For all I have said, the Bulbul is a silly bird. Being of a social and domestic disposition, it always has a wife, and would like to have a family, to which end it collects thin roots and twigs and makes a neat, if not artistic, cup-shaped nest. But as it sticks the thing in any wayside bush and visits it fussily many times a day, the crow knows exactly where it is and takes the eggs, one by one, as they are laid, if they have not been taken already by a snake or by the big red-throated goblin lizard. The Bulbul is sorry, but not discouraged. It makes another nest and lays three eggs more, which are taken like the first. So it plays the part in nature of a domestic hen, providing fresh eggs for others to eat. But sometimes a nest, luckily placed, escapes detection, and the Bulbul becomes a happy father. The eggs are pinkish white, richly spotted and blotched with claret colour. The scientific name of this poor bird, I am ashamed to say," is Pycnonotus hæmorrhous.
First cousin to the Common Bulbul is the still more sprightly Red-whiskered Bulbul (Otocampsa jocosa in Jerdon), whose crest rises to a sharp point and curves forward a little over the beak. It is a very perky little head-dress, and milliners might take a hint from it, but the girl would need to have an appropriate nose. It would not suit a Roman. The Red-whiskered Bulbul is the bird that enlivens all our hill stations with its vivacity, but it is not so common in Bombay as the other. It is of a glossy hair-brown hue on the upper parts and whitish on the under, but the cheeks (or ears) of the male are crimson and those of the female pure white. A dark brown gorget, or necklace, which does not quite meet in front, makes
