Before the last day of August all the young mynas have emerged from the egg, and throughout the first half of September numbers of them are to be seen following their parents and clamouring for food. Most of the koels have departed, but some individuals belonging to the rising generation remind us that they are still with us by emitting sounds which are very fair imitations of the "sqwaking" of young crows.

Baby koels are as importunate as professional beggars and solicit food of every crow that passes by, to the great disgust of all but their foster-parents.

The majority of the seven sisters have done with nursery duties for a season. Some flocks, however, are still accompanied by impedimenta in the shape of young babblers or pied crested-cuckoos. The impedimenta make far more noise than the adult birds. They are always hungry, or at any rate always demanding food in squeaky tones. With each squeak the wings are flapped violently, as if to emphasise the demand. Every member of a flock appears to help to feed the young birds irrespective of whose nests these have been reared in.

Throughout September bayas are to be seen at their nests, but, before the month draws to its close, nearly all the broods have come out into the great world. The nests will remain until next monsoon, or even longer, as monuments of sound workmanship.

In September numbers of curious brown birds, heavily barred with black, make their appearance. These are crow-pheasants that have emerged from nests hidden away in dense thickets. In a few weeks these birds will lose their barred feathers and assume the black plumage and red wings of the adult. By the end of August most of the night-herons and those of the various species of egrets that have not been killed by the plume-hunters are able to congratulate themselves on having successfully reared up their broods. In September they lose their nuptial plumes.



OCTOBER

Ye strangers, banished from your native glades, Where tyrant frost with famine leag'd proclaims "Who lingers dies"; with many a risk ye win The privilege to breathe our softer air And glean our sylvan berries. GISBORNE'S Walks in a Forest.

October in India differs from the English month in almost every respect. The one point of resemblance is that both are periods of falling temperature.

In England autumn is the season for the departure of the migratory birds; in India it is the time of their arrival.

The chief feature of the English October—the falling of the leaves—is altogether wanting in the Indian autumn.

Spring is the season in which the pulse of life beats most vigorously both in Europe and in Asia; it is therefore at that time of year that the trees renew their garments.

In England leaves are short-lived. After an existence of about six months they "curl up, become brown, and flutter from their sprays." In India they enjoy longer lives, and retain their greenness for the greater part of a year. A few Indian trees, as, for example, the shesham, lose their foliage in autumn; the silk-cotton and the coral trees part with their leaves gradually during the early months of the winter, but these are the exceptions; nearly all the trees retain their old leaves until the new ones appear in spring, so that, in this country, March, April and May are the months in which the dead leaves lie thick upon the ground.

In many ways the autumn season in Northern India resembles the English spring. The Indian October may be likened to April in England. Both are months of hope, heralds of the most pleasant period of the year. In both the countryside is fresh and green. In both millions of avian visitors arrive.

Like the English April, October in Northern India is welcome chiefly for that to which it leads. But it has merits of its own. Is not each of its days cooler than the preceding one? Does it not produce the joyous morn on which human beings awake to find that the hot weather is a thing of the past?

Throughout October the sun's rays are hot, but, for an hour or two after dawn, especially in the latter half of the month, the climate leaves little to be desired. An outing in the early morning is a thing of joy, if it be taken while yet the air retains the freshness imparted to it by the night, and before the grass has yielded up the sparkling jewels acquired during the hours of darkness. It is good to ride forth on an October morn with the object of renewing acquaintance with nimble wagtails, sprightly redstarts, stately demoiselle cranes and other newly-returned migrants. In addition to meeting many winter visitors, the rider may, if he be fortunate, come upon a colony of sand-martins that has begun nesting operations.

The husbandman enjoys very little leisure at this season of the year. From dawn till sunset he ploughs, or sows, or reaps, or threshes, or winnows.

The early-sown rice yields the first-fruits of the kharif harvest. By the end of the month it has disappeared before the sickle and many of the fields occupied by it have been sown with gram. The hemp (san) is the next crop to mature. In some parts of Northern India its vivid yellow flowers are the most conspicuous feature of the autumn landscape. They are as brilliantly coloured as broom. The san plant is not allowed to display its gilded blooms for long, it is cut down in the prime of life and cast into a village pond, there to soak. The harvesting of the various millets, the picking of the cotton, and the sowing of the wheat, barley, gram and poppy begin before the close of the month. The sugar-cane, the arhar and the late-sown rice are not yet ready for the sickle. Those crops will be cut in November and December.

As in September so in October the birds are less vociferous than they were in the spring and the hot weather. During the earlier part of the month the notes of the koel and the brain-fever bird are heard on rare occasions; before October has given place to November, these noisy birds cease to trouble. The pied starlings have become comparatively subdued, their joyful melody is no longer a notable feature of the avian chorus. In the first half of the month the green barbets utter their familiar cries at frequent intervals; as the weather grows colder they call less often, but at no season of the year do they cease altogether to raise their voices. The tonk, tonk, tonk of the coppersmith is rarely heard in October; during the greater part of the cold weather this barbet is a silent creature, reminding us of its presence now and then by calling out wow softly, as if half ashamed at the sound of its voice. The oriole now utters its winter note tew, and that sound is heard only occasionally.

It is unnecessary to state that the perennials—the crows, kites, doves, bee-eaters, tree-pies, tailor-birds, cuckoo-shrikes, green parrots, jungle and spotted owlets—are noisy throughout the month.

The king-crows no longer utter the soft notes which they seem to keep for the rainy season; but, before settling down to the sober delights of the winter, some individuals become almost as lively and vociferous as they were in the nesting season. Likewise some pairs of "blue jays" behave, in September and October, as though they were about to recommence courtship; they perform strange evolutions in the air and emit harsh cries, but these lead to nothing; after a few days of noisy behaviour the birds resume their more normal habits.

The hoopoes have been silent for some time, but in October a few of them take up their refrain—uk-uk-uk-uk, and utter it with almost as much vigour as they did in March.

It would thus seem that the change of season, the approach of winter, has a stimulating influence on king-crows, rollers and hoopoes, causing the energy latent within them suddenly to become active and to manifest itself in the form of song or dance.

In October the pied chat and the wood-shrike frequently make sweet melody. Throughout the month the cock sunbirds sing as lustily and almost as brilliantly as canaries; many of them are beginning to reassume the iridescent purple plumage which they doffed some time ago. From every mango tope emanates the cheerful lay of the fantail flycatcher and the lively "Think of me ... Never to be" of the grey-headed flycatcher. Amadavats sing sweet little songs without words as they flit about among the tall grasses.

In the early morning and at eventide, the crow-pheasants give vent to their owl-like hoot, preceded by a curious guttural kok-kok-kok. The young ones, that left the nest some weeks ago, are rapidly losing their barred plumage and are assuming the appearance of the adult. By the middle of November very few immature crow-pheasants are seen.

Migration and moulting are the chief events in the feathered world at the present season. The flood of autumn immigration, which arose as a tiny stream in August, and increased in volume nightly throughout September, becomes, in October, a mighty river on the bosom of which millions of birds are borne.

Day by day the avian population of the jhils increases. At the beginning of the month the garganey teal are almost the only migratory ducks to be seen on them. By the first of November brahminy duck, gadwall, common teal, widgeon, shovellers and the various species of pochard abound. With the duck come demoiselle cranes, curlews, storks, and sandpipers of various species. The geese and the pintail ducks, however, do not return to India until November. These are the last of the regular winter visitors to come and the first to go.

The various kinds of birds of prey which began to appear in September continue to arrive throughout the present month.

Grey-headed and red-breasted flycatchers, minivets, bush-chats, rose-finches and swallows pour into the plains from the Himalayas, while from beyond those mountains come redstarts, wagtails, starlings, buntings, blue-throats, quail and snipe. Along with the other migrants come numbers of rooks and jackdaws. These do not venture far into India; they confine themselves to the North-West Frontier Province and the Punjab, where they remain during the greater part of the winter. The exodus, from the above-mentioned Provinces, of the bee-eaters, sunbirds, yellow-throated sparrows, orioles, red turtle-doves and paradise flycatchers is complete by the end of October. The above are by no means the only birds that undergo local migration. The great majority of species probably move about in a methodical manner in the course of the year; a great deal of local migration is overlooked, because the birds that move away from a locality are replaced by others of their kind that come from other places.

During a spell of exceptionally cold weather a great many Himalayan birds are driven by the snow into the plains of India, where they remain for a few days or weeks. Some of these migrants are noticed in the calendar for December.

In October the annual moult of the birds is completed, so that, 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.

The dusky horned-owl (Bubo coromandus) may be distinguished from the rock-horned species by the paler, greyer plumage, and by the fact that its eyes are deep yellow, rather than orange. Its cry has been described as wo, wo, wo, wo-o-o. The writer would rather represent it as ur-r-r, ur-r-r, ur-r-r-r-r—a low grunting sound not unlike the call of the red turtle-dove. This owl is very partial to crows. Mr. Cripps once found fifteen heads of young crows in a nest belonging to one of these birds. December and January are the months in which to look for the nest, which is a platform of sticks placed in a fork of a large tree. Two eggs are laid.

The breeding season for Bonelli's eagle (Hieraetus fasciatus) begins in December. The eyrie of this fine bird is described in the calendar for January.

In the Punjab many ravens build their nests during the present month.

Throughout January, February and the early part of March ravens' nests containing eggs or young are likely to be seen.

Ordinarily the nesting season of the common kite (Milvus govinda) does not begin until February, but as the eggs of this bird have been taken as early as the 29th December, mention of it must be made in the calendar for the present month. A similar remark applies to the hoopoe (Upupa indica).

Doves nest in December, as they do in every other month.

Occasionally a colony of cliff-swallows (Hirundo flavicolla) takes time by the forelock and begins to build one of its honeycomb-like congeries of nests in December. This species was dealt with in the calendar for February.

Blue rock-pigeons mostly nest at the beginning of the hot weather. Hume, however, states that some of these birds breed as early as Christmas Day. Mr. P. G. S. O'Connor records the finding of a nest even earlier than that. The nest in question was in a weir of a canal. The weir was pierced by five round holes, each about nine inches in diameter. Through four of these the water was rushing, but the fifth was blocked by debris, and on this a pair of pigeons had placed their nest.



GLOSSARY

Arhar. A leguminous crop plant which attains a height of four feet or more.

Chik. A curtain composed of a number of very thin strips of wood. Chiks are hung in front of doors and windows in India with the object of keeping out insects, but not air.

Holi. A Hindu festival.

Jhil. A lake or any natural depression which is filled with rain-water at all or in certain seasons.

Kharif. Autumn. Rice and other crops which are reaped in autumn are called kharif crops. Crops such as wheat which are cut in spring are called rabi crops. Two crops (sometimes three) are raised in India annually.

Megas. Sugar-cane from which the juice has been extracted.

Rabi. Spring. See Kharif.

Shikari. One who goes hunting or shooting.

Tope. A term applied to a grove of mango trees, artificially planted. Thousands of such topes exist in Northern India. In some places they are quite a feature of the landscape.



INDEX

Amadavat. See Red munia

Babbler, common (Crateropus canorus), 36, 49, 68, 82, 89, 108, 120, 124, 142, 156, 162, 163, 183 —large grey (Argya malcomi), 162

Barbet, green (Thereiceryx zeylonicus), 7, 20, 53, 66, 68, 82, 89, 106, 108, 121, 138, 155, 168, 185, 192

Baya. See Weaver-bird

Bee-eater, 3, 73, 74, 108, 120, 125, 139, 157, 169, 172, 182 —blue-tailed (Merops philippinus), 43, 89 —little green (M. viridis), 43, 89

Blue Jay. See Roller

Blue-throat, 172

Brain-fever bird. See Hawk-cuckoo

Bulbul, 5, 20, 36, 65, 68, 89, 107, 108, 123, 182, 185 —Bengal (Molpastes bengalensis), 47 —black (Hypsipetes psaroides), 192 —red-whiskered (Otocompsa emeria), 46

Bunting, 40, 41, 172, 183 —black-headed (Emberiza melanocephala), 41 —pine (Emberiza leucocephala), 193 —red-headed (Emberiza luteola), 41

Buzzard, 175, 183 —long-legged (Buteo ferox), 160 —white-eyed (Butastur teesa), 30, 44, 68, 69, 89, 108, 160

Chat, 3 —brown-rock (Cercomela fuscus), 59, 70, 89, 108, 123, 138 —dark grey bush (Oreicola ferrea), 193 —Indian bush (Pratincola maura), 42, 172, 173 —pied bush (Pratincola caprata), 21, 65, 74, 89, 170

Coot, common (Fulica atra), 135 —purple (Porphyrio poliocephalus), 121, 133, 135, 146, 184

Coppersmith or crimson-breasted barbet (Xantholaema haematocephala), 7, 20, 23, 44, 53, 66, 68, 82, 89, 106, 108, 121, 138, 169, 185, 191

Cormorant, 3, 133, 135, 142, 183

Crane, 184 —demoiselle (Anthropoides virgo), 167, 171 —sarus (Grus antigone), 5, 98, 133, 143, 156, 176

Creeper, wall, 192

Crow, 13, 36, 69, 119, 156, 169, 183, 185 —black, or jungle crow or corby (Corvus macrorhynchus), 5, 25, 44, 68, 89 —house (Corvus splendens), 5, 108, 113, 124, 125, 141, 162

Crow-pheasant or coucal (Centropus sinensis), 36, 82, 112, 120, 138, 142, 156, 164, 170, 176, 183

Cuckoo, European (Cuculus canorus), 66, 80 —hawk (Hierococcyx varius), 20, 36, 49, 82, 84, 120, 124, 138, 155, 157, 168 —Indian (Cuculus micropterus), 85, 120, 138 —pied crested (Coccystes jacobinus), 114, 120, 124, 138, 142, 155, 157, 163 —sirkeer (Taccocua leschenaulti), 124

Cuckoo-shrike (Grauculus macii), 5, 51, 52, 89, 108, 124, 142, 169

Curlew, 171, 184

Dabchick, or little grebe (Podiceps albipennis), 150, 183

Darter. See Snake-bird

Dhayal. See Magpie-robin

Did-he-do-it. See Red-wattled lapwing

Dove, 8, 9, 21, 44, 54, 68, 89, 108, 123, 156, 162, 169, 174, 185 —little brown (Turtur cambayensis), 5 —red turtle (Oenopopelia tranquebarica), 157, 172 —ring (Turtur risorius), 5 —spotted (Turtur suratensis), 5

Drongo or king-crow (Dicrurus ater), 3, 36, 38, 43, 77, 90, 107, 108, 120, 121, 138, 157, 169, 170, 182, 192

Duck, 3, 133, 146, 183, 185 —brahminy (Casarca rutila), 64, 185 —comb or nukta (Sarcidiornis melanotus), 115, 135, 143, 149 —gadwall (Chaulelasmus streperus), 64, 171 —mallard (Anas boscas), 64 —pintail (Dafila acuta), 41, 64, 171 —pochard (Netta ferina), 64, 171 —shoveller (Spatula clypeata), 171 —spot-billed (Anas poecilorhyncha), 134, 135 —widgeon (Mareca penelope), 64, 171

Eagle, 21 —Bonelli's (Hieraetus fasciatus), 10, 44, 197 —Pallas's fishing (Haliaetus leucoryphus), 11, 43, 187, 193 —steppe (Aquila bifasciata), 160 —tawny (Aquila vindhiana), 11, 44, 68, 89, 160, 187, 193

Egret, 99, 133, 134, 135, 142 —cattle (Bubulcus coromandus), 100, 151

Falcon, lugger (Falco jugger), 160 —peregrine (Falco peregrinus), 160, 161, 174 —shahin (Falco peregrinator), 174

Finch, rose (Carpodacus erythrinus), 158, 172, 183

Finch-lark, ashy-crowned (Pyrrhulauda grisea), 28, 44, 56, 68, 89, 183

Flycatcher, 3, 185 —fantail (Rhipidura albifrontata), 5, 29, 44, 68, 83, 89, 106, 108, 125, 142, 156, 170, 182, 191 —grey-headed (Culicicapa ceylonensis), 6, 21, 42, 156, 170, 172, 182, 191, 192 —paradise (Terpsiphone paradisi), 42, 43, 77, 92, 107, 108, 123, 157, 172 —red-breasted (Siphia albicilla), 172 —verditer (Stoparola melanops), 42, 193

Gadwall. See Duck

Goatsucker. See Nightjar

Goose, 3, 64, 171, 185 —grey-lag (Anser ferus), 41

Grebe. See Dabchick

Harrier, 161, 183

Hawk, sparrow, 160

Heron, 135, 184 —night (Nycticorax griseus), 89, 113, 133, 142 —pond, or paddy-bird (Ardeola grayii), 99, 113, 134, 142, 184

Honeysucker. See Sunbird

Hoopoe (Upupa indica), 7, 17, 20, 23, 68, 83, 97, 108, 170, 182, 185, 191, 197

Hornbill, grey (Lophoceros birostris), 78, 95, 108

Ibis, 184 —black (Inocotis papillosus), 135

Iora (Aegithina tiphia), 35, 65, 71, 72, 83, 89, 106, 108, 121, 123

Jacana, 121, 133, 185 —bronze-winged (Metopus indicus), 134, 135, 144, 145, 183 —pheasant-tailed (Hydrophasianus chirurgus), 114, 135, 144, 145, 183

Jackdaw, 3, 172

Jungle-fowl (Gallus ferrugineus), 108

Kestrel, 160, 161, 183

King-crow. See Drongo

Kingfisher, 184, 185 —pied (Ceryle rudis), 27, 44, 68, 88 —white-breasted (Halcyon smyrnensis), 5, 45, 68, 73, 89, 106, 108, 121, 138, 182

Kite (Milvus govinda), 5, 14, 26, 44, 68, 89, 108, 119, 156, 160, 169, 183, 185, 191 —black-winged (Elanus caeruleus), 160 —brahminy (Haliastur indicus), 56, 68 —large Indian (Milvus melanotis), 160

Koel (Eudynamis honorata), 8, 43, 82, 84, 110, 120, 124, 125, 138, 141, 155, 157, 163, 168

Lapwing, 108, 123, 183 —red-wattled (Sarcogrammus indicus), 5, 77, 88, 89, 139 —yellow-wattled (Sarciophorus malabaricus), 77, 89

Lark, crested (Galerita cristata), 21, 56, 89, 108 —red-winged bush (Mirafra erythroptera), 123 —sky (Alauda gulgula), 21, 68, 89, 108, 183, 191

Mallard. See Duck

Martin, sand (Cotyle sinensis), 14, 21, 44, 68, 73, 89, 167, 187, 193

Merlin, common (Aesalon regulus), 160, 161 —red-headed (Aesalon chicquera), 12, 21, 44, 68, 89, 160

Minivet, 51, 158, 172, 181 —little (Pericrocotus peregrinus), 52, 68, 89, 125, 142

Munia, 21 —red or amadavat (Estrelda amandava), 15, 44, 124, 140, 156, 186 —white-throated (Uroloncha malabarica), 16, 44, 162, 186

Myna, 5, 82, 108, 156, 157, 175, 182, 183 —bank (Acridotheres ginginianus), 59, 89, 94, 123 —brahminy (Temenuchus pagodarum), 73, 94, 124 —common (Acridotheres tristis), 59, 73, 93, 124, 142, 162, 185 —pied. See Pied Starling

Nightjar, 53, 66, 87, 89, 108 —Franklin's (Caprimulgus monticolus), 37, 88 —Horsfield's (Caprimulgus horsfieldi), 37, 88, 106 —Indian (Caprimulgus asiaticus), 37, 88

Nuthatch (Sitta castaneiventris), 7, 20, 23, 44, 68, 83, 88, 182, 192

Openbill (Anastomus oscitans), 142

Oriole, 78, 83, 106, 108, 124, 138, 156, 157, 169, 172, 182, 191 —black-headed (Oriolus melanocephalus), 20, 42 —Indian (Oriolus kundoo), 42, 90

Osprey, 3, 160, 161, 184

Ouzel, black-throated (Merula atrigularis), 193 —grey-winged (Merula boulboul), 193

Owl, 66, 159 —barn (Strix flammea), 29, 49 —brown fish (Ketupa ceylonensis), 14, 21, 44, 193, 194, 195 —collared scops (Scops bakkamaena), 22, 44, 87 —dusky horned (Bubo coromandus), 6, 14, 22, 193, 196 —mottled wood (Syrnium ocellatum), 22, 44 —rock horned (Bubo bengalensis), 14, 21, 44, 193, 195

Owlet, jungle (Glaucidium radiatum), 6, 86, 138, 169 —spotted (Athene brama), 6, 53, 68, 86, 88, 98, 118, 138, 169

Paddy-bird. See Pond-heron

Paroquet or green parrot, 5, 30, 36, 68, 88, 97, 156, 169, 183, 185 —alexandrine (Palaeornis eupatrius), 31, 44 —rose-winged (Palaeornis torquatus), 31, 44, 53

Parrot, green See Paroquet

Partridge, black (Francolinus vulgaris), 98, 107, 138 —grey (Francolinus pondicerianus), 76, 89, 97, 108, 162, 186

Pea-fowl (Pavo cristatus), 98, 124, 138, 142, 162

Pelican, 3, 184

Pie, tree (Dendrocitta rufa), 5, 36, 59, 68, 89, 108, 123, 169, 185

Pigeon, blue rock (Columba intermedia), 17, 22, 69, 89, 108, 197 —green (Crocopus phoenicopterus), 89, l08, 123

Pipit (Anthus rufulus), 56, 68, 89, 108

Plover, 142, 183 —little ringed (Aegialitis dubia), 89 —spur-winged (Hoplopterus ventralis), 57, 89 —swallow (Glareola lactea), 57

Pochard. See Duck

Quail, 64, 183 —grey (Coturnix communis), 159, 172 —rain (Coturnix coromandelica), 121

Rail, water (Rallus indicus), 184

Raven, 3, 14, 44, 197

Redstart, Indian (Ruticilla frontalis), 158, 167, 172, 173, 182, 192 —white-capped (Chimarrhornis leucocephalus), 193

Robin, Indian (Thamnobia cambayensis), 21, 35, 59, 65, 76, 89, 108, 123, 182, 191 —magpie (Copsychus saularis), 8, 35, 65, 73, 74, 83, 89, 106, 108, 120, 121, 123, 138, 155, 182

Roller or "blue jay" (Coracias indica), 38, 39, 53, 67, 73, 83, 89, 106, 108, 123, 139, 141, 156, 169, 170, 182

Rook, 3, 172

Sand-grouse, 77, 89

Sandpiper, 171

Seven Sisters. See Babbler

Shikra (Astur badius), 69, 89, 160

Shoveller. See Duck

Shrike, 38, 50, 68, 89, 108, 123, 142, 182 —bay-backed (Lanius vittatus), 51 —large grey (Lanius lahtora), 21, 32, 50 —rufous-backed (Lanius erythronotus), 51

Skimmer, Indian (Rhynchops albicollis), 57

Skylark. See Lark

Snake-bird (Plotus melanogaster), 3, 133, 135, 142, 183

Snipe, 3, 64, 139, 158, 172, 184, 192 —fantail or full (Gallinago coelestis), 140 —jack (Gallinago gallinula), 140 —pintail (Gallinago stenura), 139

Sparrow (Passer domesticus), 54, 89, 108, 123, 185 —yellow-throated (Gymnorhis flavicollis), 43, 73, 89, 157, 172

Spoonbill, 135, 142

Starling, 3, 172, 182 —pied (Sternopastor contra), 77, 94, 107, 124, 138, 142, 155, 168 —rosy (Pastor roseus), 36, 40, 139

Stork, 171, 184 —black-necked (Xenorhynchus asiaticus), 176, 186, 193 —white-necked (Dissura episcopus), 113, 124, 135, 142

Sunbird, purple (Arachnechthra asiatica), 3, 6, 8, 20, 24, 36, 43, 44, 65, 68, 89, 106, 108, 123, 156, 157, 170, 172, 182, 185, 191

Swallow, 172, 182, 184 —Indian cliff (Hirundo fluvicola), 17, 22, 44, 68, 89, 133, 140, 197 —wire-tailed (Hirundo smithii), 54, 68, 89, 108, 124, 125, 142

Swift (Cypselus indicus), 54, 68, 89, 108, 123, 142, 182, 184

Tailor-bird (Orthotomus sutorius), 5, 59, 65, 72, 82, 89, 108, 124, 169, 182

Teal, 3, 64, 143, 171, 183 —cotton (Nettopus coromandelianus), 121, 135, 148 —garganey or blue-winged (Querquedula circia), 139, 159, 171 —whistling (Dendocygna javanica), 185

Tern, 57, 68, 142, 184 —black-bellied (Sterna melanogaster), 57 —river, (Sterna seena), 57

Thrush, blue rock (Petrophila cyanus), 192 —Himalayan whistling (Myophoneus temmincki), 193 —small-billed mountain (Oreocincla dauma), 192

Tit, green-backed (Parus monticola), 192

Vulture, 21, 159, 183 —Pondicherry or black (Otogyps calvus), 26, 44, 68, 88 —scavenger (Neophron ginginianus), 56, 68, 89 —white-backed (Pseudogyps bengalensis), 9, 68, 186, 193

Wagtail, 156, 157, 167, 172, 173, 182, 183, 184 —grey (Motacilla melanope), 158 —masked (Motacilla personata), 158 —pied (Motacilla maderaspatensis), 59, 65, 74, 89 —white (Motacilla alba), 158 —white-faced (Motacilla leucopsis), 158

Warbler, 139, 156, 181, 185, 191 —ashy wren (Prinia socialis), 124, 132, 142 —flycatcher (Cryptolopha xanthoschista), 192 —Indian wren (Prinia inornata), 48, 68, 108, 124, 131, 142 —reed (Acrocephalus stentoreus), 184

Water-hen, white-breasted (Gallinula phoenicura), 98, 124, 133, 146

Weaver-bird or baya (Ploceus baya), 114, 127, 142, 163, 176

Whimbrel, 184

White-eye (Zosterops palpebrosa), 5, 65, 71, 89, 108, 123, 180, 182, 185

Widgeon. See Duck

Woodpecker, golden-backed (Brachypternus aurantius), 5, 53, 68, 89, 106, 108, 121, 182 —pied (Liopicus mahrattensis), 28, 44, 53, 68, 89, 182

Wood-shrike (Tephrodornis pondicerianus), 7, 32, 51, 65, 68, 89, 170, 182, 185

Wryneck, 182



ANIMALS OF NO IMPORTANCE BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Nature.—"We may commend the book as an excellent example of 'Nature teaching.'"

Literary World.—"Mr. Dewar makes us laugh while he teaches us.... These twenty essays are in all ways delightful."

Saturday Review.—"A number of excellent books on Natural History ... proceed from Anglo-Indian authors; and certainly this ... is worthy of its predecessors."

Academy.—"A chatty anecdote book ... showing a sense of humour and kindly insight ... many amusing stories."

Indian Daily News.—"Brightly and cleverly written ... pleasant and amusing reading."

Morning Post (Delhi).—"A treasure-trove of literary art."

Madras Mail.—"Mr. Dewar ... displays quite remarkable knowledge and insight as well as a pretty wit.... Mr. Dewar's volume is calculated to give delight to all who are interested in the creatures of God's earth. Its humours will raise many a smile, while its keenness and accuracy of observation should induce many readers to study more closely the ... life ... around them."

Civil and Military Gazette.—"Shows the faculty of observation as well as a pleasant style."

Englishman.—"The reader will easily fall under the sway of the writer's charms.... Mr. Dewar's book is as interesting as it is entertaining."



BOMBAY DUCKS AN ACCOUNT OF SOME OF THE EVERYDAY BIRDS AND BEASTS FOUND IN A NATURALIST'S EL DORADO BY DOUGLAS DEWAR ILLUSTRATED BY MAJOR F. D. S. FAYRER

PRESS OPINIONS

Standard.—"The book is entertaining, even to a reader who is not a naturalist first and a reader afterwards.... The illustrations cannot be too highly praised."

Daily News.—"A charming introduction to a great many interesting birds."

Scotsman.—"Like a good curry, it is richly and agreeably seasoned with a pungent humour."

Manchester Guardian.—"A series of clever and accurate essays on Indian Natural History written by a man who really knows the birds and beasts."

Daily Chronicle.—"A series of informing and often diverting chapters."

Tribune.—"Those who know India ... will find themselves smiling again and again at the vivid recollection called up by these descriptions."

Times.—"A collection of bright popular papers by an observant naturalist."

Pall Mall Gazette.—"Most entertaining dissertations on the tricks and manners of many birds and beasts in India."

Yorkshire Daily Observer.—"This handsome and charming book ... the author has many interesting observations to record, and he does so in a very racy manner."

Spectator.—"Mr. Douglas Dewar's book is excellent ... the photographs of birds by Captain Fayrer ... are most remarkable."

Graphic.—"Light and easy, yet full of information."

County Gentleman.—"Thoroughly interesting."

Illustrated London News.—"Mr. Dewar ... has collected a series of essays on bird life which for sprightliness and charm are equal to anything written since that classic 'The Tribes on my Frontier' was published."

Shooting Times.—"... a more delightful work ... has not passed through our hands for many a long day.... There is not a dull line in the book, which is beautifully illustrated."

Truth.—"... a naturalist with a happy gift for writing in a bright and entertaining way, yet without any sacrifice of scientific accuracy."

Outlook.—"... the essays make pleasant reading.... We doubt if anything better has been done in bird photography."

Pioneer.—"... not only is the book very fascinating to read, but most instructive."

Indian Daily News.—"Mr. Dewar's excellent book ... beautifully illustrated."

Indian Daily Telegraph.—"Mr. Dewar's book is of the kind of delightful volume which is always to be kept at hand and dipped into."

Madras Mail.—"Phil Robinson delighted a generation that knew not 'Eha,' and now Mr. Dewar will complete a trio which, for some time to come at least, will stand for all that is best in that branch of literature which they have made their own."

Civil and Military Gazette.—"A volume which is far the best of its kind since the immortal works of Phil Robinson and 'Eha.'"

The Indian Field.—"... these charming chapters.... There is not a dull paragraph in the whole book."



BIRDS OF THE PLAINS BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Daily Chronicle.—"Here is a work worthy of all commendation to those who love birds."

Daily Graphic.—"... a work which all bird lovers will welcome ... beautifully illustrated."

Daily Express.—"... light, sprightly and thoroughly entertaining."

Globe.—"Mr. Dewar ... is gifted with the descriptive art in a high degree, and his vivacious style communicates the characters and habits of the birds with unerring fidelity and infinite spirit."

Sportsman.—"Mr. Dewar has a delightfully simple and quaintly humorous way of expressing himself, and his clever word-pictures of bird-life make charming reading."

Manchester Guardian.—"His breezy style is pleasant and easy reading. The photographs deserve the highest praise."

Manchester Courier.—"Mr. Dewar has produced a book that will delight not only ornithologists, but all who have the good fortune to light on this humorously instructive volume."

Western Morning News.—"The book is enjoyable from the playful preface to the last chapter."

Spectator.—"... the contents are excellent."

Field.—"... it may well stand on the same bookshelf with the entertaining and instructive writings of 'Eha.'"

Madame.—"... accounts of many birds written in the author's inimitable style."

Outlook.—"... as charming a volume—avowedly ornithological—as it has been our good fortune to encounter."

Sunday Times.—"Mr. Dewar, like Goldsmith, has a delightful style."

Pall Mall Gazette.—"Mr. Dewar's volume is one of the best recent examples of sound information conveyed in attractive literary form."

Literary World.—"Upon every page ... there is a merit to justify the existence of the page."

Dundee Advertiser.—"... just as good reading as ... 'Bombay Ducks,' and to say so much is to bestow high praise."

Birmingham Post.—"There is a gladness in his aspect, a pleasing inquisitiveness concerning bird mystery, and a simple, candid style of self-revelation in his essays full of fascination, with touches now and again that remind one of the descriptive qualities of Francis A. Knight. The wood-joy that inspired the felicitous phrases and delightful reflections of John Burroughs in the Western Hemisphere finds its counterpart in these Indian bird-pictures."

Indian Field.—"... not a volume that will grow dusty and uncared for on a neglected shelf."

Times of India.—"The book has a charm all its own, and is written with rare humour, a humour that in no way detracts from its scientific utility."

Englishman.—"One of the most interesting books on bird-life we have seen."



INDIAN BIRDS A KEY TO THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE PLAINS OF INDIA BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Pall Mall Gazette.—"This practical and useful work ... is a key to the everyday birds of the Indian plains, in which birds are classified according to their habits and outward differences ... and familiarity with these pages would enable the average man in a few weeks to know all the birds he meets in an Indian station."

Daily Mail.—"The plan of this clever little volume ... is as simple as it is ingenious.... It is a safe and thorough guide."

Athenaeum.—"Mr. Dewar is a capable guide."

Manchester Guardian.—"... new, original and invaluable to the beginner ... it is a small book, but it represents a wonderful amount of thoughtful ingenuity and patient work."

Daily News.—"We feel inclined to defy any Indian bird to hide its identity from an enquirer armed with this volume."

Truth.—"An admirable practical handbook of Indian ornithology."

Scotsman.—"Mr. Dewar's compact, clearly classified, concise and comprehensive manual ... cannot but prove eminently serviceable."

Spectator.—"The book is most carefully compiled and much ingenuity is displayed in framing this artificial analysis."

Western Daily Mercury.—"A very interesting volume."

Manchester Courier.—"All ornithologists in India ... will appreciate and value 'Indian Birds.'"

Literary Post.—"... a model of all that such a book should be."

Pioneer.—"The plan of the book is unique.... It can be heartily recommended."

Indian Field.—"We can thoroughly recommend this book to all not versed in ornithology and who wish to know our birds without having to kill them."



JUNGLE FOLK ACCOUNTS OF SOME OF THE SMALLER FRY OF THE INDIAN JUNGLE BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Westminster Gazette.—"Mr. Dewar writes brightly and cleverly about these lesser jungle folk."

Scotsman.—"... interesting and delightful."

Evening Standard.—"The author ... writes not only out of the fulness of his knowledge, but in a pleasant unpedantic style."

Liverpool Daily Post.—"... most readable and enjoyable."

Sunday Times.—"We give his book the highest praise possible when we say that it will serve as a matter-of-fact commentary to Mr. Kipling's 'Jungle Books.'"

Irish Independent.—"... a work of the most captivating charm."

Outlook.—"... pleasant little essays."

Literary World.—"This lively book ... abounds in word-pictures and happy humour."

Glasgow Evening News.—"Mr. Douglas Dewar writes with accustomed grace and sympathetic knowledge."

Academy.—"... with Mr. Dewar there is a smile on every page, and his touch is so light that one only realises, when the process is at an end, that a large amount of information has been imparted in an amusing form."

Western Morning News.—"Every page makes for easy reading and ready attention."

Shooting Times.—"... delightful reading."

Catholic Herald.—"Quite the most interesting natural history work we have seen for a long time."

Manchester Courier.—"Mr. Dewar's ... shrewd observation, his quaint humour and his wide knowledge of Indian bird-life make his every page interesting."

The World.—"We have read and enjoyed much of his work before, but we think that 'Jungle Folk' makes even more delightful reading than anything that has come from its author's pen."

Birmingham Daily Post.—"... entertaining sketches ... and light dissertations."

Times of India.—"Mr. Dewar's bright and pleasant pages."

Madras Mail.—"The reader who has perused Mr. Dewar's books merely for amusement will find that he has incidentally added a good deal to his knowledge of Indian natural history."



GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Globe.—"Mr. Dewar gives us something more than 'glimpses' of Indian bird-life in his very interesting volume."

Standard.—"Not the least merit of the book is the author's unwillingness to take anything for granted."

Spectator.—"We know nothing better to recommend to an amateur ornithologist who finds himself in India for the first time."

Guardian.—"... vivid and delightful."

Observer.—"... full of special knowledge."

Scotsman.—"... a lively and interesting series of short studies."

Daily Graphic.—"The book is full of the right sort of information about birds."

Field.—"... chatty and graphically written."

Daily Citizen.—"... very pleasant and very instructive reading."

The World.—"We have read and enjoyed his earlier efforts, but we think that his latest will be found the most valuable and enduring of all his work."

Pall Mall Gazette.—"... much first-hand observation and experience."

Birmingham Daily Post.—"These ... 'glimpses' ... so full of alert observation and racy description, are delightful and informing reading."

Newcastle Daily Chronicle.—"... his accounts ... make us feel that we have been with him in something more than the spirit."

Pioneer.—"The charm of the volume ... lies in the evidence of the immense amount of observation carried out by the writer."



BIRDS OF INDIAN HILLS A GUIDE TO THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE INDIAN HILL STATIONS BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

PRESS OPINIONS

Sunday Times.—"Excellent is hardly good enough a term for this volume."

Times.—"Mr. Dewar writes accurately and vividly of his selected group of birds in the Himalayas and Nilgiris, and adds a list of those to be found in the Palni Hills."

Field.—"Mr. Dewar gives short descriptions of the most notable species, not in wearisome detail as affected by some writers, but in a few sentences which carry enough to enable the reader to recognise a bird when he sees it."

Aviatic Review.—"... a very useful, compact little volume."

Pall Mall Gazette.—"The book will appeal most of all to those who have occasion to visit Indian hill stations."

Morning Post.—"Now and again he gives us little pictures of bird-life, which are pleasant proofs that he is, like M. Fabre, a master of the new science that will not select the facts or distort them to suit some splendid generalisation."



THE MAKING OF SPECIES BY DOUGLAS DEWAR AND FRANK FINN WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS A BOOK THAT BRINGS DARWINISM UP TO DATE

PRESS OPINIONS

Truth.—"'The Making of Species' will do much to arrest the fossilisation of biological science in England."

Outlook.—"... a book of knowledge and originality. Messrs. Dewar and Finn are capable investigators. This work is thoroughly characteristic of our day. A long volume full of interest and very clearly written."

Literary World.—"The book is certainly to be welcomed for the concise way in which it deals with the greatest problem of zoology."

Aberdeen Free Press.—"The book is well written. We do not doubt that the work will produce good fruit and attract considerable attention."

Daily Telegraph.—"Interesting and suggestive. It should receive wide attention."

Dublin Daily Express.—"The merits of the book are undoubtedly great. We recommend it to the attentive study of all who are interested in the subject of evolution."

Manchester Courier.—"The amateur entering this perplexing field could hardly have a better guide."

Nation.—"An exceptionally interesting book."

Scotsman.—"Impartial and awakening."

Bristol Mercury.—"The authors ... handle a subject which has an obvious controversial side with strength, and there are convincing qualities as well as lucidity in the views so admirably set forth."

Times.—"The two authors ... deal suggestively with the difficulties of natural selection ... and their arguments are supported by a goodly array of facts."

Liverpool Courier.—"Contains a great deal of well-marshalled observation."

Lancet.—"A very interesting book ... simply and clearly written."

Dundee Advertiser.—"... a book which is at the same time one of the most interesting and readable on the controversial aspects of natural history published in recent years."

The Christian World.—"This very interesting work."

Bristol Times.—"A work of value, which will give occasion to many to think, and an admirable presentation of facts."

Westminster Review.—"... written in popular language and contains many original observations."

Daily Chronicle.—"An interesting and suggestive book."

THE END