broad-billed, 118.

,, Burmese, 118.

,, European, 118.
Roller's nest, 1 14.
Rook, 285.

Rose-headed paroquet, 23.
Rose-ringed paroquet, 18.

Sandpiper, 26, 139.

Sarus crane, 84.

Scraper, 163.

Sea swallow, 270.

Shama, 290, 292.

Snipe, 26, 139.

Sparrow, 25, 60, 71-9, 86, 95, 144,

171, 247-
Spotted dove, 7.
Spotted owlet, 99, 253-9, 286.
Squirrel, 93-9.
Starling, 285.
Stork, 84.
Swallow, 36, 103.
Swift, 12, 36, 103, 175, 266.

Tailor-bird, 25-31, 288, 171.
Tailor-bird's nest, 28.
Termites, 119-26.
Tern, 270.

,, gull-bird, 271.

„ Caspian, 271.
Tree pie, 5.

Vulture, 170, 278-82.

Vulture's nest, 280.

Vulture, white scavenger, 277.

Wagtail, 13, 14, 59.

„ pied, 293.
Warbler, 188.
Wasps, 209-16.
White ant, 1 19-26.

304 INDEX

White -browed fan tail flycatcher,

57-63, 263, 294.
White -browed fantail flycatcher's

nest, 57.
White-breasted kingfisher, 103-6,

I09> US* n6, 286.
White -breasted kingfisher's nest,

107.

White scavenger vulture, 277.

Willow wren, 293.

Woodpecker, 34, 36, 114, 155-60,

247, 266.

Woodpecker's nest, 156, 160.
White-eyes, 6l.