The pied crested cuckoo (Coccystes jacobinus) is the most handsome of all the cuckoos. He is more than this. He stands out head and shoulders above his fellow-deceivers. Lest these words should convey an exaggerated idea of his splendour, let me say that they do not necessarily mean very much. Among the family of parasitic cuckoos the standard of beauty is not high. Most of the CuculidÆ not only lack bright colours, ornamental plumes, and other superfluous appendages, but are also devoid of the smart appearance and soldier-like bearing that characterise the great majority of the feathered folk. Thus it cometh to pass that the pied crested cuckoo, although he cannot hold a candle to such birds as the paradise flycatcher or the oriole, is able to point the claw of scorn at his fellow-cuckoos. His black-and-white livery is distinctly stylish and is embellished by a crest that does not lie down as though it were ashamed of itself, but projects prettily from the back of the head.

Even as a little girl of my acquaintance calls every plump Indian a Bengali, so do the inhabitants of Bengal call all birds possessing these pretty crests bulbuls. On this principle the Bengali name for the pied crested cuckoo is Kola bulbul. On the other hand, black bulbuls (Hypsipetes), which possess no crests, are not recognised as bulbuls by the natives of India. Obviously, the crest maketh the bulbul.

The pied crested cuckoo is a bird that is easily recognised. The upper parts of his plumage are black, his lower parts and the tips of his tail feathers are white. There is in each wing a conspicuous white bar. Then, there is the black crest. As regards size the plumage of the common cuckoo would fit our pied crested friend like a glove.

But it is not necessary to set eyes on him in order to recognise him. To hear him sufficeth. In this respect he differs in no way from his brother cuckoos. A silent cuckoo is unthinkable. The generating of sound is to the cuckoo what wine is to the wine-bibber, poker to the gambler, fighting to the soldier, “votes for women” to the Suffragette. According to cuculine philosophy, life without noise is but the image of death. The reason of this is obvious. At the breeding season a vast amount of surplus energy is generated in birds. This has to find some outlet. It is usually dissipated in the form of vocal effort, the dances and antics of courtship, and the labours of nest building and feeding the young. Or it may find expression in more concrete form in the growth of plumes and other ornaments. To the parasitic cuckoos most of these outlets are closed. They do not produce nuptial ornaments; to build nests they know not how. They are denied the pleasurable labours of rearing up their offspring. They do not appear to indulge in elaborate courtship. All their superfluous energy is sent forth in the form of noise. Watch any cuckoo while he is calling, be it the cheery canorus, who gladdens the Himalayas, or the koel or the brain-fever bird or the pied crested cuckoo, who enliven the plains, and you will be driven to the conclusion that they are demented creatures. Although the frenzied screaming of the pied cuckoo is easily recognised, it is difficult to describe. “Its call,” writes Stuart Baker, “is a very loud metallic double note, too harsh to be called a whistle. In the early part of the season, before its voice has fully formed, its cries are particularly harsh and disagreeable, and the second note, which should be the same in tone as the first, often goes off at a tangent. Later on in the year, though it becomes more noisy than ever, its notes are rather musical.”

Much remains to be discovered regarding the distribution of the pied crested cuckoo in India. Although it has been observed in most parts of the country, it appears to undergo considerable local migration. In Northern India I have seen the bird only during the rains, but I believe that there are cases on record of its occurring there in winter. On the other hand, I have seen pied crested cuckoos in Madras in July, at which time they are supposed all to migrate northwards. An anonymous writer recently put forward the theory that our Indian cuckoos are not really migratory, that they appear to migrate because of their skulking habits. Cuckoos are loved by their fellow-birds about as much as Lord Morley is loved by Anglo-Indians. As cuckoos dislike demonstrations, the theory is that they habitually shun observation, and are therefore not noticed, except at the breeding season, when their loud excited calls betray their presence. This theory is a plausible one, but the facts are, I think, against it. There can be no doubt that some species of cuckoo are migratory. Indeed, one of the earlier theories to account for the parasitic habits of the common cuckoo was that the bird did not stay in England sufficiently long to enable it to rear up a brood. Again, the Indian koel (Eudynamis honorata) certainly migrates. No bird is commoner in Lahore in the hot weather, but I did not set eyes upon the bird there in the course of two winters during which I took several walks a week, armed with field-glasses. Likewise the pied crested cuckoo is also migratory, but the particular direction of its movements remains to be established. I would ask every one interested in birds to make a note of each date on which this cuckoo is seen.

The parasitic habits of the pied cuckoo are interesting. The bird victimises various species of babbler, more especially the jungle babbler (Crateropus canorus) and the large grey babbler (Argya malcomi). There is nothing particularly remarkable in this, for babblers are the favourite dupes of Indian cuckoos. The point that is of interest is that the common hawk-cuckoo, or brain-fever bird (Hierococcyx varius) also victimises the seven sisters. Now this cuckoo is much like a hawk in appearance, so much so that it affords the stock example of aggressive mimicry among birds. Says the Wallaceian: “This cuckoo resembles a hawk so closely that small birds mistake it for one. When the nesting babblers see it, they flee for their lives, and the cuckoo—the ass in the lion’s skin—seizes the opportunity to deposit an egg in the momentarily deserted nest. The strange egg is not noticed by the babblers on their return because it is blue like theirs. We thus see how natural selection has brought about the hawk-like appearance of the brain-fever bird, and caused the egg to become blue.” If all cuckoos parasitic on babblers were like hawks in appearance, I should have nothing to urge against the above explanation. Unfortunately for the Wallaceians, the pied crested and other cuckoos, which do not look in the least like hawks, successfully dupe the seven sisters. It would seem, therefore, that this elaborate disguise of the hawk-cuckoo is quite unnecessary. I grant that it may make very smooth the path of the brain-fever bird. This, however, is not enough. As I have repeatedly said, almost I fear ad nauseam, natural selection cannot be said to have brought about a structural peculiarity which is proved to be merely useful, and not essential. Unless it can be shown that, but for a certain peculiarity, a species would have perished, it is incorrect to speak of natural selection as having fixed that characteristic in the species by eliminating all individuals that did not possess it. Moreover, if it can be shown that any specified character has such a survival value, the selectionist has still to prove that the characteristic had this value at the earliest, and at each successive stage of its development.

I submit, then, that the Wallaceian’s explanation of the hawk-like appearance of the brain-fever bird is in all probability not the correct one. In the same way it is doubtful whether the blue eggs of the brain-fever bird and the pied crested cuckoo can be fairly laid to the charge of natural selection. The common cuckoo sometimes lays its eggs, which are not blue, in the nests of birds whose eggs are blue, for example the hedge-sparrow in England and the Himalayan laughing thrush in India.

The pied crested cuckoo, when it first leaves the nest, differs considerably from the adult in appearance. Its upper parts are slaty grey, and its lower parts, the wing patch and the tips of the outer tail feathers are pale buff, so that the young cuckoo, when flying, might easily be mistaken for a bank myna (Acridotheres ginginianus) but for the length of its tail. Like all young cuckoos, it is a greedy, querulous thing. It sits on a branch, clamouring continually for food, flapping its wings and uttering a very fair imitation of the babbler call.

September is the month in which to look out for young pied cuckoos. Those that I have seen appear always to be unaccompanied by foster-brothers or sisters. This would seem to indicate either that the parent cuckoos destroy the legitimate eggs at the time of depositing their own, or that the young birds have the depraved habits of the youthful Cuculus canorus. But there are cases on record of young pied crested cuckoos being accompanied by young babblers. It is thus evident that much remains to be discovered regarding the habits of Coccystes jacobinus.