PART II

On several occasions this year (1910) I have listened with unalloyed pleasure to the sweet blackbird-like song of the grey-winged ouzel (Merula boulboul) at Naini Tal—a station in the Himalayas, consisting of over a hundred bungalows dotted on the well-wooded hillsides that tower 1200 feet above a mountain lake that is itself 6000 feet above the level of the sea. On the northern slope of one of the mountains on the north side of the Naini Tal lake, is a deep ravine, through which runs a little stream. The sides of the ravine are covered with trees—mainly rhododendron, oak, and holly.

On July 1st I went 1000 feet down this ravine to visit the nest of a spotted forktail (Henicurus maculatus) which I had discovered a week previously. Having duly inspected the blind, naked, newly-hatched forktails, Iwent farther down the stream to try to see something of a pair of red-billed blue magpies (Urocissa occipitalis).

The magpies were not at home that afternoon, and while waiting for them I caught sight of a bird among the foliage lower down the hill. At first I took this for a Himalayan whistling-thrush. I followed its movements through my field-glasses, and saw it alight on part of the gnarled and twisted trunk of a rhododendron tree. Closer inspection showed that the bird was a grey-winged ouzel. He had apparently caught sight of me, for his whole attitude was that of a suspicious bird with a nest in the vicinity. He remained motionless for several minutes.

As I watched him a ray of sunlight penetrated the thick foliage and fell upon the part of the tree where he was standing, and revealed to me that he was on the edge of a cunningly-placed nest.

The trunk of the rhododendron tree bifurcated about 20 feet above the ground; one limb grew nearly upright, the other almost horizontally for a few feet, and then broke up into five branches, or, rather, gave off four upwardly-directed branches, each as thick asa man's wrist, and then continued its horizontal direction, greatly diminished in size.

The four upwardly-directed branches took various directions, each being considerably twisted, and one actually curling round its neighbour. At the junction of the various branches lay the nest, resting on the flat surface, much as a large, shallow pill-box might rest in the half-closed palm of the hand of a man whose fingers were rugged and twisted with years of hard toil.

The upper part of the trunk was covered by a thick growth of green moss, and from it two or three ferns sprang.

As the exterior of the nest consisted entirely of green moss, it blended perfectly with its surroundings. From below it could not possibly have been seen. When I caught sight of it I was standing above it at the top of the ravine, and even then I should probably have missed seeing it, had not that ray of sunlight fallen on the nest and imparted a golden tint to the fawn-coloured plumage of the nestlings which almost completely filled the nest cup.

The situation of this nest may be said to be typical, although cases are on record of thenursery being placed on the ground at the root of a tree, or on the ledge of a rock. Many ouzels' nests are placed on the stumps of pollard trees, and in such cases the shoots which grow out of the stump often serve to hide the nest from view. The nests built by grey-winged ouzels vary considerably in structure. The commonest form is that of a massive cup, composed exteriorly of moss and lined with dry grass, a layer of mud being inserted between the moss and the grass lining. This mud layer does not invariably occur.

The cock ouzel remained for fully five minutes with one eye on me, and then flew off. I seized the opportunity to approach nearer the nest, and took up a position on the hillside level with it, at a distance of about 14 feet.

In a few minutes the hen bird appeared. Her prevailing hue is reddish brown, while the cock is black all over, save for some large patches of dark grey on the wings. In each sex the bill and legs are reddish yellow, the bill being the more brightly coloured. The hen caught sight of me and beat a hurried retreat, without approaching the nest.

The young ouzels kept very still; occasionally one of them would half raise its head.That was almost the only movement I noticed.

Presently the cock appeared, with his beak full of caterpillars. He alighted on a branch a few feet from the nest, where he caught sight of me; but instead of flying off as the hen had done, he held his ground and fixed his eye on me, no doubt swearing inwardly, but no audible sound escaped him.

Whenever I have watched a pair of birds feeding their young, I have almost invariably noticed that one of them is far more alarmed at my presence than the other. The ouzels proved no exception to the rule. In this case it was the cock who showed himself the bolder spirit. He remained watching me for fully ten minutes, his legs and body as immobile as those of a statue, but he occasionally turned his head to one side in order to obtain a better view of me; and I could then see, outlined against the sky, the wriggling forms of several caterpillars hanging from his bill. I hoped that he would pluck up courage to feed his youngsters before my eyes; but his heart failed him, for presently he flew to another tree a little farther away, whence he again contemplated me. After this he kept changing his position, never uttering asound, and always retaining hold of the beakful of caterpillars. After a little the hen returned with her bill full of caterpillars, but she did not venture within 75 feet of the nest. I was not permitted to observe how long it would take the parental instinct to overcome the natural timidity of the birds. The sky suddenly became overcast, and a few minutes later I found myself enveloped in what the Scotch call a "wet mist." At certain seasons of the year rain storms come up as unexpectedly in the Himalayas as they do in the Grampians.

The rain put a final end to my observations on that nest, as I had to leave Naini Tal on the following day—an event which caused more sorrow to me than to the ouzels!

The Indian grosbeaks are birds of limited distribution; they appear to be confined to the forests on the higher ranges of the Himalayas. Their most striking feature is the stout conical bill, which is an exaggeration of that of the typical finch, and is responsible for the bird's name. In one genus of grosbeak—Mycerobas—the bill is as deep as it is long, while in the other genus—Pycnorhamphus—it is nearly as massive. Three species belonging to this latter genus occur in India, namely,P. icteroides, the black-and-yellow grosbeak, found in the Western Himalayas;P. affinis, the allied grosbeak, found in Nepal, Sikkim, Tibet, and Western China; andP. carneipes, the white-winged grosbeak, which occurs all along the higher Himalayas.

There is only one Indian species of the other genus; this is known as the spotted-winged grosbeak (Mycerobas melanoxanthus), the localities inwhich this occurs are said to be "the Himalayas from the Hazara country to Sikkim at considerable elevations and Manipur."

The only Indian grosbeak which I have met in the flesh is the yellow-and-black species. This bird is common in the hills round about Murree, so that, when on ten days' leave there, I had some opportunity of studying its habits. It is a bird of the same size as the Indian oriole (Oriolus kundoo). The cock grosbeak, indeed, bears a striking resemblance to the black-headed oriole (Oriolus melanocephalus). His whole head, chin, throat, wings, shoulders, upper-tail-coverts, and thighs are black, the remainder of the plumage is a rich yellow, tinged with orange at the hind neck. Thus the colour and markings are almost identical with those of the black-headed oriole, the chief difference being that the latter has a little yellow in the wing. So great is the resemblance that the casual observer will, in nine cases out of ten, mistake the grosbeak for an oriole. The resemblance extends to size and shape, as the following table shows:

The hen grosbeak differs considerably in colour and marking both from the cock of her species and from the hen black-headed oriole. She is a dull ashy-grey bird, tinged faintly with yellowish red on the back and abdomen. Her wings and tail are black. The only young grosbeak that I have seen resembled the female in appearance, except that it had a yellow rump. It was being fed by a cock bird.

Grosbeaks live in forests, and go about either in couples or in small companies. They seem to feed largely on the ground, picking up insects. The beak of the finch tribe is adapted to a diet of seeds; nevertheless, many finches vary this food with insects. I saw a grosbeak seize, shake, and devour a caterpillar about two inches in length. Grosbeaks also eat berries and stone fruit. When disturbed they at once betake themselves to a tree, among the branches of which they are able to make their way with great agility. Grosbeaks are restless birds, always on the move, here to-day and gone to-morrow. The cock emits a call at frequent intervals. This is not easy to describe. It sounds something likekiu kree.

The nest is a cup-shaped structure, composed exteriorly of twigs, grass, and moss, and linedwith stalks of maiden-hair fern and fine roots. It is usually placed high up in a fir tree. Colonel Rattray believes that the birds bring up two broods in the year. They lay first in May, and, as soon as the young are able to shift for themselves, a second nest is made. Thus in July both young birds at large and nests with eggs are likely to be seen. The eggs are not unlike those of the English hawfinch; the ground colour is pale greenish grey, blotched and spotted with blackish brown. Sometimes the markings occur chiefly at the broad end of the eggs.

The most striking feature of the black-and-yellow grosbeak, and that on which I wish particularly to dwell, is the extraordinary resemblance that the cock bird bears to the cock black-headed oriole. If this extended to the hen, and if the grosbeak were parasitic on the oriole, it would be held up as an example of mimicry. We should be told that owing to its resemblance to its dupe it was able to approach the nest without raising any suspicion and deposit its egg. But the grosbeak is not parasitic on the oriole, and it is the cock and not the hen that bears the resemblance; moreover, the black-headed oriole does not occur inthe Himalayas, so that neither the grosbeak nor the oriole can possibly derive any benefit from this resemblance.

Now, cabinet zoologists are never tired of writing about mimicry. They assert that when organisms belonging to different families bear a close external resemblance, this resemblance has been brought about by natural selection. Having made this assertion, they expend reams of paper in demonstrating how one or both of the species benefits by the resemblance.

However, scientific books make no mention of the resemblance between the oriole and the grosbeak. The reason for this is, of course, that the resemblance in this instance cannot be a case of mimicry. Now, I regret to have to say that men of science take up the same attitude towards their theories as lawyers do regarding the cases they argue in Courts of Justice. There would be no harm in taking up this attitude if men of science were to explain that they are acting the part of advocates, that they are fighting for a theory, and trying to persuade the world to accept this theory. It is because they masquerade as judges, and put forward a one-sided case as a matured judicial finding, that I take exception to their methods.

The trouble is that scientific men to-day form a brotherhood, a hierarchy, which lays claim to infallibility, or rather tacitly assumes infallibility.

They form a league into which none are admitted except those who take the oath of allegiance; and, of course, to expose the weakness of the scientific doctrines of the time is equivalent to violating the oath of allegiance. Now, the man of science who has to earn his living by his science, has either to join the league or run the risk of starving. This explains how a small coterie of men has things very much its own way; how it can lay down the law without fear of contradiction. If a man does arise and declines to accept the fiats of this league, it is not difficult for the members to combine and tell the general public that that man is a foolish crank, who does not know what he is talking about; and the public naturally accepts this dictum.

The only scientific men who, as a class, are characterised by humility are the meteorologists. I always feel sorry for the meteorologist. He has to predict the weather, and every man is able to test the value of these predictions. The zoologist, on the other hand, does not predictanything. He merely lays down the law to people who know nothing of law. He assures the world that he can explain all organic phenomena, and the world believes him.

As a matter of fact, zoology is quite as backward as meteorology. Those who do not wish to be deceived will do well to receive with caution all the zoological theories which at present hold the field. Before many years have passed all of them will have been modified beyond recognition. Most of them are already out of date.

There are doubtless good reasons for the colouring of both the grosbeak and the oriole; what these reasons are we know not. But as neither derives any benefit from the resemblance to the other, thisresemblancecannot have been effected by natural selection. Now, if the unknown forces, which cause the various organisms to take their varied colours and forms, sometimes produce two organisms of different families which closely resemble one another, and the organisms in question are so distributed that neither can derive the slightest advantage in the struggle for existence from the resemblance, there is no reason why similar resemblances should not be produced in thecase of organisms which occupy the same areas of the earth. Thus it is quite possible that many so-called cases of mimicry are nothing of the kind.

The mere fact that one of the organisms in question may profit by the likeness is not sufficient to demonstrate that natural selection is responsible for the resemblance.

In this connection we must bear in mind that, according to the orthodox Darwinian theory, the resemblance must have come about gradually, and in its beginnings it cannot have profited the mimicas a resemblance.

So plastic are organisms, and so great is the number of living things in the earth, that it is not surprising that very similar forms should sometimes arise independently and in different parts of the globe. Several instances of this fortuitous resemblance are cited in Beddard'sAnimal Colouration; others are cited inThe Making of Speciesby Finn, and myself.

Perhaps the most striking case is that of a cuckoo found in New Zealand, known asEudynamis taitensis. This is a near relative of the Indian koel, which bears remarkable resemblance to an American hawk (Accipiter cooperi). Writing of this cuckoo, Sir Walter Buller says:"Not only has our cuckoo the general contour of Cooper's sparrow-hawk, but the tear-shaped markings on the underparts, and the arrow-head bars on the femoral plumes are exactly similar in both. The resemblance is carried still further, in the beautifully-banded tail and marginal wing coverts, and likewise in the distribution of colours and markings on the sides of the neck. On turning to Mr. Sharpe's description of the young male of this species in his catalogue of the Accipitres in the British Museum, it will be seen how many of the terms employed apply equally to our Eudynamis, even to the general words, 'deep brown above with a chocolate gloss, all the feathers of the upper surface broadly edged with rufous.' ... Beyond the general grouping of the colours there is nothing to remind us of our own Bush-hawk; and that there is no great protective resemblance is sufficiently manifested, from the fact that our cuckoo is persecuted on every possible occasion by the tits, which are timorous enough in the presence of a hawk."

These cases of chance resemblance should make us unwilling to talk about "mimicry," unless there is actual proof that one or other of the similar species benefits by the resemblance.

These cases, further, throw light on the origin of protective mimicry where it does exist.

Protective mimicry is usually said to have been brought about by the action of natural selection. This is not strictly accurate. Natural selection cannot cause two showy, dissimilar species to resemble one another; all it can do is to seize upon and perfect a resemblance that has been caused by the numerous factors that have co-operated to bring about all the diversity of organic life upon this earth.

Barbets may be described as woodpeckers that are trying to become toucans. The most toucan-like of them all is the great Himalayan barbet (Megalæma marshallorum). Barbets are heavily-built birds of medium size, armed with formidable beaks, which they do not hesitate to use for aggressive purposes. As regards the nests they excavate, the eggs they lay, the pad that grows on the hocks of young birds, and their flight, they resemble their cousins the woodpeckers. But they are fruit-eating birds, and not insectivorous; it is this that constitutes the chief difference between them and the woodpeckers. Barbets are found throughout the tropical world. A number of species occur in India. The best known of these is the coppersmith, or crimson-breasted barbet (Xantholæma hæmatocephala), the little green fiend, gaudily painted about the head, which makes the hotweather in India seem worse than it really is by filling the welkin with the eternal monotone that resembles the sound of a hammer on a brazen vessel. Nearly as widely distributed are the various species of green barbet (Thereiceryx), whose call is scarcely less exasperating than that of the coppersmith, and may be described as the wordkuturshouted many times and usually preceded by a harsh laugh or cackle.

The finest of all the barbets are theMegalæmas. The great Himalayan barbet attains a length of 13 inches. There is no lack of colour in its plumage. The head and neck are a rich violet blue. The upper back is brownish olive with pale green longitudinal streaks. The lower back and the tail are bright green. The wings are green washed with blue, brown, and yellow. The upper breast is brown, and the remainder of the lower plumage, with the exception of a scarlet patch of feathers under the tail, is yellow with a blue band running along the middle line. This bright red patch under the tail is not uncommon in the bird world, and, curiously enough, it occurs in birds in no way related to one another and having little or nothing in common as regards habits. It is seen in many bulbuls, robins, andwoodpeckers, and in the pitta. The existence of these red under tail-coverts in such diverse species can, I think, be explained only on the hypothesis that there is an inherent tendency to variation in this direction in many species.

A striking feature of the great Himalayan barbet is its massive yellow bill, which is as large as that of some species of toucan. Although the bird displays a number of brilliant colours, it is not at all easy to distinguish from its leafy surroundings. It is one of those birds which are heard more often than seen.

Barbets are never so happy as when listening to their own voices. Most birds sing and make a joyful noise only at the nesting season. Not so the barbets; they call all the year round; even unfledged nestlings raise up the voices of infantile squeakiness.

The call of the great Himalayan barbet is very distinctive and easy to recognise, but is far from easy to portray in words. Jerdon described the call as a plaintivepi-o,pi-o. Hutton speaks of it ashoo-hoo-hoo. Scully syllabises it astill-low,till-low,till-low. Perhaps the best description of the note is that it is a mournful wailing,pee-yu,pee-yu,pee-yu. Some like the note, and consider it both strikingand pleasant. Others would leave out the second adjective. Not a few regard the cry as the reverse of pleasant, and consider the bird a nuisance. As the bird is always on the move—its call at one moment ascends from the depths of a leafy valley and at the next emanates from a tree on the summit of some hill—the note does not get on one's nerves as that of the coppersmith does. Whether men like its note or not, they all agree that it is plaintive and wailing. This, too, is the opinion of hillmen, some of whom declare that the souls of men who have suffered injuries in the Law Courts, and who have in consequence died of broken hearts, transmigrate into the great Himalayan barbets, and that is why these birds wail unceasinglyun-nee-ow,un-nee-ow, which means "injustice, injustice." Obviously, the hillmen have not a high opinion of our Law Courts!

Himalayan barbets go about in small flocks, the members of which call out in chorus. They keep to the top of high trees, where, as has been said, they are not easily distinguished from the foliage. When perched they have a curious habit of wagging the tail from side to side, as a dog does, but with a jerky, mechanical movement. Their flight is noisyand undulating, like that of a woodpecker. They are said to subsist exclusively on fruit. This is an assertion which I feel inclined to challenge. In the first place, the species remains in the Himalayas all the year round, and fruit must be very scarce there in winter. Moreover, Mr. S. M. Townsend records that a barbet kept by him in captivity on one occasion devoured with gusto a dead mouse that had been placed in its cage. Barbets nest in cavities in the trunks of trees, which they themselves excavate with their powerful beaks, after the manner of woodpeckers. The entrance to the nest cavity is a neat circular hole in a tree at heights varying from 15 to 50 feet. Most birds which rear their broods in holes enter and leave the nest cavity fearlessly, even when they know they are being watched by human beings, evidently feeling that their eggs or young birds are securely hidden away in the heart of the tree. Not so theMegalæma. It is as nervous about the site of its nest as a lapwing is. Nevertheless, on one occasion, when the nest of a pair of the great Himalayan barbets was opened out and found to contain an egg and a young bird, which latter was left unmolested, the parentbirds continued to feed the young one, notwithstanding the fact that the nest had been so greatly damaged. The eggs are white, like those of all species which habitually nest in holes.

The Common Birds of the Nilgiris

The avifauna of the Nilgiris is considerably smaller than that of the Himalayas. This phenomenon is easily explained. The Nilgiris occupy a far less extensive area; they display less diversity of climate and scenery; the lofty peaks, covered with eternal snow, which form the most conspicuous feature of the Himalayan landscape, are wanting in the Nilgiris.

The birds found in and about a Nilgiri hill station differ in character from those of the plains distant but a score of miles.

Of the common birds of the plains of Madras, the only ones that are really abundant on the Nilgiris are the black crow, the sparrow, the white-eye, the Madras bulbul, the myna, the purple sunbird, the tailor-bird, the ashy wren-warbler, the rufous-backed shrike, the white-browed fantail flycatcher, the Indian pipit, theIndian skylark, the common kingfisher, the pied crested cuckoo, the scavenger vulture, the Pondicherry vulture, the white-backed vulture, the shikra, the spotted dove, and the little brown dove.

The distribution of the avifauna of mountainous countries is largely a matter of elevation. At the base of the Nilgiris all the plains birds of the neighbourhood occur, and most of them extend some way up the hillsides. The majority, however, do not ascend as high as 1000 feet.

At elevations of 3000 feet the avifauna of the hills is already markedly different from that of the plains; nevertheless many of the hill species do not descend to this level, at any rate in the summer.

It is, therefore, necessary, when speaking of a plains bird as occurring or not occurring on the hills, to define precisely what is intended by this expression.

That which follows is written for people who visit the Nilgiri hill stations in the hot weather, and therefore the birds described are those which occur at elevations of 5500 feet and upwards in the summer. Those which visit the hills only in winter are eitheraltogether ignored or given but the briefest mention.

This article does not deal exhaustively with the birds of the Nilgiris; it is merely a short account of the birds commonly seen in the higher regions of those hills during the summer months. To compile an exhaustive list would be easy. I refrain from doing so because a reader unacquainted with Indian ornithology would, if confronted by such a list, find it difficult to identify the common birds.

With this by way of introduction, I will proceed to describe the birds in question, dealing with them according to the classification adopted in the standard book on Indian ornithology—the bird volumes of the "Fauna of British India" series.

THE CORVIDÆ OR CROW FAMILY

This family is not nearly so well represented on the Nilgiris as it is in the Himalayas. The only crow found on the Nilgiris is the Indian corby (Corvus macrorhynchus)—the large black crow familiar to persons living in the plains. He, alas, is plentiful in the various hill stations; but it is some consolation that thegrey-neckedCorvusceases from troubling those who seek the cool heights.

Like the grey-necked crow, the Indian tree-pie is not found at the Nilgiri hill stations—5000 feet appears to be the highest elevation to which he attains.

Of the tits only one species can be said to be common on the higher Nilgiris: this is the Indian grey tit (Parus atriceps)—a striking little bird, smaller than a sparrow. The head, throat, and neck are black, and a strip of this hue runs down the middle of the abdomen. The wings and tail are grey. The cheeks, the sides of the abdomen, and a patch on the back of the head are white. There is also a narrow white bar in the wing, and the grey tail is edged with white. The bird is found all over India, but is far more abundant on the hills than in the plains.

Another tit which, I believe, does not ascend so high as Ootacamund, but which is not uncommon in the vicinity of Coonoor is the southern yellow tit (Machlolophus haplonotus). This bird is not, as its name would seem to imply, clothed from head to foot in yellow. Its prevailing hues are green and brown. The head, breast, and upper abdomen are brightyellow, except the crown, crest, a broad streak behind the eye, and a band running from the chin to the abdomen, which are black. It is impossible to mistake this sprightly little bird, which is like the English tom-tit in shape. Tits are arboreal in habits; they seldom descend to the ground. Sometimes they go about in small flocks. They are supposed to live chiefly on insects, but most of them feed on fruit and seeds also, and the grey tit, alas, eats peas, among which it works sad havoc. The inhabitants of the Nilgiris call this lastPuttani kurivi, which, I understand, means the pea-bird.

THE CRATEROPODIDÆ OR BABBLER FAMILY

This heterogeneous family is well represented in the Nilgiris.

The Madras seven sisters (Crateropus griseus) do not ascend the hills to any considerable height. But, of course there are seven sisters in the hills. Every part of India has its flocks of babblers. The Nilgiri babbler is a shy bird; it seems to dislike being watched. One might think it is aware that it is not so beautiful as it might be. But this cannot be the reason,because it has no objection to any person hearing its voice, which may be likened to the squeak of a rusty axle. This Nilgiri babbler does not enter gardens unless they are somewhat unkempt and contain plenty of thick bushes.

Mirabile dictu, this shy and retiring bird is none other than the jungle babbler (Crateropus canorus)—the common seven sisters orsath bhai—which in northern India is as bold and almost as confiding as the robin. No one has attempted to explain why the habits of this species on the Nilgiris should differ so much from those it displays in other places.

The southern scimitar-babbler (Pomatorhinus horsfieldi), like the jungle babbler on the Nilgiris, is a bird heard more often than seen.

Every person who has spent any time at Coonoor must be well acquainted with the notes of this species. A common call is a loudko-ko-ko-e-e-e. Sometimes one bird callsko-ko-ko, and another answersko-ee. When the birds are feeding in company, they keep up a continual chatter, which is not unpleasing to the ear. When alarmed they give vent to a harsh cry of a kind characteristic of the babbler tribe. The scimitar-babbler is a bird nearly as big as a myna. It is of brownish hue and has a tailof moderate length. The breast and chin are pure white, and there is a white line running along each side of the head from front to back. The yellow beak is long and curved, hence the adjectival "scimitar." It is impossible to mistake the bird. The difficulty is to obtain anything more than a fleeting glimpse of it. It is so shy that it takes cover the instant it knows that it is being watched. It hops about in thick bushes with considerable address, much as a crow-pheasant does. It feeds on insects, which it picks off the ground or from leaves and trunks of trees. It uses the long bill as a probe, by means of which it secures insects lurking in the crevices of bark.

The Nilgiri laughing-thrush (Trochalopterum cachinnans) is a very common bird on the hills. Like the two species of babbler already described, it is a shy creature, living amid thick shrubs, from which it seldom ventures far. The head is slightly crested, the upper plumage, including the wings and tail, is olive brown. The head is set off by a white eyebrow. The under parts are chestnut. The beak and legs are black. Laughing-thrushes congregate in small flocks. They subsist chiefly on fruit. Their cry is loud and characteristic; it may bedescribed as a bird's imitation of human laughter. Their cheerful calls are among the sounds heard most often at Ootacamund and Coonoor.

The Indian white-eye (Zosterops palpebrosa) is a bird that has puzzled systematists. Jerdon classed it among the tits, and its habits certainly justify the measure; but later ornithologists have not accepted the dictum "Manners makyth bird," and have placed the white-eye among the babblers.

The white-eye is a plump little bird, considerably smaller than a sparrow. The head and back are yellowish green, becoming almost golden in the sunlight. The wings and tail are brown. The chin, breast, and feathers under the tail are bright yellow, the abdomen is white. Round the eye is a ring of white feathers, interrupted in front by a black patch.

From this ring—its most striking feature—the bird has derived its name. The ring is very regular, and causes the bird to look as though it had been decorating its eye with Aspinall's best enamel.

White-eyes invariably go about in flocks; each member of the company utters unceasingly a cheeping note in order to keep his fellowsapprized of his movements. These birds feed largely on insects, which they pick off leaves in truly tit-like manner, sometimes even hanging head downwards in order to secure a morsel.

The beautiful southern green-bulbul (Chloropsis malabarica) is numbered among the Crateropodidæ. It is not a true bulbul. It is common on the lower slopes of the Nilgiris, but does not often venture as high as Coonoor. A rich green bulbul-like bird with a golden forehead, a black chin and throat, and a patch of blue on the wing can be none other than this species.

The true bulbuls are also classified among the Crateropodidæ.

My experience is that the common bulbul of the plains—Molpastes hæmorrhous, or the Madras red-vented bulbul—is very rarely seen at the Nilgiri hill stations. Jerdon, likewise, states that it ascends the Nilgiris only up to about 6000 feet. Davison, however, declares that the bird begins to get common 4 miles from Ootacamund and is very numerous about Coonoor and all down the ghats. Be this as it may, the Madras red-vented bulbul is not the common bulbul of the Nilgiris. Its sweetnotes are very largely, if not entirely, replaced by the yet sweeter and more cheery calls of the hill-bulbul. It will be labour lost to look up this name in Oates's ornithology, because it does not occur in that work. The smart, lively little bird, whose unceasing twittering melody gives our southern hill stations half their charm, has been saddled by men of science with the pompous appellationOtocompsa fuscicaudata. Even more objectionable is the English name for the pretty, perky bird. What shall I say of the good taste of those who call it the red-whiskered bulbul, as though it were a seedy Mohammedan who dips his grizzly beard in a pot of red dye by way of beautifying it? I prefer to call this bird the southern hill-bulbul. This name, I admit, leaves something to be desired, because the species is not confined to the hills. It is to be found in most places along the west coast. Nor is it the only bulbul living on the hills. The justification for the name is that if a census were taken of the bird-folk who dwell in our hill stations, it would show thatOtocompsa fuscicaudataoutnumbered all the crows, mynas, sparrows, flycatchers, and sunbirds put together. It isthebird of the southern hills.Every thicket, every tree—nay, every bush on the hills—has its pair of bulbuls. This species has distinctive plumage. Its most striking feature is a perky crest, which arises from the crown of the head and terminates in a forwardly-directed point, like Mr. Punch's cap. The crest is black and gives the bird a very saucy air. The wings and tail are dark brown, but each feather has a pale edge, which makes a pattern like scales on a fish. Below the eye is a brilliant patch of crimson. A similarly-coloured but larger patch is displayed at the base of the tail. The lower part of the cheek is white; this is divided off from the snowy breast by a narrow black band. The breast is, in its turn, separated from the greyish abdomen by a broad black band, which ornithologists term a collaret. Sometimes the collaret is interrupted in the middle. The hill-bulbul is a most vivacious bird. From dawn to sunset it is an example of perpetual motion. Its vocal cords are as active as its wings. The tinkling sounds of this bulbul form the dominant notes of the bird chorus. Husband and wife almost always move about in company. They flit from tree to tree, from bush to bush, plucking raspberries and other hill fruit asthey pass. Bulbuls eat insects, but not when fruit is available. Like all birds bulbuls have large appetites. Recently I saw an Otocompsa devour three wild raspberries within as many minutes, each berry was swallowed at one gulp—a surprising feat, considering the small size of the bird's bill.

A bulbul's nest is a beautifully-shaped cup, usually placed in a bush at about 3 feet from the ground. As a rule, the bulbul selects an exposed site for its nest; in consequence many of the eggs are devoured by lizards. Crows in particular are addicted to young bulbuls, and take full advantage of the simplicity of the parent birds. Probably, three out of four broods never reach maturity. But the bulbul is a philosophic little bird. It never cries over broken eggs. If one clutch is destroyed it lays another.

The yellow-browed bulbul (Iole icteria) demands notice in passing, because it is common on the minor ranges. Its upper plumage is greenish yellow, the wings being darker than the back. The lower parts are canary yellow; the bird has also a yellow ring round the eye. Its note has been described as a soft, mellow whistle.

A very different bird is the southern or Nilgiri black bulbul (Hypsipetes ganeesa). This is an untidy-looking creature. Its crest is ragged. Its general hue is shabby black or brown, tinged with grey in places. The bill and feet are bright coral red. Black bulbuls utter a variety of notes, most of which are pleasing to the human ear, although they incline to harshness. The birds go about in flocks.

THE SITTIDÆ OR NUTHATCH FAMILY

Nuthatches are little climbing birds characterised by short tails. Like woodpeckers, they feed on insects, which they pick off the trunks and branches of trees. Unlike woodpeckers, however, they move about the trunks of trees with the head pointing indifferently downwards or upwards. The common nuthatch of the Nilgiris is the velvet-fronted blue nuthatch (Sitta frontalis). The upper plumage is dark blue, the cock having a velvety-black forehead and a black streak through the eye. The lower parts are creamy white. The bill is coral red. The note is a loudtee-tee-tee.

THE DICRURIDÆ OR DRONGO FAMILY

Several species of drongo or king-crow occur on the Nilgiris, but not one of them is sufficiently abundant to be numbered among the common birds of the hill stations.

THE SYLVIIDÆ OR WARBLER FAMILY

Of the warblers it may be said "their name is legion." So many species exist, and the various species are so difficult to differentiate, that the family drives most field ornithologists to the verge of despair. Many of the Indian warblers are only winter visitors to India. Eliminating these, only two warblers are entitled to a place among the common birds of the Nilgiris. These are the tailor-bird and the ashy wren-warbler.

At Coonoor the tailor-bird (Orthotomus sartorius) is nearly as abundant as it is in the plains. Oates, be it noted, states that this species does not ascend the hills higher than 4000 feet. As a matter of fact, the tailor-bird does not venture quite up to the plateau, but it is perfectly at home at all elevations below 6000 feet. This species may be likened to a wrenthat has grown a respectable tail. The forehead is ruddy brown, the back of the head is grey, the back is brown tinged with green. The lower plumage is a pale cream colour. There is a black patch or bar on each side of the neck, visible only when the bird stretches its neck to utter its loudto-wee,to-wee,to-wee. In the breeding season the shafts of the middle pair of tail feathers of the cock grow out beyond the rest. These projecting, bristle-like feathers render the cock easy of identification.

The ashy wren-warbler (Prinia socialis) is another "tiny brownie bird." The wings and tail are brown, the remainder of the upper plumage is the colour of ashes, the under parts are cream coloured. This warbler is a slight, loosely-built bird, and is easily distinguished from others of its kind by the curious snapping noise it makes as it flits from bush to bush. It occurs in pairs or singly. Davison remarks that it is "very fond of working its way up to some conspicuous post—to the top of one of the long flower-stalks ofLobelia excelsa, for instance—where it will halt for a minute or two, and then, after making a feeble attempt at a song, will dive suddenly in the brushwood and disappear."

THE LANIIDÆ OR SHRIKE FAMILY

Shrikes or butcher-birds are hawks in miniature, as regards habits if not in structure. With the exception of the brown shrike (Lanius cristatus), which is merely a winter visitor to India, the rufous-backed shrike (L. erythronotus) is the only butcher-bird common on the Nilgiris. The head of this species is pale grey, the back is of ruddy hue. The lower parts are white. The forehead and a broad band running through the eye are black. A bird having a broad black band through the eye is probably a shrike, and if the bird in question habitually sits on an exposed branch or other point of vantage, and from thence swoops on to the ground to secure some insect, the probability of its being a butcher-bird becomes a certainty.

Closely related to the shrikes are the minivets. Minivets are birds of tit-like habits which wander about in small flocks from place to place picking insects from the leaves of trees. They are essentially arboreal birds. I have never seen a minivet on the ground.

The common minivet of the Nilgiris is theorange minivet (Pericrocotus flammeus). The head and back of the cock are black. His wings are black and flame-colour, the red being so arranged as to form a band running lengthwise and not across the wing. The tail feathers are red, save the median pair, which are black. During flight the flashing red obliterates the black, so that the moving birds resemble tongues of flame and present a beautiful and striking spectacle. The hen is marked like the cock, but in her the red is replaced by bright yellow. This beautiful bird ceases to be abundant at elevations higher than Coonoor.

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