Web
and Book design,
Copyright, Kellscraft Studio 1999-2013 (Return to Web Text-ures) |
Click
Here to return to
A Bird Calendar for Northern India Content Page Return to the Previous Chapter |
(HOME)
|
JUNE 'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun Darts on the head direct his forceful rays; O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. * * * * * All-conquering heat, oh, intermit thy wrath, And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow, And still another fervent flood succeeds. Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, * * * * * Thrice happy he who on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest crown'd Beneath the whole collected shade reclines. J. THOMSON. With dancing feet glad peafowl greet Bright flash and rumbling cloud; Down channels steep red torrents sweep; The frogs give welcome loud; * * * * * No stars in skies, but lantern-flies Seem stars that float to earth. WATERFIELD. Indian Ballads. There are two Indian Junes—the June of fiction
and the June of fact.
The June of fiction is divided into two equal parts—the
dry half and the wet half. The former is made up of hot days, dull with
dust
haze, when the shade temperature may reach 118°, and of oppressive nights when the air
is still and stagnant and the mercury in the thermometer rarely falls
below 84°.
Each succeeding period of four-and-twenty hours seems more disagreeable
and
unbearable than its predecessor, until the climax is reached about the
15th
June, when large black clouds appear on the horizon and roll slowly
onwards,
accompanied by vivid lightning, loud peals of thunder and torrential
rain. In
the June of fact practically the whole month is composed of hot, dry,
dusty,
oppressive days; for the monsoon rarely reaches Northern India before
the last
week of the month and often tarries till the middle of July, or even
later. The first rain causes the temperature to
fall immediately.
It is no uncommon thing for the mercury in the thermometer to sink 20
degrees
in a few minutes. While the rain is actually descending the weather
feels
refreshingly cool in contrast to the previous furnace-like heat. Small
wonder
then that the advent of the creative monsoon is more heartily welcomed
in India
than is spring in England. No sound is more pleasing to the human ear
than the
drumming of the first monsoon rain. But alas! the physical relief brought by
the monsoon is only
temporary. The temperature rises the moment the rain ceases to fall,
and the
prolonged breaks in the rains that occur every year render the last
state of
the climate worse than the first. The air is so charged with moisture
that it
cannot absorb the perspiration that emanates from the bodies of the
human
beings condemned to existence in this humid Inferno. For weeks together
we live
in a vapour-bath, and to the physical discomfort of perpetual
clamminess is
added the irritation of prickly heat. Moreover, the rain brings with it myriads
of torments in the
form of termites, beetles, stinking bugs, flies, mosquitoes and other
creeping
and flying things, which bite and tease and find their way into every
article
of food and drink. The rain also awakens from their slumbers the frogs
that
have hibernated and æstivated in the sun-baked beds of dried-up
ditches and
tanks. These awakened amphibia fill the welkin with their croakings,
which take
the place of the avian chorus at night. The latter ceases with dramatic
abruptness with the first fall of monsoon rain. During the monsoon the
silence
of the night is broken only by the sound of falling raindrops, or the
croaking
of the frogs, the stridulation of crickets innumerable, and the owlet's
feeble
call. Before the coming of the monsoon the diurnal chorus of the day
birds
begins to flag because the nesting season for many species is drawing
to a
close. The magpie-robin still pours forth his splendid song, but the
quality of
the music in the case of many individuals is already beginning to fall
off. The
rollers, which are feeding their young, are far less noisy than they
were at
the time of courtship. The barbets and coppersmiths, although not so
vociferous
as formerly, cannot, even in the monsoon, be charged with hiding their
lights
under a bushel. Towards the end of June the chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk of Horsfield's nightjar is not
often heard, but the bird continues to utter its soft churring note.
The iora's
cheerful calls still resound through the shady mango tope.
The sunbirds, the fantail flycatchers, the orioles, the
golden-backed woodpeckers, the white-breasted kingfishers and the black
partridges call as lustily as ever, and the bulbuls continue to twitter
to one
another "stick to it!" With the first fall of rain the tunes of the
paradise flycatchers and the king-crows change. The former now cry
"Witty-ready wit," softly and gently, while the calls of the latter
suddenly become sweet and mellow. Speaking generally, the monsoon seems to
exercise a
sobering, a softening influence on the voices of the birds. The pied
myna forms
the one exception; he does not come into his full voice until the rains
have
set in. The monsoon transfigures the earth. The
brown, dry, hard
countryside, with its dust-covered trees, becomes for the time being a
shallow
lake in which are studded emerald islets innumerable. Stimulated by the
rain
many trees put forth fresh crops of leaves. At the first break in the
downpour
the cultivators rush forth with their ploughs and oxen to prepare the
soil for
the autumn crops with all the speed they may. There is much to interest the
ornithologist in June. Of the birds whose nests have been
previously described the
following are likely to have eggs or young: white-eyes, ioras,
tailor-birds,
king-crows, robins, sparrows, tree-pies, seven sisters, cuckoo-shrikes,
Indian
wren-warblers (second brood), sunbirds (second brood), swifts, fantail
flycatchers (second brood), orioles, paradise flycatchers, grey
horn-bills, and
the various mynas, bulbuls, butcher-birds, doves, pigeons and lapwings.
The
following species have young which either are in the nest or have only
recently
left it: roller, hoopoe, brown rock-chat, magpie-robin, coppersmith,
green
barbet, nightjar, white-eyed buzzard, pipit, wire-tailed swallow,
white-breasted kingfisher, grey partridge, kite, golden-backed
woodpecker
(second brood), and the several species of bee-eater and lark. With June the breeding season for the blue
rock and green
pigeons ends. In the sal forests the
young jungle-fowl have now mostly hatched out and are following the old
hens,
or feeding independently. Some of the minivets are beginning to busy
themselves with a
second brood. The breeding operations of a few species
begin in June. Chief of these is that arch-villain Corvus splendens—the Indian house-crow. Crows have no fine
feathers, hence
the cocks do not "display" before the hens. To sing they know not
how. Their courtship, therefore, provides a feast for neither the eye
nor the
ear of man. The lack of ornaments and voice perhaps explains the fact
that
among crows there is no noisy love-making. Crows make a virtue of
necessity.
Any attempt at courtship after the style of the costermonger is
resented by the
whole corvine community. The only amorous display permitted in public
is
head-tickling. The cock and the hen perch side by side, one ruffles the
feathers of the neck, the other inserts its bill between the ruffled
feathers
of its companion and gently tickles its neck, to the accompaniment of
soft
gurgles. Crows are the most intelligent of birds.
Like the other
fowls of the air in which the brain is well developed, they build rough
untidy
nests—mere
platforms placed in the fork of a branch of almost any
kind of tree. The usual materials used in nest-construction are twigs,
but
crows do not limit themselves to these. They seem to take a positive
pride in
pressing into service materials of an uncommon nature. Cases are on
record of
nests composed entirely of spectacle-frames, wires used for the fixing
of the
corks of soda-water bottles, or pieces of tin discarded by tinsmiths. Four, five or six eggs are laid; these are
of a pale
greenish-blue hue, speckled or flaked with sepia markings. The hen
alone
collects the materials for the nest, but the cock supervises her
closely,
following her about and criticising her proceedings as she picks up
twigs and
works them into the nest. From the time of the laying of the first
egg until the
moment of the departure of the last young bird, one or other of the
parents
always mounts guard over the nest, except when they are chasing a koel.
Crows
are confirmed egg-lifters and chicken-stealers; they apply their
standard of
morality to other birds, and, in consequence, never leave their own
offspring
unguarded. A crow's nest at which there is no adult crow certainly
contains
neither eggs nor young birds. As has already been stated, crows spend,
much time in
teasing and annoying other birds. Retribution overtakes them in the
nesting
season. The Indian koel (Eudynamis
honorata) cuckolds them. The crows either are aware of this or have
an
instinctive dislike to this cuckoo. The sight of the koel affects a
crow in
much the same way as a red cloth irritates a bull. One of these cuckoos
has but
to perch in a tree that contains a crow's nest and begin calling in
order to
make both the owners of the nest attack him. The koel takes full
advantage of
this fact. The cock approaches the nest and begins uttering his fluty kuil, kuil. The crows forthwith dash
savagely at him. He flies off
pursued by them. He can easily outdistance his pursuers, but is content
to keep
a lead of a few feet, crying pip-pip
or kuil-kuil, and thus he lures the
parent crows to some distance. No sooner are their backs turned than
the hen
koel slips quietly into the nest and deposits an egg in it. If she have
time
she carries off or throws out one or more of the legitimate eggs. When
the
crows return to the nest, having failed to catch the cock koel, they do
not
appear to notice the trick played upon them, although the koel's egg is
smaller
than theirs and of an olive-green colour. Through the greater part of
June and
July the koels keep the crows busy chasing them. Something approaching
pandemonium reigns in the neighbourhood of a colony of nesting crows:
from dawn
till nightfall the shrieks and yells of the koels mingle with the harsh
notes
of the crows. Sometimes the crows return from the chase
of the cock koel
before the hen is ready, and surprise her in the nest; then they attack
her.
She flees in terror, and is followed by the corvi. Her screams when
being thus
pursued are loud enough to awaken the Seven Sleepers. She has cause for
alarm,
for, if the raging crows catch her, they will assuredly kill her. Such
a
tragedy does sometimes occur. Not infrequently it happens that more than
one koel's egg is
laid in a crow's nest. The incubation period of the egg of the
koel is shorter than
that of the crow, the consequence is that when, as usually happens,
there is
one of the former and several of the latter in a nest, the young koel
is
invariably the first to emerge. It does not attempt to eject from the
nest
either the legitimate eggs or the young crows when they appear on the
scene.
Indeed, it lives on excellent terms with its foster brethren. But to
say this
is to anticipate, for as a rule, neither young koels nor baby crows
hatch out
until July. The crow-pheasants (Centropus
sinensis), which are cuckoos that do not lead a parasitic
existence, are
now busy with nursery duties. The nest of the crow-pheasant or coucal
is a
massive structure, globular in shape, with the entrance at one side.
Large as
the nest is, it is not often discovered by the naturalist because it is
almost
invariably situated in the midst of an impenetrable thicket. Three or
four
pure-white eggs are laid. The white-necked storks or beef-steak
birds (Dissura episcopus) are busy at their
nests in June. These birds build in large trees, usually at a distance
from
water. The nest is rudely constructed of twigs. It is about one and a
half feet
in diameter. The eggs are placed in a depression lined with straw,
grass or
feathers. White-necked storks often begin nest-building about the
middle of
May, but eggs are rarely laid earlier than the second week of June.
House-crows
nest at the same time of year, and they often worry the storks
considerably by
their impudent attempts to commit larceny of building material. The breeding season of the paddy-birds has
now fairly begun.
These birds, usually so solitary in habit, often nest in small
colonies,
sometimes in company with night-herons. The nest is a slender platform
of
sticks placed high up in a tree, often in the vicinity of human
habitations.
Nesting paddy-birds, or pond-herons as they are frequently called,
utter all
manner of weird calls, the one most frequently heard being a curious
gurgle. Some of the amadavats build nests in June,
but the great
majority breed during the winter months. As soon as the first rains have fallen a
few of the
pheasant-tailed jacanas begin nesting operations, but the greater
number breed
in August; for this reason their nests are described in the calendar
for that
month. In June a very striking bird makes its
appearance in
Northern India. This is the pied crested cuckoo (Coccystes
jacobinus). Its under parts are white, as is a bar in the
wing. The remainder of the plumage is glossy black. The head is adorned
by an
elegant crest. The pied cuckoo has a peculiar metallic call, which is
as easy
to recognise as it is difficult to describe. The bird victimises, not
crows,
but babblers; nevertheless the corvi seem to dislike it as intensely as
they
dislike koels. By the beginning of the month the great
majority of the cock bayas or weaver-birds have
assumed
their black-and-golden wedding garment; nevertheless they do not as a
rule
begin to nest before July. The curious excrescence on the bill of the
drake nukta or comb-duck is now much enlarged.
This betokens the approach of the nesting season for that species. If the monsoon happen to burst early many
of the birds which
breed in the rains begin building their nests towards the end of June,
but, in
nine years out of ten, July marks the beginning of the breeding period
of
aquatic birds, therefore the account of their nests properly finds
place in the
calendar of that month, or of August, when the season is at its height. |