Consider the birds, how they fare on a winter’s day in England when there is a foot of snow lying on the ground and the keen east wind whistles through the branches of the trees.  In the lee of brick walls, hayricks and thick hedges groups of disconsolate birds stand, seeking some shelter from the piercing wind.  The hawthorn berries have all been eaten.  Insect food there is none; it is only in the summer time that the comfortable hum of insects is heard in England.  Thus the ordinary food supply of the fowls of the air is greatly restricted, and scores of field-fares and other birds die of starvation.  The snow-covered lawn in front of every house, of which the inmates are in the habit of feeding the birds, is the resort of many feathered things.  Along with the robins and sparrows—­habitual recipients of the alms of man—­are blackbirds, thrushes, tits, starlings, chaffinches, rooks, jackdaws and others, which in fair weather avoid, or scorn to notice, man.  These have become tamed by the cold, and, they stand on the snow, cold, forlorn and half-starved—­a miserable company of supplicants for food.  Throughout the short cold winter days scarcely a bird note is heard; the fowls of the air are in no mood for song.

Contrast the behaviour of the birds on a winter’s day in India.  In every garden scores of them lead a joyful existence.  Little flocks of minivets display their painted wings as they flit hither and thither, hunting insects on the leaves of trees.  Amid the foliage warblers, wood-shrikes, bulbuls, tree-pies, orioles and white-eyes busily seek for food.  Pied and golden-backed woodpeckers, companies of nuthatches, and, here and there, a wryneck move about on the trunks and branches, looking into every cranny for insects.  King-crows, bee-eaters, fantail and grey-headed flycatchers seek their quarry on the wing, making frequent sallies into the open from their leafy bowers.  Butcher-birds, rollers and white-breasted kingfishers secure their victims on the ground, dropping on to them silently from their watchtowers.  Magpie-robins, Indian robins, redstarts and tailor-birds likewise capture their prey on the ground, but, instead of waiting patiently for it to come to them, they hop about fussily in quest of it.  Bright sunbirds flit from bloom to bloom, now hovering in the air on rapidly-vibrating wings, now dipping their slender curved bills into the calyces.

On the lawn wagtails run nimbly in search of tiny insects, hoopoes probe the earth for grubs, mynas strut about, in company with king-crows and starlings, seeking for grasshoppers.

Overhead, swifts and swallows dash joyously to and fro, feasting on the minute flying things that are found in the air even on the coolest days.  Above them, kites wheel and utter plaintive cries.  Higher still, vultures soar in grim silence.  Flocks of emerald paroquets fly past—­as swift as arrows shot from bows—­seeking grain or fruit.

In the shady parts of the garden crow-pheasants look for snakes and other crawling things, seven sisters rummage among the fallen leaves for insects, and rose-finches pick from off the ground the tiny seeds on which they feed.