52 THE GREY PARTRIDGE.
and as far as Dhaka, 13 miles beyond the western debouch of
the Khaibar. How far, if at all, it extends beyond this into
Afghanistan, is unknown ; the country is probably too elevated
and cold for it. It abounds in Southern Bcluchistan, and in the
warm low-lying plains of Southern Persia, finding its western
limit, according to Major St. John, in Laristan, not far beyond
the eastern out-let of the Persian Gulf.
In Mauritius, like the Chinese Francolin and our Common
Myna, it appears to have been introduced.
DRY, WARM tracts, interspersed with scrub or low grass jungle,
in the neighbourhood of cultivation, are what it specially
affects, and the stunted acacia or wild date thickets or prickly
pear hedges, that so often encircle our villages, are favourite
haunts. So, too, are the hedges in some parts of the country
enclosing every field, the bush-clad banks of nallas and broken
ground, and ravines running down to rivers, more or less thinly
or thickly studded with low catechu, acacia or other scrub.
Morning and evening they will be found in the fields or pecking
about on the highways and byeways, but their homes are
in the scrub, or in low thorny trees, in which many of them, in
such localities, roost, and on which they may be found perching,
at times, at almost any hour of the day.
But provided the locality be dry and warm and the ground
broken, no want of scrub or cultivation, no lack of trees and
hedges, seems to banish them. I have shot them in the most
desolate spots near the bases of the hills in Sind and on the
Mckran Coast, where there were no traces of vegetation at the
time, and where, in the best of seasons only, a few straggling
tufts of grass and desert plants are to be seen.
The most noteworthy point about this species is its clear
ringing inspiriting call, id, id katectur, kateetur, which syllablizcit
as you will (and every one has his own rendering), once
heard, is never to be forgotten.
In Upper India, these far piercing notes are so inseparably
connected with our happy camp life and all its delights, that
even in the dismal lanes of Calcutta the cry of a caged bird
sends a thrill through one, and one seems to breathe again the
pure air of the North-West, heavy with the scent of the mango
bloom, and to forget for an instant the squalid surroundings of the
fetid metropolis.
They afford but poor sport, hut their call is so mixed up with
so many reminiscences of sport, that every sportsman has, I
think, some such feeling about it. Tickell says :—
" Again, in the morning, when the grass and the thickets are
spangled with dew, and the welcome sun drives away the chilling
fog of an Indian winter's night, the cheerful sounds are heard
all over the awakening country—sounds redolent of old associa-
THE GREY PARTRIDGE. 5.1
tions. The aroused camp striking its tents, the grateful cup of
coffee by the log fire, the fragrant Manilla, the hum of the
gathering column, the early march along the wild road."
Morning and evening the fields and groves re-echo with their
cheery cry, and, during the spring and summer especially, it may
be heard occasionally at all hours.
They feed on <jrain of all kinds, grass seeds and insects,
especially white ants and their eggs, and on the young leaves
of mustard, peas and other herbs.
Dig open an ant's nest in some scrub frequented by these
birds, retire for 10 minutes, and the chances are that on your
return you find half a dozen Greys busy at the nest.
They feed in fields, on stubbles, on ploughed land, and in
any broken or scrub-clad waste, and are continually seen along
paths and roads pecking the grain out of the droppings of
passing animals. Boldly do they come out at day-break on to
the open threshing floors of the native peasants, and many
times have I surprised them on these, the vigilant watchmen
fast asleep and tightly rolled up in their blankets floundering to
their feet aghast at the double shot fired just over their heads.
Unquestionably, in the neighbourhood of villages, at seasons
when grain is scarce, these birds are inveterately foul feeders.
They run very swiftly and gracefully ; they seem to glide
rather than run, and the native lover can pay no higher compliment
to his mistress than to liken her gait to that of the
Partridge.
It is often difficult to flush them, but when they rise it is with
a true Partridge whirr ; and their flight is swifter and stronger,
and they will carry off more shot than our English bird.
In many places they are to be found in pairs, but where they
are really numerous, they often keep in regular coveys, a dozen
rising within a small space if they are in ground in which they
cannot run well.
As a rule, though a few are shot by chance shots every day,
they afford little sport, owing to the rapidity and persistence
with which they run. In beating a piece of scrub for hares, you
may catch glimpses of a dozen Partridges scuttling away ahead.
It is not worth going after them ; you risk losing the hares and
quail that you would otherwise certainly get, and the faster you
go, the faster they go, rising at length generally out of shot.
You may manage to head one and force him to rise ; and every
now and then, for some inscrutable reason, one decides to squat
under some bush even in the midst of the scrub, and you unexpectedly
get an easy close shot. Just when they reach the
edge of the cover, they commonly squat, hesitating apparently
to cross the bare ground in front; but unless you are very careful,
they will turn back when you get near them and pass between
the beaters, unseen, till they are forty or fifty yards in the
rear.