clothed in their warm new feathers, they are ready for winter some
time before it comes. In the case of the redstart, the bush-chat, most
of the wagtails, and some other species, the moult completely changes
the colouring of the bird. The reason of this is that the edges of the
new feathers are not of the same colour as the inner parts. Only the
margins show, because the feathers of a bird overlap like slates on a
roof, or the scales of a fish. After a time the edges of the new
feathers become worn away, and then the differently-hued deeper parts
begin to show, so that the bird gradually resumes the appearance it
had before the moult. When the redstarts reach India in September most
of the cocks are grey birds, because of the grey margins to their
feathers; by the middle of April, when they begin to depart, many of
them are black, the grey margins of the feathers having completely
disappeared; other individuals are still grey because the margins of
the feathers are broader or have not worn so much.
October is the month in which the falconer sallies forth to secure the
hawks which will be employed in "the sport of kings" during the cold
weather. There are several methods of catching birds of prey, as
indeed there are of capturing almost every bird and beast. The amount
of poaching that goes on in this country is appalling, and, unless
determined efforts are made to check it, there is every prospect of
the splendid fauna of India being ruined. The sportsman is bound by
all manner of restrictions, but the poacher is allowed to work his
wicked will on the birds and beasts of the country, almost without let
or hindrance.
The apparatus usually employed for the capture of the peregrine, the
shahin and other falcons is a well-limed piece of cane, about the
length of the expanse of a falcon's wings. To the middle of this a
dove, of which the eyelids have been sewn up, is tied. When a wild
falcon appears on the scene the bird-catcher throws into the air the
cane with the luckless dove attached to it. The dove flies about
aimlessly, being unable to see, and is promptly pounced upon by the
falcon, whose wings strike the limed cane and become stuck to it; then
falcon and dove fall together to the ground, where they are secured by
the bird-catcher.
Another method largely resorted to is to tether a myna, or other small
bird, to a peg driven into the ground, and to stretch before this a
net, about three feet broad and six long, kept upright by means of two
sticks inserted in the ground. Sooner or later a bird of prey will
catch sight of the tethered bird, stoop to it, and become entangled in
the net.
A third device is to catch a buzzard and tie together some of the
flight feathers of the wing, so that it can fly only with difficulty
and cannot go far before it falls exhausted to the ground. To the feet
of the bird of which the powers of flight have been thus curtailed a
bundle of feathers is tied. Among the feathers several horsehair
nooses are set. When a bird of prey, of the kind on which the falconer
has designs, is seen the buzzard is thrown into the air. It flaps
along heavily, and is immediately observed by the falcon, which thinks
that the buzzard is carrying some heavy quarry in its talons. Now, the
buzzard is a weakling among the raptores and all the other birds of
prey despise it. Accordingly, the falcon, unmindful of the proverb
which says that honesty is the best policy, swoops down on the buzzard
with intent to commit larceny, and becomes entangled in the nooses.
Then both buzzard and falcon fall to the ground, struggling violently.
All that the bird-catcher has to do now is to walk up and secure his
prize.
October marks the beginning of a lull in the nesting activities of
birds, a lull that lasts until February. As we have seen, the nesting
season of the birds that breed in the rains ends in September,
nevertheless a few belated crow-pheasants, sarus cranes and
weaver-birds are often to be found in October still busy with
nestlings, or even with eggs; the latter usually prove to be addled,
and this explains the late sitting of the parent. October, however, is
the month in which the nesting season of the black-necked storks
(_Xenorhynchus asiaticus_) begins, if the monsoon has been a normal
one and the rains have continued until after the middle of September.
This bird begins to nest shortly after the monsoon rains have ceased.
Hard-set eggs have been taken in the beginning of September and as
late as 27th December. Most eggs are laid during the month of October.
The nest is a large saucer-shaped platform of twigs and sticks. Hume
once found one "fully six feet long and three broad." The nest is
usually lined with grass or some soft material and is built high up in
a tree. The normal number of eggs is four, these are of a dirty white
hue.
NOVEMBER
It is the very carnival of nature,
The loveliest season that the year can show!
* * * * *
The gently sighing breezes, as they blow,
Have more than vernal softness....
BERNARD BARTON.
The climate of Northern India is one of extremes. Six months ago
European residents were seeking in vain suitable epithets of
disapprobation to apply to the weather; to-day they are trying to
discover appropriate words to describe the charm of November. It is
indeed strange that no poet has yet sung the praises of the perfect
climate of the present month.
The cold weather of Northern India is not like any of the English
seasons. Expressed in terms of the British climate it is a dry summer,
warmest at the beginning and the end, in which the birds have
forgotten to nest.
The delights of the Indian winter are enhanced for the Englishman by
the knowledge that, while he lives beneath a cloudless sky and enjoys
genial sunshine, his fellow-men in England dwell under leaden clouds
and endure days of fog, and mist, and rain, and sleet, and snow. In
England the fields are bare and the trees devoid of leaves; in India
the countryside wears a summer aspect.
The sowings of the spring cereals are complete by the fifteenth of
November; those of the tobacco, poppy and potato continue throughout
the month. By the beginning of December most of the fields are covered
by an emerald carpet.
The picking of the cotton begins in the latter part of October, with
the result that November is a month of hard toil for the ponies that
have to carry the heavy loads of cotton from the fields into the
larger towns. By the middle of the month all the _san_ has been cut
and the water-nuts have been gathered in. Then the pressing of the
sugar-cane begins in earnest. The little presses that for eight months
have been idle are once again brought into use, and, from mid-November
until the end of January, the patient village oxen work them, tramping
in circles almost without interruption throughout the short hours of
daylight.
The custard-apples are ripening; the cork trees are white with pendent
jasmine-like flowers, and the loquat trees--the happy hunting ground
of flocks of blithe little white-eyes--put forth their inconspicuous
but strongly scented blossoms. Gay chrysanthemums are the most
conspicuous feature of the garden. The shesham and the silk-cotton
trees are fast losing their leaves, but all the other trees are
covered with foliage.
The birds revel, like man, in the perfect conditions afforded by the
Indian winter; indeed, the fowls of the air are affected by climate to
a greater extent than man is.
Those that winter in England suffer considerable hardship and
privation, while those that spend the cold weather in India enjoy life
to the uttermost.
Consider the birds, how they fare on a winter's day in England when
there is a foot of snow lying on the ground and the keen east wind
whistles through the branches of the trees. In the lee of brick walls,
hayricks and thick hedges groups of disconsolate birds stand, seeking
some shelter from the piercing wind. The hawthorn berries have all
been eaten. Insect food there is none; it is only in the summer time
that the comfortable hum of insects is heard in England. Thus the
ordinary food supply of the fowls of the air is greatly restricted,
and scores of field-fares and other birds die of starvation. The
snow-covered lawn in front of every house, of which the inmates are in
the habit of feeding the birds, is the resort of many feathered
things. Along with the robins and sparrows--habitual recipients of the
alms of man--are blackbirds, thrushes, tits, starlings, chaffinches,
rooks, jackdaws and others, which in fair weather avoid, or scorn to
notice, man. These have become tamed by the cold, and, they stand on
the snow, cold, forlorn and half-starved--a miserable company of
supplicants for food. Throughout the short cold winter days scarcely a
bird note is heard; the fowls of the air are in no mood for song.
Contrast the behaviour of the birds on a winter's day in India. In
every garden scores of them lead a joyful existence. Little flocks of
minivets display their painted wings as they flit hither and thither,
hunting insects on the leaves of trees. Amid the foliage warblers,
wood-shrikes, bulbuls, tree-pies, orioles and white-eyes busily seek
for food. Pied and golden-backed woodpeckers, companies of nuthatches,
and, here and there, a wryneck move about on the trunks and branches,
looking into every cranny for insects. King-crows, bee-eaters, fantail
and grey-headed flycatchers seek their quarry on the wing, making
frequent sallies into the open from their leafy bowers. Butcher-birds,
rollers and white-breasted kingfishers secure their victims on the
ground, dropping on to them silently from their watchtowers.
Magpie-robins, Indian robins, redstarts and tailor-birds likewise
capture their prey on the ground, but, instead of waiting patiently
for it to come to them, they hop about fussily in quest of it. Bright
sunbirds flit from bloom to bloom, now hovering in the air on
rapidly-vibrating wings, now dipping their slender curved bills into
the calyces.
On the lawn wagtails run nimbly in search of tiny insects, hoopoes
probe the earth for grubs, mynas strut about, in company with
king-crows and starlings, seeking for grasshoppers.
Overhead, swifts and swallows dash joyously to and fro, feasting on
the minute flying things that are found in the air even on the coolest
days. Above them, kites wheel and utter plaintive cries. Higher still,
vultures soar in grim silence. Flocks of emerald paroquets fly
past--as swift as arrows shot from bows--seeking grain or fruit.
In the shady parts of the garden crow-pheasants look for snakes and
other crawling things, seven sisters rummage among the fallen leaves
for insects, and rose-finches pick from off the ground the tiny seeds
on which they feed.
The fields and open plains swarm with larks, pipits, finch-larks,
lapwings, plovers, quail, buntings, mynas, crows, harriers, buzzards,
kestrels, and a score of other birds.
But it is at the _jhils_ that bird life seems most abundant. On some
tanks as many as sixty different kinds of winged things may be
counted. There are the birds that swim in the deep water--the ducks,
teal, dabchicks, cormorants and snake-birds; the birds that run about
on the floating leaves of water-lilies and other aquatic plants--the
jacanas, water-pheasants and wagtails; the birds that wade in the
shallow water and feed on frogs or creatures that lurk hidden in the
mud--the herons, paddy-birds, storks, cranes, pelicans, whimbrels,
curlews, ibises and spoonbills; the birds that live among sedges and
reeds--the snipe, reed-warblers, purple coots and water-rails. Then
there are the birds that fly overhead--the great kite-like ospreys
that frequently check their flight to drop into the water with a big
splash, in order to secure a fish; the kingfishers that dive so neatly
as barely to disturb the smooth surface of the lake when they enter
and leave it; the graceful terns that pick their food off the face of
the _jhil_; the swifts and swallows that feed on the insects which
always hover over still water.
Go where we will, be it to the sun-steeped garden, the shady mango
grove, the dusty road, the grassy plain, the fallow field, or among
the growing crops, there do we find bird life in abundance and food in
plenty to support it.
This is not the breeding season, therefore the bird choir is not at
its best, nevertheless the feathered folk everywhere proclaim the
pleasure of existence by making a joyful noise. From the crowded
_jhil_ emanate the sweet twittering of the wagtails, the clanging call
of the geese, the sibilant note of the whistling teal, the curious
_a-onk_ of the brahminy ducks, the mewing of the jacanas and the
quacking of many kinds of ducks. Everywhere in the fields and the
groves are heard the cawing of the crows, the wailing of the kites,
the cooing of the doves, the twittering of the sparrows, the crooning
of the white-eyes, the fluting of the wood-shrikes, the tinkling of
the bulbuls, the chattering of the mynas, the screaming of the green
parrots, the golden-backed woodpeckers and the white-breasted
kingfishers, the mingled harmony and discord of the tree-pies, the
sharp monosyllabic notes of the various warblers, the melody of the
sunbirds and the flycatchers. The green barbets also call
spasmodically throughout the month, chiefly in the early morning and
the late afternoon, but the only note uttered by the coppersmith is a
soft _wow_. The hoopoe emits occasionally a spasmodic _uk-uk-uk_.
The migrating birds continue to pour into India during the earlier
part of November. The geese are the last to arrive, they begin to come
before the close of October, and, from the second week of November
onwards, V-shaped flocks of these fine birds may be seen or heard
overhead at any hour of the day or night.
The nesting activities of the fowls of the air are at their lowest ebb
in November. Some thirty species are known to rear up young in the
present month as opposed to five hundred in May. In the United
Provinces the only nest which the ornithologist can be sure of finding
is that of the white-backed vulture.
Some of the amadavats are still nesting. Most of the eggs laid by
these birds in the rains yielded young ones in September, but it often
happens that the brood does not emerge from the eggs until the end of
October, with the result that in the earlier part of the present month
parties of baby amadavats are to be seen enjoying the first days of
their aerial existence. A few black-necked storks do not lay until
November; thus there is always the chance of coming upon an incubating
stork in the present month. Here and there a grey partridge's nest
containing eggs may be found. As has been said, the nesting season of
this species is not well-defined.
The quaint little thick-billed mites known as white-throated munias
(_Munia malabarica_) are also very irregular as to their nesting
habits. Their eggs have been taken in every month of the year except
June.
In some places Indian sand-martins are busy at their nests, but the
breeding season of the majority of these birds does not begin until
January.
Pallas's fishing-eagle is another species of which the eggs are likely
to be found in the present month. If a pair of these birds have a nest
they betray the fact to the world by the unmusical clamour they make
from sunrise to sunset.
The nesting season of the tawny eagle or wokab (_Aquila vindhiana_)
begins in November. The nest is a typical raptorial one, being a large
platform of sticks. It may attain a length of three feet and it is
usually as broad as it is long; it is about six inches in depth. It is
generally lined with leaves, sometimes with straw or grass and a few
feathers. It is placed at the summit of a tree. Two eggs are usually
laid. These are dirty white, more or less speckled with brown. The
young ones are at first covered with white down; in this respect they
resemble baby birds of prey of other species. The man who attempts to
take the eggs or young of this eagle must be prepared to ward off the
attack of the female, who, as is usual among birds of prey, is larger,
bolder and more powerful than the male. At Lahore the writer saw a
tawny eagle stoop at a man who had climbed a tree and secured the
eagle's eggs. She seized his turban and flew off with it, having
inflicted a scratch on his head. For the recovery of his turban the
egg-lifter had to thank a pair of kites that attacked the eagle and
caused her to drop that article while defending herself from their
onslaught.
DECEMBER
Striped squirrels raced; the mynas perked and pricked,
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.
ARNOLD, _The Light of Asia_.
In the eyes of the Englishman December in Northern India is a month of
halcyon days, of days dedicated to sport under perfect climatic
conditions, of bright sparkling days spent at the duck tank, at the
snipe _jhil_, in the _sal_ forest, or among the Siwaliks, days on
which office files rest in peace, and the gun, the rifle and the rod
are made to justify their existence. Most Indians, unfortunately, hold
a different opinion of December. These love not the cool wind that
sweeps across the plains. To them the rapid fall of temperature at
sunset is apt to spell pneumonia.
The average villager is a hot-weather organism. He is content with
thin cotton clothing which he wears year in year out, whether the
mercury in the thermometer stand at 115 degrees or 32 degrees.
However, many of the better-educated Indians have learned from
Englishmen how to protect themselves against cold; we may therefore
look forward to the time when even the poorest Indian will be able to
enjoy the health-bringing, bracing climate of the present month.
By the 1st December the last of the spring crops has been sown, most
of the cotton has been picked, and the husbandmen are busy cutting and
pressing the sugar-cane and irrigating the poppy and the _rabi_
cereals.
The crop-sown area is covered with a garment that, seen from a little
distance, appears to be made of emerald velvet. Its greenness is
intensified by contrast with the dried-up grass on the grazing lands.
In many places the mustard crop has begun to flower; the bright yellow
blooms serve to enliven the somewhat monotonous landscape. In the
garden the chrysanthemums and the loquat trees are still in flower;
the poinsettias put forth their showy scarlet bracts and the roses and
violets begin to produce their fragrant flowers.
The bird choir is composed of comparatively few voices. Of the
seasonal choristers the grey-headed flycatchers are most often heard.
The fantail flycatchers occasionally sing their cheerful lay, but at
this season they more often emit a plaintive call, as if they were
complaining of the cold.
Some of the sunbirds are still in undress plumage; a few have not yet
come into song, these give vent only to harsh scolding notes. From the
thicket emanate sharp sounds--_tick-tick_, _chee-chee_, _chuck-chuck_,
_chiff-chaff_; these are the calls of the various warblers that winter
with us. Above the open grass-land the Indian skylarks are singing at
Heaven's gate; these birds avoid towns and groves and gardens, in
consequence their song is apt to be overlooked by human beings. Very
occasionally the oriole utters a disconsolate-sounding _tew_; he is a
truly tropical bird; it is only when the sun flames overhead out of a
brazen sky that he emits his liquid notes. Here and there a hoopoe,
more vigorous than his fellows, croons softly--_uk_, _uk_, _uk_. The
coppersmith now and then gives forth his winter note--a subdued _wow_;
this is heard chiefly at the sunset hour.
The green barbet calls spasmodically throughout December, but, as a
rule, only in the afternoon. Towards the end of the month some of the
nuthatches and the robins begin to tune up. On cloudy days the
king-crows utter the soft calls that are usually associated with the
rainy season.
December, like November, although climatically very pleasant, is a
month in which the activities of the feathered folk are at a
comparatively low ebb. The cold, however, sends to India thousands of
immigrants. Most of these spend the whole winter in the plains of
India. Of such are the redstart, the grey-headed flycatcher, the snipe
and the majority of the game birds. Besides these regular migrants
there are many species which spend a few days or weeks in the plains,
leaving the Himalayas when the weather there becomes very inclement.
Thus the ornithologist in the plains of Northern India lives in a
state of expectancy from November to January. Every time he walks in
the fields he hopes to see some uncommon winter visitor. It may be a
small-billed mountain thrush, a blue rock-thrush, a wall-creeper, a
black bulbul, a flycatcher-warbler, a green-backed tit, a verditer
flycatcher, a black-throated or a grey-winged ouzel, a dark-grey
bush-chat, a pine-bunting, a Himalayan whistling thrush, or even a
white-capped redstart. Indeed, there is scarcely a species which
inhabits the lower ranges of the Himalayas that may not be driven to
the plains by a heavy fall of snow on the mountains. Naturally it is
in the districts nearest the hills that most of these rare birds are
seen--but there is no part of Northern India in which they may not
occur.
The nesting activity of birds in Upper India attains its zenith in
May, and then declines until it reaches its nadir in November. With
December it begins again to increase.
Of those birds whose nests were described last month the white-backed
vulture, Pallas's fishing-eagle, the tawny eagle, the sand-martin and
the black-necked stork are likely to be found with eggs or young in
the present month.
December marks the beginning of the nesting season for three large
owls--the brown fish-owl, the rock horned-owl and the dusky
horned-owl. The brown fish-owl (_Ketupa ceylonensis_) is a bird almost
as large as a kite. It has bright orange orbs and long, pointed
aigrettes. Its legs are devoid of feathers. According to Blanford it
has a dismal cry like _haw_, _haw_, _haw_, _ho_. "Eha" describes the
call as a ghostly hoot--a _hoo hoo hoo_, far-reaching, but coming from
nowhere in particular. These two descriptions do not seem to agree.
There is nothing unusual in this.
The descriptions of the calls of the nocturnal birds of prey given by
India ornithologists are notoriously unsatisfactory. This is perhaps
not surprising when we consider the wealth of bird life in this
country. It is no easy matter to ascertain the perpetrators of the
various sounds of the night, and, when the naturalist has succeeded in
fixing the author of any call, he finds himself confronted with the
difficult task of describing the sound in question. Bearing in mind
the way in which human interjections baffle the average writer, we
cannot be surprised at the poor success that crowns the endeavours of
the naturalist to syllabise bird notes.
As regards the call of the brown fish-owl the writer has been trying
for the past three or four years to determine by observation which of
the many nocturnal noises are to be ascribed to this species. With
this object he kept one of these owls captive for several weeks; the
bird steadfastly refused to utter a sound. One hoot would have
purchased its liberty; but the bird would not pay the price: it sulked
and hissed. The bird in question, although called a fish-owl, does not
live chiefly on fish. Like others of its kind it feeds on birds, rats
and mice. Hume found in the nest of this species two quails, a pigeon,
a dove and a myna, each with the head, neck and breast eaten away, but
with the wings, back, feet and tail remaining almost intact. "Eha" has
seen the bird stoop on a hare. The individual kept by the writer
throve on raw meat. This owl is probably called the fish-owl because
it lives near rivers and tanks and invariably nests in the vicinity of
water. The nest may be in a tree or on a ledge in a cliff. Sometimes
the bird utilises the deserted cradle of a fishing-eagle or vulture.
The structure which the bird itself builds is composed of sticks and
feathers and, occasionally, a few dead leaves. Two white eggs are
laid. The breeding season lasts from December to March.
The rock horned-owl (_Bubo bengalensis_) is of the same size as the
fish-owl, and, like the latter, has aigrettes and orange-yellow orbs,
but its legs are feathered to the toes. This owl feeds on snakes,
rats, mice, birds, lizards, crabs, and even large insects. "A loud
dissyllabic hoot" is perhaps as good a description of its call as can
be given in words. This species breeds from December to April. March
is the month in which the eggs are most likely to be found. The
nesting site is usually a ledge on some cliff overhanging water. A
hollow is scooped out in the ledge, and, on the bare earth, four white
eggs are laid.