DAYALS, ETC. 121 



tris, which appears as a winter-visitor, has a great 

 resemblance in many of its ways to the dayal, but 

 has a quite peculiar habit of wriggling its tail about 

 in tremulous movement either on alighting after a 

 flight, or after a series of hops along the ground. 



Dainty and attractive as the ways of dayals are, 

 they are certainly not so elfishly alluring as those 

 of the white-throated fantails, Rhipidura albicollis. 1 

 There is something quite uniquely fascinating in the 

 sight of one of them hopping, wheeling, and darting 

 about among the leaves, and, whilst it lasts, it seems 

 very doubtful whether Spenser was right in saying, 

 "Sith none that breathe th living aire doth know, 

 Where is that happy land of Faerie." 



They are very common in the neighbourhood of 

 Calcutta, especially during the cold weather, when 

 the clumps of bamboos in the bowery suburban 

 lanes are full of them going through all their 

 fantastic evolutions. They are never at rest, and 

 their surplus energy is constantly overflowing in 

 sweet little songs that begin more or less like 

 those of the dayals, but soon subside into a series 

 of mere chirping twitters. When not actually 

 singing they often repeat a note, sounding like 

 "twait" and very similar to the common call of 

 the Paradise flycatcher, or that of the beautiful 

 blue Hypothymis azurea. Their tails are almost 

 ludicrously large, and, when fully expanded like 



1 It is of the same size as a common pied wagtail. 



