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OCTOBER Ye strangers, banished from your native glades, Where tyrant frost with famine leag'd proclaims "Who lingers dies"; with many a risk ye win The privilege to breathe our softer air And glean our sylvan berries. GISBORNE'S Walks in a Forest. October in India differs from the English
month in almost
every respect. The one point of resemblance is that both are periods of
falling
temperature. In England autumn is the season for the
departure of the
migratory birds; in India it is the time of their arrival. The chief feature of the English October—the
falling of the leaves—is altogether wanting in the Indian autumn. Spring is the season in which the pulse of
life beats most
vigorously both in Europe and in Asia; it is therefore at that time of
year
that the trees renew their garments. In England leaves are short-lived. After
an existence of
about six months they "curl up, become brown, and flutter from their
sprays." In India they enjoy longer lives, and retain their greenness
for
the greater part of a year. A few Indian trees, as, for example, the
shesham,
lose their foliage in autumn; the silk-cotton and the coral trees part
with
their leaves gradually during the early months of the winter, but these
are the
exceptions; nearly all the trees retain their old leaves until the new
ones
appear in spring, so that, in this country, March, April and May are
the months
in which the dead leaves lie thick upon the ground. In many ways the autumn season in Northern
India resembles
the English spring. The Indian October may be likened to April in
England. Both
are months of hope, heralds of the most pleasant period of the year. In
both
the countryside is fresh and green. In both millions of avian visitors
arrive. Like the English April, October in
Northern India is welcome
chiefly for that to which it leads. But it has merits of its own. Is
not each
of its days cooler than the preceding one? Does it not produce the
joyous morn
on which human beings awake to find that the hot weather is a thing of
the
past? Throughout October the sun's rays are hot,
but, for an hour
or two after dawn, especially in the latter half of the month, the
climate
leaves little to be desired. An outing in the early morning is a thing
of joy,
if it be taken while yet the air retains the freshness imparted to it
by the
night, and before the grass has yielded up the sparkling jewels
acquired during
the hours of darkness. It is good to ride forth on an October morn with
the
object of renewing acquaintance with nimble wagtails, sprightly
redstarts,
stately demoiselle cranes and other newly-returned migrants. In
addition to
meeting many winter visitors, the rider may, if he be fortunate, come
upon a
colony of sand-martins that has begun nesting operations. The husbandman enjoys very little leisure
at this season of
the year. From dawn till sunset he ploughs, or sows, or reaps, or
threshes, or
winnows. The early-sown rice yields the
first-fruits of the kharif harvest. By the end of the
month
it has disappeared before the sickle and many of the fields occupied by
it have
been sown with gram. The hemp (san)
is the next crop to mature. In some parts of Northern India its vivid
yellow
flowers are the most conspicuous feature of the autumn landscape. They
are as
brilliantly coloured as broom. The san
plant is not allowed to display its gilded blooms for long, it is cut
down in
the prime of life and cast into a village pond, there to soak. The
harvesting
of the various millets, the picking of the cotton, and the sowing of
the wheat,
barley, gram and poppy begin before the close of the month. The
sugar-cane, the arhar and the late-sown rice are not
yet ready for the sickle. Those crops will be cut in November and
December. As in September so in October the birds
are less vociferous
than they were in the spring and the hot weather. During the earlier
part of the
month the notes of the koel and the brain-fever bird are heard on rare
occasions; before October has given place to November, these noisy
birds cease
to trouble. The pied starlings have become comparatively subdued, their
joyful
melody is no longer a notable feature of the avian chorus. In the first
half of
the month the green barbets utter their familiar cries at frequent
intervals;
as the weather grows colder they call less often, but at no season of
the year
do they cease altogether to raise their voices. The tonk,
tonk, tonk of the coppersmith is
rarely heard
in October; during the greater part of the cold weather this barbet is
a silent
creature, reminding us of its presence now and then by calling out wow softly, as if half ashamed at the
sound of its voice. The oriole now utters its winter note tew,
and that sound is heard only occasionally. It is unnecessary to state that the
perennials—the
crows, kites, doves, bee-eaters, tree-pies, tailor-birds,
cuckoo-shrikes, green
parrots, jungle and spotted owlets—are noisy throughout the month. The king-crows no longer utter the soft
notes which they
seem to keep for the rainy season; but, before settling down to the
sober
delights of the winter, some individuals become almost as lively and
vociferous
as they were in the nesting season. Likewise some pairs of "blue
jays" behave, in September and October, as though they were about to
recommence courtship; they perform strange evolutions in the air and
emit harsh
cries, but these lead to nothing; after a few days of noisy behaviour
the birds
resume their more normal habits. The hoopoes have been silent for some
time, but in October a
few of them take up their refrain—uk-uk-uk-uk, and utter it with almost as much vigour
as they did in
March. It would thus seem that the change of
season, the approach
of winter, has a stimulating influence on king-crows, rollers and
hoopoes,
causing the energy latent within them suddenly to become active and to
manifest
itself in the form of song or dance. In October the pied chat and the
wood-shrike frequently make
sweet melody. Throughout the month the cock sunbirds sing as lustily
and almost
as brilliantly as canaries; many of them are beginning to reassume the
iridescent purple plumage which they doffed some time ago. From every
mango tope
emanates the cheerful lay of the fantail flycatcher and the lively
"Think
of me... Never to be" of the grey-headed flycatcher. Amadavats sing
sweet
little songs without words as they flit about among the tall grasses. In the early morning and at eventide, the
crow-pheasants
give vent to their owl-like hoot, preceded by a curious guttural kok-kok-kok. The young ones, that left
the nest some weeks ago, are rapidly losing their barred plumage and
are
assuming the appearance of the adult. By the middle of November very
few
immature crow-pheasants are seen. Migration and moulting are the chief
events in the feathered
world at the present season. The flood of autumn immigration, which
arose as a
tiny stream in August, and increased in volume nightly throughout
September,
becomes, in October, a mighty river on the bosom of which millions of
birds are
borne. Day by day the avian population of the jhils increases. At the beginning of the month the
garganey teal
are almost the only migratory ducks to be seen on them. By the first of
November brahminy duck, gadwall, common teal, widgeon, shovellers and
the
various species of pochard abound. With the duck come demoiselle
cranes,
curlews, storks, and sandpipers of various species. The geese and the
pintail
ducks, however, do not return to India until November. These are the
last of
the regular winter visitors to come and the first to go. The various kinds of birds of prey which
began to appear in
September continue to arrive throughout the present month. Grey-headed and red-breasted flycatchers,
minivets,
bush-chats, rose-finches and swallows pour into the plains from the
Himalayas,
while from beyond those mountains come redstarts, wagtails, starlings,
buntings, blue-throats, quail and snipe. Along with the other migrants
come
numbers of rooks and jackdaws. These do not venture far into India;
they
confine themselves to the North-West Frontier Province and the Punjab,
where
they remain during the greater part of the winter. The exodus, from the
above-mentioned Provinces, of the bee-eaters, sunbirds, yellow-throated
sparrows, orioles, red turtle-doves and paradise flycatchers is
complete by the
end of October. The above are by no means the only birds that undergo
local
migration. The great majority of species probably move about in a
methodical
manner in the course of the year; a great deal of local migration is
overlooked, because the birds that move away from a locality are
replaced by
others of their kind that come from other places. During a spell of exceptionally cold
weather a great many
Himalayan birds are driven by the snow into the plains of India, where
they
remain for a few days or weeks. Some of these migrants are noticed in
the
calendar for December. In October the annual moult of the birds
is completed, so
that, clothed in their warm new feathers, they are ready for winter
some time
before it comes. In the case of the redstart, the bush-chat, most of
the
wagtails, and some other species, the moult completely changes the
colouring of
the bird. The reason of this is that the edges of the new feathers are
not of
the same colour as the inner parts. Only the margins show, because the
feathers
of a bird overlap like slates on a roof, or the scales of a fish. After
a time
the edges of the new feathers become worn away, and then the
differently-hued
deeper parts begin to show, so that the bird gradually resumes the
appearance
it had before the moult. When the redstarts reach India in September
most of
the cocks are grey birds, because of the grey margins to their
feathers; by the
middle of April, when they begin to depart, many of them are black, the
grey
margins of the feathers having completely disappeared; other
individuals are
still grey because the margins of the feathers are broader or have not
worn so
much. October is the month in which the falconer
sallies forth to
secure the hawks which will be employed in "the sport of kings"
during the cold weather. There are several methods of catching birds of
prey,
as indeed there are of capturing almost every bird and beast. The
amount of
poaching that goes on in this country is appalling, and, unless
determined
efforts are made to check it, there is every prospect of the splendid
fauna of
India being ruined. The sportsman is bound by all manner of
restrictions, but
the poacher is allowed to work his wicked will on the birds and beasts
of the
country, almost without let or hindrance. The apparatus usually employed for the
capture of the
peregrine, the shahin and other falcons is a well-limed piece of cane,
about
the length of the expanse of a falcon's wings. To the middle of this a
dove, of
which the eyelids have been sewn up, is tied. When a wild falcon
appears on the
scene the bird-catcher throws into the air the cane with the luckless
dove
attached to it. The dove flies about aimlessly, being unable to see,
and is
promptly pounced upon by the falcon, whose wings strike the limed cane
and
become stuck to it; then falcon and dove fall together to the ground,
where
they are secured by the bird-catcher. Another method largely resorted to is to
tether a myna, or
other small bird, to a peg driven into the ground, and to stretch
before this a
net, about three feet broad and six long, kept upright by means of two
sticks
inserted in the ground. Sooner or later a bird of prey will catch sight
of the
tethered bird, stoop to it, and become entangled in the net. A third device is to catch a buzzard and
tie together some
of the flight feathers of the wing, so that it can fly only with
difficulty and
cannot go far before it falls exhausted to the ground. To the feet of
the bird
of which the powers of flight have been thus curtailed a bundle of
feathers is
tied. Among the feathers several horsehair nooses are set. When a bird
of prey,
of the kind on which the falconer has designs, is seen the buzzard is
thrown
into the air. It flaps along heavily, and is immediately observed by
the
falcon, which thinks that the buzzard is carrying some heavy quarry in
its
talons. Now, the buzzard is a weakling among the raptores and all the
other
birds of prey despise it. Accordingly, the falcon, unmindful of the
proverb
which says that honesty is the best policy, swoops down on the buzzard
with
intent to commit larceny, and becomes entangled in the nooses. Then
both
buzzard and falcon fall to the ground, struggling violently. All that
the
bird-catcher has to do now is to walk up and secure his prize. October marks the beginning of a lull in
the nesting
activities of birds, a lull that lasts until February. As we have seen,
the
nesting season of the birds that breed in the rains ends in September,
nevertheless a few belated crow-pheasants, sarus cranes and
weaver-birds are
often to be found in October still busy with nestlings, or even with
eggs; the
latter usually prove to be addled, and this explains the late sitting
of the
parent. October, however, is the month in which the nesting season of
the
black-necked storks (Xenorhynchus
asiaticus) begins, if the monsoon has been a normal one and the
rains have
continued until after the middle of September. This bird begins to nest
shortly
after the monsoon rains have ceased. Hard-set eggs have been taken in
the
beginning of September and as late as 27th December. Most eggs are laid
during
the month of October. The nest is a large saucer-shaped platform of
twigs and sticks.
Hume once found one "fully six feet long and three broad." The nest
is usually lined with grass or some soft material and is built high up
in a
tree. The normal number of eggs is four, these are of a dirty white hue. |