Shama, the Hcsf S(>)ig-hir(l . 73 



hardly ever voluntarily quits the shelter of tlie woods rmd their dense 

 undergfrowth." 



'■ I'^xccpt by ehance, when you may come U]ion a male sunniiii;' 

 himself or preening his feathers on some projecting;' rock or hare trunk 

 of a f.allen tree, these birds are never to he seen, unless hy :\Ui of three 

 or four good dogs, who will speedily rouse them up, or of a trained 

 shikari, who will call them out by cleverly imitating their loud l)leating 

 cry. If you ever catch a glimpse of them it is but for a second ; they 

 drop like stones from their perch, and dart away with incredible swiftness, 

 .alwavs running, never, so far as I have seen, rising unless you accidental'v 

 almost walk on to them, or h.ive dogs with xou. To judge from those 

 I have examined, they feed much on insects, young green shoots ■ f 

 bamboos, and on some onion-like bulbs, but Mr. Hodgson notes that 

 those he examined had fed on wild fruits, rhododendron seeds, and <v 

 some cases entirely on aromatic leaves, bastard cinnamon, daphne, etc. 



" At the end of April, and very likely earlier, the males are heard 

 continually calling. When one is heard calling in any moderate-siz-^d 

 patch of Jungle, you make for the nearest adjoining cover, and work 

 your way sufificiently near to the outside to get a view of the intervening- 

 space. Then you squat, and your man begins calling. Very soon h.e 

 is answered, too often by some wretch of a bird behind you, who*^)ersisvs 

 in ferreting you out, gets scent of you. and goes ofif with a series of 

 alarm notes that frightens every other bird within a mile. But if you 

 are in luck and all goes well, the right bird and the right bird only answers, 

 and answers nearer and nearer, till just as your dusky comrade, forgetting 

 in his excitement his wonted respect, pinches your leg, you see a head 

 emerge for a second from the liases of the ringal stems opposite ; again 

 and again the head comes out with more and more of the neck turned 

 rapidly right and left, and then out darts the would-be combatant tow^ards 

 you ; the gun goes off, everything is hidden for a moment in the smoke, 

 hanging on the damp morning air, and then — well there is no trace ot 

 the Tragopan. I protest that this is an exact account of the onlv good 

 chance I ever had at one of these birds on the calling lay."" 



Shama. the Best Song-bird. 



By J. W. Porter. 



Nothing" influences me so much in nature as her music, 

 the singing of her birds. The Nightingale has through the 

 ages been lauded both in prose and poem, and rightly so, for 

 in a state of freedom the music of this glorious bird stands out 

 much as does the first violin in an orchestra or the soloist 

 in some choir of human voices. People may claim that this 



