of birds and birdsong M. Krishnan
% One of our greatest naturalists, M. Krishnan was also ‘the finest nature writer of his time’, according to Ramachandra Guha. This masterly essay on gamecocks is peppered with his trademark literary allusions and caustic humour, and never fails to surprise and delight.
By a twist of fate the one time I had the chance to acquire a gamecock official prestige barred me. I was a magistrate then, and my fondness of livestock had already drawn comment. My racing homers had been invested with the aura of respectability by the local Boy Scouts using them for their pigeon post (a post suggested and mainly run by me), but the goats were less easily justified. There had been emergencies when I had to herd my goats myself and, however unostentatiously a magistrate turns goatherd, news of the event gets abroad. I had a polite, unofficial note from my chief which said that rumours (which, of course, he discounted) had reached his ear that I had been seen in the scrub jungle piloting a number of goats with bucolic shouts, and that while he appreciated my right to do what I liked outside office, such capricious behaviour on the part of a First Class Magistrate was, nevertheless, ill-advised. There had been a pompous paragraph on the official proprieties and the dignified and unbending countenance of justice, and, evidently pleased with the etymological aptness of the description, he had repeated the words ‘capricious behaviour’ several times. So, when a case of betting on a cockfight came up before me, and a magnificent bird was produced in evidence, I resisted temptation firmly. My clerk, whose adjective law was superior to mine, assured me that the thing to do was to confiscate and auction the fowl besides fining the owner—I still doubt the legality of this procedure, but it had been followed by my predecessors in office, and who was I to try to act wiser? There were people present in the court who would gladly have bought the gamecock at the auction and, after a discreet interval, sold it to me at a formal profit—and somehow they had sensed my interest in this piece of evidence. But I was firm. I contented myself with sharing my lunch with the haughty bird during the afternoon recess, and with admiring it. The
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iron spurs, which were also filed as ‘material objects’ by the police, were interesting, about an inch long, made of mild steel, and really sharp. They were encrusted with blood and had already begun to rust, but I wanted to keep them, as a souvenir of my triumph over temptation. I was denied even this satisfaction. My learned clerk said the rules decreed that such objects, which could be used again to commit an offence, had to be destroyed. Only once, as a schoolboy, have I seen a cockfight, and have confused and almost staccato recollections of it—the crowd in the bylane, people squatting and standing in a ring around two gamecocks, the earnestness of the men, the indifference of the birds to each other, then, unexpectedly, the spontaneous flare-up of combat, the incredibly swift and savage attack, flailing legs and flying feathers and blood, the sudden collapse and death of one of the combatants in an unrecognizable shuddering mess of dishevelled plumes and slashed 52/53
flesh. I have seen dogfights, ram-fights, partridge-fights, even a brief tussle between two circus camels, but for sheer shock and impact and savage fury that cockfight was unapproachable. Blake must have known its violence and gore at first hand, to have written: A gamecock clipped and armed for fight Doth the rising sun affright. Naturally, the law takes a grave view of cockfighting. It is a rather horrible sport, but even I, who feel revolted by its carnage, realize it is a sport, the kind that stimulates speculation and betting. Once zamindars and other rich, leisured people were much given to patronage of cockfighting, but those days are past. The gamecock is a rare bird today, and getting rarer. It is said that domestic poultry originated in India, and our junglefowl go a long way towards proving this claim. However, it is in
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© T. N. A. Perumal
Every piece in this collection has something original even for the seasoned naturalist. —from the foreword by ZAFAR FUTEHALLY …as a naturalist [M. Krishnan] had no equal. —E. P. GEE, author of WILDLIFE IN INDIA
other countries that fine and specialized breeds of domestic poultry have been built up and stabilized. True, we have no native breeds to compare with those tender-fleshed egg-layers, but in our gamecock, purely the product of indigenous breeding skill, we have a bird second to none in looks and power. The gamecock is essentially the same all over India, a tall, hard-muscled, brown-and-black bird with a long, graceful neck, a broad keel and great, columnar legs—the legs and spurs are the features of the breed, and are most impressive. The hen, as in all gallinaceous birds, is smaller and much more modest in looks. The reason why this superb and wholly indigenous breed is almost on the point of extinction is that it is of no use except in a fight. Obviously its flesh would be too tough for the table, and the small eggs have no appeal to the poultry farmer. However, a gamecock would make a grand pet, and the race can be saved if only people would 54/55
keep it for its looks and its temperament. After all, utilitarian worth is as out of place in a pet as in sport, and the gamecock is a bird of real quality. It is capable of deep attachment to its keeper, and intolerant of strangers and intruders. A gamecock parading one’s compound lends more than picturesqueness to the place; it lends it security for, believe me, it is a formidable watchdog.
M. Krishnan (1912-1996) is widely regarded as one of the finest naturalists the country has ever produced. A brilliant writer and photographer, his writing was showcased to fine effect in a newspaper column called ‘Country Notebook’ which appeared continuously in the Sunday Statesman for about forty-six years. Although two posthumous books that feature his photographs and writing have been published—Nature’s Spokesman edited by Ramachandra Guha and Eye of the Jungle edited by Ashish and Shanthi
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Chandola and T. N. A. Perumal—Of Birds and Birdsong is the first collection of Krishnan’s writings that focuses exclusively on birds. Krishnan was awarded the Padma Shri in 1969.
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The Book of Aleph