Nature gives some compensation for the heat and the dust in the shape of mulberries, loquats, lichis and cool luscious papitas and melons which ripen in March or April.  The mango blossom becomes transfigured into fruit, which, by the end of the month, is as large as an egg, and will be ready for gathering in the latter half of May.

Many trees are in flower.  The coral, the silk-cotton and the dhak are resplendent with red foliage.  The jhaman, the siris and the mohwa are likewise in bloom and, ere the close of the month, the amaltas or Indian laburnum will put forth its bright yellow flowers in great profusion.  Throughout April the air is heavy with the scent of blossoms.  The shesham, the sal, the pipal and the nim are vivid with fresh foliage.  But notwithstanding all this galaxy of colour, notwithstanding the brightness of the sun and the blueness of the sky, the countryside lacks the sweetness that Englishmen associate with springtime, because the majority of the trees, being evergreen, do not renew their clothing completely at this season, and the foliage is everywhere more or less obscured by the all-pervading dust.

The great avian emigration, which began in March, now reaches its height.  During the warm April nights millions of birds leave the plains of India.  The few geese remaining at the close of March, depart in the first days of April.

The brahminy ducks, which during the winter months were scattered in twos and threes over the lakes and rivers of Northern India, collect into flocks that migrate, one by one, to cooler climes, so that, by the end of the first week in May, the a-onk of these birds is no longer heard.  The mallard, gadwall, widgeon, pintail, the various species of pochard and the common teal are rapidly disappearing.  With April duck-shooting ends.  Of the migratory species only a few shovellers and garganey teal tarry till May.

The snipe and the quail are likewise flighting towards their breeding grounds.  Thus on the 1st of May the avian population of India is less by many millions than it was at the beginning of April.  But the birds that remain behind more than compensate us, by their great activity, for the loss of those that have departed.  There is more to interest the ornithologist in April than there was in January.

The bird chorus is now at its best.  The magpie-robin is in full song.  At earliest dawn he takes up a position on the topmost bough of a tree and pours forth his melody in a continuous stream.  His varied notes are bright and joyous.  Its voice is of wide compass and very powerful; were it a little softer in tone it would rival that of the nightingale.  The magpie-robin is comparatively silent at noonday, but from sunset until dusk he sings continuously.