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PART I BIRDS OF THE HIMALAYAS . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 THE HABITAT OF HIMALAYAN BIRDS . . . . . . 13 THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE WESTERN HIMALAYAS . 29 THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS . 105 TITS AT WORK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 THE PEKIN-ROBIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 BLACK BULBULS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 A WARBLER OF DISTINCTION . . . . . . . . . 145 THE SPOTTED FORKTAIL . . . . . . . . . . . 151 THE NEST OF THE GREY-WINGED OUZEL . . . . . 158 THE BLACK-AND-YELLOW GROSBEAK . . . . . . . 164 THE GREAT HIMALAYAN BARBET . . . . . . . . 174

PART II THE COMMON BIRDS OF THE NILGIRIS . . . . . . . 181

APPENDICES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258

The avifauna of the Himalayas is a large one. It includes birds found throughout the range, birds confined to the eastern or western portions, birds resident all through the year, birds that are mere seasonal visitors, birds found only at high elevations, birds confined to the lower hills, birds abundant everywhere, birds nowhere common. Most ornithological books treat of all these sorts and conditions of birds impartially, with the result that the non-ornithological reader who dips into them finds himself completely out of his depth.

He who plunges into the essays that follow need have no fear of getting out of his depth. With the object of guarding against this catastrophe, I have described as few birds as possible. I have ignored all those that are not likely to be seen daily in summer in the Himalayas at elevations between 5000 and 7000 feet above the sea-level. Moreover, the birds of the Western have been separated from those of the Eastern Himalayas. The result is that he who peruses this book will be confronted with comparatively few birds, and should experience little difficulty in recognising them when he meets them in the flesh. I am fully alive to the fact that the method I have adopted has drawbacks. Some readers are likely to come across birds at the various hill stations which do not find place in this book. Such will doubtless charge me with sins of omission. I meet these charges in anticipation by adopting the defence of the Irishman, charged with the theft of a chicken, whose crime had been witnessed by several persons: "For every witness who saw me steal the chicken, I'll bring twenty who didn't see me steal it!"

The reader will come across twenty birds which the essays that follow will enable him to identify for every one he sees not described in them.

Himalayan birds inhabit what is perhaps the most wonderful tract of country in the world. The Himalayas are not so much a chain of mountains as a mountainous country, some eighty miles broad and several hundred long--a country composed entirely of mountains and valleys with no large plains or broad plateaux.

There is a saying of an ancient Sanskrit poet which, being translated into English, runs: "In a hundred ages of the gods I could not tell you of the glories of Himachal." This every writer on things Himalayan contrives to drag into his composition. Some begin with the quotation, while others reserve it for the last, and make it do duty for the epigram which stylists assure us should terminate every essay.

Some there are who quote the Indian sage only to mock him. Such assert that the beauties of the Himalayas have been greatly exaggerated--that, as regards grandeur, their scenery compares unfavourably with that of the Andes, while their beauty is surpassed by that of the Alps. Not having seen the Andes, I am unable to criticise the assertion regarding the grandeur of the Himalayas, but I find it difficult to imagine anything finer than their scenery.

As regards beauty, the Himalayas at their best surpass the Alps, because they exhibit far more variety, and present everything on a grander scale.

The Himalayas are a kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They have two faces--the fair and the plain. In May they are at their worst. Those of the hillsides which are not afforested are brown, arid, and desolate, and the valleys, in addition to being unpleasantly hot, are dry and dusty. The foliage of the trees lacks freshness, and everywhere there is a remarkable absence of water, save in the valleys through which the rivers flow. On the other hand, September is the month in which the Himalayas attain perfection or something approaching it. The eye is refreshed by the bright emerald garment which the hills have newly donned. The foliage is green and luxuriant. Waterfalls, cascades, mighty torrents and rivulets abound. Himachal has been converted into fairyland by the monsoon rains.

A remarkable feature of the Himalayas is the abruptness with which they rise from the plains in most places. In some parts there are low foothills; but speaking generally the mountains that rise from the plain attain a height of 4000 or 5000 feet.

It is difficult for any person who has not passed from the plains of India to the Himalayas to realise fully the vast difference between the two countries and the dramatic suddenness with which the change takes place.

Whether from the flat plains or the gently-sloping Bhabar, the mountains rise with startling suddenness.

The flora and fauna of the Himalayas differ from those of the neighbouring plains as greatly as the trees and animals of England differ from those of Africa.

Between elevations of 10,000 and 12,000 feet the silver fir is the commonest tree. Above 12,000 feet the firs become stunted and dwarfed, on account of the low temperatures that prevail, and juniper and birch are the characteristic trees.

There are spots in the Himalayas, at heights varying from 10,000 to 12,000 feet, where wild raspberries grow, and the yellow colt's-foot, the dandelion, the blue gentian, the Michaelmas daisy, the purple columbine, the centauria, the anemone, and the edelweiss occur in profusion. Orchids grow in large numbers in most parts of the Himalayas.

Every hillside is not covered with foliage. Many are rugged and bare. Some of these are too precipitous to sustain vegetation, others are masses of quartz and granite. On the hillsides most exposed to the wind, only grass and small shrubs are able to obtain a foothold.

Those who have not visited the Himalayas may perhaps best obtain an idea of the nature of the country from a brief description of that traversed by a path leading from the plain to the snowy range. Let us take the path from Kathgodam, the terminus of the Rohilkhand and Kumaun railway, to the Pindari glacier.

For the first two miles the journey is along the cart-road to Naini Tal, on the right bank of the Gola river.

At Ranibagh the pilgrim to the Pindari glacier leaves the cart-road and follows a bridle-path which, having crossed the Gola by a suspension bridge, mounts the steep hill on the left bank. Skirting this hill on its upward course, the road reaches the far side, which slopes down to the Barakheri stream. A fairly steep ascent of 5 miles through well-wooded country brings the traveller to Bhim Tal, a lake 4500 feet above the level of the sea. This lake, of which the area is about 150 acres, is one of the largest of a series of lakes formed by the flow of mountain streams into cup-like valleys. The path skirts the lake and then ascends the Gagar range, which attains a height of over 7000 feet. From the pass over this range a very fine view is obtainable. To the north the snowy range stretches, and between it and the pass lie 60 miles of mountain and valley. To the south are to be seen Bhim Tal, Sat Tal, and other lakes, nestling in the outer ranges, and, beyond the hills, the vast expanse of the plains.

The Gagar range is well wooded. The majority of the trees are rhododendrons: these, when they put forth their blossoms in spring, display a mass of crimson colouring. From the Gagar pass the road descends for some 3 miles through forest to the valley of the Ramganga. For about a mile the path follows the left bank of this small stream; it then crosses it by a suspension bridge, and forthwith begins to mount gradually the bare rocky Pathargarhi mountain. On the mountain side, a few hundred feet above the Ramganga, is a village of three score double-storeyed houses. These are very picturesque. Their white walls are set off by dark brown woodwork. But alas they are as whited sepulchres. It is only from a distance that they are picturesque. They are typical abodes of the hill folk.

From the Pathargarhi pass the path makes a steep descent down a well-wooded mountain-side to the Deodar stream. After crossing this by a stone bridge, the path continues its switch-back course upwards on a wooded hillside to the Laldana Binaik pass, whence it descends gradually for 6 miles, through first rhododendron then pine forest to the Sual river. This river is crossed by a suspension bridge. From the Sual the path makes an ascent of 3 miles on a rocky hillside to Almora, which is 36 miles from Kathgodam.

Almora used to be a Gurkha stronghold, and is now a charming little hill station situated some 5300 feet above the sea-level.

The town and the civil and military station are built on a saddle-backed ridge which is about 2 miles in length.

The avifauna of Almora is very interesting, consisting as it does of a strange mixture of hills and plains birds. Among the latter the most prominent are the grey-necked crow, the koel, the myna, the king-crow and the magpie-robin. In the spring paradise flycatchers are very abundant.

From Almora the road to the snowy range runs over an almost treeless rocky mountain called Kalimat, which rises to a height of 6500 feet. From Kalimat the road descends to Takula--16 miles from Almora. Then there is a further descent of 11 miles to Bageswar--a small town situated on the Sarju river. The inhabitants of Bageswar lead a sleepy existence for 360 days in the year, awakening for a short time in January, when a big fair is held, to which flock men of Dhanpur, Thibetans, Bhotias, Nepalese, Garwalis, and Kumaunis. These bring wool, borax, and skins, which they exchange for the produce of the plains.

From Bageswar the Pindari road is almost level for 22 miles, and runs alongside the Sarju. At first the valley is wide and well cultivated. Here and there are studded villages, of which the houses are roofed with thatching composed of pine needles.

At a place about 16 miles above Bageswar the valley of the Sarju suddenly contracts into a gorge with precipitous cliffs.

The scenery here is superb. The path passes through a shady glade in the midst of which rushes the roaring, foaming river. The trunks and larger branches of the trees are covered with ferns and hanging moss. The landscape might well be the original for a phase of a transformation scene at a pantomime. In the midst of this glade the stream is crossed by a wooden bridge.

At a spot 2 miles above this the path, leaving the Sarju, takes a sharp turn to the left, and begins a steep ascent of 5 miles up the Dhakuri mountain. The base of this hill is well wooded. Higher up the trees are less numerous. On the ridge the rhododendron and oak forest alternates with large patches of grassland, on which wild raspberries and brightly-coloured alpine flowers grow.

From the summit of the Dhakuri mountain a magnificent panorama delights the eye. To the north is a deep valley, above which the snow-clad mountains rise almost precipitously. Towering above the observer are the peaks of the highest mountains in British territory. The peaks and 14,000 feet of the slopes are covered with snow. Below the snow is a series of glaciers: these are succeeded by rocks, grass, and stunted vegetation until the tree-line is reached.

To the south lies the world displayed. Near at hand are 50 miles of rugged mountainous country, and beyond the apparently limitless plains. On a clear day it is said to be possible to distinguish the minarets of Delhi, 300 miles away. In the early morning, when the clouds still hover in the valleys, one seems to gaze upon a white billowy sea studded with rocky islets.

From the Dhakuri pass the path descends about 2000 feet, and then follows the valley of the Pindari river. The scenery here is magnificent. Unlike that of the Sarju, this valley is narrow. It is not much cultivated; amaranthus is almost the only crop grown. The villages are few and the huts which constitute them are rudely constructed. The cliffs are very high, and rise almost perpendicularly, like giant walls, so that the numerous feeders of the river take the form of cascades, in many of which the water falls without interruption for a distance of over 1000 feet.

The Kuphini river joins the Pindar 8 miles from its source. Beyond the junction the path to the glacier crosses to the left bank of the Pindar, and then the ascent becomes steep. During the ascent the character of the flora changes. Trees become fewer and flowers more numerous; yellow colt's-foot, dandelions, gentians, Michaelmas daisies, columbines, centaurias, anemones, and edelweiss grow in profusion. Choughs, monal pheasants, and snow-pigeons are the characteristic birds of this region.

Thus the birds of the Himalayas inhabit a country in every respect unlike the plains of India. They dwell in a different environment, are subjected to a different climate, and feed upon different food. It is therefore not surprising that the two avifaunas should exhibit great divergence. Nevertheless few people who have not actually been in both localities are able to realise the startlingly abrupt transformation of the bird-fauna seen by one who passes from the plains to the hills.

The 5-mile journey from Rajpur to Mussoorie transports the traveller from one bird-realm to another.

The eye equally with the ear testifies to the traveller that when he has reached an altitude of 5000 feet he has entered another avian realm. The golden-backed woodpecker, the green bee-eater, the "blue jay" or roller, the paddy bird, the Indian and the magpie-robin, most familiar birds of the plains, are no longer seen. Their places are taken by the blue-magpies, the beautiful verditer flycatcher, the Himalayan and the black-headed jays, the black bulbul, and tits of several species.

All the birds, it is true, are not new. Some of our familiar friends of the plains are still with us. There are the kite, the scavenger vulture, the common myna, and a number of others, but these are the exceptions which prove the rule.

Scientific ornithologists recognise this great difference between the two faunas, and include the Himalayas in the Palaearctic region, while the plains form part of the Oriental region.

The chief things which affect the distribution of birds appear to be food-supply and temperature. Hence it is evident that in the Himalayas the avifauna along the snow-line differs greatly from that of the low, warm valleys. The range of temperature in all parts of the hills varies greatly with the season. At the ordinary hill stations the minimum temperature in the summer is sometimes as high as 70 degrees, while in the winter it may drop to 23 degrees F. Thus in midwinter many of the birds which normally live near the snow-line at 12,000 feet descend to 7000 or 6000 feet, and not a few hill birds leave the Himalayas for a time and tarry in the plains until the severity of the winter has passed away.

THE CORVIDAE 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 , 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 . 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 , which is identical with the European form, and the yellow-billed chough , 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.

The Himalayan tree-pie , 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.

Two true jays, however, are common in the Western Himalayas. These are known to science as the Himalayan jay and the black-throated jay . 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 . 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.

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