106 
THE WHISTLING SAND-GEOUSE. 
[Nature and Art, September 1, 1866. 
their way high over-head in flocks varying in num- 
ber from eight or ten to sixty or seventy, cutting 
the air on sharp, wing, in flight much like the 
golden plover of our own downs and uplands, but 
pealing forth from time to time a whistle so wild, 
shrill, and piercing, that, once heard, no other 
sound could well be mistaken for it ; and, like 
coming events, which are said to cast their shadows 
before them, the whistle of the sand-grouse is often 
heard long, before the passing flock can be distin- 
guished. A notion prevails amongst the natives 
that they feed only on stones, and show, in proof of 
the belief, a number of hard black grains frequently 
found in the stomachs of the birds, gravely asserting 
that they are pieces of black gravel, and excellent 
grouse-food. These, on examination, I found to be 
the seed of a trailing plant, of which the sand- 
grouse, and a small grey plover frequenting the 
open dry plains, are particularly fond. I have often 
found more than a teaspoonful on opening one of 
the latter. 
It was a long time after reaching the plains where 
our whistling friends abounded before I could ob- 
tain a single specimen, or even get within a very 
long shot of one. All my treacherous and well-laid 
plans proved utterly abortive. Creeping, like some 
huge lizard, amongst the tufts of dry herbage and 
over the angular stones, to where, in the vanity of 
my hopes, a splendid pack should have been snugly 
feeding, or, with stealthy step and ready gun, ap- 
proaching the very spot from which I felt sure they 
would rise the next instant, only to have my hopes 
dashed to the ground by hearing their exasperating 
whistle as they skimmed away aloft, three hundred 
yards from where I expected to find them. I tried 
the borders of a small lake at sunset, with a hope 
that some thirsty party might just drop in for a 
cooling drink before retiring for the night. Other 
guests there were, resolutely bent on liquid refresh- 
ment, who drank “manfully,” and then whisked off 
for the night; still, no sand-grouse. The nightjars 
flit out from the bushes, and skim the lake-shore ; 
the bats follow ; then the frogs amongst the water- 
plants croak forth their evening song ; and a stray 
skulking j ackal creeps by. N o grou se to a certainty ; 
and as a flock of wild ducks pass on whistling 
wing, I send the contents of both barrels into 
the brown of them, gather up the spoils, and 
tramp home to camp, grouseless as usual, wondering 
whether sand-grouse do not, after all, bear charmed 
lives. 
The next day was devoted to the investigation of 
some long ravines running up amongst a range of 
low hills stretching away across the distant plains, 
the piercing whistle of my “Will o’ the wisp” 
friends greeting me on my morning’s ride, as 
though in mockery of my fruitless efforts to secure 
them. 
Of other specimens, animal, vegetable, and mine- 
ral, there was no lack ; and my bags and boxes 
grew heavy and plethoric as the noontide sun poured 
down his scorching rays on the glistening sand and 
slabs of bare rock. A mass of tangled creepers, 
growing from the stalks of some crooked and con- 
O O 
torted trees rooted amongst the rocks, formed a 
bower-like shelter from the midday heat ; and 
here I remained snugly ensconced, watching the 
proceedings of a couple of crow- kings ( Tyrinus intre - 
pidus ), who had succeeded in catching a wretched 
old crow, away, possibly “on urgent private affairs,” 
from his companions. On the top branches of a 
dead bush crouched poor “ Corvus,” with outstretched 
wings, open beak, and protruding tongue — a picture 
of helplessness, much like some huge East-Indiaman 
beset by two fast pirate schooners, who swoop down 
within range, deliver their fire, send the splinters, 
or rather feathers, flying, re-load, and at it again, 
beating their bulky antagonist by the rapidity of 
their movements and persistency of attack. It is 
hard to say why these “forest cruisers” are so de- 
termined in their attacks on other birds, as they are 
mainly insect-feeders, and therefore have no direct 
object, so far as 1 can see, in making themselves so 
disagreeable to their neighbours. On quitting my 
leafy shade, as the sun sinks behind the distant hills 
and the shadows lengthen, I follow down the course 
of a wide but dried-up water-course, scattered over 
which were island-like spots of beerberry and other 
bushes. In wading over one of these, some red- 
legged partridges were disturbed, and ran here and 
there, rat-like, below the \indergrowth. Not caring 
much Avhether they rose or not, I threw my gun 
over my arm and strode onward, when, under my 
very feet, from amongst the dry, short grass, barely 
high enough to cover a quail, a whole pack of my 
long-sought whistling sprites went skimming off. 
My old “No. Eleven” seemed to leap of his own 
accord to my shoulder. A couple of sharp, ringing 
cracks, two tufts of feathers drift off on the wind, 
the charm was broken, and a brace of P. exustus 
met their doom, as did four more brace before the 
ravine was quitted for the plain. From this time 
I found no difficulty in shooting as many as I re- 
quired, both as specimens and food. In flavour, 
the sand-grouse is excellent ; but to eat it in per- 
fection, the proceeds of the morning’s sport sho\dd 
contribute to the evening repast. By the next day 
the flesh becomes hard ; but even then, few Indian 
birds are equal to it for a grill. 
For the markings and varied tints of the male 
and female bird, I must refer the reader to the 
annexed plate, as they are there so faithfully ren- 
dered that any description of mine would be 
superfluous. I shall therefore content myself by 
stating that the dark-coloured and spotted bird is 
the male, and that crouching by the water-side his 
mate. 
Farther on, close to the borders of Malwah, I 
found, in the month of February, several of their 
nests, or rather the pits in which the eggs are 
deposited. These are mere accidental depressions 
in the ground, advantage being taken of any tuft of 
dry grass or small pile of stones sufficiently high to 
afford a slight protection to the bird when sitting. 
The eggs were invariably three, and unlike those of 
any other bird I have ever met with. Both ends 
of the egg are alike ; and it more nearly resembles 
a diminutive, elongated, speckled pumpkin, than 
