Produced by Ron Swanson
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
ANIMALS OF NO IMPORTANCE
THE INDIAN CROW: HIS BOOK
BOMBAY DUCKS
BIRDS OF THE PLAINS
INDIAN BIRDS
JUNGLE FOLK
GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS
BIRDS OF THE INDIAN HILLS
_IN COLLABORATION WITH FRANK FINN_
THE MAKING OF SPECIES
A BIRD CALENDAR FOR NORTHERN INDIA
BY DOUGLAS DEWAR
LONDON: W. THACKER & CO., CREED LANE, E.C.
CALCUTTA AND SIMLA: THACKER, SPINK & CO.
1916
WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND.
I am indebted to the editor of _The Pioneer_ for permission to
republish the sketches that form this calendar, and to Mr. A. J.
Currie for placing at my disposal his unpublished notes on the birds
of the Punjab.
Full descriptions of all the Indian birds of which the doings are
chronicled in this calendar are to be found in the four volumes of the
_Fauna of British India_ devoted to birds; popular descriptions of the
majority are given in my _Indian Birds_.
D. D.
HARROW,
_January 1916_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
JANUARY . . . . . . 1
FEBRUARY . . . . . 18
MARCH . . . . . . . 33
APRIL . . . . . . . 61
MAY . . . . . . . . 79
JUNE . . . . . . . 103
JULY . . . . . . . 116
AUGUST . . . . . . 136
SEPTEMBER . . . . . 152
OCTOBER . . . . . . 165
NOVEMBER . . . . . 178
DECEMBER . . . . . 189
GLOSSARY . . . . . 199
INDEX . . . . . . . 201
JANUARY
Up--let us to the fields away,
And breathe the fresh and balmy air.
MARY HOWITT.
Take nine-and-twenty sunny, bracing English May days, steal from March
as many still, starry nights, to these add two rainy mornings and
evenings, and the product will resemble a typical Indian January. This
is the coolest month in the year, a month when the climate is
invigorating and the sunshine temperate. But even in January the sun's
rays have sufficient power to cause the thermometer to register 70
degrees in the shade at noon, save on an occasional cloudy day.
Sunset is marked by a sudden fall of temperature. The village smoke
then hangs a few feet above the earth like a blue-grey diaphanous
cloud.
The cold increases throughout the hours of darkness. In the Punjab
hoar-frosts form daily; and in the milder United Provinces the
temperature often falls sufficiently to allow of the formation of thin
sheets of ice. Towards dawn mists collect which are not dispersed
until the sun has shone upon them for several hours. The vultures
await the dissipation of these vapours before they ascend to the upper
air, there to soar on outstretched wings and scan the earth for food.
On New Year's Day the wheat, the barley, the gram, and the other
Spring crops are well above the ground, and, ere January has given
place to February, the emerald shoots of the corn attain a height of
fully sixteen inches. On these the geese levy toll.
Light showers usually fall in January. These are very welcome to the
agriculturalist because they impart vigour to the young crops. In the
seasons when the earth is not blessed with the refreshing winter rain
men and oxen are kept busy irrigating the fields. The cutting and the
pressing of the sugar-cane employ thousands of husbandmen and their
cattle. In almost every village little sugar-cane presses are being
worked by oxen from sunrise to sunset. At night-time the country-side
is illumined by the flames of the _megas_ burned by the rustic
sugar-boilers.
January is the month in which the avian population attains its
maximum. Geese, ducks, teal, pelicans, cormorants, snake-birds and
ospreys abound in the rivers and _jhils_; the marshes and swamps are
the resort of millions of snipe and other waders; the fields and
groves swarm with flycatchers, chats, starlings, warblers, finches,
birds of prey and the other migrants which in winter visit the plains
from the Himalayas and the country beyond.
The bracing climate of the Punjab attracts some cold-loving species
for which the milder United Provinces have no charms. Conspicuous
among these are rooks, ravens and jackdaws. On the other hand, frosts
drive away from the Land of the Five Rivers certain of the feathered
folk which do not leave the United Provinces or Bengal: to wit, the
purple sunbird, the bee-eater and, to a large extent, the king-crow.
The activity of the feathered folk is not at its height in January.
Birds are warm-blooded creatures and they love not the cold.
Comparatively few of them are in song, and still fewer nest, at this
season.
Song and sound are expressions of energy. Birds have more vitality,
more life in them than has any other class of organism. They are,
therefore, the most noisy of beings.
Many of the calls of birds are purposeful, being used to express
pleasure or anger, or to apprise members of a flock of one another's
presence. Others appear to serve no useful end. These are simply the
outpourings of superfluous energy, the expressions of the supreme
happiness that perfect health engenders. Since the vigour of birds is
greatest at the nesting season, it follows that that is the time when
they are most vociferous. Some birds sing only at the breeding season,
while others emit their cries at all times. Hence the avian choir in
India, as in all other countries, is composed of two sets of
vocalists--those who perform throughout the year, "the musicians of
all times and places," and those who join the chorus only for a few
weeks or months. The calls of the former class go far to create for
India its characteristic atmosphere. To enumerate all such bird calls
would be wearisome. For the purposes of this calendar it is necessary
to describe only the common daily cries--the sounds that at all times
and all seasons form the basis of the avian chorus.
From early dawn till nightfall the welkin rings with the harsh caw of
the house-crow, the deeper note of the black crow or corby, the
tinkling music of the bulbuls, the cheery _keky_, _keky_, _kek_,
_kek_ ... _chur_, _chur_, _kok_, _kok_, _kok_ of the myna, the
monotonous _cuckoo-coo-coo_ of the spotted dove (_Turtur suratensis_),
the soft subdued _cuk-cuk-coo-coo-coo_ of the little brown dove (_T.
cambayensis_), the mechanical _ku-ku--ku_ of the ring-dove (_T.
risorius_), the loud penetrating shrieks of the green parrot, the
trumpet-like calls of the saras crane, the high-pitched _did-he-do-it_
of the red-wattled lapwing, the wailing trill _chee-hee-hee-hee_
_hee--hee_ of the kite, the hard grating notes and the metallic
_coch-lee_, _coch-lee_ of the tree-pie; the sharp _towee_, _towee_,
_towee_ of the tailor-bird, the soft melodious cheeping calls of the
flocks of little white-eyes, the _chit_, _chit_, _chitter_ of the
sparrow, the screaming cries of the golden-backed woodpecker, the
screams and the trills of the white-breasted kingfisher, the curious
harsh clamour of the cuckoo-shrike, and, last but by no means least,
the sweet and cheerful whistling refrain of the fan-tail flycatcher,
which at frequent intervals emanates from a tree in the garden or the
mango tope. Nor is the bird choir altogether hushed during the hours
of darkness. Throughout the year, more especially on moonlit nights,
the shrieking _kucha_, _kwachee_, _kwachee_, _kwachee_, _kwachee_ of
the little spotted owlet disturbs the silences of the moon. Few nights
pass on which the dusky horned owl fails to utter his grunting
hoot, or the jungle owlet to emit his curious but not unpleasant
_turtuck_, _turtuck_, _turtuck_, _turtuck_, _turtuck_, _tukatu_,
_chatuckatuckatuck_.
The above are the commonest of the bird calls heard throughout the
year. They form the basis of the avian melody in India. This melody is
reinforced from time to time by the songs of those birds that may be
termed the seasonal choristers. It is the presence or absence of the
voices of these latter which imparts distinctive features to the
minstrelsy of every month of the year.
In January the sprightly little metallic purple sunbird pours forth,
from almost every tree or bush, his powerful song, which, were it a
little less sharp, might easily be mistaken for that of a canary.
From every mango tope emanates a loud "Think of me ... Never to be."
This is the call of the grey-headed flycatcher (_Culicicapa
ceylonensis_), a bird that visits the plains of northern India every
winter. In summer it retires to the Himalayas for nesting purposes.
Still more melodious is the call of the wood-shrike, which is
frequently heard at this season, and indeed during the greater part of
the year.
Every now and again the green barbet emits his curious chuckling
laugh, followed by a monotonous _kutur_, _kutur_, _kuturuk_. At rare
intervals his cousin, the coppersmith, utters a soft _wow_ and thereby
reminds us that he is in the land of the living. These two species,
more especially the latter, seem to dislike the cold weather. They
revel in the heat; it is when the thermometer stands at something over
100 degrees in the shade that they feel like giants refreshed, and
repeat their loud calls with wearying insistence throughout the hours
of daylight.
The nuthatches begin to tune up in January. They sing with more cheer
than harmony, their love-song being a sharp penetrating
_tee-tee-tee-tee-tee_.
The hoopoe reminds us of his presence by an occasional soft
_uk-uk-uk_. His breeding season, like that of the nuthatch, is about
to begin.
The magpie-robin or _dhayal_, who for months past has uttered no
sound, save a scolding note when occasion demanded, now begins to make
melody. His January song, however, is harsh and crude, and not such as
to lead one to expect the rich deep-toned music that will compel
admiration in April, May and June.
Towards the end of the month the fluty call of the koel, another
hot-weather chorister, may be heard in the eastern portions of
northern India.
Most of the cock sunbirds cast off their workaday plumage and assumed
their splendid metallic purple wedding garment in November and
December, a few, however, do not attain their full glory until
January. By the end of the month it is difficult to find a cock that
is not bravely attired from head to tail in iridescent purple.
Comparatively few birds build their nests in January. Needless to
state, doves' nests containing eggs may be found at this season as at
all other seasons. It is no exaggeration to assert that some pairs of
doves rear up seven or eight broods in the course of the year. The
consequence is that, notwithstanding the fact that the full clutch
consists of but two eggs, doves share with crows, mynas, sparrows and
green parrots the distinction of being the most successful birds in
India.
The nest of the dove is a subject over which most ornithologists have
waxed sarcastic. One writer compares the structure to a bundle of
spillikins. Another says, "Upset a box of matches in a bush and you
will have produced a very fair imitation of a dove's nursery!"
According to a third, the best way to make an imitation dove's nest is
to take four slender twigs, lay two of them on a branch and then place
the remaining two crosswise on top of the first pair. For all this,
the dove's nest is a wonderful structure; it is a lesson in how to
make a little go a long way. Doves seem to place their nurseries
haphazard on the first branch or ledge they come across after the
spirit has moved them to build. The nest appears to be built solely on
considerations of hygiene. Ample light and air are a _sine qua non_;
concealment appears to be a matter of no importance.
In India winter is the time of year at which the larger birds of prey,
both diurnal and nocturnal, rear up their broods. Throughout January
the white-backed vultures are occupied in parental duties. The
breeding season of these birds begins in October or November and ends
in February or March. The nest, which is placed high up in a lofty
tree, is a large platform composed of twigs which the birds themselves
break off from the growing tree. Much amusement may be derived from
watching the struggles of a white-backed vulture when severing a tough
branch. Its wing-flapping and its tugging cause a great commotion in
the tree. The boughs used by vultures for their nests are mostly
covered with green leaves. These last wither soon after the branch has
been plucked, so that, after the first few days of its existence, the
nest looks like a great ball of dead leaves caught in a tree.
The nurseries of birds of prey can be described neither as picturesque
nor as triumphs of architecture, but they have the great merit of
being easy to see. January is the month in which to look for the
eyries of Bonelli's eagles (_Hieraetus fasciatus_); not that the
search is likely to be successful. The high cliffs of the Jumna and
the Chambal in the Etawah district are the only places where the nests
of this fine eagle have been recorded in the United Provinces. Mr. A.
J. Currie has found the nest on two occasions in a mango tree in a
tope at Lahore. In each case the eyrie was a flat platform of sticks
about twice the size of a kite's nest. The ground beneath the eyrie
was littered with fowls' feathers and pellets of skin, fur and bone.
Most of these pellets contained squirrels' skulls; and Mr. Currie
actually saw one of the parent birds fly to the nest with a squirrel
in its talons.
Bonelli's eagle, when sailing through the air, may be recognised by
the long, hawk-like wings and tail, the pale body and dark brown
wings. It soars in circles, beating its pinions only occasionally.
The majority of the tawny eagles (_Aquila vindhiana_) build their
nests in December. By the middle of January many of the eggs have
yielded nestlings which are covered with white down. In size and
appearance the tawny eagle is not unlike a kite. The shape of the
tail, however, enables the observer to distinguish between the two
species at a glance. The tail of the kite is long and forked, while
that of the eagle is short and rounded at the extremity. The Pallas's
fishing-eagles (_Haliaetus leucoryphus_) are likewise busy feeding
their young. These fine birds are readily identified by the broad
white band in the tail. Their loud resonant but unmelodious calls make
it possible to recognise them when they are too far off for the white
tail band to be distinguished.
This species is called a fishing-eagle; but it does not indulge much
in the piscatorial art. It prefers to obtain its food by robbing
ospreys, kites, marsh-harriers and other birds weaker than itself. So
bold is it that it frequently swoops down and carries off a dead or
wounded duck shot by the sportsman. Another raptorial bird of which
the nest is likely to be found in January is the _Turumti_ or
red-headed merlin (_Aesalon chicquera_). The nesting season of this
ferocious pigmy extends from January to May, reaching its height
during March in the United Provinces and during April in the Punjab.
As a general rule birds begin nesting operations in the Punjab from
fifteen to thirty days later than in the United Provinces. Unless
expressly stated the times mentioned in this calendar relate to the
United Provinces. The nest of the red-headed merlin is a compact
circular platform, about twelve inches in diameter, placed in a fork
near the top of a tree.
The attention of the observer is often drawn to the nests of this
species, as also to those of other small birds of prey and of the
kite, by the squabbles that occur between them and the crows. Both
species of crow seem to take great delight in teasing raptorial birds.
Sometimes two or three of the _corvi_ act as if they had formed a
league for the prevention of nest-building on the part of white-eyed
buzzards, kites, shikras and other of the lesser birds of prey. The
_modus operandi_ of the league is for two or more of its members to
hie themselves to the tree in which the victim is building its nest,
take up positions near that structure and begin to caw derisively.
This invariably provokes the owners of the nest to attack the black
villains, who do not resist, but take to their wings. The angry,
swearing builders follow in hot pursuit for a short distance and then
fly back to the nest. After a few minutes the crows return. Then the
performance is repeated; and so on, almost _ad infinitum_. The result
is that many pairs of birds of prey take three weeks or longer to
construct a nest which they could have completed within a week had
they been unmolested.
Most of the larger owls are now building nests or sitting on eggs; a
few are seeking food for their offspring. As owls work on silent wing
at night, they escape the attentions of the crows and the notice of
the average human being. The nocturnal birds of prey of which nests
are likely to be found in January are the brown fish-owl (_Ketupa
ceylonensis_) and the rock and the dusky horned-owls (_Bubo
bengalensis_ and _B. coromandus_). The dusky horned-owl builds a stick
nest in a tree, the rock horned-owl lays its eggs on the bare ground
or on the ledge of a cliff, while the brown fish-owl makes a nest
among the branches or in a hollow in the trunk of a tree or on the
ledge of a cliff.
In the Punjab the ravens, which in many respects ape the manners of
birds of prey, are now nesting. A raven's nest is a compact collection
of twigs. It is usually placed in an isolated tree of no great size.
The Indian raven has not the austere habits of its English brother. It
is fond of the society of its fellows. The range of this fine bird in
the plains of India is confined to the North-West Frontier Province
Sind, and the Punjab.
An occasional pair of kites may be seen at work nest-building during
the present month.
Some of the sand-martins (_Cotyle sinensis_), likewise, are engaged in
family duties. The river bank in which a colony of these birds is
nesting is the scene of much animation. The bank is riddled with
holes, each of which, being the entrance to a martin's nest, is
visited a score of times an hour by the parent birds, bringing insects
captured while flying over the water.
Some species of munia breed at this time of the year. The red munia,
or amadavat, or _lal_ (_Estrelda amandava_) is, next to the paroquet,
the bird most commonly caged in India. This little exquisite is
considerably smaller than a sparrow. Its bill is bright crimson, and
there is some red or crimson in the plumage--more in the cock than in
the hen, and most in both sexes at the breeding season. The remainder
of the plumage is brown, but is everywhere heavily spotted with white.
In a state of nature these birds affect long grass, for they feed
largely, if not entirely, on grass seed. The cock has a sweet voice,
which, although feeble, is sufficiently loud to be heard at some
distance and is frequently uttered.
The nest of the amadavat is large for the size of the bird, being a
loosely-woven cup, which is egg-shaped and has a hole at or near the
narrow end. It is composed of fine grass stems and is often lined with
soft material. It is usually placed in the middle of a bush, sometimes
in a tussock of grass. From six to fourteen eggs are laid. These are
white in colour. This species appears to breed twice in the year--from
October to February and again from June to August.
The white-throated munia (_Uroloncha malabarica_) is a dull brown
bird, with a white patch above the tail. Its throat is yellowish
white. The old name for the bird--the plain brown munia--seems more
appropriate than that with which the species has since been saddled by
Blanford. The nest of this little bird is more loosely put together
and more globular than that of the amadavat. It is usually placed low
down in a thorny bush. The number of eggs laid varies from six to
fifteen. These, like those of the red munia, are white. June seems to
be the only month in the year in which the eggs of this species have
not been found. In the United Provinces more nests containing eggs are
discovered in January than in any other month.
Occasionally in January a pair of hoopoes (_Upupa indica_) steals a
march on its brethren by selecting a nesting site and laying eggs.
Hoopoes nest in holes in trees or buildings. The aperture to the nest
cavity is invariably small. The hen hoopoe alone incubates, and as,
when once she has begun to sit, she rarely, if ever, leaves the nest
till the eggs are hatched, the cock has to bring food to her. But, to
describe the nesting operations of the hoopoe in January is like
talking of cricket in April. It is in February and March that the
hoopoes nest in their millions, and call softly, from morn till eve,
_uk-uk-uk_.
Of the other birds which nest later in the season mention must be made
in the calendar for the present month of the Indian cliff-swallow
(_Hirundo fluvicola_) and the blue rock-pigeon (_Columba intermedia_),
because their nests are sometimes seen in January.
FEBRUARY
There's perfume upon every wind,
Music in every tree,
Dews for the moisture-loving flowers,
Sweets for the sucking-bee.
N. P. WILLIS.
Even as January in northern India may be compared to a month made up
of English May days and March nights, so may the Indian February be
likened to a halcyon month composed of sparkling, sun-steeped June
days and cool starlit April nights.
February is the most pleasant month of the whole year in both the
Punjab and the United Provinces; even November must yield the palm to
it. The climate is perfect. The nights and early mornings are cool and
invigorating; the remainder of each day is pleasantly warm; the sun's
rays, although gaining strength day by day, do not become
uncomfortably hot save in the extreme south of the United Provinces.
The night mists, so characteristic of December and January, are almost
unknown in February, and the light dews that form during the hours of
darkness disappear shortly after sunrise.
The Indian countryside is now good to look upon; it possesses all the
beauties of the landscape of July; save the sunsets. The soft emerald
hue of the young wheat and barley is rendered more vivid by contrast
with the deep rich green of the mango trees. Into the earth's verdant
carpet is worked a gay pattern of white poppies, purple linseed
blooms, blue and pink gram flowers, and yellow blossoms of mimosa,
mustard and _arhar_. Towards the end of the month the silk-cotton
trees (_Bombax malabarica_) begin to put forth their great red
flowers, but not until March does each look like a great scarlet
nosegay.
The patches of sugar-cane grow smaller day by day, and in nearly every
village the little presses are at work from morn till eve.
From the guava groves issue the rattle of tin pots and the shouts of
the boys told off to protect the ripening fruit from the attacks of
crows, parrots and other feathered marauders. Nor do these sounds
terminate at night-fall; indeed they become louder after dark, for it
is then that the flying-foxes come forth and work sad havoc among
fruit of all descriptions.
The fowls of the air are more vivacious than they were in January. The
bulbuls tinkle more blithely, the purple sunbirds sing more lustily;
the _kutur_, _kutur_, _kuturuk_ of the green barbets is uttered more
vociferously; the nuthatches now put their whole soul into their loud,
sharp _tee-tee-tee-tee_, the hoopoes call _uk-uk-uk_ more vigorously.
The coppersmiths (_Xantholaema haematocephala_) begin to hammer on
their anvils--_tonk-tonk-tonk-tonk_, softly and spasmodically in the
early days of the month, but with greater frequency and intensity as
the days pass. The brain-fever bird (_Hierococcyx varius_) announces
his arrival in the United Provinces by uttering an occasional
"brain-fever." As the month draws to its close his utterances become
more frequent. But his time is not yet. He merely gives us in February
a foretaste of what is to come.
The _tew_ of the black-headed oriole (_Oriolus melanocephalus_), which
is the only note uttered by the bird in the colder months, is
occasionally replaced in February by the summer call of the species--a
liquid, musical _peeho_. In the latter half of the month the Indian
robin (_Thamnobia cambayensis_) begins to find his voice. Although not
the peer of his English cousin, he is no mean singer. At this time of
year, however, his notes are harsh. He is merely "getting into form."
The feeble, but sweet, song of the crested lark or _Chandul_ is one of
the features of February. The Indian skylark likewise may now be heard
singing at Heaven's gate in places where there are large tracts of
uncultivated land. As in January so in February the joyous "Think of
me ... Never to be" of the grey-headed flycatcher emanates from every
tope.
By the middle of the month the pied wagtails and pied bush chats are
in full song. Their melodies, though of small volume, are very sweet.
The large grey shrikes add the clamour of their courtship to the avian
chorus.
Large numbers of doves, vultures, eagles, red-headed merlins, martins
and munias--birds whose nests were described in January--are still
busy feeding their young.
The majority of the brown fish-owls (_Ketupa ceylonensis_) and rock
horned-owls (_Bubo bengalensis_) are sitting; a few of them are
feeding young birds. The dusky horned-owls (_B. coromandus_) have
either finished breeding or are tending nestlings. In addition to the
nests of the above-mentioned owls those of the collared scops owl
(_Scops bakkamaena_) and the mottled wood-owl (_Syrnium ocellatum_)
are likely to be found at this season of the year. The scops is a
small owl with aigrettes or "horns," the wood-owl is a large bird
without aigrettes.
Both nest in holes in trees and lay white eggs after the manner of
their kind. The scops owl breeds from January till April, while
February and March are the months in which to look for the eggs of the
wood-owl.
In the western districts of the United Provinces the Indian
cliff-swallows (_Hirundo fluvicola_) are beginning to construct their
curious nests. Here and there a pair of blue rock-pigeons (_Colombia
intermedia_) is busy with eggs or young ones. In the Punjab the ravens
are likewise employed.
The nesting season of the hoopoe has now fairly commenced. Courtship
is the order of the day. The display of this beautiful species is not
at all elaborate. The bird that "shows off" merely runs along the
ground with corona fully expanded. Mating hoopoes, however, perform
strange antics in the air; they twist and turn and double, just as a
flycatcher does when chasing a fleet insect. Both the hoopoe and the
roller are veritable aerial acrobats. By the end of the month all but
a few of the hoopoes have begun to nest; most of them have eggs, while
the early birds, described in January as stealing a march on their
brethren, are feeding their offspring. The 6th February is the
earliest date on which the writer has observed a hoopoe carrying food
to the nest; that was at Ghazipur.
March and April are the months in which the majority of coppersmiths
or crimson-breasted barbets rear up their families. Some, however, are
already working at their nests. The eggs are hatched in a cavity in a
tree--a cavity made by means of the bird's bill. Both sexes take part
in nest construction. A neatly-cut circular hole, about the size of a
rupee, on the lower surface or the side of a branch is assuredly the
entrance to the nest of a coppersmith, a green barbet, or a
woodpecker.
As the month draws to its close many a pair of nuthatches (_Sitta
castaneiventris_) may be observed seeking for a hollow in which to
nestle. The site selected is usually a small hole in the trunk of a
mango tree that has weathered many monsoons. The birds reduce the
orifice of the cavity to a very small size by plastering up the
greater part of it with mud. Hence the nest of the nuthatch, unless
discovered when in course of construction, is difficult to locate.
All the cock sunbirds (_Arachnechthra asiatica_) are now in the full
glory of their nuptial plumage. Here and there an energetic little hen
is busily constructing her wonderful pendent nest. Great is the
variety of building material used by the sunbird. Fibres, slender
roots, pliable stems, pieces of decayed wood, lichen, thorns and even
paper, cotton and rags, are pressed into service. All are held
together by cobweb, which is the favourite cement of bird masons. The
general shape of the nest is that of a pear. Its contour is often
irregular, because some of the materials hang loosely from the outer
surface.
The nursery is attached by means of cobweb to the beam or branch from
which it hangs. It is cosily lined with cotton or other soft material.
The hen, who alone builds the nest and incubates the eggs, enters and
leaves the chamber by a hole at one side. This is protected by a
little penthouse. The door serves also as window. The hen rests her
chin on the lower part of this while she is incubating her eggs, and
thus is able, as she sits, to see what is going on in the great world
without. She displays little fear of man and takes no pains to conceal
her nest, which is often built in the verandah of an inhabited
bungalow.
As the month nears its end the big black crows (_Corvus
macrorhynchus_) begin to construct their nests. The site selected is
usually a forked branch of a large tree. The nest is a clumsy platform
of sticks with a slight depression, lined by human or horse hair or
other soft material, for the reception of the eggs. Both sexes take
part in incubation. From the time the first egg is laid until the
young are big enough to leave the nest this is very rarely left
unguarded. When one parent is away the other remains sitting on the
eggs, or, after the young have hatched out, on the edge of the nest.
Crows are confirmed egg-stealers and nestling-lifters, and, knowing
the guile that is in their own hearts, keep a careful watch over their
offspring.
The kites (_Milvus govinda_) are likewise busy at their nurseries. At
this season of the year they are noisier than usual, which is saying a
great deal. They not only utter unceasingly their shrill
_chee-hee-hee-hee_, but engage in many a squabble with the crows.
The nest of the kite, like that of the corby, is an untidy mass of
sticks and twigs placed conspicuously in a lofty tree. Dozens of these
nests are to be seen in every Indian cantonment in February and March.
Why the crows and the kites should prefer the trees in a cantonment to
those in the town or surrounding country has yet to be discovered.
Mention has already been made of the fact that January is the month in
which the majority of the tawny eagles nest; not a few, however, defer
operations till February. Hume states that, of the 159 eggs of this
species of which he has a record, 38 were taken in December, 83 in
January and 28 in February.
The nesting season of the white-backed vulture is drawing to a close.
On the other hand, that of the black or Pondicherry vulture (_Otogyps
calvus_) is beginning. This species may be readily distinguished from
the other vultures, by its large size, its white thighs and the red
wattles that hang down from the sides of the head like drooping ears.
The nest of this bird is a massive platform of sticks, large enough to
accommodate two or three men. Hume once demolished one of these
vulturine nurseries and found that it weighed over eight maunds, that
is to say about six hundredweight. This vulture usually builds its
nest in a lofty _pipal_ tree, but in localities devoid of tall trees
the platform is placed on the top of a bush.
February marks the beginning of the nesting season of the handsome
pied kingfisher (_Ceryle rudis_). This is the familiar,
black-and-white bird that fishes by hovering kestrel-like on
rapidly-vibrating wings and then dropping from a height of some twenty
feet into the water below; it is a bird greatly addicted to goldfish
and makes sad havoc of these where they are exposed in ornamental
ponds. The nest of the pied kingfisher is a circular tunnel or burrow,
more than a yard in length, excavated in a river bank. The burrow,
which is dug out by the bird, is about three inches in diameter and
terminates in a larger chamber in which the eggs are laid.
Another spotted black-and-white bird which now begins nesting
operations is the yellow-fronted pied woodpecker (_Liopicus
mahrattensis_)--a species only a little less common than the beautiful
golden-backed woodpecker. Like all the Picidae this bird nests in the
trunk or a branch of a tree. Selecting a part of a tree which is
decayed--sometimes a portion of the bole quite close to the
ground--the woodpecker hews out with its chisel-like beak a neat
circular tunnel leading to the cavity in the decayed wood in which the
eggs will be deposited. The tap, tap, tap of the bill as it cuts into
the wood serves to guide the observer to the spot where the
woodpecker, with legs apart and tail adpressed to the tree, is at
work. In the same way a barbet's nest, while under construction, may
be located with ease. A woodpecker when excavating its nest will often
allow a human being to approach sufficiently dose to witness it throw
over its shoulder the chips of wood it has cut away with its bill.
In the United Provinces many of the ashy-crowned finch-larks
(_Pyrrhulauda grisea_) build their nests during February. In the
Punjab they breed later; April and May being the months in which their
eggs are most often found in that province. These curious
squat-figured little birds are rendered easy of recognition by the
unusual scheme of colouring displayed by the cock--his upper parts are
earthy grey and his lower plumage is black.
The habit of the finch-lark is to soar to a little height and then
drop to the ground, with wings closed, singing as it descends. It
invariably affects open plains. There are very few tracts of treeless
land in India which are not tenanted by finch-larks. The nest is a
mere pad of grass and feathers placed on the ground in a tussock of
grass, beside a clod of earth, or in a depression, such as a
hoof-print. The most expeditious way of finding nests of these birds
in places where they are abundant is to walk with a line of beaters
over a tract of fallow land and mark carefully the spots from which
the birds rise.
With February the nesting season of the barn-owls (_Strix flammea_)
begins in the United Provinces, where their eggs have been taken as
early as the 17th.
Towards the end of the month the white-browed fantail flycatchers
(_Rhipidura albifrontata_) begin to nest. The loud and cheerful song
of this little feathered exquisite is a tune of six or seven notes
that ascend and descend the musical scale. It is one of the most
familiar of the sounds that gladden the Indian countryside. The broad
white eyebrow and the manner in which, with drooping wings and tail
spread into a fan, this flycatcher waltzes and pirouettes among the
branches of a tree render it unmistakable. The nest is a dainty little
cup, covered with cobweb, attached to one of the lower boughs of a
tree. So small is the nursery that sometimes the incubating bird looks
as though it were sitting across a branch. This species appears to
rear two broods every year. The first comes into existence in March or
late February in the United Provinces and five or six weeks later in
the Punjab; the second brood emerges during the monsoon.
The white-eyed buzzards--weakest of all the birds of prey--begin to
pair towards the end of the month. At this season they frequently rise
high above the earth and soar, emitting plaintive cries.
The handsome, but destructive, green parrots are now seeking, or
making, cavities in trees or buildings in which to deposit their white
eggs.
The breeding season for the alexandrine (_Palaeornis eupatrius_) and
the rose-ringed paroquet (_P. torquatus_) begins at the end of January
or early in February. March is the month in which most eggs are taken.
In April and May the bird-catchers go round and collect the nestlings
in order to sell them at four annas apiece. Green parrots are the most
popular cage birds in India. Destructive though they be and a scourge
to the husbandman, one cannot but pity the luckless captives doomed to
spend practically the whole of their existence in small iron cages,
which, when exposed to the sun in the hot weather, as they often are,
must be veritable infernos.
The courtship of a pair of green parrots is as amusing to watch as
that of any 'Arry and 'Arriet. Not possessing hats the amorous birds
are unable to exchange them, but otherwise their actions are quite
coster-like. The female twists herself into all manner of ridiculous
postures and utters low twittering notes. The cock sits at her side
and admires. Every now and then he shows his appreciation of her
antics by tickling her head with his beak or by joining his bill to
hers.
Both the grey shrike and the wood-shrike begin nesting operations in
February. As, however, most of their nests are likely to be found
later in the year they are dealt with in the calendar for March.
MARCH
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;...
ARNOLD, _The Light of Asia_.
In March the climate of the plains of the United Provinces varies from
place to place. In the western sub-Himalayan tracts, as in the Punjab,
the weather still leaves little to be desired. The sun indeed is
powerful; towards the end of the month the maximum shade temperature
exceeds 80 degrees, but the nights and early mornings are delightfully
cool. In all the remaining parts of the United Provinces, except the
extreme south, temperate weather prevails until nearly the end of the
month. In the last days the noonday heat becomes so great that many
persons close their bungalows for several hours daily to keep them
cool, the outer temperature rising to ninety in the shade. At night,
however, the temperature drops to 65 degrees. In the extreme south of
the Province the hot weather sets in by the middle of March. The sky
assumes a brazen aspect and, at midday, the country is swept by
westerly winds which seem to come from a titanic blast furnace.
The spring crops grow more golden day by day. The mustard is the first
to ripen. The earlier-sown fields are harvested in March in the
eastern and southern parts of the country. The spring cereals are cut
by hand sickles, the grain is then husked by the tramping of cattle,
and, lastly, the chaff is separated from the grain on the threshing
floor, the hot burning wind often acting as a natural winnowing fan.
The air is heavily scented with the inconspicuous inflorescences of
the mangos (_Mangifera indica_). The pipals (_Ficus religiosa_) are
shedding their leaves; the _sheshams_ (_Dalbergia sissoo_) are
assuming their emerald spring foliage.
The garden, the jungle and the forest are beautified by the gorgeous
reds of the flowers of the silk-cotton tree (_Bombax malabarica_), the
Indian coral tree (_Erythrina indica_) and the flame-of-the-forest
(_Butea frondosa_). The sub-Himalayan forests become yellow-tinted
owing to the fading of the leaves of the _sal_ (_Shorea robusta_),
many of which are shed in March. The _sal_, however, is never entirely
leafless; the young foliage appears as the old drops off; while this
change is taking place the minute pale yellow flowers open out.
The familiar yellow wasps, which have been hibernating during the cold
weather, emerge from their hiding-places and begin to construct their
umbrella-shaped nests or combs, which look as if they were made of
rice-paper.
March is a month of great activity for the birds. Those that
constituted the avian chorus of February continue to sing, and to
their voices are now added those of many other minstrels. Chief of
these is the pied singer of Ind--the magpie-robin or _dhayal_--whose
song is as beautiful as that of the English robin at his best. From
the housetops the brown rock-chat begins to pour forth his exceedingly
sweet lay. The Indian robin is in full song. The little golden ioras,
hidden away amid dense foliage, utter their many joyful sounds. The
brain-fever bird grows more vociferous day by day. The crow-pheasants,
which have been comparatively silent during the colder months of the
year, now begin to utter their low sonorous _whoot_, _whoot_, _whoot_,
which is heard chiefly at dawn.
Everywhere the birds are joyful and noisy; nowhere more so than at the
silk-cotton and the coral trees. These, although botanically very
different, display many features in common. They begin to lose their
leaves soon after the monsoon is over, and are leafless by the end of
the winter. In the early spring, while the tree is still devoid of
foliage, huge scarlet, crimson or yellow flowers emerge from every
branch. Each flower is plentifully supplied with honey; it is a
flowing bowl of which all are invited to partake, and hundreds of
thousands of birds accept the invitation with right good-will. The
scene at each of these trees, when in full flower, baffles
description.
Scores of birds forgather there--rosy starlings, mynas, babblers,
bulbuls, king-crows, tree-pies, green parrots, sunbirds and crows.
These all drink riotously and revel so loudly that the sound may be
heard at a distance of half a mile or more. Even before the sun has
risen and begun to dispel the pleasant coolness of the night the
drinking begins. It continues throughout the hours of daylight.
Towards midday, when the west wind blows very hot, it flags somewhat,
but even when the temperature is nearer 100 degrees than 90 degrees
some avian brawlers are present. As soon as the first touch of the
afternoon coolness is felt the clamour acquires fresh vigour and does
not cease until the sun has set in a dusty haze, and the spotted
owlets have emerged and begun to cackle and call as is their wont.
These last are by no means the only birds that hold concert parties
during the hours of darkness. In open country the jungle owlet and the
dusky-horned owl call at intervals, and the Indian nightjar
(_Caprimulgus asiaticus_) imitates the sound of a stone skimming over
ice. In the forest tracts Franklin's and Horsfield's nightjars make
the welkin ring. Scarce has the sun disappeared below the horizon when
the former issues forth and utters its harsh _tweet_. Horsfield's
nightjar emerges a few minutes later, and, for some hours after dusk
and for several before dawn, it utters incessantly its loud monotonous
_chuck_, _chuck_, _chuck_, _chuck_, _chuck_, which has been aptly
compared to the sound made by striking a plank sharply with a hammer.
March is the month in which the majority of the shrikes or
butcher-birds go a-courting. There is no false modesty about
butcher-birds. They are not ashamed to introduce their unmelodious
calls into the avian chorus. But they are mild offenders in comparison
with the king-crows (_Dicrurus ater_) and the rollers (_Coracias
indica_).
The little black king-crows are at all seasons noisy and vivacious:
from the end of February until the rains have set in they are
positively uproarious. Two or three of them love to sit on a telegraph
wire, or a bare branch of a tree, and hold a concert. The first
performer draws itself up to its full height and then gives vent to
harsh cries. Before it has had time to deliver itself of all it has to
sing, an impatient neighbour joins in and tries to shout it down. The
concert may last for half an hour or longer; the scene is shifted from
time to time as the participants become too excited to sit still. The
king-crows so engaged appear to be selecting their mates; nevertheless
nest-construction does not begin before the end of April.
Some human beings may fail to notice the courtship of the king-crow,
but none can be so deaf and blind as to miss the love-making of the
gorgeous roller or blue jay. Has not everyone marvelled at the hoarse
cries and rasping screams which emanate from these birds as they fling
themselves into the air and ascend and descend as though they were
being tossed about by unseen hands?
Their wonderful aerial performances go on continually in the hours of
daylight throughout the months of March and April; at this season the
birds, beautiful although they be, are a veritable nuisance, and most
people gratefully welcome the comparative quiet that supervenes after
the eggs have been laid. The madness of the March hare is mild
compared with that of the March roller. It is difficult to realise
that the harsh and angry-sounding cries of these birds denote, not
rage, but joy.
The great exodus of the winter visitors from the plains of India
begins in March. It continues until mid-May, by which time the last of
the migratory birds will have reached its distant breeding ground.
This exodus is usually preceded by the gathering into flocks of the
rose-coloured starlings and the corn-buntings. Large noisy
congregations of these birds are a striking feature of February in
Bombay, of March in the United Provinces, and of April in the Punjab.
Rose-coloured starlings spend most of their lives in the plains of
India, going to Asia Minor for a few months each summer for nesting
purposes. In the autumn they spread themselves over the greater part
of Hindustan, most abundantly in the Deccan.
In the third or fourth week of February the rosy starlings of Bombay
begin to form flocks. These make merry among the flowers of the coral
tree, which appear first in South India, and last in the Punjab. The
noisy flocks journey northwards in a leisurely manner, timing their
arrival at each place simultaneously with the flowering of the coral
trees. They feed on the nectar provided by these flowers and those of
the silk-cotton tree. They also take toll of the ripening corn and of
the mulberries which are now in season. Thus the rosy starlings reach
Allahabad about the second week in March, and Lahore some fifteen days
later.
The head, neck, breast, wings and tail of the rosy starling are glossy
black, and the remainder of the plumage is pale salmon in the hen and
the young cock, and faint rose-colour in the adult cock.
Rosy starlings feed chiefly in the morning and the late afternoon.
During the hottest part of the day they perch in trees and hold a
concert, if such a term may be applied to a torrent of sibilant
twitter.
Buntings, like rosy starlings, are social birds, and are very
destructive to grain crops.
As these last are harvested the feeding area of the buntings becomes
restricted, so that eventually every patch of standing crop is alive
with buntings. The spring cereals ripen in the south earlier than in
northern India, so that the cheerful buntings are able to perform
their migratory journey by easy stages and find abundant food all
along the route.
There are two species of corn-bunting--the red-headed (_Emberiza
luteola_) and the black-headed (_E. melanocephala_). In both the lower
plumage is bright yellow.
Among the earliest of the birds to forsake the plains of Hindustan are
the grey-lag goose and the pintail duck. These leave Bengal in
February, but tarry longer in the cooler parts of the country. Of the
other migratory species many individuals depart in March, but the
greater number remain on into April, when they are caught up in the
great migratory wave that surges over the country. The destination of
the majority of these migrants is Tibet or Siberia, but a few are
satisfied with the cool slopes of the Himalayas as a summer resort in
which to busy themselves with the sweet cares of nesting. Examples of
these more local migrants are the grey-headed and the verditer
flycatchers, the Indian bush-chat and, to some extent, the paradise
flycatcher and the Indian oriole. The case of the oriole is
interesting. All the Indian orioles (_Oriolus kundoo_) disappear from
the Punjab and the United Provinces in winter. In the former province
no other oriole replaces _O. kundoo_, but in the United Provinces the
black-headed oriole (_O. melanocephalus_) comes to take the place of
the other from October to March. When this last returns to the United
Provinces in March the greater number of _melanocephalus_ individuals
go east, a few only remaining in the sub-Himalayan tracts of the
province.