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. The nest of the dove is a subject over which most ornithologists have waxed sarcastic. One writer compares the structure to a bundle of spillikins. Another says, "Upset a box of matches in a bush and you will have produced a very fair imitation of a dove's nursery!" According to a third, the best way to make an imitation dove's nest is to take four slender twigs, lay two of them on a branch and then place the remaining two crosswise on top of the first pair. For all this, the dove's nest is a wonderful structure; it is a lesson in how to make a little go a long way. Doves seem to place their nurseries haphazard on the first branch or ledge they come across after the spirit has moved them to build. The nest appears to be built solely on considerations of hygiene. Ample light and air are a _sine qua non_; concealment appears to be a matter of no importance.