The banian tree . 
S3 
then there is indeed a bazaar. Early in the morning the 
birds begin to gather, the riotous Rosy Pastor and the 
self-possessed Myna, the graceful Brahminy Myna, with 
its silky black crest and buffy-red waistcoat, and the 
yet more elegant Hoary Headed Myna, and the cheery 
Bulbuls and the Coppersmiths, quiet and silent just now, 
except when they quarrel and rail hoarsely at each other, 
and the Golden Orioles, and here and there a great black- 
guard Crow, devoid alike of shame and fear. They are 
all in high spirits, and plenty makes them fastidious. 
Watch that Myna as he hops about, judging the fruit with 
one eye, till he finds a fine, mellow fig, not too raw and 
not too ripe, but just right. Then he digs a hole in it with 
his sharp beak. Of Parrots there are not many, for the 
Parrot is a sybarite and the fig is plain, wholesome fare 
Another fruit- eater also is absent — the Green Pigeon : its 
mellow whistle is seldom heard in the Banian tree. The 
reason is that the Green Pigeon cannot dig holes in fruits : 
it swallows them whole. Now the Banian fig is tough 
and so firmly joined to the twig that the Green Pigeon has 
not strength to pull it off. 
It was this fact that first put me on the track of the 
true explanation of the Hornbill’s monstrous beak. It is 
