THE CROW-PHEASANT 





deep, sonorous "whoot, whoot, whoot" 

 of the crow-pheasant is one of the most 

 familiar of the sounds which greet the rising 

 sun in India. Centropus sinensis, although 

 it is to be heard at all hours of the day, prefers to 

 indulge in its vocal exercises in the early morning or at 

 the sunset hour; hence its cry is often mistaken for 

 that of some belated, or early-rising owl. 



The crow-pheasant, however, is not an owl. With 

 the exception of the voice, there is nothing owl-like 

 about the bird. It is not a creature of the night. It is 

 just a respectable cuckoo which brings up its own 

 family. Needless to say, the other members of the 

 cuckoo tribe disown it. It is not admitted to any of 

 the cuculine clubs. 



For the benefit of those who are not initiated into 

 the mysteries of cuckoo society, I may say that the 

 qualifications for admission to one of their clubs are, 

 firstly, zygodactyle feet, and secondly, the making of 

 the following solemn affirmation : " I bind myself 

 never, under any circumstances whatsoever, to do my- 

 self that which it is possible to make others do for me." 

 The coucal is able to satisfy the former of these con- 



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