Birds of the Plains

by Douglas Dewar

Great was the delight of the little birds when the last delicate filament had been added. Their joy knew no bounds. They would sit in the nest and cry out in pure delight. The whole orchard rang with their notes of jubilation. Then a little pinkish egg, spotted with red, appeared in the nest. This was followed, next day, by another. On the fifth day after its completion the nursery contained the full clutch of four eggs.

Most carefully did the birds watch over their priceless treasures. Never for a moment did they leave them unguarded; one of the pair invariably remained sitting on the nest, while the other went to look for food and dissipate its exuberant energy in song or motion. During the day the cock and hen shared equally the duties of incubation, but the hen sat throughout the night while the cock roosted in a tree hard by. So healthy were the little birds and so comfortably weary with the labours of the day that they slept uninterruptedly all the night through; nor did they wake up when a human being came with a lantern and inspected the nest. Thus some ten days passed. But these were not days of weariness, because the hearts of the little flycatchers were full of joy.

Then a young bird emerged from one of the eggs. It was an unlovely, naked creature—all mouth and stomach. But its parents did not think it ugly. Its advent only served to increase their happiness. They were now able to spend their large surplus of energy in seeking food for it.

Ere long its brethren came out of their shells, and there were then four mouths to feed; so that the father and mother had plenty to do, but they still found time in which to sing.

Thus far everything had gone as merrily as a marriage bell. The happiness of those lovely little airy fairy creatures was without alloy. It is true that they sometimes had their worries and anxieties, as when a human being chanced to approach the nest; but these were as fleeting as the tints in a sunset sky, and were half forgotten ere they had passed away. This idyllic existence was, alas, not destined to endure.

One day, when the man who kept guard over the orchard slumbered, a native boy entered it with the intention of stealing fruit. But the pears were yet green, and this angered the urchin. As he was about to leave the grove he espied the beautiful cock flycatcher sitting on the nest. The boy had no soul for beauty; he was not spell-bound by the beautiful sight that met his eyes. He went to the tree, drove away the sitting bird, tore down the branch on which the nest was placed and bore it off with its occupants in triumph, amid the distressed cries of the cock bird. These soon brought back the hen, and great was her lamentation when she found that that which she valued most in the world had gone. Her sorrow and rage knew no bounds. Poignant, too, was the grief of the cock bird, for he had been an eye-witness of the dastardly act. For a few hours all the joy seemed to have left the lives of those little birds. But they were too active, too healthy, too full of life to be miserable long. Soon the pleasantness of their surroundings began to manifest itself to them and soothe their sorrow, for the sun was still shining, the air was sweet and cool, the insects hummed their soft chorus, and their fellow-birds poured forth their joy. So the cock began to sing and said to his mate, “Be not cast down, the year is yet young, many suns shall come and go before the cold will drive us from this northern clime; there is time for us to build another nest. Let us leave this treacherous grove and seek some other place.” The hen found that these words were good. Thus did these little birds forget their sorrow and grow as blithe and gay as they had been before. But that orchard knew them no more.

THE PARADISE FLYCATCHER

The cock paradise flycatcher (Terpsiphone paradisi), when in full adult plumage, is a bird of startling beauty. I shall never forget the first occasion upon which I saw him. It was in the Himalayas when night was falling that I caught sight of some white, diaphanous-looking creature flitting about among the trees. In the dim twilight it looked ghostly in its beauty.

It is the two elongated, middle tail feathers which render the bird so striking. They look like white satin streamers and are responsible for the bird’s many popular names, such as cotton-thief, ribbon-bird, rocket-bird. But this flycatcher has more than striking beauty to commend it to the naturalist; it is of surpassing interest from the point of view of biological theory. The cock is one of the few birds that undergo metamorphosis during adult life, and the species furnishes an excellent example of sexual dimorphism.

Since the day, some years back, when I first set eyes upon the bird, I determined to learn something of its habits; but I had to wait long before I was able to carry out my determination. It was not until I came to Lahore that I saw much of the species. Here let me say that the capital of the Punjab, unpromising as it looks at first sight, is, when one gets to know it, a veritable gold mine for the ornithologist.