In May, 1912, a pair of brown-backed robins elected to nest in the verandah of my bungalow at Fyzabad. The roof of the verandah is supported by longitudinal beams which rest on a series of cross-beams that project from the main wall of the house and lean at their far end on the verandah pillars. The upper surface of the cross-beams affords admirable nesting sites of which the doves and mynas take full advantage. The robins in question built their nest on one of these cross-beams. No sooner had the nursery been completed than trouble began. The first intimation I received of the existence of the nest was much swearing (if I may use that expression to denote the angry cries of a little bird) on the part of cock robin. The temperature on that day was well over 100° F. in the shade, consequently I did not open the doors of the house to ascertain the cause of the robin’s wrath. But the angry cries of the bird persisted, and I heard them repeatedly on the following day, so I braved the heat and went into the verandah to prospect and discovered that a myna was the object of the robin’s wrath.
During the following day the language of the robin abated neither in quantity nor quality; indeed, his noise began to get on my nerves. He used to perch when giving vent to his feelings, just above the heads of the chaprassis who sat in the verandah awaiting orders. These men are not usually very observant, but even they noticed and grew annoyed at the robin’s noise, and on several occasions I heard them flicking at the robin with a duster. During the early part of the fourth day there was comparative quiet in the verandah, and I thought that the robins and mynas had settled their differences. I was mistaken. The quiet proved to be the lull before the storm. This burst about 4 p.m. The uproar brought me to the window; from there I saw that the robin was hissing with rage at a myna who was peeping into the robin’s nest. Then the cock robin flew at the myna and pecked at him. The myna, although three times the size of the robin, fled and flew from the verandah, followed by the swearing robin. A couple of minutes later cock robin returned alone. He then perched on the floor of the verandah, drew himself up to his full height, like the heroine in a penny novelette (who, by the way, appears always to slouch except when she is very angry), and stood there hissing with rage. This continued until a chaprassi, who was squatting in the verandah, drove the angry bird away. The next morning I found lying on the floor of the verandah the wreck of the robins’ nest, and noticed that a myna was constructing a nest on the site recently occupied by that of the robin.
XII
THE SHIKRA
Falconers divide hawks into the long-winged and the short-winged varieties. The former stand in much the same relation to the latter as the cross-country runner does to the sprinter. The long-winged hawks have dark eyes, while in the short-winged ones the eyes are yellow or orange; hence the two classes are sometimes distinguished as dark-eyed and light-eyed hawks. The various falcons, the peregrine, the laggar, the saker, etc., come in the long-winged category. When they catch sight of their quarry, they give chase and follow it, if necessary for a long distance, till they either lose it or are able to get above it in order to strike. The short-winged hawk is content with making one pounce or dash at its quarry; if it secures it, well and good, if it fails, it does not give chase. The sparrow-hawk and the shikra are familiar examples of the short-winged hawks.
The long-winged falcons are naturally held in greatest favour by the hawker; but short-winged birds of prey are also trained. Long-winged hawks hunt in the open. Being long-distance fliers, they rely chiefly upon their power of endurance, and so naturally like plenty of room in which to operate. Short-winged hawks, on the other hand, usually hunt in wooded localities, where they are better able to surprise their victims than in the open.
After the kite, the shikra (Astur badius) is the commonest bird of prey in India. It is in habits and appearance very like the common sparrow-hawk (Accipiter nisus). So great is the resemblance between the two species that “Eha,” in his Common Birds of Bombay, gives an excellent description of the shikra under the title of the Indian sparrow-hawk.
Although the two little hawks are so similar in appearance, ornithologists place them in different genera on account of the considerably longer legs of the sparrow-hawk proper and its heavily spotted and blotched eggs, the eggs of the shikra being white and almost entirely free from spots.
The shikra is a slightly-built bird about the same length as a pigeon; its tail is half a foot long. The upper plumage is greyish. The wings and tail are heavily barred with black. The breast is white, with large brown spots in young birds; in old birds the brown spots are replaced by a number of thin wavy, rust-coloured cross-bars. The female, as is invariably the case in birds of prey, is considerably larger than the male, she being fourteen inches in length as against his twelve and a half. But it is quite useless to attempt to recognise a shikra, or indeed any other bird of prey, from a description of its plumage. As “Eha” says: “To try to make out hawks by their colour is at the best a short road to despair. Naturalists learn to recognise them as David’s watchman recognised the courier who brought tidings of the victory over Absalom: ‘His running is like the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok.’ Every bird of prey has its own character, some trick of flight, some peculiarity of attitude when at rest, something in its figure and proportions which serves to distinguish it decisively. The sparrow-hawk (shikra) flies with a few rapid strokes of the wings and then a gliding motion, and this, together with its short, rounded wings and long tail, distinguishes it from any other common bird of prey. I learn of its presence oftener by the ear than the eye. Its sharp, impatient double cry arrests attention among all other bird-voices.”
The shikra has comparatively feeble claws, and so is unable to tackle any large quarry. Birds of prey strike with the claw, not with the beak, as some artists would have us believe; hence the size of the claws of any particular bird of prey affords a safe index of the magnitude of its quarry. The more formidable the claw, the larger the prey. No matter how large a raptorial bird be, if its claws are small and feeble, it feeds either upon carrion or tiny creatures.
The shikra is said to live chiefly upon lizards; but it makes no bones about taking a sparrow or other small bird, a mouse, or even a rat. In default of larger game it does not despise grasshoppers, and, when the termites swarm, it will make merry among these along with the crows and kites. I once saw a shikra pounce upon a little striped squirrel. Some crows were witnesses of the feat, and at once proceeded to attack the shikra so vehemently that it let go of the squirrel, which made good its escape. The crows, let me add, were not actuated by philanthropic motives. Their object was, not to liberate the squirrel but to make a meal of it. They were quite as disappointed as the shikra when the little rodent regained its liberty.