Chapter XXXVI. 



AUTUMN MIGRANTS. 



When the summer sun of South Kiangsu has gone down 

 for the last time, when frizzled humanity has congratulated 

 itself on the fact that at last the autumn winds do blow — 

 for have they not felt at early morn and dewy eve that crisp 

 suggestiveness of coming cold — then is the time to think of 

 human as well as avian migration. The wise man remains 

 in his own comfortable home whilst the thermometer riots 

 in the "nineties" and sometimes makes its century, but when 

 September has arrived, and the "hunter's moon's begun," 

 then is the time for escape from darkened rooms into the 

 glorious light of the noon-day sun. Birds know it as well as 

 man. The earliest snipe has come before the tenth of August 

 perhaps. His cousins, a fortnight or three weeks later, fill 

 the night air with the cries of "disembodied spirits," as the 

 Chinese believe, and then is the time for the naturalist- 

 sportsman. Off he goes, whenever he gets the chance, 

 up-country. His gun goes with him, but cover is too thick 

 for shooting unless he is out for specimens. 



He is sure, however, to see some of the passing 

 migrants. A few of the more delicate leave in August, some 

 of the most brilliant fly-catchers, for instance, but the orioles 

 stayon into September, and some of the fly-catching fraternity 

 also. It was late in August that I once saw a Dhyal bird 

 ( Copsychus saularis), the only one I have ever seen in China. 

 It is common enough in warmer climes, in India, for instance, 

 but only very occasionally gets so far north as this, which is 

 a pity, for its bright sprightly appearance would be a distinct 

 addition to our bird life. In size it is no bigger than a bulbul ; 

 in marking it is not unlike the magpie. All through the 

 months of September, October, and November, autumn 

 migrants are coming or going. Up-country amongst the 

 woods, one may yet in early September see a specimen of the 

 Narcissus fly-catcher in his beautiful livery of black and gold. 

 If he is amongst the bamboos his tints merge so completely 

 into theirs that without very keen eyes or some movement 

 on the part of the bird, he may easily be passed unseen. 

 Still more easy is it to miss his cousin (Cyanoptila cyanome- 

 laena), if he happens to be perched in the shade, for beautiful 



