The lammergeyer or bearded vulture (Gypaetus barbatus) is the king of the vultures. Some ornithologists classify it with the eagles. It is a connecting link between the two families. It is 4 feet in length and is known to the hillmen as the Argul.

During flight it may be recognised by the whitish head and nape, the pale brown lower plumage and the dark rounded tail.

Usually it keeps to rocky hills and mountains, over which it beats with a steady, sailing, vulturine flight. Numerous stories are told of its swooping down and carrying off young children, lambs, goats, and other small animals. Those who will may believe these stories. I do not. The lammergeyer is quite content to make a meal of offal, old bones, or other refuse.

THE FALCONIDAE OR FAMILY OF BIRDS OF PREY

First and foremost of the Falconidae are the eagles. Let me preface what little I have to say about these birds with the remark that I am unable to set forth any characteristics whereby a novice may recognise an eagle when he sees one on the wing. The reader should disabuse his mind of the idea he may have obtained from the writings of the poets of the grandeur of the eagle. Eagles may be, and doubtless often are, mistaken for kites. They are simply rather large falcons. They are mostly coloured very like the kite.

All true eagles have the leg feathered to the toe. I give this method of diagnosis for what it is worth, and that is, I fear, not very much, because eagles as a rule do not willingly afford the observer an opportunity of inspecting their tarsi.

The eagles most commonly seen in the Himalayas are the imperial eagle (Aquila helica), the booted eagle (Hieraetus pennatus), Bonelli's eagle (Hieraetus fasciatus), the changeable hawk-eagle (Spizaetus limnaetus), and Hodgson's hawk-eagle (Spizaetus nepalensis).

The imperial eagle has perhaps the darkest plumage of all the eagles. This species does not live up to its name. It feeds largely on carrion, and probably never catches anything larger than a rat. The imperial eagle is common about Mussoorie except in the rains. Captain Hutton states that he has seen as many as fifty of them together in the month of October when they reassemble after the monsoon.

The booted eagle has a very shrill call. Its lower parts are pale in hue.

Bonelli's eagle is fairly common both at Naini Tal and Mussoorie. It is a fine bird, and has plenty of courage. It often stoops to fowls and is destructive to game birds. It is of slighter build than the two eagles above described. Its lower parts are white.

The changeable hawk-eagle is also a fine bird. It is very addicted to peafowl. The hillmen call it the Mohrhaita, which, being interpreted, is the peacock-killer. It utters a loud cry, which Thompson renders whee-whick, whee-whick. This call is uttered by the bird both when on the wing and at rest. Another cry of this species has been syllabised toot, toot, toot, toot-twee.

Hodgson's hawk-eagle is also destructive to game. It emits a shrill musical whistle which can sometimes be heard when the bird is so high as to appear a mere speck against the sky. This species has a narrow crest.

Allied to the true eagles are the serpent-eagles. In these the leg is not feathered to the toe, so they may be said to form a link between the true eagles and the falcons.

One species—the crested serpent-eagle (Spilornis cheela)—is common in the Himalayas up to 8000 feet.

This eagle is perhaps the most handsome of the birds of prey. The crest is large and imposing. The upper parts are dark brown, almost black, with a purple or green gloss. The breast and under parts are rich deep brown profusely dotted with white ocelli. On the tail and wings are white bars. The wing bars are very conspicuous during flight. The crested serpent-eagle flies with the wings held very far back, so that it looks, as "Exile" says, like a large butterfly. When flying it constantly utters its shrill, plaintive call composed of two short sharp cries and three prolonged notes, the latter being in a slightly higher key.

Of the remaining birds of prey perhaps only two can fairly be numbered among the common birds of the Himalayas, and both of these are easy to recognise. They are the kite and the kestrel.

The common pariah kite (Milvus govinda) is the most familiar raptorial bird in India. Hundreds of kites dwell at every hill-station. They spend the greater part of the day on the wing, either sailing gracefully in circles high overhead or gliding on outstretched pinions over mountain and valley, with head pointing downwards, looking for the refuse on which they feed. To mistake a kite is impossible. Throughout the day it makes the welkin ring with its querulous chee-hee-hee-hee-hee. Some kites are larger than others, consequently ornithologists, who are never so happy as when splitting up species, have made a separate species of the larger race. This latter is called Milvus melanotis, the large Indian kite. It is common in the hills.

The kestrel (Tinnunculus alaudarius) is perhaps the easiest of all the birds of prey to identify. It is a greyish fowl with dull brick-red wings and shoulders. Its flight is very distinctive. It flaps the wings more rapidly than do most of its kind. While beating over the country it checks its flight now and again and hovers on rapidly vibrating wings. It does this when it fancies it has seen a mouse, lizard, or other living thing moving on the ground below. If its surmise proves correct, it drops from above and thus takes its quarry completely by surprise. It is on account of this peculiar habit of hovering in the air that the kestrel is often called the wind-hover in England. Needless to say, the kestrel affects open tracts rather than forest country. One of these birds is usually to be seen engaged in its craft above the bare slope of the hill on which Mussoorie is built. Other places where kestrels are always to be seen are the bare hills round Almora. The nest of this species is usually placed on an inaccessible crag.

THE COLUMBIDAE OR DOVE FAMILY

The cooing community is not much in evidence in the hills. In the Himalayas doves do not obtrude themselves upon our notice in the way that they do in the plains.

The green-pigeon of the mountains is the kokla (Sphenocercus sphenurus), so called on account of its melodious call, kok-la, kok-la. In appearance it is very like the green-pigeon of the plains and is equally difficult to distinguish from its leafy surroundings. The bronze-winged dove (Chalcophaps indica) I have never observed at any hill-station, but it is abundant in the lower ranges and in the Terai. Every sportsman must be familiar with the bird. Its magnificent bronzed metallic, green plumage renders its identification easy. The commonest dove of the Himalayan hill-stations is the Indian turtle-dove (Turtur ferago). Its plumage is of that grey hue which is so characteristic of doves as to be called dove-colour. The turtle-dove has a conspicuous patch of black-and-white feathers on each side of the neck. The only other dove seen in the hills with which it can be confounded is the little brown dove (T. cambayensis). The latter is a much smaller bird, and I have not observed it anywhere higher than 4500 feet above the sea-level.

The spotted dove (T. suratensis) occurs in small numbers in most parts of the Himalayas up to 7000 feet. It is distinguished by the wing coverts being spotted with rufous and black.

The Indian ring-dove (T. risorius) also occurs in the Western Himalayas. It is of a paler hue than the other doves and has no patch of black-and-white feathers on the sides of the neck, but has a black collar, with a narrow white border, round the back of the neck.

One other dove should perhaps be mentioned among the common birds of the Himalayas, namely, the bar-tailed cuckoo-dove (Macropygia tusalia). A dove with a long barred tail, of which the feathers are graduated, the median ones being the longest, may be set down as this species.

THE PHASIANIDAE OR FAMILY OF GAME BIRDS

The Himalayas are the home of many species of gallinaceous birds. In the highest ranges the snow-cocks, the tragopans, the blood-pheasant, and the glorious monaul or Impeyan pheasant abound. The foothills are the happy hunting-grounds of the ancestral cock-a-doodle-doo.

As this book is written with the object of enabling persons staying at the various hill-stations to identify the commoner birds, I do not propose to describe the gallinaceous denizens of the higher ranges or the foothills. In the ranges of moderate elevation, on which all the hill-stations are situated, the kalij, the cheer, and the koklas pheasants are common. Of these three the kalij is the only one likely to be seen in the ordinary course of a walk. The others are not likely to show themselves unless flushed by a dog.

The white-crested kalij-pheasant (Gennaeus albicristatus) may occasionally be seen in the vicinity of a village.

The bird does not come up to the Englishman's ideal of a pheasant. The bushy tail causes it to look rather like a product of the farmyard. The cock is over two feet in length, the hen is five inches shorter. The plumage of the former is dark brown, tinged with blue, each feather having a pale margin. The rump is white with broad black bars. The hen is uniformly brown, each feather having a narrow buff margin. Both sexes rejoice in a long backwardly-directed crest and a patch of bare crimson skin round each eye. The tail is much shorter and more bushy than that of the English pheasant. The crest is white in the cock and reddish yellow in the hen. Baldwin describes the call of this pheasant as "a sharp twut, twut, twut. Sometimes very low, with a pause between each note, then suddenly increasing loudly and excitedly."

The kalij usually affords rather poor sport.

The koklas pheasant (Pucrasia macrolopha) is another short-tailed species; but it is more game-like in appearance than the kalij and provides better sport.

It may be distinguished from the kalij by its not having the red patch of skin round the eye. The cock of this species has a curious crest, the middle portion of which is short and of a fawn colour; on each side of this is a long lateral tuft coloured black with a green gloss. The cry of this bird has been syllabised as kok-kok-pokrass.

In the cheer-pheasant (Catreus wellichi) both sexes have a long crest, like that of the kalij, and a red patch of skin round the eye. The tail of this species, however, is long and attenuated like that of the English pheasant, measuring nearly two feet. Wilson says, of the call of this bird: "Both males and females often crow at daybreak and dusk and, in cloudy weather, sometimes during the day. The crow is loud and singular, and, when there is nothing to interrupt, the sound may be heard for at least a mile. It is something like the words chir-a-pir, chir-a-pir, chir-a-pir, chirwa, chirwa, but a good deal varied."

The grey quail (Coturnix communis) is a common bird of the Himalayas during a few days only in the year. Large numbers of these birds rest in the fields of ripening grain in the course of their long migratory flight. Almost as regularly as clockwork do they appear in the Western Himalayas early in October on their way south, and again in April on their northward journey. By walking through the terraced fields at those times with a gun, considerable bags of quail can be secured. These birds migrate at night. Writing of them, Hume said: "One moonlight night about the third week in April, standing at the top of Benog, a few miles from Mussoorie, a dense cloud many hundred yards in length and fifty yards, I suppose, in breadth of small birds swept over me with the sound of a rushing wind. They were not, I believe, twenty yards above the level of my head, and their quite unmistakable call was uttered by several of those nearest me as they passed."

We must now consider the partridges that patronise the hills. The species most commonly met with in the Himalayas is the chakor (Caccabis chucar). In appearance this is very like the French or red-legged partridge, to which it is related. Its prevailing hue is pale reddish brown, the particular shade varying greatly with the individual. The most striking features of this partridge are a black band that runs across the forehead to the eyes and then down the sides of the head round the throat, forming a gorget, and a number of black bars on each flank. The favourite haunts of the chakor are bare grassy hillsides on which a few terraced fields exist. Chakor are noisy birds. The note most commonly heard is the double call from which their name is taken.

The black partridge or common francolin (Francolinus vulgaris) is abundant on the lower ranges of the Himalayas. At Mussoorie its curious call is often heard. This is so high-pitched as to be inaudible to some people. To those who can hear it, the call sounds like juk-juk-tee-tee-tur. This species has the habit of feigning a broken wing when an enemy approaches its young ones. The cock is a very handsome bird. The prevailing hue of his plumage is black with white spots on the flanks and narrow white bars on the back. The feathers of the crown and wings are buff and dark brown. A chestnut collar runs round the neck, while each side of the head is adorned by a white patch. The whole plumage of the hen is coloured like the wings of the cock.

The common hill-partridge (Arboricola torqueola) is a great skulker. He haunts dark densely jungled water-courses and ravines, and so is not likely to be seen about a hill-station; we will therefore pass him over without description.

THE CHARADRIIDAE OR PLOVER FAMILY

In conclusion mention must be made of the woodcock (Scolopax rusticola). This species, although it breeds throughout the Himalayas, usually remains during the summer at altitudes above those at which hill-stations are situate. The lowest height at which its nest has been found is, I believe, 9500 feet.



THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS

The majority of the birds which are common in the Eastern Himalayas are also abundant in the western part of the range, and have in consequence been described already. In order to avoid repetition this chapter has been put into the form of a list. The list that follows includes all the birds likely to be seen daily by those who in summer visit Darjeeling and other hill-stations east of Nepal.

Of the birds which find place in the list only those are described which have not been mentioned in the essay on the common birds of the Western Himalayas.

Short accounts of all the birds that follow which are not described in this chapter are to be found in the previous one.

THE CORVIDAE OR CROW FAMILY

1. Corvus macrorhynchus. The jungle-crow or Indian corby.

2. Dendrocitta himalayensis. The Himalayan tree-pie. Abundant.

3. Graculus eremita. The red-billed chough. In summer this species is not usually found much below elevations of 11,000 feet above the sea-level.

4. Pyrrhocorax alpinus. The yellow-billed chough. In summer this species is not usually seen at elevations below 11,000 feet.

5. Garrulus bispecularis. The Himalayan jay. Not so abundant as in the Western Himalayas.

6. Parus monticola. The green-backed tit. A common bird. Very abundant round about Darjeeling.

7. Machlolophus spilonotus. The black-spotted yellow tit. This is very like M. xanthogenys (the yellow-cheeked tit), which it replaces in the Eastern Himalayas. It is distinguished by having the forehead bright yellow instead of black as in the yellow-cheeked species. It is not very common.

8. AEgithaliscus erythrocephalus. The red-headed tit. Very common at Darjeeling.

9. Parus atriceps. The Indian grey tit.

THE CRATEROPODIDAE OR BABBLER FAMILY

Since most species of babblers are notoriously birds of limited distribution, it is not surprising that the kinds common in the Eastern Himalayas should not be the same as those that are abundant west of Nepal.

10. Garrulax leucolophus. The Himalayan white-crested laughing-thrush. This is the Eastern counterpart of the white-throated laughing-thrush (Garrulax albigularis). This species has a large white crest. It goes about in flocks of about a score. The members of the flock scream and chatter and make discordant sounds which some might deem to resemble laughter.

11. Ianthocincla ocellata. The white-spotted laughing-thrush. This is the Eastern counterpart of Ianthocincla rufigularis. It has no white in the throat, and the upper plumage is spotted with white. It is found only at high elevations in summer.

12. Trochalopterum chrysopterum. The eastern yellow-winged laughing-thrush. This is perhaps the most common bird about Darjeeling. Parties hop about the roads picking up unconsidered trifles.

The forehead is grey, as is much of the remaining plumage. The back of the head is bright chestnut. The throat is chestnut-brown. The wings are chestnut and bright yellow.

13. Trochalopterum squamatum. The blue-winged laughing-thrush. This is another common bird. Like all its clan it goes about in flocks. Its wings are chestnut and blue.

14. Grammatophila striata. The striated laughing-thrush. A common bird, but as it keeps to dense foliage it is heard more often than seen. Of its curious cries Jerdon likens one to the clucking of a hen which has just laid an egg. The tail is chestnut. The rest of the plumage is umber brown, but every feather has a white streak along the middle. These white streaks give the bird the striated appearance from which it obtains its name.

15. Pomatorhinus erythrogenys. The rusty-cheeked scimitar-babbler.

16. Pomatorhinus schisticeps. The slaty-headed scimitar-babbler. This is easily distinguished from the foregoing species by its conspicuous white eyebrow.

17. Alcippe nepalensis. The Nepal babbler or quaker-thrush. This is a bird smaller than a sparrow. As its popular name indicates, it is clothed in homely brown; but it has a conspicuous ring of white feathers round the eye and a black line on each side of the head, beginning from the eye. It is very common about Darjeeling. It feeds in trees and bushes, often descending to the ground. It utters a low twittering call.

18. Stachyrhis nigriceps. The black-throated babbler or wren-babbler. This is another small bird. Its general hue is olive brown. The throat is black, as is the head, but the latter has white streaks.

It is common about Darjeeling and goes about in flocks that keep to trees.

19. Stachyrhidopsis ruficeps. The red-headed babbler or wren-babbler. Another small bird with habits similar to the last.

An olive-brown bird with a chestnut-red cap. The lower parts are reddish yellow.

20. Myiophoneus temmincki. The Himalayan whistling-thrush. Common at Darjeeling.

21. Lioptila capistrata. The black-headed sibia, one of the most abundant birds about Darjeeling.

22. Actinodura egertoni. The rufous bar-wing. A bird about the size of a bulbul. It associates in small flocks which never leave the trees. Common about Darjeeling. A reddish brown bird, with a crest. There is a black bar in the wing.

23. Zosterops palpebrosa. The Indian white-eye.

24. Siva cyanuroptera. The blue-winged siva or hill-tit. A pretty little bird, about the size of a sparrow. The head is blue, deeper on the sides than on the crown, streaked with brown. The visible portions of the closed wing and tail are cobalt-blue.

This species goes about in flocks and has all the habits of a tit. It utters a cheerful chirrup.

25. Liothrix lutea. The red-billed liothrix or hill-tit, or the Pekin-robin. This interesting bird forms the subject of a separate essay.

26. Ixulus flavicollis. The yellow-naped ixulus. A small tit-like bird with a crest. Like tits these birds associate in small flocks, which move about amid the foliage uttering a continual twittering.

Brown above, pale yellow below. Chin and throat white. Back of neck rusty yellow. This colour is continued in a demi-collar round the sides of the neck. Common about Darjeeling.

27. Yuhina gularis. The striped-throated yuhina. Another tiny bird with all the habits of the tits. A flock of dull-brown birds, about the size of sparrows, having the chin and throat streaked with black, are likely to be striped-throated yuhinas.

28. Minla igneitincta. The red-tailed minla or hill-tit. This tit-like babbler is often seen in company with the true tits, which it resembles in habits and size. The head is black with a white eyebrow. The wings and tail are black and crimson. The rest of the upper plumage is yellowish olive. The throat is white, and the remainder of the lower plumage is bright yellow.

NOTE ON THE TITS AND SMALL BABBLERS

Tits are small birds, smaller than sparrows, which usually go about in flocks. They spend most of their lives in trees. In seeking for insects, on which they feed largely, they often hang upside down from a branch. All tits have these habits; but all birds of these habits are not tits. Thus the following of the babblers described above have all the habits of tits: the white-eye, the black-throated babbler, the red-headed babbler, the blue-winged siva, the yellow-naped ixulus, the striped-throated yuhina, and the red-tailed minla.

The above are all birds of distinctive colouring and may be easily distinguished.

Other small birds which are neither tits nor babblers go about in flocks, as, for example, nuthatches, but these other birds differ in shape and habits from babblers and tits, so that no one is likely to confound them with the smaller Corvidae or Crateropodidae.

29. Molpastes leucogenys. The white-cheeked bulbul. Common below elevations of 5000 feet.

30. Hypsipetes psaroides. The Himalayan black bulbul. Not very common.

31. Alcurus striatus. The striated green bulbul. Upper plumage olive-green with yellow streaks. Cheeks dark brown, streaked with pale yellow. Chin and throat yellow, with dark spots on throat. Patch under tail bright yellow.

Striated green bulbuls go about in flocks which keep to the tops of trees. They utter a mellow warbling note. They are abundant about Darjeeling.

THE SITTIDAE OR NUTHATCH FAMILY

32. Sitta himalayensis. Very abundant in the neighbourhood of Darjeeling.

THE DICRURIDAE OR DRONGO FAMILY

33. Dicrurus longicaudatus. The Indian Ashy Drongo.

THE CERTHIIDAE OR WREN FAMILY

34. Certhia discolor. The Sikhim tree-creeper. This species displaces the Himalayan tree-creeper in the Eastern Himalayas. The two species are similar in appearance.

35. Pneopyga squamata. The scaly-breasted wren. In shape and size this is very like the wren of England, but its upper plumage is not barred with black, as in the English species.

It is fairly common about Darjeeling, but is of retiring habits.

THE SYLVIIDAE OR WARBLER FAMILY

36. Abrornis superciliaris. The yellow-bellied flycatcher-warbler.

A tiny bird about the size of a wren. The head is grey and the remainder of the upper plumage brownish yellow. The eyebrow is white, as are the chin, throat, and upper breast: the remainder of the lower plumage is bright yellow.

37. Suya atrigularis. The black-throated hill-warbler. The upper plumage is olive brown, darkest on the head. The chin, throat, breast, and upper abdomen are black.

THE LANIIDAE OR SHRIKE FAMILY

38. Lanius tephronotus. The grey-backed shrike.

39. Pericrocotus brevirostris. The short-billed minivet. Very common about Darjeeling.

40. Campophaga melanoschista. The dark-grey cuckoo-shrike.

Plumage is dark grey, wings black, tail black tipped with white. Rather larger than a bulbul. Cuckoo-shrikes keep to trees, and rarely, if ever, descend to the ground.

THE MUSCICAPIDAE OR FLYCATCHER FAMILY

Of the common flycatchers of the Western Himalayas, the following occur in the Eastern Himalayas:

41. Stoparola melanops. The verditer flycatcher. Very common at Darjeeling.

42. Cyornis superciliaris. The white-browed blue-flycatcher.

43. Alseonax latirostris. The brown flycatcher. Not very common.

44. Niltava sundara. The rufous-bellied niltava. Very abundant at Darjeeling. In addition to the rufous-bellied niltava, two other niltavas occur in the Eastern Himalayas.

45. Niltava grandis. The large niltava. This may be readily distinguished on account of its comparatively large size. It is as large as a bulbul. It is very common about Darjeeling.

46. Niltava macgrigoriae. The small niltava. This is considerably smaller than a sparrow and does not occur above 5000 feet.

47. Terpsiphone affinis. The Burmese paradise flycatcher. This replaces the Indian species in the Eastern Himalayas, but it is not found so high up as Darjeeling, being confined to the lower ranges.

The other flycatchers commonly seen in the Eastern Himalayas are:

48. Rhipidura allicollis. The white-throated fantail flycatcher. This beautiful bird is abundant in the vicinity of Darjeeling. It is a black bird, with a white eyebrow, a whitish throat, and white tips to the outer tail feathers. It is easily recognised by its cheerful song and the way in which it pirouettes among the foliage and spreads its tail into a fan.

49. Hemichelidon sibirica. The sooty flycatcher. This is a tiny bird of dull brown hue which, as Jerdon says, has very much the aspect of a swallow.

50. Hemichelidon ferruginea. The ferruginous flycatcher. A rusty-brown bird (the rusty hue being most pronounced in the rump and tail) with a white throat.

51. Cyornis rubeculoides. The blue-throated flycatcher. The cock is a blue bird with a red breast. There is some black on the cheeks and in the wings.

The hen is a brown bird tinged with red on the breast. This species, which is smaller than a sparrow, keeps mainly to the lower branches of trees.

52. Anthipes moniliger. Hodgson's white-gorgeted flycatcher. A small reddish-brown bird with a white chin and throat surrounded by a black band, that sits on a low branch and makes occasional sallies into the air after insects, can be none other than this flycatcher.

53. Siphia strophiata. The orange-gorgeted flycatcher. A small brown bird with an oval patch of bright chestnut on the throat, and some white at the base of the tail. (This white is very conspicuous when the bird is flying.) This flycatcher, which is very common about Darjeeling, often alights on the ground.

54. Cyornis melanoleucus. The little pied flycatcher. A very small bird. The upper plumage of the cock is black with a white eyebrow and some white in the wings and tail. The lower parts are white. The hen is an olive-brown bird with a distinct red tinge on the lower back. This flycatcher is not very common.

THE TURDIDAE OR THRUSH FAMILY

55. Oreicola ferrea. The dark-grey bush-chat. Not so abundant in the Eastern as in the Western Himalayas.

56. Henicurus maculatus. The Western spotted forktail.

57. Microcichla scouleri. The little forktail. This is distinguishable from the foregoing by its very short tail. It does not occur commonly at elevations over 5000 feet.

58. Rhyacornis fuliginosus. The plumbeous redstart or water-robin. Not common above 5000 feet in the Eastern Himalayas.

59. Merula boulboul. The grey-winged ouzel.

60. Petrophila cinclorhyncha. The blue-headed rock-thrush.

61. Oreocincla molissima. The plain-backed mountain-thrush. This is the thrush most likely to be seen in the Eastern Himalayas. It is like the European thrush, except that the back is olive brown without any dark markings.

THE FRINGILLIDAE OR FINCH FAMILY

62. Haematospiza sipahi. The scarlet finch. The cock is a scarlet bird, nearly as large as a bulbul, with black on the thighs and in the wings and tail.

The hen is dusky brown with a bright yellow rump. This species has a massive beak.

63. Passer montanus. The tree-sparrow. This is the only sparrow found at Darjeeling. It has the habits of the house-sparrow. The sexes are alike in appearance. The head is chestnut and the cheeks are white. There is a black patch under the eye, and the chin and throat are black. The remainder of the plumage is very like that of the house-sparrow.

THE HIRUNDINIDAE OR SWALLOW FAMILY

64. Hirundo rustica. The common swallow.

65. Hirundo nepalensis. Hodgson's striated swallow.

THE MOTACILLIDAE OR WAGTAIL FAMILY

66. Oreocorys sylvanus. The upland pipit. This is not very common east of Nepal.

THE NECTARINIDAE OR SUNBIRD FAMILY

67. AEthopyga nepalensis. The Nepal yellow-backed sunbird. This replaces AEthopyga scheriae in the Eastern Himalayas, and is distinguished by having the chin and upper throat metallic green instead of crimson. It is the common sunbird about Darjeeling.

THE DICAEIDAE OR FLOWER-PECKER FAMILY

68. Dicaeum ignipectus. The fire-breasted flower-pecker.

THE PICIDAE OR WOODPECKER FAMILY

69. Of the woodpeckers mentioned as common in the Western Himalayas, the only one likely to be seen at Darjeeling is Hypopicus hypererythrus—the rufous-bellied pied woodpecker, and this is by no means common. The woodpeckers most often seen in the Eastern Himalayas are:

70. Dendrocopus cathpharius. The lesser pied woodpecker. A speckled black-and-white woodpecker about the size of a bulbul. The top of the head and the sides of the neck are red in both sexes; the nape also is red in the cock.

71. Gecinus occipitalis. The black-naped green woodpecker. This bird, as its name implies, is green with a black nape. The head is red in the cock and black in the hen. This species is about the size of a crow.

72. Gecinus chlorolophus. The small Himalayan yellow-naped woodpecker. This species is distinguishable from the last by its small size, a crimson band on each side of the head, and the nape being golden yellow.

73. Pyrrhopicus pyrrhotis. The red-eared bay woodpecker. The head is brown. The rest of the upper plumage is cinnamon or chestnut-red with blackish cross-bars. There is a crimson patch behind each ear, which forms a semi-collar in the male. This species seeks its food largely on the ground.

In addition to the above, two tiny little woodpeckers much smaller than sparrows are common in the Eastern Himalayas. They feed on the ground largely. They are:

74. Picumnus innominatus. The speckled piculet.

75. Sasia ochracea. The rufous piculet. The former has an olive-green forehead. In the latter the cock has a golden-yellow forehead and the hen a reddish-brown forehead.

THE CAPITONIDAE OR BARBET FAMILY

76. Megalaema marshallorum. The great Himalayan barbet.

77. Cyanops franklini. The golden-throated barbet. About the size of a bulbul. General hue grass green tinged with blue. The chin and throat are golden yellow. The forehead and a patch on the crown are crimson. The rest of the crown is golden yellow. The call has been syllabised as kattak-kattak-kattak.

THE ALCEDINIDAE OR KINGFISHER FAMILY

78. Ceryle lugubris. The Himalayan pied kingfisher.

THE BUCEROTIDAE OR HORNBILL FAMILY

Hornbills are to be numbered among the curiosities of nature. They are characterised by the disproportionately large beak. In some species this is nearly a foot in length. The beak has on the upper mandible an excrescence which in some species is nearly as large as the bill itself. The nesting habits are not less curious than the structure of hornbills. The eggs are laid in a cavity of a tree. The hen alone sits. When she has entered the hole she and the cock plaster up the orifice until it is only just large enough to allow the insertion of the hornbill's beak. The cock feeds the sitting hen during the whole period of her voluntary incarceration.

Several species of hornbills dwell in the forests at the foot of the Himalayas, but only one species is likely to be found at elevations above 5000 feet. This is the rufous-necked hornbill.

79. Aceros nepalensis. The rufous-necked hornbill. In this species the casque or excrescence on the upper mandible is very slight. It is a large bird 4 feet long, with a tail of 18 inches and a beak of 8-1/2 inches. The hen is wholly black, save for a little white in the wings and tail. In the cock the head, neck, and lower parts are bright reddish brown. The rest of his plumage is black and white. In both sexes the bill is yellow with chestnut grooves. The naked skin round the eye is blue, and that of the throat is scarlet. The call of this species is a deep hoarse croak.

THE CYPSELIDAE OR SWIFT FAMILY

80. Cypselus affinis. The common Indian swift.

81. Chaetura nudipes. The white-necked spine-tail. A black bird glossed with green, having the chin, throat, and front and sides of the neck white.

THE CUCULIDAE OR CUCKOO FAMILY

82. Cuculus canorus. The common or European cuckoo.

83. Cuculus saturatus. The Himalayan cuckoo.

84. Cuculus poliocephalus. The small cuckoo. This is very like the common cuckoo in appearance, but it is considerably smaller. Its loud unmusical call has been syllabised pichu-giapo.

85. Cuculus micropterus. The Indian cuckoo.

86. Hierococcyx varius. The common hawk-cuckoo.

87. Hierococcyx sparverioides. The large hawk-cuckoo.

THE PSITTACIDAE OR PARROT FAMILY

88. Palaeornis schisticeps. The slaty-headed paroquet. This bird is not nearly so common in the Eastern as in the Western Himalayas.

THE STRIGIDAE OR OWL FAMILY

89. Glaucidium brodei. The collared pigmy owlet.

90. Syrnium indrani. The brown wood-owl.

91. Scops spilocephalus. The spotted Himalayan scops owl.

THE VULTURIDAE OR VULTURE FAMILY

92. Gyps himalayensis. The Himalayan griffon.

93. Pseudogyps bengalensis. The white-backed vulture.

THE FALCONIDAE OR FAMILY OF BIRDS OF PREY

94. Aquila helica. The imperial eagle.

95. Hieraetus fasciatus. Bonelli's eagle.

96. Ictinaetus malayensis. The black eagle. This is easily recognised by its dark, almost black, plumage.

97. Spilornis cheela. The crested serpent eagle.

98. Milvus govinda. The common pariah kite.

99. Tinnunculus alaudaris. The kestrel.

THE COLUMBIDAE OR DOVE FAMILY

100. Sphenocercus sphenurus. The kokla green-pigeon.

101. Turtur suratensis. The spotted dove.

102. Macropygia tusalia. The bar-tailed cuckoo-dove.

THE PHASIANIDAE OR PHEASANT FAMILY

103. Gennaeus leucomelanus. The Nepal kalij pheasant. This is the only pheasant at all common about Darjeeling. It is distinguished from the white-crested kalij pheasant by the cock having a glossy blue-black crest. The hens of the two species resemble one another closely in appearance.

104. Coturnix communis. The grey quail.

105. Arboricola torqueola. The common hill partridge.

106. Francolinus vulgaris. The black partridge. Fairly common at elevations below 4000 feet.

THE CHARADRIIDAE OR PLOVER FAMILY

107. Scolopax rusticola. The woodcock.

In the summer this bird is not likely to be seen below altitudes of 8000 feet above the sea-level.



TITS AT WORK

The average Himalayan house is such a ramshackle affair that it is a miracle how it holds together. The roof does not fit properly on to the walls, and in these latter there are cracks and chinks galore. Perhaps it is due to these defects that hill houses do not fall down more often than they do.

Thanks to their numerous cracks they do not offer half the resistance to a gale of wind that a well-built house would.

Be this as it may, the style of architecture that finds favour in the hills is quite a godsend to the birds, or rather to such of the feathered folk as nestle in holes. A house in the Himalayas is, from an avian point of view, a maze of nesting sites, a hotel in which unfurnished rooms are always available.

The sparrow usually monopolises these nesting sites. He is a regular dog-in-the-manger, for he keeps other birds out of the holes he himself cannot utilise. However, the sparrow is not quite ubiquitous. In most large hill stations there are more houses than he is able to monopolise.

I recently spent a couple of days in one of such, in a house situated some distance from the bazaar, a house surrounded by trees.

Two green-backed tits (Parus monticola) were busy preparing a nursery for their prospective offspring in one of the many holes presented by the building in question. This had once been a respectable bungalow, surrounded by a broad verandah. But the day came when it fell into the hands of a boarding-house keeper, and it shared the fate of all buildings to which this happens. The verandahs were enclosed and divided up by partitions, to form, in the words of the advertisement, "fine, large, airy rooms." There can be no doubt as to their airiness, but captious persons might dispute their title to the other epithets. A kachcha verandah had been thrown out with a galvanised iron roof and wooden supporting pillars. The subsequently-added roof did not fit properly on to that of the original verandah, and there was a considerable chink between the beam that supported it and the wall that enclosed the old verandah, so that the house afforded endless nesting sites. An inch-wide crack is quite large enough to admit of the passage of a tit; when this was negotiated the space between the old and the new roof afforded endless possibilities. Small wonder, then, that a pair of tits had elected to nest there.

The green-backed tit is one of the most abundant birds in the Himalayas. It is about the size of a sparrow. The head is black with a small perky crest. The cheeks are spotless white. The back of the head is connected by a narrow black collar with an expansive shirtfront of this hue. The remainder of the plumage is bright yellow. The back is greenish yellow, the rest of the plumage is slaty with some dashes of black and white. Thus the green-backed tit is a smart little bird. It is as vivacious as it is smart. It constantly utters a sharp, not unpleasant, metallic dissyllabic call, which sounds like kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. This is one of the most familiar of the tunes that enliven our northern hill stations.

So much for the bird: now for its nest. A nest in a hole possesses many advantages. Its preparation does not entail very much labour. It has not to be built; it merely needs furnishing, and this does not occupy long if the occupiers have Spartan tastes. The tits in question were luxuriously inclined, if we may judge by the amount of moss that they carried into that hole. By the time it was finished it must have been considerably softer than the bed that was provided for my accommodation!

Moss in plenty was to be had for the taking; the trunks and larger branches of the trees which surrounded the "hotel" were covered with soft green moss. The tits experienced no difficulty in ripping this off with the beak.

The entrance to the nest hole faced downwards and was guarded on one side by the wall of the house, and on the other by a beam, so that it was not altogether easy of access even to a bird. Consequently a good deal of the moss gathered by the tits did not reach its destination; they let it fall while they were negotiating the entrance.

When a piece of moss dropped from the bird's beak, no attempt was made to retrieve it, although it only fell some 10 feet on to the floor of the verandah. In this respect all birds behave alike. They never attempt to reclaim that which they have let fall. A bird will spend the greater part of half an hour in wrenching a twig from a tree: yet, if this is dropped while being carried to the nest, the bird seems to lose all further interest in it.

By the end of the first day's work at the nest, the pair of tits had left quite a respectable collection of moss on the floor. This was swept away next morning. On the second day much less was dropped; practice had taught the tits how best to enter the nest hole.

It will be noticed that I speak of "tits." I believe I am correct in so doing; I think that both cock and hen work at the nest. I cannot say for certain, for I am not able to distinguish a lady- from a gentleman-tit. I never saw them together at the nest, but I noticed that the bird bringing material to it sometimes flew direct from a tree and at others alighted on the projecting end of a roof beam which the carpenters had been too lazy to saw off. It is my belief that the bird that used to alight on the beam was not the same as the one that flew direct from the tree. Birds are creatures of habit. If you observe a mother bird feeding her young, you will notice that she, when not disturbed, almost invariably approaches the nest in a certain fixed manner. She will perch, time after time, on one particular branch near the nest, and thence fly to her open-mouthed brood. When both parents bring food to the nest, each approaches in a way peculiar to itself; the hen will perhaps always come in from the left and the cock from the right.

The tits in question worked spasmodically at the nest throughout the hours of daylight. For ten minutes or so they would bring in piece after piece of moss at a great pace and then indulge in a little relaxation. All work and no play makes a tit a dull bird.

I had to leave the hotel late on the second day, so was not able to follow up the fortunes of the two little birds. I have, however, to thank them for affording me some amusement and giving me pleasant recollections of the place. It was good to lounge in a long chair, drink in the cool air, and watch the little birds at work. I shall soon forget the tumble-down appearance of the house, its seedy furniture, its coarse durries, and its hard beds, but shall long remember the great snow-capped peaks in the distance, the green moss-clad trees near about, the birds that sang in these, the sunbeams that played among the leaves, and, above all, the two little tits that worked so industriously at their nest.



THE PEKIN-ROBIN

This is not a robin, nor does it seem to be nearly related to the familiar redbreast; Pekin- or China-robin is merely the name the dealers give it, because a great many specimens are imported from China. Its classical name is Liothrix lutea. Oates calls it the red-billed liothrix. It is a bird about the size of a sparrow. The prevailing hue of the upper plumage is olive green, but the forehead is yellow. There is also a yellow ring round the eye, and the lower parts are of varying shades of this colour. Some of the wing feathers are edged with yellow and some with crimson, so that the wings, when closed, look as though lines of these colours are pencilled upon them. Oates, I notice, states that the hen has no red in the wing, but this does not seem to be the case in all examples. In the Pekin-robins that hail from China the chief difference between the sexes is that the plumage of the hen is a little duller than that of the cock. The bill is bright red. It is thus evident that the liothrix is a handsome bird, its beauty being of the quiet type which bears close inspection. But the very great charm of this sprightly little creature lies, not so much in its colouring, as in its form and movements. Its perfect proportions give it a very athletic air. In this respect it resembles the nimble wagtails. Next to these I like the appearance of the Pekin-robin better than that of any other little bird. Finn bestows even greater praise upon it, for he says: "Altogether it is the most generally attractive small bird I know of—everyone seems to admire it."

There is no bird more full of life. When kept in a cage, Pekin-robins hop from perch to perch with extraordinary agility, seeming scarcely to have touched one perch with their feet before they are off to another. I am inclined to think that the liothrix, like Camilla, Queen of the Volscians, could trip across a field of corn without causing the blades to move. This truly admirable bird is a songster of no mean capacity. Small wonder, then, that it has long been a favourite with fanciers. Moreover, it stands captivity remarkably well. It is the only insectivorous bird which is largely exported from India. So hardy is it that Finn attempted to introduce it into England, and with this object set free a number of specimens in St. James's Park some years ago, but they did not succeed in establishing themselves, although some individuals survived for several months. The English climate is to Asiatic birds much what that of the West Coast of Africa is to white men. J. K. Jerome once suggested that Life Insurance Companies should abolish the application form with its long list of queries concerning the ailments of the would-be insurer, his parents, grandparents, and other relatives, and substitute for it the German cigar test. If, said he, the applicant can come up smiling immediately after having smoked a German cigar, the Company could be certain that he was "a good life," to use the technical term. As regards birds, the survival of an English winter is an equally efficient test. The Pekin-robin is a very intelligent little bird. Finn found that it was not deceived by the resemblance between an edible and an unpalatable Indian swallow-tailed butterfly, although the sharp king-crow was deceived by the likeness.

Those Anglo-Indians who wish to make the acquaintance of the bird must either resort to some fancier's shop, or hie themselves to the cool heights of Mussoorie, or, better still, of Darjeeling, where the liothrix is exceptionally abundant. But even at Darjeeling the Pekin-robin will have to be looked for carefully, for it is of shy and retiring habits, and a small bird of such a disposition is apt to elude observation. In one respect the plains (let us give even the devil his due) are superior to the hills. The naturalist usually experiences little difficulty in observing birds in the sparsely-wooded flat country, but in the tree-covered mountains the feathered folk often require to be stalked. If you would see the Pekin-robin in a state of nature, go to some clearing in the Himalayan forest, where the cool breezes blow upon you direct from the snows, whence you can see the most beautiful sight in the world, that of snow-capped mountains standing forth against an azure sky. Tear your eyes away from the white peaks and direct them to the low bushes and trees which are springing up in the clearing, for in this you are likely to meet with a small flock of Pekin-robins. You will probably hear them before you see them. The sound to listen for is well described by Finn as "a peculiar five-noted call, tee-tee-tee-tee-tee." As has been stated already, most, if not all, birds that go about in flocks in wooded country continually utter a call note, as it is by this means that the members of the flock keep together. Jerdon states that the food of the liothrix consists of "berries, fruit, seeds, and insects." He should, I think, have reversed the order of the bird's menu, for it comes of an insectivorous family—the babblers—and undoubtedly is very partial to insects—so much so that Finn suggests its introduction into St. Helena to keep them down. At the nesting season, in the early spring, the flock breaks up into pairs, which take upon themselves what Mr. E. D. Cuming calls "brow-wrinkling family responsibilities," and each pair builds in a low bush a cup-shaped nest.



BLACK BULBULS

All passerine birds which have hairs springing from the back of the head, and of which the tarsus—the lower half of the leg—is shorter than the middle toe, plus its claw, are classified by scientific men as members of the sub-family Brachypodinae, or Bulbuls. This classification, although doubtless unassailable from the standpoint of the anatomist, has the effect of bringing together some creatures which can scarcely be described as "birds of a feather." The typical bulbul, as exemplified by the common species of the plains—Molpastes and Otocompsa—is a dear, meek, unsophisticated little bird, the kind of creature held up in copy-books as an example to youth, a veritable "Captain Desmond, V.C." Bulbuls of the nobler sort pair for life, and the harmony of their conjugal existence is rarely marred by quarrels; they behave after marriage as they did in the days of courtship: they love to sit on a leafy bough, close up against one another, and express their mutual admiration and affection by means of a cheery, if rather feeble, lay. They build a model nest in which prettily-coloured eggs are deposited. These they make but little attempt to conceal, for they are birds without guile. But, alas, their artlessness often results in a rascally lizard or squirrel eating the eggs for his breakfast. When their eggs are put to this base use, the bulbuls, to quote "Eha," are "sorry," but their grief is short-lived. Within a few hours of the tragedy they are twittering gaily to one another, and in a wonderfully short space of time a new clutch of eggs replaces the old one. If this shares the fate of the first set, some more are laid, so that eventually a family of bulbuls hatches out.

Such is, in brief, the character of the great majority of bulbuls; they present a fine example of rewarded virtue, for these amiable little birds are very abundant; they flourish like the green bay tree. As at least one pair is to be found in every Indian garden, they exemplify the truth of the saying, the meek "shall inherit the earth," and give a new meaning to the expression, "the survival of the fittest." There are, however, some bulbuls which are so unlike the birds described above that the latter might reasonably deny relationship to them as indignantly as some human beings decline to acknowledge apes and monkeys as poor relations. As we have seen, most bulbuls are inoffensive, respectable birds, that lead a quiet, domesticated life. The cock and hen are so wrapped up in one another as to pay little heed to the outer world. Not so the black bulbuls. These are the antithesis of everything bulbuline. They are aggressive, disreputable-looking creatures, who go about in disorderly, rowdy gangs. The song of most bulbuls consists of many pleasant, blithe tinkling notes; that of the black bulbul, or at any rate of the Himalayan black bulbul, is scarcely as musical as the bray of the ass. Most bulbuls are pretty birds and are most particular about their personal appearance. Black bulbuls are as untidy as it is possible for a bird to be. The two types of bulbul stand to one another in much the same relationship as does the honest Breton peasant to the inhabitant of the Quartier Latin in Paris.

Black bulbuls belong to the genus Hypsipetes. Three species occur in India—the Himalayan (H. psaroides), the Burmese (H. concolor), and the South Indian (H. ganeesa). All three species resemble one another closely in appearance. Take a king-crow (Dicrurus ater), dip his bill and legs in red ink, cut down his tail a little, dust him all over so as to make his glossy black plumage look grey and shabby, ruffle his feathers, apply a little pomade hongroise to the feathers on the back of his head, and make some of them stick out to look like a dilapidated crest, and you may flatter yourself that you have produced a very fair imitation of a black bulbul as it appears when flitting about from one tree summit to another. Closer inspection of the bird reveals the fact that "black" is scarcely the right adjective to apply to it. Dark grey is the prevailing hue of its plumage, with some black on the head and a quantity of brown on the wings and tail.

The Himalayan species has a black cheek stripe, which the other forms lack; but it is quite unnecessary to dilate upon these minute differences. I trust I have said sufficient to enable any man, woman, or suffragette to recognise a noisy black bulbul, and, as the distribution of each species is well defined and does not overlap that of the other species, the fact that a bird is found in any particular place at once settles the question of its species. The South Indian bird occurs only in Ceylon and the hills of South-west India; hence Jerdon called this species the Nilgiri or Ghaut black bulbul. Men of science in their wisdom have given the Himalayan bird the sibilant name of Hypsipetes psaroides. The inelegance of the appellation perhaps explains why the bird has been permitted to retain it for quite a long while unchanged.

I have been charged with unnecessarily making fun of ornithological nomenclature. As a matter of fact, I have dealt far too leniently with the peccadillos of the ornithological systematist. Recently a book was published in the United States entitled The Birds of Illinois and Wisconsin. Needless to state that while the author was writing the book, ornithological terminology underwent many changes; but the author was able to keep pace with these and with those that occurred while the various proofs were passing through the press. It was after this that his real troubles began. Several changes took place between the interval of the passing of the final proof and the appearance of the book, so that the unfortunate author in his desire to be up to date had to insert in each volume a slip to the effect that the American Ornithologists' Union had in the course of the past few days changed the name of no fewer than three genera; consequently the genus Glaux had again become Cryptoglaux, and the genera Trochilus and Coturniculus had become, respectively, Archilochus and Ammodramus! But we are wandering away from our black bulbuls. The hillmen call the Himalayan species the Ban Bakra, which means the jungle goat. Why it should be so named I have not an idea, unless it be because the bird habitually "plays the goat!"

Black bulbuls seem never to descend to the ground; they keep almost entirely to the tops of lofty trees and so occur only in well-wooded parts of the hills. When the rhododendrons are in flower, these birds partake very freely of the nectar enclosed within their crimson calyces. Now, I am fully persuaded that the nectar of flowers is an intoxicant to birds, and of course this will account, not only in part for the rowdiness of the black bulbuls, but for the pugnacity of those creatures, such as sunbirds, which habitually feed upon this stimulating diet. Black bulbuls, like sunbirds, get well dusted with pollen while diving into flowers after nectar, and so probably act the part of insects as regards the cross-fertilisation of large flowers. In respect of nesting habits, black bulbuls conform more closely to the ways of their tribe than they do in other matters. The nesting season is early spring. The nursery, which is built in a tree, not in a bush, is a small cup composed largely of moss, dried grass, and leaves, held together by being well smeared with cobweb. The eggs have a pink background, much spotted with reddish purple. They display a great lack of uniformity as regards both shape and colouring.



A WARBLER OF DISTINCTION

So great is the number of species of warbler which either visit India every winter or remain always in the country, so small and insignificant in appearance are these birds, so greatly do they resemble one another, and so similar are their habits, that even the expert ornithologist cannot identify the majority of them unless, having the skin in one hand and a key to the warblers in the other, he sets himself thinking strenuously. For these reasons I pay but little attention to the warbler clan. Usually when I meet one of them, I am content to set him down as a warbler and let him depart in peace. But I make a few exceptions in the case of those that I may perhaps call warblers of distinction—warblers that stand out from among their fellows on account of their architectural skill, their peculiar habits, or unusual colouring. The famous tailor-bird (Orthotomus sartorius) is the best known of the warblers distinguished on account of architectural skill. As a warbler of peculiar habits, I may cite the ashy wren-warbler (Prinia socialis), which, as it flits about among the bushes, makes a curious snapping noise, the cause of which has not yet been satisfactorily determined. As warblers of unusual colouring, the flycatcher-warblers are pre-eminent. In appearance these resemble tits or white-eyes rather than the typical quaker-like warblers.

Cryptolopha xanthoschista and Hodgson's grey-headed flycatcher-warbler are the names that ornithologists have given to a very small bird. But, diminutive though he be, he is heard, if not seen, more often than any other bird in all parts of the Western Himalayas. It is impossible for a human being to visit any station between Naini Tal and Murree without remarking this warbler. It is no exaggeration to state that the bird's voice is heard in every second tree. Oates writes of the flycatcher-warblers, "they are not known to have any song." This is true or the reverse, according to the interpretation placed on the word "song." If song denotes only sweet melodies such as those of the shama and the nightingale, then indeed flycatcher-warblers are not singers. Nevertheless they incessantly make a joyful noise. I can vouch for the fact that their lay is heard all day long from March to October. Before attempting to describe the familiar sound, I deem it prudent to recall to the mind of the reader the notice that once appeared in a third-rate music-hall:—"The audience are respectfully requested not to throw things at the pianist. He is doing his best." To say that this warbler emits incessantly four or five high-pitched, not very musical notes, is to give but a poor rendering of his vocal efforts, but it is, I fear, the best I can do for him. He is small, so that the volume of sound he emits is not great, but it is penetrating. Even as the cheery lay of the Otocompsa bulbuls forms the dominant note of the bird chorus in our southern hill stations, so does the less melodious but not less cheerful call of the flycatcher-warblers run as an undercurrent through the melody of the feathered choir of the Himalayas.

In what follows I shall speak of Hodgson's grey-headed flycatcher-warbler as our hero, because I shrink from constant repetition of his double double-barrelled name. I should prefer to give him Jerdon's name, the white-browed warbler, but for the fact that there are a score or more other warblers with white eyebrows. Our hero is considerably smaller than a sparrow, being only a fraction over four inches in length, and of this over one-third is composed of tail. The head and neck are grey, the former being set off by a cream-coloured eyebrow. Along the middle of the head runs a band of pale grey; this "mesial coronal band," as Oates calls it, is far more distinct in some specimens than in others. The remainder of the upper plumage is olive green, and the lower parts are bright yellow. Coloured plate, No. XX, in Hume and Henderson's Lahore to Yarkand, contains a very good reproduction of the bird. The upper picture on the plate represents our hero, the lower one depicting an allied species, Brook's grey-headed flycatcher-warbler (C. Jerdoni). It is necessary to state this because the book in question was written in 1873, since when, needless to say, the scientific names of most birds have undergone changes. The plate in question also demonstrates the slenderness of the foundation upon which specific differences among warblers rest.

Our hero is an exceedingly active little bird. He is ever on the move, and so rapid are his movements that to watch him for any length of time through field-glasses is no mean feat. He and his mate, with perhaps a few friends, hop about from leaf to leaf looking for quarry, large and small. The manner in which he stows away a caterpillar an inch long is a sight for the gods!

Sometimes two or three of these warblers attach themselves, temporarily at any rate, to one of those flocks, composed mainly of various species of tits and nuthatches, which form so well-marked a feature of all wooded hills in India. Hodgson's warblers are pugnacious little creatures. Squabbles are frequent. It is impossible to watch two or three of them for long without seeing what looks like one tiny animated golden fluff ball pursuing another from branch to branch and even from tree to tree.

The breeding season lasts from March to June. The nest is globular in shape, made of moss or coarse grass, and lined with some soft material, such as wool. The entrance is usually at one side. The nest is placed on a sloping bank at the foot of a bush, so that it is likely to escape observation unless one sees the bird flying to it. Three or four glossy white eggs are laid. Many years ago Colonel Marshall recorded the case of a nest at Naini Tal "at the side of a narrow glen with a northern aspect and about four feet above the pathway, close to a spring from which my bhisti daily draws water, the bird sitting fearlessly while passed and repassed by people going down the glen within a foot or two of the nest." At the same station I recently had a very different experience. Some weeks ago I noticed one of these warblers fly with a straw in its beak to a place on a steep bank under a small bush. I could not see what it was doing there, but in a few seconds it emerged with the bill empty. Shortly afterwards it returned with another straw. Having seen several pieces of building material carried to the spot, I descended the bank to try to find the nest. I could find nothing; the nest was evidently only just commenced. I then went back to the spot from which I had been watching the birds, but they did not return again. I had frightened them away. Individual birds of the same species sometimes differ considerably in their behaviour at the nesting season. Some will desert the nest on the slightest provocation, while others will cling to it in the most quixotic manner. It is never safe to dogmatise regarding the behaviour of birds. No sooner does an ornithologist lay down a law than some bird proceeds to break it.



THE SPOTTED FORKTAIL

"Striking" is, in my opinion, the correct adjective to apply to the spotted forktail (Henicurus maculatus). Like the paradise flycatcher, it is a bird which cannot fail to obtrude itself upon the most unobservant person, and, once seen, it is never likely to be forgotten. I well remember the first occasion on which I saw a spotted forktail; I was walking down a Himalayan path, alongside of which a brook was flowing, when suddenly from a rock in mid-stream there arose a black-and-white apparition, that flitted away, displaying a long tail fluttering behind it. The plumage of this magnificent bird has already been described.

As was stated above, this species is often called the hill-wagtail. The name is not a particularly good one, because wagtails proper occur in the Himalayas.

The forktail, however, has many of the habits of the true wagtail. I was on the point of calling it a glorified wagtail, but I refrain. Surely it is impossible to improve upon a wagtail.

In India forktails are confined to the Himalayas and the mountainous parts of Burma.

There are no fewer than eight Indian species, but I propose to confine myself to the spotted forktail. This is essentially a bird of mountain streams. It is never found far from water, but occurs at all altitudes up to the snow-line, so that, as Jerdon says, it is one of the characteristic adjuncts of Himalayan scenery. Indeed I know of few things more enjoyable than to sit, when the sun is shining, on the bank of a well-shaded burn, and, soothed by the soft melody of running water, watch the forktails moving nimbly over the boulders and stones with fairy tread, half-flight half-hop.

Forktails continually wag the tail, just as wagtails do, but not with quite the same vigour, possibly because there is so much more to wag!

Like wagtails, they do not object to their feet being wet, indeed they love to stand in running water.

Forktails often seek their quarry among the dead leaves that become collected in the various angles in the bed of the stream; when so doing they pick up each leaf, turn it over, and cast it aside just as the seven sisters do. They seem to like to work upstream when seeking for food. Jerdon states that he does not remember ever having seen a forktail perch; nevertheless the bird frequently flies on to a branch overhanging the brook, and rests there, slowly vibrating its forked tail as if in deep meditation.

Spotted forktails are often seen near the places where the dhobis wash clothes by banging them violently against rocks, hence the name dhobi-birds, by which they are called by many Europeans. The little forktail does not haunt the washerman's ghat for the sake of human companionship, for it is a bird that usually avoids man. The explanation is probably that the shallow pool in which the dhobi works and grunts is well adapted to the feeding habits of the forktail. I may here remark that in the Himalayas the washerman usually pursues his occupation in a pool in a mountain stream overhung with oaks and rhododendron trees, amid scenery that would annually attract thousands of visitors did it happen to be within a hundred miles of London. Not that the prosaic dhobi cares two straws for the scenery—nor, I fear, does the pretty little forktail. As I have already hinted, forktails are rather shy birds. If they think they are being watched they become restless and stand about on boulders, uttering a prolonged plaintive note, which is repeated at intervals of a few seconds. When startled they fly off, emitting a loud scream. But they are pugnacious to others of their kind, especially at the breeding season. I once saw a pair attack and drive away from the vicinity of their nest a Himalayan whistling-thrush (Myiophoneus temmincki)—another bird that frequents hill-streams, and a near relation of the Malabar whistling-thrush or idle schoolboy.

The nursery of the forktail, although quite a large cup-shaped structure, is not easy to discover; it blends well with its surroundings, and the birds certainly will not betray its presence if they know they are being watched. The nest is, to use Hume's words, "sometimes hidden in a rocky niche, sometimes on a bare ledge of rock overhung by drooping ferns and sometimes on a sloping bank, at the root of some old tree, in a very forest of club moss." I once spent several afternoons in discovering a forktail's nest which I was positive existed and contained young, because I had repeatedly seen the parents carrying grubs in the bill. My difficulty was that the stream to which the birds had attached themselves was in a deep ravine, the sides of which were so steep that no animal save a cat could have descended it without making a noise and being seen by the birds. Eventually I decorated my topi with bracken fronds, after the fashion of 'Arry at Burnham Beeches on the August bank holiday. Thus arrayed, I descended to the stream and hid myself in the hollow stump of a tree, near the place where I knew the nest must be. By crouching down and drawing some foliage about me, I was able to command a small stretch of the stream. My arrival was of course the signal for loud outcries on the part of the parent forktails. However, after I had been squatting about ten minutes in my cache, to the delight of hundreds of winged insects, the suspicions of the forktails subsided, and the birds began collecting food, working their way upstream. They came nearer and nearer, until one of them passed out of sight, although it was within 10 feet of me. It was thus evident that the nest was so situated that what remained of the tree-trunk obstructed my view of it. This was annoying, but I had one resource left, namely, to sit patiently until the sound of chirping told me that a parent bird was at the nest with food.

This sound was not long in coming, and the moment I heard it, up I jumped like a Jack-in-the-box, but without the squeak, in time to see a forktail leave a spot on the bank about 6 feet above the water. I was surprised, as I had the day before examined that place without discovering the nest. However, I went straight to the spot from which the forktail had flown, and found the nest after a little searching. The bank was steep and of uneven surface. Here and there a slab of stone projected from it and pointed downwards. Into a natural hollow under one of these projecting slabs a nest consisting of a large mass of green moss and liver-worts had been wedged. From the earth above the slab grew some ferns, which partially overhung the nest. Across the nest, a few inches in front of it, ran a moss-covered root. From out of the mossy walls of the nest there emerged a growing plant. All these things served to divert attention from the nest, bulky though this was, its outer walls being over 2 inches thick. The inner wall was thin—a mere lining to the earth. The nest contained four young birds, whose eyes were barely open. The young ones were covered with tiny parasites, which seemed quite ready for a change of diet, for immediately after picking up one of the young forktails, I found some thirty or forty of these parasites crawling over my hand!

There is luck in finding birds' nests, as in everything else. A few days after I had discovered the one above mentioned, I came upon another without looking for it. When I was walking along a hill-stream a forktail flew out from the bank close beside me, and a search of thirty seconds sufficed to reveal a well-concealed nest containing three eggs. These are much longer than they are broad. They are cream-coloured, mottled and speckled with tiny red markings.



THE NEST OF THE GREY-WINGED OUZEL

On several occasions this year (1910) I have listened with unalloyed pleasure to the sweet blackbird-like song of the grey-winged ouzel (Merula boulboul) at Naini Tal—a station in the Himalayas, consisting of over a hundred bungalows dotted on the well-wooded hillsides that tower 1200 feet above a mountain lake that is itself 6000 feet above the level of the sea. On the northern slope of one of the mountains on the north side of the Naini Tal lake, is a deep ravine, through which runs a little stream. The sides of the ravine are covered with trees—mainly rhododendron, oak, and holly.

On July 1st I went 1000 feet down this ravine to visit the nest of a spotted forktail (Henicurus maculatus) which I had discovered a week previously. Having duly inspected the blind, naked, newly-hatched forktails, I went farther down the stream to try to see something of a pair of red-billed blue magpies (Urocissa occipitalis).

The magpies were not at home that afternoon, and while waiting for them I caught sight of a bird among the foliage lower down the hill. At first I took this for a Himalayan whistling-thrush. I followed its movements through my field-glasses, and saw it alight on part of the gnarled and twisted trunk of a rhododendron tree. Closer inspection showed that the bird was a grey-winged ouzel. He had apparently caught sight of me, for his whole attitude was that of a suspicious bird with a nest in the vicinity. He remained motionless for several minutes.

As I watched him a ray of sunlight penetrated the thick foliage and fell upon the part of the tree where he was standing, and revealed to me that he was on the edge of a cunningly-placed nest.

The trunk of the rhododendron tree bifurcated about 20 feet above the ground; one limb grew nearly upright, the other almost horizontally for a few feet, and then broke up into five branches, or, rather, gave off four upwardly-directed branches, each as thick as a man's wrist, and then continued its horizontal direction, greatly diminished in size.

The four upwardly-directed branches took various directions, each being considerably twisted, and one actually curling round its neighbour. At the junction of the various branches lay the nest, resting on the flat surface, much as a large, shallow pill-box might rest in the half-closed palm of the hand of a man whose fingers were rugged and twisted with years of hard toil.

The upper part of the trunk was covered by a thick growth of green moss, and from it two or three ferns sprang.

As the exterior of the nest consisted entirely of green moss, it blended perfectly with its surroundings. From below it could not possibly have been seen. When I caught sight of it I was standing above it at the top of the ravine, and even then I should probably have missed seeing it, had not that ray of sunlight fallen on the nest and imparted a golden tint to the fawn-coloured plumage of the nestlings which almost completely filled the nest cup.

The situation of this nest may be said to be typical, although cases are on record of the nursery being placed on the ground at the root of a tree, or on the ledge of a rock. Many ouzels' nests are placed on the stumps of pollard trees, and in such cases the shoots which grow out of the stump often serve to hide the nest from view. The nests built by grey-winged ouzels vary considerably in structure. The commonest form is that of a massive cup, composed exteriorly of moss and lined with dry grass, a layer of mud being inserted between the moss and the grass lining. This mud layer does not invariably occur.

The cock ouzel remained for fully five minutes with one eye on me, and then flew off. I seized the opportunity to approach nearer the nest, and took up a position on the hillside level with it, at a distance of about 14 feet.

In a few minutes the hen bird appeared. Her prevailing hue is reddish brown, while the cock is black all over, save for some large patches of dark grey on the wings. In each sex the bill and legs are reddish yellow, the bill being the more brightly coloured. The hen caught sight of me and beat a hurried retreat, without approaching the nest.

The young ouzels kept very still; occasionally one of them would half raise its head. That was almost the only movement I noticed.

Presently the cock appeared, with his beak full of caterpillars. He alighted on a branch a few feet from the nest, where he caught sight of me; but instead of flying off as the hen had done, he held his ground and fixed his eye on me, no doubt swearing inwardly, but no audible sound escaped him.

Whenever I have watched a pair of birds feeding their young, I have almost invariably noticed that one of them is far more alarmed at my presence than the other. The ouzels proved no exception to the rule. In this case it was the cock who showed himself the bolder spirit. He remained watching me for fully ten minutes, his legs and body as immobile as those of a statue, but he occasionally turned his head to one side in order to obtain a better view of me; and I could then see, outlined against the sky, the wriggling forms of several caterpillars hanging from his bill. I hoped that he would pluck up courage to feed his youngsters before my eyes; but his heart failed him, for presently he flew to another tree a little farther away, whence he again contemplated me. After this he kept changing his position, never uttering a sound, and always retaining hold of the beakful of caterpillars. After a little the hen returned with her bill full of caterpillars, but she did not venture within 75 feet of the nest. I was not permitted to observe how long it would take the parental instinct to overcome the natural timidity of the birds. The sky suddenly became overcast, and a few minutes later I found myself enveloped in what the Scotch call a "wet mist." At certain seasons of the year rain storms come up as unexpectedly in the Himalayas as they do in the Grampians.

The rain put a final end to my observations on that nest, as I had to leave Naini Tal on the following day—an event which caused more sorrow to me than to the ouzels!



THE BLACK-AND-YELLOW GROSBEAK

The Indian grosbeaks are birds of limited distribution; they appear to be confined to the forests on the higher ranges of the Himalayas. Their most striking feature is the stout conical bill, which is an exaggeration of that of the typical finch, and is responsible for the bird's name. In one genus of grosbeak—Mycerobas—the bill is as deep as it is long, while in the other genus—Pycnorhamphus—it is nearly as massive. Three species belonging to this latter genus occur in India, namely, P. icteroides, the black-and-yellow grosbeak, found in the Western Himalayas; P. affinis, the allied grosbeak, found in Nepal, Sikkim, Tibet, and Western China; and P. carneipes, the white-winged grosbeak, which occurs all along the higher Himalayas.

There is only one Indian species of the other genus; this is known as the spotted-winged grosbeak (Mycerobas melanoxanthus), the localities in which this occurs are said to be "the Himalayas from the Hazara country to Sikkim at considerable elevations and Manipur."

The only Indian grosbeak which I have met in the flesh is the yellow-and-black species. This bird is common in the hills round about Murree, so that, when on ten days' leave there, I had some opportunity of studying its habits. It is a bird of the same size as the Indian oriole (Oriolus kundoo). The cock grosbeak, indeed, bears a striking resemblance to the black-headed oriole (Oriolus melanocephalus). His whole head, chin, throat, wings, shoulders, upper-tail-coverts, and thighs are black, the remainder of the plumage is a rich yellow, tinged with orange at the hind neck. Thus the colour and markings are almost identical with those of the black-headed oriole, the chief difference being that the latter has a little yellow in the wing. So great is the resemblance that the casual observer will, in nine cases out of ten, mistake the grosbeak for an oriole. The resemblance extends to size and shape, as the following table shows:

Length Length Length Length Length of Bird. of Tail. of Wing. of Tarsus. of Beak. Grosbeak . . 9.0 in. 3.7 in. 5.2 in. 1.0 in. 1.0 in. Oriole . . . 9.5 " 3.4 " 5.4 " 1.0 " 1.3 "

The hen grosbeak differs considerably in colour and marking both from the cock of her species and from the hen black-headed oriole. She is a dull ashy-grey bird, tinged faintly with yellowish red on the back and abdomen. Her wings and tail are black. The only young grosbeak that I have seen resembled the female in appearance, except that it had a yellow rump. It was being fed by a cock bird.

Grosbeaks live in forests, and go about either in couples or in small companies. They seem to feed largely on the ground, picking up insects. The beak of the finch tribe is adapted to a diet of seeds; nevertheless, many finches vary this food with insects. I saw a grosbeak seize, shake, and devour a caterpillar about two inches in length. Grosbeaks also eat berries and stone fruit. When disturbed they at once betake themselves to a tree, among the branches of which they are able to make their way with great agility. Grosbeaks are restless birds, always on the move, here to-day and gone to-morrow. The cock emits a call at frequent intervals. This is not easy to describe. It sounds something like kiu kree.

The nest is a cup-shaped structure, composed exteriorly of twigs, grass, and moss, and lined with stalks of maiden-hair fern and fine roots. It is usually placed high up in a fir tree. Colonel Rattray believes that the birds bring up two broods in the year. They lay first in May, and, as soon as the young are able to shift for themselves, a second nest is made. Thus in July both young birds at large and nests with eggs are likely to be seen. The eggs are not unlike those of the English hawfinch; the ground colour is pale greenish grey, blotched and spotted with blackish brown. Sometimes the markings occur chiefly at the broad end of the eggs.

The most striking feature of the black-and-yellow grosbeak, and that on which I wish particularly to dwell, is the extraordinary resemblance that the cock bird bears to the cock black-headed oriole. If this extended to the hen, and if the grosbeak were parasitic on the oriole, it would be held up as an example of mimicry. We should be told that owing to its resemblance to its dupe it was able to approach the nest without raising any suspicion and deposit its egg. But the grosbeak is not parasitic on the oriole, and it is the cock and not the hen that bears the resemblance; moreover, the black-headed oriole does not occur in the Himalayas, so that neither the grosbeak nor the oriole can possibly derive any benefit from this resemblance.

Now, cabinet zoologists are never tired of writing about mimicry. They assert that when organisms belonging to different families bear a close external resemblance, this resemblance has been brought about by natural selection. Having made this assertion, they expend reams of paper in demonstrating how one or both of the species benefits by the resemblance.

However, scientific books make no mention of the resemblance between the oriole and the grosbeak. The reason for this is, of course, that the resemblance in this instance cannot be a case of mimicry. Now, I regret to have to say that men of science take up the same attitude towards their theories as lawyers do regarding the cases they argue in Courts of Justice. There would be no harm in taking up this attitude if men of science were to explain that they are acting the part of advocates, that they are fighting for a theory, and trying to persuade the world to accept this theory. It is because they masquerade as judges, and put forward a one-sided case as a matured judicial finding, that I take exception to their methods.

The trouble is that scientific men to-day form a brotherhood, a hierarchy, which lays claim to infallibility, or rather tacitly assumes infallibility.

They form a league into which none are admitted except those who take the oath of allegiance; and, of course, to expose the weakness of the scientific doctrines of the time is equivalent to violating the oath of allegiance. Now, the man of science who has to earn his living by his science, has either to join the league or run the risk of starving. This explains how a small coterie of men has things very much its own way; how it can lay down the law without fear of contradiction. If a man does arise and declines to accept the fiats of this league, it is not difficult for the members to combine and tell the general public that that man is a foolish crank, who does not know what he is talking about; and the public naturally accepts this dictum.

The only scientific men who, as a class, are characterised by humility are the meteorologists. I always feel sorry for the meteorologist. He has to predict the weather, and every man is able to test the value of these predictions. The zoologist, on the other hand, does not predict anything. He merely lays down the law to people who know nothing of law. He assures the world that he can explain all organic phenomena, and the world believes him.

As a matter of fact, zoology is quite as backward as meteorology. Those who do not wish to be deceived will do well to receive with caution all the zoological theories which at present hold the field. Before many years have passed all of them will have been modified beyond recognition. Most of them are already out of date.

There are doubtless good reasons for the colouring of both the grosbeak and the oriole; what these reasons are we know not. But as neither derives any benefit from the resemblance to the other, this resemblance cannot have been effected by natural selection. Now, if the unknown forces, which cause the various organisms to take their varied colours and forms, sometimes produce two organisms of different families which closely resemble one another, and the organisms in question are so distributed that neither can derive the slightest advantage in the struggle for existence from the resemblance, there is no reason why similar resemblances should not be produced in the case of organisms which occupy the same areas of the earth. Thus it is quite possible that many so-called cases of mimicry are nothing of the kind.

The mere fact that one of the organisms in question may profit by the likeness is not sufficient to demonstrate that natural selection is responsible for the resemblance.

In this connection we must bear in mind that, according to the orthodox Darwinian theory, the resemblance must have come about gradually, and in its beginnings it cannot have profited the mimic as a resemblance.

So plastic are organisms, and so great is the number of living things in the earth, that it is not surprising that very similar forms should sometimes arise independently and in different parts of the globe. Several instances of this fortuitous resemblance are cited in Beddard's Animal Colouration; others are cited in The Making of Species by Finn, and myself.

Perhaps the most striking case is that of a cuckoo found in New Zealand, known as Eudynamis taitensis. This is a near relative of the Indian koel, which bears remarkable resemblance to an American hawk (Accipiter cooperi). Writing of this cuckoo, Sir Walter Buller says: "Not only has our cuckoo the general contour of Cooper's sparrow-hawk, but the tear-shaped markings on the underparts, and the arrow-head bars on the femoral plumes are exactly similar in both. The resemblance is carried still further, in the beautifully-banded tail and marginal wing coverts, and likewise in the distribution of colours and markings on the sides of the neck. On turning to Mr. Sharpe's description of the young male of this species in his catalogue of the Accipitres in the British Museum, it will be seen how many of the terms employed apply equally to our Eudynamis, even to the general words, 'deep brown above with a chocolate gloss, all the feathers of the upper surface broadly edged with rufous.' ... Beyond the general grouping of the colours there is nothing to remind us of our own Bush-hawk; and that there is no great protective resemblance is sufficiently manifested, from the fact that our cuckoo is persecuted on every possible occasion by the tits, which are timorous enough in the presence of a hawk."

These cases of chance resemblance should make us unwilling to talk about "mimicry," unless there is actual proof that one or other of the similar species benefits by the resemblance.

These cases, further, throw light on the origin of protective mimicry where it does exist.

Protective mimicry is usually said to have been brought about by the action of natural selection. This is not strictly accurate. Natural selection cannot cause two showy, dissimilar species to resemble one another; all it can do is to seize upon and perfect a resemblance that has been caused by the numerous factors that have co-operated to bring about all the diversity of organic life upon this earth.



THE GREAT HIMALAYAN BARBET

Barbets may be described as woodpeckers that are trying to become toucans. The most toucan-like of them all is the great Himalayan barbet (Megalaema marshallorum). Barbets are heavily-built birds of medium size, armed with formidable beaks, which they do not hesitate to use for aggressive purposes. As regards the nests they excavate, the eggs they lay, the pad that grows on the hocks of young birds, and their flight, they resemble their cousins the woodpeckers. But they are fruit-eating birds, and not insectivorous; it is this that constitutes the chief difference between them and the woodpeckers. Barbets are found throughout the tropical world. A number of species occur in India. The best known of these is the coppersmith, or crimson-breasted barbet (Xantholaema haematocephala), the little green fiend, gaudily painted about the head, which makes the hot weather in India seem worse than it really is by filling the welkin with the eternal monotone that resembles the sound of a hammer on a brazen vessel. Nearly as widely distributed are the various species of green barbet (Thereiceryx), whose call is scarcely less exasperating than that of the coppersmith, and may be described as the word kutur shouted many times and usually preceded by a harsh laugh or cackle.

The finest of all the barbets are the Megalaemas. The great Himalayan barbet attains a length of 13 inches. There is no lack of colour in its plumage. The head and neck are a rich violet blue. The upper back is brownish olive with pale green longitudinal streaks. The lower back and the tail are bright green. The wings are green washed with blue, brown, and yellow. The upper breast is brown, and the remainder of the lower plumage, with the exception of a scarlet patch of feathers under the tail, is yellow with a blue band running along the middle line. This bright red patch under the tail is not uncommon in the bird world, and, curiously enough, it occurs in birds in no way related to one another and having little or nothing in common as regards habits. It is seen in many bulbuls, robins, and woodpeckers, and in the pitta. The existence of these red under tail-coverts in such diverse species can, I think, be explained only on the hypothesis that there is an inherent tendency to variation in this direction in many species.

A striking feature of the great Himalayan barbet is its massive yellow bill, which is as large as that of some species of toucan. Although the bird displays a number of brilliant colours, it is not at all easy to distinguish from its leafy surroundings. It is one of those birds which are heard more often than seen.

Barbets are never so happy as when listening to their own voices. Most birds sing and make a joyful noise only at the nesting season. Not so the barbets; they call all the year round; even unfledged nestlings raise up the voices of infantile squeakiness.

The call of the great Himalayan barbet is very distinctive and easy to recognise, but is far from easy to portray in words. Jerdon described the call as a plaintive pi-o, pi-o. Hutton speaks of it as hoo-hoo-hoo. Scully syllabises it as till-low, till-low, till-low. Perhaps the best description of the note is that it is a mournful wailing, pee-yu, pee-yu, pee-yu. Some like the note, and consider it both striking and pleasant. Others would leave out the second adjective. Not a few regard the cry as the reverse of pleasant, and consider the bird a nuisance. As the bird is always on the move—its call at one moment ascends from the depths of a leafy valley and at the next emanates from a tree on the summit of some hill—the note does not get on one's nerves as that of the coppersmith does. Whether men like its note or not, they all agree that it is plaintive and wailing. This, too, is the opinion of hillmen, some of whom declare that the souls of men who have suffered injuries in the Law Courts, and who have in consequence died of broken hearts, transmigrate into the great Himalayan barbets, and that is why these birds wail unceasingly un-nee-ow, un-nee-ow, which means "injustice, injustice." Obviously, the hillmen have not a high opinion of our Law Courts!

Himalayan barbets go about in small flocks, the members of which call out in chorus. They keep to the top of high trees, where, as has been said, they are not easily distinguished from the foliage. When perched they have a curious habit of wagging the tail from side to side, as a dog does, but with a jerky, mechanical movement. Their flight is noisy and undulating, like that of a woodpecker. They are said to subsist exclusively on fruit. This is an assertion which I feel inclined to challenge. In the first place, the species remains in the Himalayas all the year round, and fruit must be very scarce there in winter. Moreover, Mr. S. M. Townsend records that a barbet kept by him in captivity on one occasion devoured with gusto a dead mouse that had been placed in its cage. Barbets nest in cavities in the trunks of trees, which they themselves excavate with their powerful beaks, after the manner of woodpeckers. The entrance to the nest cavity is a neat circular hole in a tree at heights varying from 15 to 50 feet. Most birds which rear their broods in holes enter and leave the nest cavity fearlessly, even when they know they are being watched by human beings, evidently feeling that their eggs or young birds are securely hidden away in the heart of the tree. Not so the Megalaema. It is as nervous about the site of its nest as a lapwing is. Nevertheless, on one occasion, when the nest of a pair of the great Himalayan barbets was opened out and found to contain an egg and a young bird, which latter was left unmolested, the parent birds continued to feed the young one, notwithstanding the fact that the nest had been so greatly damaged. The eggs are white, like those of all species which habitually nest in holes.



PART II The Common Birds of the Nilgiris



THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE NILGIRIS

The avifauna of the Nilgiris is considerably smaller than that of the Himalayas. This phenomenon is easily explained. The Nilgiris occupy a far less extensive area; they display less diversity of climate and scenery; the lofty peaks, covered with eternal snow, which form the most conspicuous feature of the Himalayan landscape, are wanting in the Nilgiris.

The birds found in and about a Nilgiri hill station differ in character from those of the plains distant but a score of miles.

Of the common birds of the plains of Madras, the only ones that are really abundant on the Nilgiris are the black crow, the sparrow, the white-eye, the Madras bulbul, the myna, the purple sunbird, the tailor-bird, the ashy wren-warbler, the rufous-backed shrike, the white-browed fantail flycatcher, the Indian pipit, the Indian skylark, the common kingfisher, the pied crested cuckoo, the scavenger vulture, the Pondicherry vulture, the white-backed vulture, the shikra, the spotted dove, and the little brown dove.

The distribution of the avifauna of mountainous countries is largely a matter of elevation. At the base of the Nilgiris all the plains birds of the neighbourhood occur, and most of them extend some way up the hillsides. The majority, however, do not ascend as high as 1000 feet.

At elevations of 3000 feet the avifauna of the hills is already markedly different from that of the plains; nevertheless many of the hill species do not descend to this level, at any rate in the summer.