Greater Coucal | Centropus sinensis | Crow Pheasant

Deep call resonates the greenscape, intermittently.

A quick look around, reveals rustling leaves and heaving
branches. Oh, those ghostly birds that are heard than seen.
Neither a crow nor a Pheasant, not the Koel that we love,
not an imposing Kite or an Owl.
That’s the Greater Coucal (pronounced coo-cal) bird — a
bit of all common birds — large glossy-black body, rusty
brown feathers, bright red eyes, thick longish beak, deep-
hoots, fidgety walk and an awkward flight.
A non-brood-parasitic member of the Cuckoo family which
has 30-odd others and shares features like the red eyes—
though it appears more bewildered than blood-shot.
Its deep-baritone triple coop-coop-coop call stands out, so
does its threatening chhiss, or lowtok duets.
Small wings do not permit the Coucal to fly high or swiftly
like its cousins. Instead, like a rooster, it clambers up short
bushes and then on to nearby trees while using its tail to
float; doesn't venture too high up. A keen observer would
A sibling Centropus Bengalensis, the Lesser Coucal, that’s smaller in
find this Crow Pheasant among rapidly rustling thickets
and bushes or foraging on the ground. size, is found up North in India .
There are more than 15 different Coucals, from S.America to India to
This bird of prey doesn't flinch stealing eggs and nestlings
Africa, each distinct from the other.
of other common garden birds; while it mainly feeds on
insects, caterpillars, lizards, rodents and sometimes, fruits Far from the beauty of a peacock or the grace of an eagle, it is striking
in its own right They can be seen sunbathing on top of vegetation in early
Both genders appear similar (~22” long), the female is built
morning singly or in pairs.
slightly larger; monogamous couples share nesting
duties— not so tidy mass of twigs and sticks hidden in Coucals are the subject of numerous beliefs and myths:
shrubs /bamboo thickets; the smaller male provides
parental care to nestlings till they fledge. either sighting it brings good luck, feared for its strange habits, or
killed for its curative flesh.

महोख in Hindi, भारद्वाज पक्षी in Marathi, is revered as an
incarnation of Sri Vishnu and a good omen in few regions of
India. In Kannada it is called Kembhoota or Red Devil,
owing to its piercing red eyes and booming calls, being
barely visible. Chembakam in Tamil, Chemboth / Uppan in
Malayalam. .
Sighting the Ratnapakshi (bird with a jewel) said to bring
good luck. In native and tribal medicine, its flesh was cooked
and used to cure tuberculosis and lung ailments—across the
world.
It is believed that the bird uses a special type of grass with
magical healing properties to make its nest. Another belief is
that the bird is able to identify a rare root which has the
ability to destroy the toxicity of metals.
South Africa’s Rainbird is the Burchell’s Coucal, its calls
precede rainfall; so is said to predict rains!.
Early officers of British in India, 18th century, found the
Pheasant’s flesh evil-flavoured and named it Griff’s Pheasant -
Griff was an Anglo-Indian cant term, applied to all cadets
newly rostered to the inhospitable East Indies. Griffin-hood
typically lasted a year, and of those brilliant ones who could
handle locals (weather and people) it extended to almost a
decade by when he blossomed into a gentleman. Griffin was
also a fabled monster with the head and wings of an eagle and
the head of a lion; but for the bird, Anglo-Indian Griff stuck.
Its name, Centropus Sinenses is derived from Greek
words kentron–spike; pous–foot. (Spiked foot) and
sinenses—from China.
Coucal, originates from Latin, and means, an old world ground-
living cuckoo having a long dagger-like hind claw.
The Ceylon Coucal is feted with a postal stamp, and similarly
in other countries where it is found, especially the African.
David Livingstone, a noted South African poet wrote a poem,
called The Rainbird’s Liquid Note.
A native Australian fable on spirits goes thus - after most of the
earthly beings finished assembling their beautiful bodies, a shy
bird spirit had to make do with whatever was left out—it was
sad as it put its limbs together, cuckoo feet, quills of an echnida,
a pair of black and tan wings that none wanted, and a few preen
glands that stank worse than a skunk, a longish beak and small
legs discarded by the Bustard and finally a long tail that was too
flashy for others.
Once assembled, it became a Pheasant Coucal!
The bits and pieces bird was different from others but special in
its own way - it could glide, climb trees, spared from being
preyed upon and live in peace with its family… with one regret
it wasn't elegant or artsy in its ways.
Kaw Ku, the Andaman Coucal is endemic to the islands in
the indian Ocean. Its calls, locals believe and still follow,
is an indicator to predict the rise or ebb in tide.
A saying on its clumsiness, in Kannada, goes thus:
Navilu kuniyutte anta kembhoota rekke katti kuniyoke
aagutta? — which roughly translates to ‘a peacock dances
gracefully, can a Coucal just stick feathers to do the same?

A parting shot—this bird left me with a mythical image — a

piercing stare from its perch on a Copper Pod tree in our
central lawns, livid for following it a few minutes at mid-day;
the hint of sunlight on its head and a long silhouette with a
dash of brown feathers...
A Dracula-ean cold glare, no less!

Text partly own and also from across the www.

Pictures own, from Bangalore, India