Page:The Common Birds of Bombay.djvu/108

in our gardens, is the beautiful little lora (Iora zeylonica, or tiphia as it is called now), a black and yellow bird, about the size of a tomtit. The top of its head, with all its back and upper parts, is as black as a newly brushed boot, with a white band across the wing. In sharp contrast with this, the whole under parts, from chin to tail, are bright gamboge yellow. This is a dandy costume enough for any bird, but the Iora has concealed finery besides. At that season when "the young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love," you will see the male Iora spring up into the air and hover for a moment, and all at once the long, white downy plumes that keep its ribs warm will start out on each side. Then, like a white puff ball, dashed with black and gold, it will slowly descend, quivering and glittering in the rays of the morning sun. This is not flirtation, nor fickle courtship. The bird is making love indeed, but to its own true-hearted spouse; for I believe that these birds, like all the Bulbuls, when once united, remain true to each other till death do them separate. The spouse is almost as lovely as her lord, but not so striking, for the top of her head and back are green instead of black. So are his for the most part during the cold season: the glossy black back is part of his summer suit. They go through life together, and if you watch him as he hops from twig to twig, hunting every leaf for caterpillars, you may notice that, every time he utters his low whistle, there is a soft echo from another tree. The lora has no song, but scarcely any other bird has such a variety of sweet notes. Its voice is heard in every garden, and if you catch sight