Swifts and bats—the one as graceful as the other is hideous—would seem queer neighbours, although there is a certain affinity between the two, for both enjoy the same food—flies and other insects—and obtain it on the wing without mutual interference; for the first hunt by day, and the others are nocturnal. In the cave, the swallows breed at the inner end, while the bats congregate near the mouth.
Another small cave was inhabited by bats only, and so thickly were they suspended from the walls, that one could kill a dozen at one blow. For long after we left the spot, clouds of swifts whirled about the entrance; but the bats, when disturbed, immediately disappeared in the jungle above.
The only path on Little Nicobar runs across its northern peninsula. It starts near a couple of dilapidated huts opposite Pulo Milo, and, running first through a belt of tangled scrub, crosses the little range of hills near the western coast, and then, traversing a stretch of rich flat soil, covered with splendid open forest, and great numbers of the Nicobar palm (P. augusta), finally comes out on the east coast opposite the small island of Menchál, which lies a mile or so distant, and is only half a square mile in area. It is covered with forest, containing many coco palms and tree ferns, and also clumps of two species of giant bamboo (Bambusa brandisii and Gigantochloa macrostachya). It is of sandstone formation, covered with deep soil or sharply-worn coral. Somewhat farther down the coast is a small village, and the path has been made to connect this with Pulo Milo.
The forest through which the path ran was our favourite collecting ground. We met there for the first time the beautiful little sunbird Aethopyga nicobarica, with crown and tail dark shining blue, throat and breast scarlet, through which ran two moustachial streaks of brilliant blue, the remaining plumage olive grey, but further ornamented by patches of bright yellow beneath the wing and on the back. This is the male, for the hen bird, as in all sunbirds, is of very inconspicuous plumage. This species is very local in distribution, and does not occur in the northern islands.
Astur soloensis, the forest hawk, was not uncommon, but took pains to obtain, for it was very wary. Before beginning to call, one had to hide in a bush, or behind a tree trunk, and the chances were that when the bird did arrive it would perch behind you, and then, since its swooping flight is perfectly noiseless, one remained in ignorance of its proximity. Then, too, it might rest five yards away or fifty: in the former case, if you were not prepared with a suitable cartridge, the bird was lost, for there would be no time to reload; in the latter event, it was better to knock it over straightway than run risks in bringing it closer. Once they become frightened, or see what is making the call, they are off, not to return, "charm you never so wisely."
A parrot—Palæornis caniceps—restricted entirely to the two southern islands of the Nicobars, was very common about here, where its screams and chattering often broke the prevailing silence of the jungle. For such a bird, it was clad in sober colours; for, saving a grey head, across the front of which—like a pair of spectacles—there ran a patch of black feathers, the plumage was of green only. The whole scheme was somewhat relieved in the male by an upper mandible of scarlet.
Monkeys abounded, and on some days we might see as many as fifty or a hundred. They are so numerous that in both Little and Great Nicobar the coco palms, except in the neighbourhood of villages, are altogether unproductive, and this, according to the natives, is because the monkeys screw off every nut the moment it begins to form.[75]
They, too, are very timid in some ways, but one is able to get at them through their intense curiosity. The attempt to stalk a herd of these animals is often a futile proceeding; but if, when you have seen them, you keep quite still, and attract their attention by some unusual noise, such as a continued tapping on your gun-barrel, you will generally have them all round you in a very short time.
The effect, on the monkey, of man's appearance, is most interesting. The expression of their emotions is certainly almost human, as they sit and stare at him, coughing and snarling with anger and contempt, drawing back their heads and throwing the hand before the face with a gesture of abhorrence, and other movements indicative of shocked and outraged feelings. But predominant is the expression of absolute horror, which, coming from those we consider our still degraded cousins, is to our superiority very aggravating.
A troop of monkeys travelling through the forest and feeding as they move, is also worth watching. Their presence is plainly indicated, even when some distance off, by the crashing noise made as they leap from tree to tree. Having reached the extremity of one branch, the monkey, with a swing and a flying leap, conveys himself to another, not alighting as a rule on a bough of any size, but generally coming down on all fours amongst the small twigs, a bunch of which is immediately embraced.