THE BATHING OF THE BIRDS 
HERE is on the side of the Mount Road, 
Madras, near Munro’s statue, a miniature 
pond formed by the overflow from a water- 
pipe. To this pool all the larger birds of 
the neighbourhood repair for bathing purposes. Every 
one passing the place, a little before sunset, will almost 
certainly see one or two crows, some mynas, and possibly 
a kite, enjoying an al fresco bath. It is a pleasure to 
watch the birds at their ablutions, for, while splashing 
about in the water, they are obviously as happy as the 
proverbial king. 
Time was when scarcely a day passed on which I did 
not witness, from beginning to end, the toilette of one 
or other of the feathered creatures, That was in the 
Himalayas. In those mountainous regions water is a 
precious commodity during the greater part of the year. 
Deep was the sorrow of my mai that my little garden 
did not boast of a reservoir. Necessity, as usual, proved 
the mother of invention: the ma/z discovered an old 
galvanized iron bath, which he converted into a tank 
and placed in the middle of the lawn. 
When I perceived the outcome of the gardener’s 
ingenuity, my first impulse was to say hard words and 
167 
