A WINTER VISITOR. 107 



on to another. In those days there were no railways, and 

 the roads were not such as to allow the carriage of large 

 quantities of supplies. The mountain would not come to 

 Mohammed, so the prophet must perforce go to the moun- 

 tain. So it is with birds. When the food-supply of one 

 tract of country is exhausted, they must starve or move on. 

 This is the secret of the phenomenon of migration. 

 There are doubtless other causes contributing to the migra- 

 tory instinct, such as preference for a balmier climate. But 

 assuredly it was the question of food-supply that gave rise 

 to the habit of migration which has now become an unalter- 

 able instinct with some birds. India is the favourite winter 

 resort of many animals. From October to April we are in- 

 vaded by a huge army of globe-trotters of all sorts and con- 

 ditions. The common or grey quail is one of the best 

 known of our bird-visitors. This pretty little bird rejoices 

 in the name of Coturnix commums. In early October it 

 leaves its happy hunting grounds in Central Asia and Eu- 

 rope, and betakes itself to a serener clime. Many of these 

 birds select India as their winter resort, and certainly they 

 might go farther and fare worse, for from October until April 

 the climate of northern India is not far from perfect. There 

 is, too, food in abundance. Thus quails, who know upon 

 which side the bread is buttered, come to visit India in 

 myriads. After having lived on the fat of the land for six 

 months, these bright little game birds bid us goodbye and 

 go. They leave the heat of the plains with the same regu- 

 larity as a Viceroy or Lieutenant-Governor. Shaking the 

 dust of India off their wings, they betake themselves to their 

 northern haunts. Just as no European in his senses re- 

 mains in the stifling plains if he can avoid doing it, so not a 

 single quail (I speak of the grey quail), unless compelled by 

 necessity, spends a hot weather in India. A few have to en- 

 dure this torture. All cannot manage to get away. It is 

 not press of work that detains these unhappy birds, but the 

 sportsman's lead. A great number of quails receive slight 

 " gunshot wounds," which, although not fatal, render them 



