Читать книгу Birds of the Indian Hills - Douglas Dewar - Страница 9

THE CORVIDÆ OR CROW FAMILY

This family, which is well represented in the Himalayas, includes the true crows, with their allies, the choughs, pies, jays, and tits.

The common Indian house-crow (Corvus splendens), with which every Anglo-Indian is only too familiar, loveth not great altitudes, hence does not occur in any of the higher hill stations. Almora is the one place in the hills where he appears to be common. There he displays all the shameless impudence of his brethren in the plains.

The common crow of the Himalayas is the large all-black species which is known as the Indian corby or jungle crow (C. macrorhynchus). Unlike its grey-necked cousin, this bird is not a public nuisance; nevertheless it occasionally renders itself objectionable by carrying off a chicken or a tame pigeon. In May or June it constructs, high up in a tree, a rough nest, which is usually well concealed by the thick foliage. The nest is a shallow cup or platform in the midst of which is a depression, lined with grass and hair. Horse-hair is used in preference to other kinds of hair; if this be not available crows will use human hair, or hair plucked from off the backs of cattle. Those who put out skins to dry are warned that nesting crows are apt to damage them seriously. Three or four eggs are laid. These are dull green, speckled with brown. Crows affect great secrecy regarding their nests. If a pair think that their nursery is being looked at by a human being, they show their displeasure by swearing as only crows can, and by tearing pieces of moss off the branch of some tree and dropping these on the offender's head!

Two species of chough, the red-billed (Graculus eremita), which is identical with the European form, and the yellow-billed chough (Pyrrhocorax alpinus), are found in the Himalayas; but he who would see them must either ascend nearly to the snow-line or remain on in the hills during the winter.

Blue-magpies are truly magnificent birds, being in appearance not unlike small pheasants. Two species grace the Himalayas: the red-billed (Urocissa occipitalis) and the yellow-billed blue-magpie (U. flavirostris). These are distinguishable one from the other mainly by the colour of the beak. A blue-magpie is a bird over 2 feet in length, of which the fine tail accounts for three-fourths. The head, neck, and breast are black, and the remainder of the plumage is a beautiful blue with handsome white markings. It is quite unnecessary to describe the blue-magpie in detail. It is impossible to mistake it. Even a blind man cannot fail to notice it because of its loud ringing call. East of Simla the red-billed species is by far the commoner, while to the west the yellow-billed form rules the roost. The vernacular names for the blue-magpie are Nilkhant at Mussoorie and Dig-dall at Simla.

The Himalayan tree-pie (Dendrocitta himalayensis), although a fine bird, looks mean in comparison with his blue cousins. This species is like a dull edition of the tree-pie of the plains. It is dressed like a quaker. It is easily recognised when on the wing. Its flight is very characteristic, consisting of a few rapid flaps of the pinions followed by a sail on outstretched wings. The median pair of tail feathers is much longer than the others, the pair next to the middle one is the second longest, and the outer one shortest of all. Thus the tail, when expanded during flight, has a curious appearance.

We now come to the jays. That brilliant study in light and dark blue, so common in the plains, which we call the blue-jay, does not occur in the Himalayas; nor is it a jay at all: its proper name is the Indian roller (Coracias indica). It is in no way connected with the jay tribe, being not even a passerine bird. We know this because of the arrangement of its deep plantar tendons, because its palate is desmognathous instead of ægithognathous, because—but I think I will not proceed further with these reasons; if I do, this article will resemble a letter written by the conscientious undergraduate who used to copy into each of his epistles to his mother, a page of A Complete Guide to the Town of Cambridge. The fond mother doubtless found her son's letters very instructive, but they were not exactly what she wanted. Let it suffice that the familiar bird with wings of two shades of blue is not a jay, nor even one of the Corviniæ, but a blood relation of the kingfishers and bee-eaters.

Two true jays, however, are common in the Western Himalayas. These are known to science as the Himalayan jay (Garrulus bispecularis) and the black-throated jay (G. lanceolatus). The former is a fawn-coloured bird, with a black moustachial streak. As birds do not usually indulge in moustaches, this streak renders the bird an easy one to identify. The tail is black, and the wing has the characteristic blue band with narrow black cross-bars. This species goes about in large noisy flocks. Once at Naini Tal I came upon a flock which cannot have numbered fewer than forty individuals.

The handsome black-throated jay is a bird that must be familiar to every one who visits a Himalayan hill station with his eyes open. Nevertheless no one seems to have taken the trouble to write about it. Those who have compiled lists of birds usually dismiss it in their notes with such adjectives as "abundant," and "very common." It is remarkable that many popular writers should have discoursed upon the feathered folk of the plains, while few have devoted themselves to the interesting birds of the hills. There seem to be two reasons for this neglect of the latter. Firstly, it is only the favoured few to whom it is given to spend more than ten days at a time in the cool heights; most of us have to toil in the hot plains. Secondly, the thick foliage of the mountain-side makes bird-watching a somewhat difficult operation. The observer frequently catches sight of an interesting-looking bird, only to see it disappear among the foliage before he has had time even to identify it.

The black-throated jay is a handsome bird, more striking in appearance even than the jay of England (G. glandarius). Its crested head is black. Its back is a beautiful French grey, its wings are black and white with a bar of the peculiar shade of blue which is characteristic of the jay family and so rarely seen in nature or art. Across this blue bar run thin black transverse lines. The tail is of the same blue with similar black cross-bars, and each feather is tipped with white. The throat is black, with short white lines on it. The legs are pinkish slaty, and the bill is slate coloured in some individuals, and almost white in others. The size of this jay is the same as that of our familiar English one. Black-throated jays go about in flocks. This is a characteristic of a great many Himalayan birds. Probably the majority of the common birds of these mountains lead a sociable existence, like that of the "seven sisters" of the plains. A man may walk for half-an-hour through a Himalayan wood without seeing a bird or hearing any bird-sound save the distant scream of a kite or the raucous voice of the black crow; then suddenly he comes upon quite a congregation of birds, a flock of a hundred or more noisy laughing-thrushes, or numbers of cheeping white-eyes and tits, or it may be a flock of rowdy black bulbuls. All the birds of the wood seem to be collected in one place. This flocking of the birds in the hills must, I think, be accounted for by the fact that birds are by nature sociable creatures, and that food is particularly abundant. In a dense wood every tree offers either insect or vegetable food, so that a large number of birds can live in company without fear of starving each other out. In the plains food is less abundant, hence most birds that dwell there are able to gratify their fondness for each other's society only at roosting time; during the day they are obliged to separate, in order to find the wherewithal to feed upon.

Like all sociable birds, the black-throated jay is very noisy. Birds have a language of a kind, a language composed entirely of interjections, a language in which only the simplest emotions—fear, joy, hunger, and maternal care—can be expressed. Now, when a considerable flock of birds is wandering through a dense forest, it is obvious that the individuals which compose it would be very liable to lose touch with one another had they no means of informing one another of their whereabouts. The result is that such a means has been developed. Every bird, whose habit it is to go about in company, has the habit of continually uttering some kind of call or cry. It probably does this unconsciously, without being aware that it is making any sound.

In Madras a white-headed babbler nestling was once brought to me. I took charge of it and fed it, and noticed that when it was not asleep it kept up a continuous cheeping all day long, even when it was eating, although it had no companion. The habit of continually uttering its note was inherited. When the flock is stationary the note is a comparatively low one; but when an individual makes up its mind to fly any distance, say ten or a dozen yards, it gives vent to a louder call, so as to inform its companions that it is moving. This sound seems to induce others to follow its lead. This is especially noticeable in the case of the white-throated laughing-thrush. I have seen one of these birds fly to a branch in a tree, uttering its curious call, and then hop on to another branch in the same tree. Scarcely has it left the first branch when a second laughing-thrush flies to it; then a fourth, a fifth, and so on; so that the birds look as though they might be playing "Follow the man from Cook's." The black-throated jay is noisy even for a sociable bird. The sound which it seems to produce more often than any other is very like the harsh anger-cry of the common myna. Many Himalayan birds have rather discordant notes, and in this respect these mountains do not compare favourably with the Nilgiris, where the blithe notes of the bulbuls are very pleasing to the ear.

Jays are by nature bold birds. They are inclined to be timid in England, because they are so much persecuted by the game-keeper. In the Himalayas they are as bold as the crow. It is not uncommon to see two or three jays hopping about outside a kitchen picking up the scraps pitched out by the cook. Sometimes two jays make a dash at the same morsel. Then a tiff ensues, but it is mostly made up of menacing screeches. One bird bears away the coveted morsel, swearing lustily, and the unsuccessful claimant lets him go in peace. When a jay comes upon a morsel of food too large to be swallowed whole, it flies with it to a tree and holds it under one foot and tears it up with its beak. This is a characteristically corvine habit. The black-throated jay is an exceedingly restless bird; it is always on the move. Like its English cousin, it is not a bird of very powerful flight. As Gilbert White says: "Magpies and jays flutter with powerless wings, and make no despatch." In the Himalayas there is no necessity for it to make much despatch; it rarely has to cover any distance on the wing. When it does fly a dozen yards or so, its passage is marked by much noisy flapping of the pinions.

The nutcrackers can scarcely be numbered among the common birds, but are sometimes seen in our hill stations, and, such is the "cussedness" of birds that if I omit to notice the nutcrackers several are certain to show themselves to many of those who read these lines. A chocolate-brown bird, bigger than a crow, and spotted and barred with white all over, can be nothing other than one of the Himalayan nutcrackers. It may be the Himalayan species (Nucifraga hemispila), or the larger spotted nutcracker (N. multipunctata).

The members of the crow family which I have attempted to describe above are all large birds, birds bigger than a crow. It now behoves us to consider the smaller members of the corvine clan.

The tits form a sub-family of the crows. Now at first sight the crow and the tit seem to have but little in common. However, close inspection, whether by the anatomist or the naturalist, reveals the mark of the corvidæ in the tits. First, there is the habit of holding food under the foot while it is being devoured. Then there is the aggressiveness of the tits. This is Lloyd-Georgian or even Winstonian in its magnitude. "Tits," writes Jerdon, "are excessively bold and even ferocious, the larger ones occasionally destroying young and sickly birds, both in a wild state and in confinement."

Many species of tit dwell in the Himalayas. To describe them all would bewilder the reader; I will, therefore, content myself with brief descriptions of four species, each of which is to be seen daily in every hill station of the Western Himalayas.

The green-backed tit (Parus monticola) is a glorified edition of our English great tit. It is a bird considerably smaller than a sparrow.

The cheeks are white, the rest of the head is black, as are the breast and a characteristic line running along the abdomen. The back is greenish yellow, the lower parts are deep yellow. The wings are black with two white bars, the tail is black tipped with white. This is one of the commonest birds in most hill stations.

Like the sparrow, it is ever ready to rear up its brood in a hole in the wall of a house. Any kind of a hole will do, provided the aperture is too small to admit of the entrance of birds larger than itself.

The nesting operations of a pair of green-backed tits form the subject of a separate essay.

Another tit much in evidence is the yellow-cheeked tit, Machlolophus xanthogenys. I apologise for its scientific name. Take a green-backed tit, paint its cheeks bright yellow, and give it a black crest tipped with yellow, and you will have transformed him into a yellow-cheeked tit.

There remain to be described two pigmy tits. The first of these is that feathered exquisite, the red-headed tit (Ægithaliscus erythrocephalus). I will not again apologise for the name; it must suffice that the average ornithologist is never happy unless he be either saddling a small bird with a big name or altering the denomination of some unfortunate fowl. This fussy little mite is not so long as a man's thumb. It is crestless; the spot where the crest ought to be is chestnut red. The remainder of the upper plumage is bluish grey, while the lower plumage is the colour of rust. The black face is set off by a white eyebrow. Last, but not least, of our common tits is the crested black tit (Lophophanes melanopterus). The crested head and breast of this midget are black. The cheeks and nape are white, while the rest of the upper plumage is iron grey.

There is yet another tit of which mention must be made, because he is the common tit of Almora. The climate of Almora is so much milder than that of other hill stations that its birds are intermediate between those of the hills and the plains. The Indian grey tit (Parus atriceps) is a bird of wide distribution. It is the common tit of the Nilgiris, is found in many of the better-wooded parts of the plains, and ascends the Himalayas up to 6000 feet. It is a grey bird with the head, neck, breast, and abdominal line black. The cheeks are white. It is less gregarious than the other tits. Its notes are harsh and varied, being usually a ti-ti-chee or pretty-pretty.

I have not noticed this species at either Mussoorie or Naini Tal, but, as I have stated, it is common at Almora.

As has been mentioned above, tits usually go about in flocks. It is no uncommon thing for a flock to contain all of the four species of tit just described, a number of white-eyes, some nuthatches, warblers, tree-creepers, a woodpecker or two, and possibly some sibias and laughing-thrushes.

THE CRATEROPODIDÆ OR BABBLER FAMILY

The Crateropodidæ form a most heterogeneous collection of birds, including, as they do, such divers fowls as babblers, whistling-thrushes, bulbuls, and white-eyes. Whenever a systematist comes across an Asiatic bird of which he can make nothing, he classes it among the Crateropodidæ. This is convenient for the systematist, but embarrassing for the naturalist.

The most characteristic members of the family are those ugly, untidy, noisy earth-coloured birds which occur everywhere in the plains, and always go about in little companies, whence their popular name "seven sisters."

To men of science these birds are known as babblers. Babblers proper are essentially birds of the plains. In the hills they are replaced by their cousins, the laughing-thrushes. Laughing-thrushes are merely glorified babblers. The Himalayan streaked laughing-thrush (Trochalopterum lineatum) is one of the commonest of the birds of our hill stations. It is a reddish brown fowl, about eight inches long. Each of its feathers has a black shaft; it is these dark shafts that give the bird its streaked appearance. Its chin, throat, and breast are chestnut-red, and on each cheek there is a patch of similar hue. The general appearance of the streaked laughing-thrush is that of one of the seven sisters who is wearing her best frock. Like their sisters of the plains, Himalayan streaked laughing-thrushes go about in small flocks and are exceedingly noisy. Sometimes a number of them assemble, apparently for the sole purpose of holding a speaking competition. They are never so happy as when thus engaged.

Streaked laughing-thrushes frequent gardens, and, as they are inordinately fond of hearing their own voices, it is certainly not their fault if they escape observation. By way of a nest they build a rough-and-ready cup-shaped structure in a low bush or on the ground; but, as Hume remarked, "the bird, as a rule, conceals the nest so well that, though a loose, and for the size of the architect, a large structure, it is difficult to find, even when one closely examines the bush in which it is."

Three other species of laughing-thrush must be numbered among common birds of the Himalayas, although they, like the heroine of A Bad Girl's Diary, are often heard and not seen. The white-throated laughing-thrush (Garrulax albigularis) is a handsome bird larger than a myna. Its general colour is rich olive brown. It has a black eyebrow and shows a fine expanse of white shirt front. It goes about in large flocks and continually utters a cry, loud and plaintive and not in the least like laughter.

The remaining laughing-thrushes are known as the rufous-chinned (Ianthocincla rufigularis) and the red-headed (Trochalopterum erythrocephalum). The former may be distinguished from the white-throated species by the fact that the lower part only of its throat is white, the chin being red. The red-headed laughing-thrush has no white at all in the under parts. The next member of the family of the Crateropodidæ that demands our attention is the rusty-cheeked scimitar-babbler (Pomatorhinus erythrogenys).

Scimitar-babblers are so called because of the long, slender, compressed beak, which is curved downwards like that of a sunbird.

Several species of scimitar-babbler occur in the Himalayas. The above mentioned is the most abundant in the Western Himalayas. This species is known as the Banbakra at Mussoorie. Its bill is 1½ inch long. The upper plumage is olive brown. The forehead, cheeks, sides of the neck, and thighs are chestnut-red, as is a patch under the tail. The chin and throat and the median portion of the breast and abdomen are white with faint grey stripes. Scimitar-babblers have habits similar to those of laughing-thrushes. They go about in pairs, seeking for insects among fallen leaves. The call is a loud whistle.

Very different in habits and appearance from any of the babblers mentioned above is the famous Himalayan whistling-thrush (Myiophoneous temmincki). To see this bird it is necessary to repair to some mountain stream. It is always in evidence in the neighbourhood of the dhobi's ghat at Naini Tal, and is particularly abundant on the banks of the Kosi river round about Khairna. At first sight the Himalayan whistling-thrush looks very like a cock blackbird. His yellow bill adds to the similitude. It is only when he is seen with the sun shining upon him that the cobalt blue patches in his plumage are noticed. His habit is to perch on the boulders which are washed by the foaming waters of a mountain torrent. On these he finds plenty of insects and snails, which constitute the chief items on his menu. He pursues the elusive insect in much the same way as a wagtail does, calling his wings to his assistance when chasing a particularly nimble creature. He has the habit of frequently expanding his tail. This species utters a loud and pleasant call, also a shrill cry like that of the spotted forktail. All torrent-haunting birds are in the habit of uttering such a note; indeed it is no easy task to distinguish between the alarm notes of the various species that frequent mountain streams.

Of very different habits is the black-headed sibia (Lioptila capistrata). This species is strictly arboreal. As mentioned previously, it is often found in company with flocks of tits and other gregarious birds. It feeds on insects, which it picks off the leaves of trees. Its usual call is a harsh twitter. It is a reddish brown bird, rather larger than a bulbul, with a black-crested head. There is a white bar on the wing.

The Indian white-eye (Zosterops palbebrosa) is not at all like any of the babblers hitherto described. In size, appearance, and habits, it approximates closely to the tits, with which it often consorts. Indeed, Jerdon calls the bird the white-eyed tit. It occurs in all well-wooded parts of the country, both in the plains and the hills. No bird is easier to identify. The upper parts are greenish yellow, and the lower bright yellow, while round the eye runs a broad conspicuous ring of white feathers, whence the popular names of the species, white-eye and spectacle-bird. Except at the breeding season, it goes about in flocks of considerable size. Each individual utters unceasingly a low, plaintive, sonorous, cheeping note. As was stated above, all arboreal gregarious birds have this habit. It is by means of this call note that they keep each other apprised of their whereabouts. But for such a signal it would scarcely be possible for the flock to hold together. At the breeding season the cock white-eye acquires an unusually sweet song. The nest is an exquisite little cup, which hangs, like a hammock, suspended from a slender forked branch. Two pretty pale blue eggs are laid.

A very diminutive member of the babbler clan is the fire-cap (Cephalopyrus flammiceps). The upper parts of its plumage are olive green; the lower portions are golden yellow. In the cock the chin is suffused with red. The cock wears a further ornament in the shape of a cap of flaming red, which renders his identification easy.

Until recently all ornithologists agreed that the curious starling-like bird known as the spotted-wing (Psaroglossa spiloptera) was a kind of aberrant starling, but systematists have lately relegated it to the Crateropodidæ. At Mussoorie the natives call it the Puli. Its upper parts are dark grey spotted with black. The wings are glossy greenish black with white spots. The lower parts are reddish. A flock of half-a-dozen or more birds having a starling-like appearance, which twitter like stares and keep to the topmost branches of trees, may be set down safely as spotted-wings.

We now come to the last of the Crateropodidæ—the bulbuls. These birds are so different from most of their brethren that they are held to constitute a sub-family. I presume that every reader is familiar with the common bulbul of the plains. To every one who is not, my advice is that he should go into the verandah in the spring and look among the leaves of the croton plants. The chances are in favour of this search leading to the discovery of a neat cup-shaped nest owned by a pair of handsome crested birds, which wear a bright crimson patch under the tail, and give forth at frequent intervals tinkling notes that are blithe and gay.

Both the species of bulbul common in the plains ascend the lower ranges of the Himalayas. These are the Bengal red-vented bulbul (Molpastes bengalensis) and the Bengal red-whiskered bulbul (Otocompsa emeria).

The addition of the adjective "Bengal" is important, for every province of India has its own special species of bulbul.

The Molpastes bulbul is a bird about half as big again as the sparrow, but with a longer tail. The black head is marked by a short crest. The cheeks are brown. There is a conspicuous crimson patch under the tail. The remainder of the plumage is brown, but each feather on the body is margined with creamy white, so that the bird is marked by a pattern that is, as "Eha" pointed out, not unlike the scales on a fish. Both ends of the tail feathers are creamy white.

Otocompsa is a far more showy bird. The crest is long and pointed and curves forward a little over the bill. There is the usual crimson patch under the tail and another on each cheek. The rest of the cheek is white, as is the lower plumage. A black necklace, interrupted in front, marks the junction of the throat and the breast. Neither of these bulbuls ascends the hills very high, but I have seen the former at the Brewery below Naini Tal.

The common bulbul of the Himalayas is the white-cheeked species (Molpastes leucogenys). This bird, which is very common at Almora, has the habits of its brethren in the plains. Its crest is pointed and its cheeks are white like those of an Otocompsa bulbul. But it has rather a weedy appearance and lacks the red feathers on the sides of the head. The patch of feathers under the tail is bright sulphur-yellow instead of crimson.

The only other species of bulbul commonly seen in the hills is a very different bird. It is known as the black bulbul (Hypsipetes psaroides).

The bulbuls that we have been considering are inoffensive little birds which lead quiet and respectable lives. Not so the black bulbuls. These are aggressive, disreputable-looking creatures which go about in disorderly, rowdy gangs.

The song of most bulbuls is a medley of pleasant tinkling notes; the cries of the black bulbuls are harsh and unlovely.

Black bulbuls look black only when seen from a distance. When closely inspected their plumage is seen to be dark grey. The bill and legs are red. The crest, I regret to say, usually looks the worse for wear. Black bulbuls seem never to descend to the ground. They keep almost exclusively to tops of lofty trees. They are very partial to the nectar enclosed within the calyces of rhododendron flowers. A party of half a dozen untidy black birds, with moderately long tails, which keep to the tops of trees and make much noise, may with certainty be set down as black bulbuls.

These curious birds form the subject of a separate essay.