42 Monograph of the Cranes. 



they never seem to forsake the locality until the change of temperature warns them to 

 retreat to their cool northern homes. Week after week I have noticed, and repeatedly 

 fired at, sometimes even slightly wounded, particular birds, which have nevertheless 

 remained about the place their full time ; nay, I have twice now killed the young birds 

 early in the season, and the parents, one by one, at intervals of nearly a couple of 

 months. 



The Buhelias, a native caste of fowlers . (and, I fear I must add, thieves), of whom 

 there are many in the neighbourhood, and who are keen observers of all wild animals, 

 assure me that, as far back as any of them can remember (namely, for at least the last 

 fifty years), parties of the White Crane, or as they call them harehhurs, have been in the 

 habit of yearly spending their winters in the same locality. Though occasionally in 

 larger flocks, it is usual to find either a pair of old ones accompanied by a single young 

 one or small parties of five or six, which then, as far as I can judge, consist exclusively 

 of birds of the second year. The fully adult birds are, even when they first arrive, of a 

 snowy whiteness ; and each pair is'almost without exception accompanied by a single 

 young one, which when first seen is of a sandy or buff tint throughout, and very 

 noticeably smaller than its parents. They never appear to have more than one young 

 one with them ; but it does not at all follow that they do not lay more than one egg. 

 Our commonest Indian crane, which usually lays two and sometime.-?, though rarely, 

 three eggs, and which has no long or arduous journey to perform, seldom succeeds in 

 rearing more than a single young one. Judging from those of its congeners which are 

 best known to me — G. antiyone and Q. australasianus — as also of what is recorded of the 

 Common and Demoiselle Cranes (whose nests I have never myself taken), I should 

 suppose that they lay two eggs ; but, if this be the case, I can only say that out of more 

 than a hundred pairs that I have seen from first to last, I never yet saw any with more 

 than one young one. 



The watchful care and tender solicitude evinced by the old birds for their only chick 

 is most noticeable. They never suffer the young one to stray from their side, and, 

 while they themselves are seldom more than thirty yards apart, and generally much 

 closer, the young, I think, is invariably somewhere between them. If either bird find 

 a particularly promising rush-tuft, it will call the little one to its side by a faint creaking 

 cry, and watch it eating, every now and then afiieotionately running its long bill through 

 the young one's feathers. If, as sometimes happens, the young only be shot, the old 

 birds, though rising in the air with many cries, will not leave the place, but for hours 

 after keep circling round and round high out of gun — or even rifle — shot, and for many 

 days afterwards will return, apparently disconsolately, seeking their lost treasure. 



Like the Saras, these birds pair, I think, for life ; at any rate, a pair, whose young 

 one was shot last year, and both of whom were subsequently wounded about the legs, 

 so as to make them very recognisable, appeared again this year, accompanied by a 

 young one, and were at once noticed as being our very friends of the past year by both 

 the native fowlers and myself. I was glad to see they were none the worse for their 

 swollen, crooked, bandy legs ; and this year at least they have got safe home, I hope, 

 with their precious charge. 



Throughout their sojourn here the young remain as closely attached to their parents 

 as when they first arrive ; but, doubtless by the time the party return to their northern 

 homes, the young are dismissed, with a blessing, to shift for themselves. Long before 

 they leave, the rich buff or sandy colour of the young birds has begun to give place to 

 the white of the adult plumage, and the faces and foreheads, which (as in the Common 

 Crane) are feathered in the young, have begun to grow bare. This, I notice, seems to 

 result from the barbs composing the vanes of the tiny feathers falling off and leaving 

 only the naked hair-like shafts. 



Each year small parties of birds are noticeable unaccompanied by any young ones, 

 and never separating into pairs. These, when they first come, still show a few buff 



