The above are the commonest of the bird calls heard throughout the year.  They form the basis of the avian melody in India.  This melody is reinforced from time to time by the songs of those birds that may be termed the seasonal choristers.  It is the presence or absence of the voices of these latter which imparts distinctive features to the minstrelsy of every month of the year.

In January the sprightly little metallic purple sunbird pours forth, from almost every tree or bush, his powerful song, which, were it a little less sharp, might easily be mistaken for that of a canary.

From every mango tope emanates a loud “Think of me ...  Never to be.”  This is the call of the grey-headed flycatcher (Culicicapa ceylonensis), a bird that visits the plains of northern India every winter.  In summer it retires to the Himalayas for nesting purposes.  Still more melodious is the call of the wood-shrike, which is frequently heard at this season, and indeed during the greater part of the year.

Every now and again the green barbet emits his curious chuckling laugh, followed by a monotonous kutur, kutur, kuturuk.  At rare intervals his cousin, the coppersmith, utters a soft wow and thereby reminds us that he is in the land of the living.  These two species, more especially the latter, seem to dislike the cold weather.  They revel in the heat; it is when the thermometer stands at something over 100 degrees in the shade that they feel like giants refreshed, and repeat their loud calls with wearying insistence throughout the hours of daylight.

The nuthatches begin to tune up in January.  They sing with more cheer than harmony, their love-song being a sharp penetrating tee-tee-tee-tee-tee.

The hoopoe reminds us of his presence by an occasional soft uk-uk-uk.  His breeding season, like that of the nuthatch, is about to begin.

The magpie-robin or dhayal, who for months past has uttered no sound, save a scolding note when occasion demanded, now begins to make melody.  His January song, however, is harsh and crude, and not such as to lead one to expect the rich deep-toned music that will compel admiration in April, May and June.

Towards the end of the month the fluty call of the koel, another hot-weather chorister, may be heard in the eastern portions of northern India.

Most of the cock sunbirds cast off their workaday plumage and assumed their splendid metallic purple wedding garment in November and December, a few, however, do not attain their full glory until January.  By the end of the month it is difficult to find a cock that is not bravely attired from head to tail in iridescent purple.

Comparatively few birds build their nests in January.  Needless to state, doves’ nests containing eggs may be found at this season as at all other seasons.  It is no exaggeration to assert that some pairs of doves rear up seven or eight broods in the course of the year.  The consequence is that, notwithstanding the fact that the full clutch consists of but two eggs, doves share with crows, mynas, sparrows and green parrots the distinction of being the most successful birds in India.