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Up—let us to the fields away,
MARY HOWITT. Take nine-and-twenty sunny, bracing
English May days, steal
from March as many still, starry nights, to these add two rainy
mornings and
evenings, and the product will resemble a typical Indian January. This
is the
coolest month in the year, a month when the climate is invigorating and
the
sunshine temperate. But even in January the sun's rays have sufficient
power to
cause the thermometer to register 70° in the shade at noon, save on an
occasional cloudy day. Sunset is marked by a sudden fall of
temperature. The
village smoke then hangs a few feet above the earth like a blue-grey
diaphanous
cloud. The cold increases throughout the hours of
darkness. In the
Punjab hoar-frosts form daily; and in the milder United Provinces the
temperature often falls sufficiently to allow of the formation of thin
sheets
of ice. Towards dawn mists collect which are not dispersed until the
sun has
shone upon them for several hours. The vultures await the dissipation
of these
vapours before they ascend to the upper air, there to soar on
outstretched
wings and scan the earth for food. On New Year's Day the wheat, the barley,
the gram, and the
other Spring crops are well above the ground, and, ere January has
given place
to February, the emerald shoots of the corn attain a height of fully
sixteen
inches. On these the geese levy toll. Light showers usually fall in January.
These are very
welcome to the agriculturalist because they impart vigour to the young
crops.
In the seasons when the earth is not blessed with the refreshing winter
rain
men and oxen are kept busy irrigating the fields. The cutting and the
pressing
of the sugar-cane employ thousands of husbandmen and their cattle. In
almost
every village little sugar-cane presses are being worked by oxen from
sunrise
to sunset. At night-time the country-side is illumined by the flames of
the megas burned
by the rustic sugar-boilers. January is the month in which the avian
population attains its
maximum. Geese, ducks, teal, pelicans, cormorants, snake-birds and
ospreys
abound in the rivers and jhils; the marshes and swamps are the resort of
millions of snipe
and other waders; the fields and groves swarm with flycatchers, chats,
starlings, warblers, finches, birds of prey and the other migrants
which in
winter visit the plains from the Himalayas and the country beyond. The bracing climate of the Punjab attracts
some cold-loving
species for which the milder United Provinces have no charms.
Conspicuous among
these are rooks, ravens and jackdaws. On the other hand, frosts drive
away from
the Land of the Five Rivers certain of the feathered folk which do not
leave the
United Provinces or Bengal: to wit, the purple sunbird, the bee-eater
and, to a
large extent, the king-crow. The activity of the feathered folk is not
at its height in
January. Birds are warm-blooded creatures and they love not the cold.
Comparatively few of them are in song, and still fewer nest, at this
season. Song and sound are expressions of energy.
Birds have more
vitality, more life in them than has any other class of organism. They
are,
therefore, the most noisy of beings. Many of the calls of birds are purposeful,
being used to
express pleasure or anger, or to apprise members of a flock of one
another's
presence. Others appear to serve no useful end. These are simply the
outpourings of superfluous energy, the expressions of the supreme
happiness that
perfect health engenders. Since the vigour of birds is greatest at the
nesting
season, it follows that that is the time when they are most vociferous.
Some
birds sing only at the breeding season, while others emit their cries
at all
times. Hence the avian choir in India, as in all other countries, is
composed
of two sets of vocalists—those who perform throughout the year,
"the musicians
of all times and places," and those who join the chorus only for a few
weeks or months. The calls of the former class go far to create for
India its
characteristic atmosphere. To enumerate all such bird calls would be
wearisome.
For the purposes of this calendar it is necessary to describe only the
common
daily cries—the sounds that at all times and all
seasons form the basis
of the avian chorus. From early dawn till nightfall the welkin
rings with the
harsh caw of the house-crow, the deeper note of the black crow or
corby, the
tinkling music of the bulbuls, the cheery keky, keky, kek, kek ... chur, chur, kok, kok, kok
of the myna, the monotonous cuckoo-coo-coo
of the spotted dove (Turtur suratensis),
the soft subdued cuk-cuk-coo-coo-coo
of the little brown dove (T. cambayensis),
the mechanical ku-ku—ku of the ring-dove (T.
risorius), the loud penetrating shrieks of the green parrot, the
trumpet-like calls of the saras crane, the high-pitched did-he-do-it
of the red-wattled lapwing, the wailing trill chee-hee-hee-hee
hee—hee
of the kite, the hard grating notes and the metallic coch-lee,
coch-lee of the
tree-pie; the sharp towee, towee, towee of the tailor-bird, the soft melodious cheeping
calls of the
flocks of little white-eyes, the chit, chit,
chitter of the sparrow, the screaming cries of
the golden-backed
woodpecker, the screams and the trills of the white-breasted
kingfisher, the
curious harsh clamour of the cuckoo-shrike, and, last but by no means
least,
the sweet and cheerful whistling refrain of the fan-tail flycatcher,
which at
frequent intervals emanates from a tree in the garden or the mango tope. Nor is the bird choir altogether hushed
during the hours
of darkness. Throughout the year, more especially on moonlit nights,
the
shrieking kucha, kwachee, kwachee,
kwachee, kwachee of the little
spotted owlet disturbs the silences of the
moon. Few nights pass on which the dusky horned owl fails to utter his
grunting
hoot, or the jungle owlet to emit his curious but not unpleasant turtuck, turtuck, turtuck,
turtuck, turtuck, tukatu,
chatuckatuckatuck. The above are the commonest of the bird
calls heard
throughout the year. They form the basis of the avian melody in India.
This
melody is reinforced from time to time by the songs of those birds that
may be
termed the seasonal choristers. It is the presence or absence of the
voices of
these latter which imparts distinctive features to the minstrelsy of
every
month of the year. In January the sprightly little metallic
purple sunbird
pours forth, from almost every tree or bush, his powerful song, which,
were it
a little less sharp, might easily be mistaken for that of a canary. From every mango tope emanates a loud
"Think of me ...
Never to be." This is the call of the grey-headed flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis), a bird that
visits the plains of northern India every winter. In summer it retires
to the
Himalayas for nesting purposes. Still more melodious is the call of the
wood-shrike, which is frequently heard at this season, and indeed
during the
greater part of the year. Every now and again the green barbet emits
his curious
chuckling laugh, followed by a monotonous kutur, kutur, kuturuk. At rare intervals his
cousin, the coppersmith, utters a
soft wow and thereby reminds us that
he is in the land of the living. These two species, more especially the
latter,
seem to dislike the cold weather. They revel in the heat; it is when
the
thermometer stands at something over 100° in the shade that they feel like
giants refreshed, and repeat their loud calls with wearying insistence
throughout the hours of daylight. The nuthatches begin to tune up in
January. They sing with
more cheer than harmony, their love-song being a sharp penetrating tee-tee-tee-tee-tee. The hoopoe reminds us of his presence by
an occasional soft uk-uk-uk. His breeding season, like
that
of the nuthatch, is about to begin. The magpie-robin or dhayal,
who for months past has uttered no sound, save a scolding note when
occasion
demanded, now begins to make melody. His January song, however, is
harsh and
crude, and not such as to lead one to expect the rich deep-toned music
that
will compel admiration in April, May and June. Towards the end of the month the fluty
call of the koel,
another hot-weather chorister, may be heard in the eastern portions of
northern
India. Most of the cock sunbirds cast off their
workaday plumage
and assumed their splendid metallic purple wedding garment in November
and
December, a few, however, do not attain their full glory until January.
By the
end of the month it is difficult to find a cock that is not bravely
attired
from head to tail in iridescent purple. Comparatively few birds build their nests
in January.
Needless to state, doves' nests containing eggs may be found at this
season as
at all other seasons. It is no exaggeration to assert that some pairs
of doves
rear up seven or eight broods in the course of the year. The
consequence is
that, notwithstanding the fact that the full clutch consists of but two
eggs,
doves share with crows, mynas, sparrows and green parrots the
distinction of
being the most successful birds in India. The nest of the dove is a subject over
which most
ornithologists have waxed sarcastic. One writer compares the structure
to a
bundle of spillikins. Another says, "Upset a box of matches in a bush
and
you will have produced a very fair imitation of a dove's nursery!"
According to a third, the best way to make an imitation dove's nest is
to take
four slender twigs, lay two of them on a branch and then place the
remaining
two crosswise on top of the first pair. For all this, the dove's nest
is a
wonderful structure; it is a lesson in how to make a little go a long
way.
Doves seem to place their nurseries haphazard on the first branch or
ledge they
come across after the spirit has moved them to build. The nest appears
to be
built solely on considerations of hygiene. Ample light and air are a sine qua non; concealment appears to be
a matter of no importance. In India winter is the time of year at
which the larger
birds of prey, both diurnal and nocturnal, rear up their broods.
Throughout
January the white-backed vultures are occupied in parental duties. The
breeding
season of these birds begins in October or November and ends in
February or
March. The nest, which is placed high up in a lofty tree, is a large
platform
composed of twigs which the birds themselves break off from the growing
tree.
Much amusement may be derived from watching the struggles of a
white-backed
vulture when severing a tough branch. Its wing-flapping and its tugging
cause a
great commotion in the tree. The boughs used by vultures for their
nests are
mostly covered with green leaves. These last wither soon after the
branch has
been plucked, so that, after the first few days of its existence, the
nest
looks like a great ball of dead leaves caught in a tree. The nurseries of birds of prey can be
described neither as
picturesque nor as triumphs of architecture, but they have the great
merit of
being easy to see. January is the month in which to look for the eyries
of
Bonelli's eagles (Hieraetus fasciatus);
not that the search is likely to be successful. The high cliffs of the
Jumna
and the Chambal in the Etawah district are the only places where the
nests of
this fine eagle have been recorded in the United Provinces. Mr. A. J.
Currie
has found the nest on two occasions in a mango tree in a tope at
Lahore. In
each case the eyrie was a flat platform of sticks about twice the size
of a
kite's nest. The ground beneath the eyrie was littered with fowls'
feathers and
pellets of skin, fur and bone. Most of these pellets contained
squirrels'
skulls; and Mr. Currie actually saw one of the parent birds fly to the
nest
with a squirrel in its talons. Bonelli's eagle, when sailing through the
air, may be
recognised by the long, hawk-like wings and tail, the pale body and
dark brown
wings. It soars in circles, beating its pinions only occasionally. The majority of the tawny eagles (Aquila vindhiana) build their nests in December. By the
middle of
January many of the eggs have yielded nestlings which are covered with
white
down. In size and appearance the tawny eagle is not unlike a kite. The
shape of
the tail, however, enables the observer to distinguish between the two
species
at a glance. The tail of the kite is long and forked, while that of the
eagle
is short and rounded at the extremity. The Pallas's fishing-eagles (Haliaetus leucoryphus) are likewise busy
feeding their young. These fine birds are readily identified by the
broad white
band in the tail. Their loud resonant but unmelodious calls make it
possible to
recognise them when they are too far off for the white tail band to be
distinguished. This species is called a fishing-eagle;
but it does not
indulge much in the piscatorial art. It prefers to obtain its food by
robbing
ospreys, kites, marsh-harriers and other birds weaker than itself. So
bold is
it that it frequently swoops down and carries off a dead or wounded
duck shot
by the sportsman. Another raptorial bird of which the nest is likely to
be
found in January is the Turumti or
red-headed merlin (Aesalon chicquera).
The nesting season of this ferocious pigmy extends from January to May,
reaching its height during March in the United Provinces and during
April in
the Punjab. As a general rule birds begin nesting
operations in the
Punjab from fifteen to thirty days later than in the United Provinces.
Unless
expressly stated the times mentioned in this calendar relate to the
United
Provinces. The nest of the red-headed merlin is a compact circular
platform,
about twelve inches in diameter, placed in a fork near the top of a
tree. The attention of the observer is often
drawn to the nests of
this species, as also to those of other small birds of prey and of the
kite, by
the squabbles that occur between them and the crows. Both species of
crow seem
to take great delight in teasing raptorial birds. Sometimes two or
three of the corvi act as if they had formed a
league for the prevention of nest-building on the part of white-eyed
buzzards,
kites, shikras and other of the lesser birds of prey. The modus
operandi of the league is for two or more of its members to
hie themselves to the tree in which the victim is building its nest,
take up
positions near that structure and begin to caw derisively. This
invariably
provokes the owners of the nest to attack the black villains, who do
not
resist, but take to their wings. The angry, swearing builders follow in
hot
pursuit for a short distance and then fly back to the nest. After a few
minutes
the crows return. Then the performance is repeated; and so on, almost ad infinitum. The result is that many
pairs of birds of prey take three weeks or longer to construct a nest
which
they could have completed within a week had they been unmolested. Most of the larger owls are now building
nests or sitting on
eggs; a few are seeking food for their offspring. As owls work on
silent wing
at night, they escape the attentions of the crows and the notice of the
average
human being. The nocturnal birds of prey of which nests are likely to
be found
in January are the brown fish-owl (Ketupa
ceylonensis) and the rock and the dusky horned-owls (Bubo
bengalensis and B.
coromandus). The dusky horned-owl builds a stick nest in a tree,
the rock
horned-owl lays its eggs on the bare ground or on the ledge of a cliff,
while
the brown fish-owl makes a nest among the branches or in a hollow in
the trunk
of a tree or on the ledge of a cliff. In the Punjab the ravens, which in many
respects ape the
manners of birds of prey, are now nesting. A raven's nest is a compact
collection of twigs. It is usually placed in an isolated tree of no
great size. The Indian raven has not the austere
habits of its English
brother. It is fond of the society of its fellows. The range of this
fine bird
in the plains of India is confined to the North-West Frontier Province
Sind,
and the Punjab. An occasional pair of kites may be seen at
work
nest-building during the present month. Some of the sand-martins (Cotyle
sinensis), likewise, are engaged in family duties. The river
bank in which a colony of these birds is nesting is the scene of much
animation. The bank is riddled with holes, each of which, being the
entrance to
a martin's nest, is visited a score of times an hour by the parent
birds,
bringing insects captured while flying over the water. Some species of munia breed at this time
of the year. The
red munia, or amadavat, or lal (Estrelda
amandava) is, next to the
paroquet, the bird most commonly caged in India. This little exquisite
is
considerably smaller than a sparrow. Its bill is bright crimson, and
there is
some red or crimson in the plumage—more in the cock than in the hen, and
most in both sexes at the breeding season. The remainder of the plumage
is
brown, but is everywhere heavily spotted with white. In a state of
nature these
birds affect long grass, for they feed largely, if not entirely, on
grass seed.
The cock has a sweet voice, which, although feeble, is sufficiently
loud to be
heard at some distance and is frequently uttered. The nest of the amadavat is large for the
size of the bird,
being a loosely-woven cup, which is egg-shaped and has a hole at or
near the
narrow end. It is composed of fine grass stems and is often lined with
soft
material. It is usually placed in the middle of a bush, sometimes in a
tussock
of grass. From six to fourteen eggs are laid. These are white in
colour. This
species appears to breed twice in the year—from October to February and again from
June to August. The white-throated munia (Uroloncha
malabarica) is a dull brown bird, with a white patch
above the tail. Its throat is yellowish white. The old name for the bird—the
plain brown munia—seems more appropriate than that with
which the species has
since been saddled by Blanford. The nest of this little bird is more
loosely
put together and more globular than that of the amadavat. It is usually
placed
low down in a thorny bush. The number of eggs laid varies from six to
fifteen.
These, like those of the red munia, are white. June seems to be the
only month
in the year in which the eggs of this species have not been found. In
the
United Provinces more nests containing eggs are discovered in January
than in
any other month. Occasionally in January a pair of hoopoes (Upupa indica) steals a march on its
brethren by selecting a nesting site and laying eggs. Hoopoes nest in
holes in
trees or buildings. The aperture to the nest cavity is invariably
small. The
hen hoopoe alone incubates, and as, when once she has begun to sit, she
rarely,
if ever, leaves the nest till the eggs are hatched, the cock has to
bring food
to her. But, to describe the nesting operations of the hoopoe in
January is
like talking of cricket in April. It is in February and March that the
hoopoes
nest in their millions, and call softly, from morn till eve, uk-uk-uk. Of the other birds which nest later in the
season mention
must be made in the calendar for the present month of the Indian
cliff-swallow
(Hirundo fluvicola) and the blue
rock-pigeon (Columba intermedia),
because their nests are sometimes seen in January. |