Glimpses of Indian Birds

Part 1

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

BY DOUGLAS DEWAR

LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN MCMXIII

WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO

THEODORE ROOSEVELT

A HUNTER OF BIG GAME AND A NATURALIST WHO, HAVING BROUGHT COMMON-SENSE TO BEAR ON THE PROBLEMS OF NATURAL HISTORY DECLINES TO BE DICTATED TO BY THOSE WHO HAVE CONSTITUTED THEMSELVES ZOOLOGICAL AUTHORITIES

PREFACE

In the brief sketches that follow I find occasion repeatedly to attack the prevalent theories of protective colouration, because it is impossible for the naturalist who uses his eyes to accept these theories.

Most of these hypotheses were advanced by field naturalists, but they have since been elaborated by cabinet zoologists and have become a creed. Now, Huxley remarked with truth, “Science commits suicide when it adopts a creed.” With equal truth he asserted, “‘Authorities,’ ‘disciples,’ and ‘schools’ are the curse of science and do more to interfere with the work of the scientific spirit than all its enemies.”

In England zoology is at present in the hands of ‘schools’ and ‘authorities’ of the kind to which Huxley objected.

The result is that where, in some of my previous books, I have exposed the shallowness of the prevalent theories, I have been taken to task by certain reviewers who are disciples of those ‘authorities.’ These gentlemen term my criticisms superficial, but they have made no attempt to show in what way my criticisms are superficial. There is a good reason for this. It is that these journalists know well that any attempts to rebut my statements will lead to a controversy in which they cannot but be worsted because the facts are against them.

If what I say is incorrect my reviewers now have an excellent opportunity to demonstrate this.

Lest these have recourse to the unfailing resort of the defeated Darwinian or Wallaceian—the argument of ignorance, lest they say that it is only owing to their insufficient knowledge of Indian birds that they cannot answer me, let me assert that what I say of Indian birds is equally true of British birds.

I assert with confidence that the colouring of nine out of ten birds has some feature which the theories attacked by me cannot account for.

“Hypotheses,” wrote Huxley, “are not ends but means. . . . The most useful of servants to the man of science, they are the worst of masters, and when the establishment of the hypotheses comes the end, and fact is attended to only so far as it suits the ‘Idee,’ science has no longer anything to do with the business.”

The hypotheses which I decline to accept have become the masters of many zoologists who are busily occupied in distorting facts which do not coincide with theory.

It is not very long since an English scientific paper published an article entitled “What have ornithologists done for Darwinism?” So long as zoologists test the work of the naturalist by the amount of evidence he collects for Darwinism or any other “ism,” it is hopeless to expect zoological science to progress.

CONTENTS

PAGE I. Birds in a Grove 3 II. The Magpie-Robin 9 III. The Indian Snake-Bird 14 IV. Minivets 19 V. The Power of Animals to Express Thought 25 VI. Pied Woodpeckers 31 VII. A Jhil out of Season 37 VIII. Birds in White 42 IX. The Pied Crested Cuckoo 48 X. Vultures 55 XI. The Indian Robin 61 XII. The Shikra 69 XIII. A Finch of Roseate Hue 74 XIV. Birds on the Lawn 80 XV. The Grey Hornbill 86 XVI. The Flamingo 91 XVII. Summer Visitors to the Punjab Plains 98 XVIII. A Bird of Many Aliases 106 XIX. Paddy Birds at Bedtime 111 XX. Merlins 116 XXI. The Common Wryneck 121 XXII. Green Pigeons 126 XXIII. Bulbuls’ Nests 131 XXIII. Bulbuls’ Nests—II 139 XXIV. Nightingales in India 145 XXV. The Wire-tailed Swallow 150 XXVI. Winter Visitors to the Punjab Plains 157 XXVII. A Kingfisher and a Tern 167 XXVIII. The Red Turtle Dove 172 XXIX. Birds in the Millet Fields 178 XXX. Hoopoes at the Nesting Season 185 XXXI. The Largest Bird in India 197 XXXII. The Swallow-Plover 204 XXXIII. The Birds of a Madras Garden 211 XXXIV. Sunbirds 218 XXXV. The Bank Myna 225 XXXVI. The Jackdaw 231 XXXVII. Fighting in Nature 234 XXXVIII. Birds and Butterflies 238 XXXIX. Voices of the Night 246 Index 257

These “Glimpses” originally appeared in one or other of the following periodicals: The Madras Mail, Pioneer, Civil and Military Gazette, Times of India, Bird Notes.

The author takes this opportunity of thanking the editors of the above papers for permission to reproduce the sketches.

GLIMPSES OF INDIAN BIRDS

I BIRDS IN A GROVE

The small groves that usually surround hamlets in Oudh are favourite resorts of birds.

I know of few more pleasant ways of passing an hour than under the trees in such a grove at the beginning of December, when the weather is perfect. The number of birds that show themselves is truly astonishing.

Recently I tarried for a little time in such a grove consisting of half a dozen mango trees, a tamarind and a pipal, and witnessed there a veritable avian pageant—a pageant accompanied by music.

The sunbirds (Arachnechthra asiatica) were the leading minstrels. There may have been a dozen of them in the little tope. To count them was impossible, because sunbirds are never still for two seconds together. When not flitting about amid the foliage looking for insects they are playing hide-and-seek, or pouring out their canary-like song. At this season of the year the cocks are in undress plumage. In his full splendour the male is glistening purple; but in August he loses nearly all his purple gloss and becomes brownish above and ashy grey below, save for a purple stripe running downwards from his chin. The hen is at all times brown above and yellow below.

Part 2

The red-whiskered bulbuls (Otocompsa emeria) were as numerous and as full of life and motion as the sunbirds. Their tinkling notes mingled pleasantly with the sharper tones of the other choristers.

It is superfluous to state that two or three pairs of doves were in that little bagh, and that one or other of them never ceased to coo.

Further, it goes without saying that there were redstarts in that tope. The Indian redstart (Ruticilla rufiventris) is one of the commonest birds in Oudh during the winter months. During flight it looks like a little ball of fire, because of its red tail: hence its old English name, fire-tail.

At intervals, a curious tew emanated from the foliage. A short search sufficed to reveal the author—the black-headed oriole (Oriolus melanocephalus), a glorious golden bird having the head and neck black and some black in the wing. This creature seems never to descend to the ground; it dwells always in the greenwood tree and its life is one long search for fruit, caterpillars and other creeping things.

The flycatchers were a pageant in themselves; there were more species in that tiny bagh than are to be found in the whole of Great Britain and Ireland.

First and foremost the fan-tailed flycatcher (Rhipidura albifrontata)—the prima donna of the tope—presented herself. Like a fairy in a pastoral play, she comes into view from some leafy bower, announcing her appearance by five or six joyous notes that mount and descend the musical scale. Dainty as a wagtail she is arrayed in black and white like some motacillas. She is dancer as well as singer, and she pirouettes up and down a horizontal branch, bowing now to right and now to left, spreading her tail into a fan and suddenly breaking off her dance to make a flight after an insect.

Even more beautiful was the next flycatcher to introduce itself—Tickell’s blue flycatcher (Cyornis tickelli). The upper parts of this exquisite little creature are glistening royal blue; the throat and breast are flaming orange, and the lower parts are white. After flitting from bough to bough in search of quarry, it stood still and uttered its lay, which consists of a chik, chik, followed by a little trill, not unlike that of the fan-tailed flycatcher. Having delivered itself of its melody, it vanished into the green canopy. Its place was taken almost immediately by a red-breasted flycatcher (Siphia parva), a bird very like the English robin in appearance. Ere long it moved away.

Shortly after another flycatcher took its little part in the pageant. This was the grey-headed flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis), “a tiny brownie bird,” with the head grey and the lower parts bright yellow. With the exception of the Rhipidura, all these flycatchers had come down from the Himalayas.

While watching their graceful movements, my attention was attracted by a curious grating sound that emanated from the branches immediately over my head. On looking up, I saw a crow-pheasant (Centropus rufipennis) running up a branch in the inimitable manner of his kind. His bright red eye was fixed on me, and he had evidently made up his cuculine mind that “distance lends enchantment to the view” of a human being, and accordingly lost no time in making his exit.

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