2o8 THE FORESTS OF UPPER INDIA 



partridge,* which come to bag. Hark ! there is the 

 cackle of a jungle fowl, like a little game hen.f The flock, 

 including a gay red -hackled jungle cock, are running 

 through the covert for the hill. They are flushed by the 

 dogs, and fly past one gun. One little brown hen flies 

 into the branches of a khair (acacia) tree, and sits there 

 in a confiding manner, peering down at the dogs smelling 

 about exactly under her, with her little head on one side, 

 looking exactly like a familiar barn-door hen or miniature 

 Dorking. No one could have the heart to disturb her, 

 and we pass on seeking other game. The jungle usually 

 resounds every morning with the ' cock's shrill clarion.' 

 It is shrill indeed — a short call of four syllables, ko-raye- 

 dlee — and reminds one of the farm-yard, but is less 

 drawn out. This fowl seems to be exactly our domestic 

 fowl, and probably the parent of all modem breeds of 

 poultry. There is another species in Madras. 



Following the broad flats where camel-thorn trees grow 

 and many thorn bushes, we come out on the open plain, 

 where villagers are busy cutting the ripe barley, the women 

 with sickles and the men tying sheaves. We engage a few 

 boys to beat the stubbles for quail, which at this season 

 move north, just following the harvest. These plump 

 little birds spring in twos and threes with a sudden and 

 disconcerting bustle, and fly straight away, not four feet 

 from the ground. It is most provoking that, just as the 

 gun is levelled and sight taken, a black, half-naked reaper 

 lifts up his head from his harvesting exactly in the line 

 of the quail. One gets off well if, after having shot ten 

 brace of quail, the bag does not also include a native, who 

 has to be paid at the rate of perhaps five rupees per grain 

 of No. 9 shot. Returning towards the hills, we beat the 



* Francolinus vulgaris (Kala titar). 

 t Callus ferriigineus (Jangli murghi). 



