  The general public derives its ideas regarding the manners and customs of the cuckoos from those of Cuculus canorus, the only species that patronises the British Isles. “The Man in the Street,” that unfortunate individual who seems never by any chance to catch hold of the right end of the stick, is much surprised, or is expected to express great surprise, when he is informed that some cuckoos are not parasitic, that not a few of them refuse to commit their eggs and young ones to the tender mercies of strangers. The non-parasitic cuckoos build nests, lay eggs and sit on them, as every self-respecting bird should do. All the American species of cuckoo lead virtuous lives in this respect. But the Western Hemisphere has its evil-living birds, for many cow-birds—near relatives of the starlings—lay their eggs in the nests of their fellow-creatures; some of them go so far as to victimise the more respectable members of their own brotherhood. There are several upright cuckoos among our Indian birds, so that there is no necessity for us to go to America in order to study the ways of the non-parasitic species of cuckoo. First and foremost among these is our familiar friend the coucal, or crow-pheasant (Centropus sinensis), known also as the lark-heeled cuckoo, because the hindmost of its toes has a long straight claw, like that of the lark. This cuckoo is sometimes dubbed the “Griff’s pheasant,” because the new arrival in India frequently mistakes the bird for a pheasant, and thereby becomes the laughing-stock of the “Koi-Hais.” It always seems to me that it is not quite fair to poke fun at one who makes this mistake. A man cannot be expected to know by instinct which birds are pheasants and which are not. The coucal is nearly as large as some species of pheasant, and rejoices in a tail fully ten inches long; moreover, the bird is usually seen walking on the ground. Further, Dr. Blanford states that crow-pheasants are regarded as a great delicacy by Indian Mohammedans, and by some Hindu castes. I have never partaken of the flesh of the coucal, and those Europeans who have done so do not seem anxious to repeat the experiment. Its breast is smaller than that of a dak bungalow murghi, for its wing muscles are very small. As to its flavour, Col. Cunningham informs us, in his volume Some Indian Friends and Acquaintances, that “a young fellow, who had recently arrived in the country, complained with good reason of the evil flavour of a ‘pheasant’ that one of his chums had shot near a native village, and had, much to the astonishment of the servants, brought home to be cooked and partaken of as a game-bird.” There is an allied species of crow-pheasant, which is still more like a long-tailed game-bird, so much so that it is known The crow-pheasant is an easy bird to identify. The wings are chestnut in colour, while all the remainder of the plumage is black with a green or purple gloss. But for the fact that the brown wings do not match well with the rest of the plumage, I should call the coucal a handsome bird. This, however, is not “Eha’s” view. The crow-pheasant is widely distributed in India, being found in gardens, in cultivated fields, and in the jungle. All the bird demands is a thicket or hedgerow in which it can take cover when disturbed. It does not wander far from shelter, for it is a poor flier. Its diet is made up chiefly of insects, but not infrequently it captures larger quarry in the shape of scorpions, lizards, small snakes, and the like delicacies. Probably freshwater mollusca and crustacea do not come amiss to the bird, for on occasions I have seen it wading in a nearly dried-up pond. It certainly picks much of its food from off the ground, but, as it is often seen in trees, and is able to hop from branch to branch with considerable address, I am inclined to think that it sometimes feeds on the caterpillars and other creeping things that lurk on the under surface of leaves. I have never actually observed it pick anything off a leaf, for the coucal is of a retiring disposition. Like some public personages, it declines to be interviewed. Its call is a very distinctive, sonorous Whoot, whoot, whoot, and, as the bird habitually calls a little before dawn in the early part of the hot weather, its voice is doubtless often attributed to some species of owl. The nest is, we are told, globular in shape, considerably larger than a football, composed of twigs and grass and lined with dried leaves. The entrance consists of an aperture at one side. I must confess that I have not yet seen any of the creature’s nests. I have located several, but each one of these has been placed in the midst of a dense thicket, which, in its turn, has been situated in the compound of one of my neighbours. The only way of bringing a nest built in such a position to human view is by pulling down the greater part of the thicket. This operation is not feasible when the thicket in question happens to be in the garden of a neighbour. Large though the nest is, it is not sufficiently commodious to admit the whole of the bird, so that the long tail of the sitting crow-pheasant projects outside the nest. “When in this position,” writes Hume, “the bird is about as defenceless as the traditional ostrich which hid its head in the sand.” This remark would certainly be justified were the crow-pheasant to build its nest in mid-desert, but I fail to see how it applies when the nest is in the middle of a thicket into which no crow or other creature with tail-pulling propensities is likely to penetrate. “In Australia,” continues Hume, “the coucal manages these things far better. There, we are told, ‘The nest, which is placed in the midst of a tuft of grass, is of a large size, composed of dried grasses, Young crow-pheasants are of exceptional interest. Three distinct varieties have been described. In some the plumage is barred throughout. Jerdon supposed that these are all young females. Other young birds are like dull-coloured adults; these are smaller than the barred forms, and sometimes progress by a series of hops, instead of adopting the strut so characteristic of the species. These dull-coloured birds are very wild, whereas the barred ones are usually easily tamed. This interesting fact was pointed out by Mr. Frank Finn in his delightful volume Ornithological and Other Oddities. Jerdon regards these as young cocks. The third variety is coloured exactly like the adult. Finn does not accept Jerdon’s view, for, as he points out, the three forms differ in habits, and the barred and dull-coloured forms do not appear to occur in the same brood; the young in any given nest are either all barred, or all dull-coloured, or all like the adults in colour. So that if the barred and dull-plumaged birds represent different sexes, then all the individuals of a brood must be of the same sex. Instances of this phenomenon have been recorded, but they appear to be very rare. Finn therefore thinks that the three varieties of young correspond to three races. In this connection it is of interest to note that Hume divided this species into Finn had brought to him in Calcutta barred and dull-coloured young birds, these possibly correspond to the rufipennis and intermedius races. The matter needs further investigation. In this connection it should be noted that the young of the Indian koel (Eudynamis honorata)—a cuckoo parasitic on crows—are of three kinds. Some are all black like the cock, some are barred black and white like the hen, while others, though nearly altogether black, display a few white bars. The fact that I have seen specimens of all three kinds of koel nestling in one garden at Lahore would seem to militate somewhat against the theory that these correspond to different races or gentes. I have discoursed at such length on the crow-pheasant that our other respectable cuckoos will not receive adequate treatment. The interesting malkohas will not get an innings to-day. I trust they will accept my apologies. I must content myself in conclusion with a few words regarding the sirkeer or grey ground-cuckoo. The scientific name of this species—Taccocua leschenaulti—affords an excellent example of the heights to which our scientific men can rise in their sublimer moments. This cuckoo always appears to me like a large babbler. It is a bird concerning the habits of which there is comparatively little on record. It therefore offers a fine field for the investigations of Indian ornithologists. |
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