Glimpses of Indian Birds

The small groves that usually surround hamlets in Oudh are favourite resorts of birds.

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

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

The sunbirds (Arachnechthra asiatica) were the leading minstrels. There may have been a dozen of them in the little tope. To count them was impossible, because sunbirds are never still for two seconds together. When not flitting about amid the foliage looking for insects they are playing hide-and-seek, or pouring out their canary-like song. At this season of the year the cocks are in undress plumage. In his full splendour the male is glistening purple; but in August he loses nearly all his purple gloss and becomes brownish above and ashy grey below, save for a purple stripe running downwards from his chin. The hen is at all times brown above and yellow below.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarcely had I lost sight of him when there was a considerable commotion in the pipal tree near by. When running to discover the cause of this I startled half a dozen pipits (Anthus rufulus) that, hidden by the grass, were feeding on the ground. They, as is their wont when frightened, flew into the foliage. Pipits are dull brown birds, streaked like larks, that display tail-wagging propensities. I discovered that the bird making the commotion near the summit of the pipal tree was a vulture. Very large and out of place did it seem struggling among the slender branches with wings spread-eagled. It was tugging away vigorously at a small branch and soon succeeded in breaking it off. Having accomplished this, it scrambled on to what looked like a large ball of dried leaves and twigs caught in one of the upper branches. This was a nest in course of construction, which the vulture was lining with pipal branches. Presently the huge bird flew off, and I was then able to identify it as the white-backed vulture (Pseudogyps bengalensis). I returned to the mango tree beneath which I had been standing, and in so doing disturbed a bee-eater (Merops viridis) that was perching on one of the lower branches. Of the presence in the vicinity of these charming little birds I was already aware from their soft twitterings. I had not actually seen them, because their habit is to perch on the outer branches of trees, whence they make aerial sallies after insects.

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

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

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

I have omitted to make mention of the sprightly magpie-robin (Copsychus saularis). Of this species there was at least one pair in that little grove, and several times did the cock descend to the ground, and hop about, with tail erect. He is arrayed in black and white, and a smarter-looking bird does not exist. His mate also put in an appearance; she has all his sprightliness and is equally tastefully attired in grey and white.

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

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

The magpie-robin (Copsychus saularis), or dhayal, as the Indians call him, is a truly delightful bird. He is of handsome appearance, bold disposition, and confiding habits. He is, further, a singer who can hold his own in any company when at his best. The dhayal is a typically Indian bird, being found in all parts of the country from the Himalayas to Cape Comorin. He is common in Ceylon and ascends the hills of India to altitudes of over 6000 feet. He is, I believe, more abundant in the United Provinces than anywhere else.

It is no exaggeration to assert that at least one pair of magpie-robins lives in every garden in Oudh and Agra. I do not count as gardens those treeless compounds in which some bungalows are situate, for the magpie-robin is a bird that loves shade. The species, although by no means rare in South India, is not nearly so abundant there as in the northern part of the peninsula.

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

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

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

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

The magpie-robin does not carry his tail as most birds do, but goes about with it pointed to the sky. This gives the bird a very sprightly appearance. Its actions fulfil the promise of its looks. It is never still for an instant. Now it descends to the ground, where it hops about with tail erect, picking up here and there tiny insects; now it flies into a tree or bush, where it pursues its search for insects or pours forth its joyous song. Nor does it confine its operations to trees, bushes, and dry land. I have seen a magpie-robin hunting for insects on a tangled mass of weeds and stems floating on water. On these it hopped about just as it does on terra firma. Each little jump caused considerable commotion in the water. The bird did not seem to mind its toes getting wet.

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

Needless to say, the period when the cock dhayal is in song corresponds to the mating time. At this season the cocks are very pugnacious. This pugnacity is simply the expression of the fact that the dhayal is at that time more than usually overflowing with energy. This energy has to find outlets. One of these is through the medium of vigorous song. Another way of dissipating energy is by performing gymnastic feats in the air. As a rule magpie-robins rarely perform sustained flights. They are content with flitting from bush to bush, or making little excursions to the ground and back again. But at the breeding season the cocks often fly up high in the air and describe a series of wide circles. They will spend hours in this performance with only a few seconds' rest at long intervals.

The eggs are nearly always placed in some natural hole, that is to say, one not excavated by the dhayal itself. The hole is sometimes in a tree, but nine times out of ten in Northern India the site selected is a hole in some building. The servants' quarters in the corner of some shady garden are almost invariably chosen. A very favourite spot is between the wooden lintel and the mud wall of a kachcha building; such buildings are well called kachcha, for they begin to crack and fall down as soon as they are built. The cracks and crevices that appear in them offer just what magpie-robins want for nesting purposes. The eggs are not laid on the bare brick, mud, or other material in which the cavity exists. The hole is invariably lined with roots, fibres, grass, feathers, or any other soft material available. My experience of the nests of this species has been confined chiefly to Northern India, and I do not recollect ever having found a nest that was not in the wall of some building; but observers from South India say that, as often as not, the dhayal nests in trees.[1] Oates states that in Burma the magpie-robin almost invariably selects a large hollow bamboo, and places its nest about two feet inside, near the first joint; but he adds that the bamboos selected are generally to be found lying about the verandahs and cucumber framings of the native houses. The truth of the matter would seem to be that magpie-robins select the very first cavity of the right size they come across, and, as they affect human habitations, the cavity used is almost invariably near some man's dwelling. In Northern India the construction of the dwellings of Indians is such that the walls afford convenient sites, so that these are generally utilised; in other parts of the country, where the walls do not present so many holes, other cavities in trees, etc., are selected.

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

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

The Indian darter, or snake-bird (Plotus melanogaster) is best described by what I may perhaps call the synthetic method. Take a large cormorant and remove the head and neck; to the headless cormorant, sew on the head and neck of a heron, and you will have produced a very fair imitation of the Indian snake-bird. If during the operation you happen to have dislocated one of the lower neck vertebrae of the heron, so much the better, for the slender neck of the darter is characterised by a bend at the junction of the eighth and ninth vertebrae, which, as Mr.

Garrod has shown, enables the bird, by suddenly straightening the neck, to transfix the fish on which it has designs. As a catcher of fish the snake-bird is probably without peer. This is not surprising, since it possesses the swimming and diving apparatus of the cormorant, the long neck and dagger-like beak of the heron, and, in addition, a patent thrusting apparatus in the shape of the aforesaid kink in the neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At the nesting season it is more likely to be seen in flocks than at other times, for numbers breed together, often in company with herons and cormorants. Like these latter, the snake-bird times its nesting operations so that the young will be hatched out after the monsoon has brought into existence numbers of amphibia and crustacea on which to feed them. Accordingly, it nidificates in July, August, and September in Northern India and Travancore, which are served by the south-west monsoon, and in January and February in those parts of South India visited by the north-east monsoon.

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

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

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

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