The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview, though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a glimpse of that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It was really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board the “Mongolia,” who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the “Rangoon,” was following Mr. Fogg’s tracks step by step. What was Fix’s object? Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes—which he religiously preserved—that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with them, and probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber around the globe. But, as it is in human nature to attempt the solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an explanation of Fix’s movements, which was in truth far from unreasonable. Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg’s friends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.
“It’s clear!” repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his shrewdness. “He’s a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn’t quite the thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man! Ah, gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!”
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had the chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the “Rangoon” entered the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of this noble island from the view of the travellers. The “Rangoon” weighed anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg’s every movement, followed them cautiously, without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his sleeve at Fix’s manœuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of clove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower. Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields; sago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of this tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air with a penetrating perfume. Agile and grinning bands of monkeys skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking, irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical fruits and plants; and at ten o’clock they re-embarked, closely followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes—a fruit as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords gourmands a delicious sensation—was waiting for them on deck. He was only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very gracefully for them.
At eleven o’clock the “Rangoon” rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view. Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast. Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.
The “Rangoon” had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen, Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus aided the steamer’s progress. The captain as often as possible put up his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China. Owing to the defective construction of the “Rangoon,” however, unusual precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least. Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot impatience.
“You are in a great hurry, then,” said Fix to him one day, “to reach Hong Kong?”
“A very great hurry!”
“Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?”
“Terribly anxious.”
“You believe in this journey around the world, then?”
“Absolutely. Don’t you, Mr. Fix?”
“I? I don’t believe a word of it.”
“You’re a sly dog!” said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had the Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet, in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his tongue.
“Mr. Fix,” said he, in a bantering tone, “shall we be so unfortunate as to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?”
“Why,” responded Fix, a little embarrassed, “I don’t know; perhaps—”
“Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular Company, you know, can’t stop on the way! You were only going to Bombay, and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from America to Europe is only a step.”
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted in chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.
“Yes, and no,” returned Fix; “there is good and bad luck in such things. But you must understand that I don’t travel at my own expense.”
“Oh, I am quite sure of that!” cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then undecided what course it was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it practicable to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master, and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail; or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile Phileas Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit around the world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star, which might have produced an agitation in this gentleman’s heart. But no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout’s great surprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more difficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery of Neptune.
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in Aouda’s eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas Fogg, though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless. As to the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in perpetual reveries.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves; and this made Passepartout indignant.
“The valves are not sufficiently charged!” he exclaimed. “We are not going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!”
And all the jungle laughed with nesting songs,
And all the thickets rustled with small life
Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things
Pleased at the spring time. In the mango sprays
The sun-birds flashed; alone at his green forge
Toiled the loud coppersmith; . . .
ARNOLD. The Light of Asia.
In March the climate of the plains of the United Provinces varies from place to place. In the western sub-Himalayan tracts, as in the Punjab, the weather still leaves little to be desired. The sun indeed is powerful; towards the end of the month the maximum shade temperature exceeds 80°, but the nights and early mornings are delightfully cool. In all the remaining parts of the United Provinces, except the extreme south, temperate weather prevails until nearly the end of the month. In the last days the noonday heat becomes so great that many persons close their bungalows for several hours daily to keep them cool, the outer temperature rising to ninety in the shade. At night, however, the temperature drops to 65°. In the extreme south of the Province the hot weather sets in by the middle of March. The sky assumes a brazen aspect and, at midday, the country is swept by westerly winds which seem to come from a titanic blast furnace.
The spring crops grow more golden day by day. The mustard is the first to ripen. The earlier-sown fields are harvested in March in the eastern and southern parts of the country. The spring cereals are cut by hand sickles, the grain is then husked by the tramping of cattle, and, lastly, the chaff is separated from the grain on the threshing floor, the hot burning wind often acting as a natural winnowing fan.
The air is heavily scented with the inconspicuous inflorescences of the mangos (Mangifera indica). The pipals (Ficus religiosa) are shedding their leaves; the sheshams (Dalbergia sissoo) are assuming their emerald spring foliage.
The garden, the jungle and the forest are beautified by the gorgeous reds of the flowers of the silk-cotton tree (Bombax malabarica), the Indian coral tree (Erythrina indica) and the flame-of-the-forest (Butea frondosa). The sub-Himalayan forests become yellow-tinted owing to the fading of the leaves of the sal (Shorea robusta), many of which are shed in March. The sal, however, is never entirely leafless; the young foliage appears as the old drops off; while this change is taking place the minute pale yellow flowers open out.
The familiar yellow wasps, which have been hibernating during the cold weather, emerge from their hiding-places and begin to construct their umbrella-shaped nests or combs, which look as if they were made of rice-paper.
March is a month of great activity for the birds. Those that constituted the avian chorus of February continue to sing, and to their voices are now added those of many other minstrels. Chief of these is the pied singer of Ind—the magpie-robin or dhayal—whose song is as beautiful as that of the English robin at his best. From the housetops the brown rock-chat begins to pour forth his exceedingly sweet lay. The Indian robin is in full song. The little golden ioras, hidden away amid dense foliage, utter their many joyful sounds. The brain-fever bird grows more vociferous day by day. The crow-pheasants, which have been comparatively silent during the colder months of the year, now begin to utter their low sonorous whoot, whoot, whoot, which is heard chiefly at dawn.
Everywhere the birds are joyful and noisy; nowhere more so than at the silk-cotton and the coral trees. These, although botanically very different, display many features in common. They begin to lose their leaves soon after the monsoon is over, and are leafless by the end of the winter. In the early spring, while the tree is still devoid of foliage, huge scarlet, crimson or yellow flowers emerge from every branch. Each flower is plentifully supplied with honey; it is a flowing bowl of which all are invited to partake, and hundreds of thousands of birds accept the invitation with right good-will. The scene at each of these trees, when in full flower, baffles description.
Scores of birds forgather there—rosy starlings, mynas, babblers, bulbuls, king-crows, tree-pies, green parrots, sunbirds and crows. These all drink riotously and revel so loudly that the sound may be heard at a distance of half a mile or more. Even before the sun has risen and begun to dispel the pleasant coolness of the night the drinking begins. It continues throughout the hours of daylight. Towards midday, when the west wind blows very hot, it flags somewhat, but even when the temperature is nearer 100° than 90° some avian brawlers are present. As soon as the first touch of the afternoon coolness is felt the clamour acquires fresh vigour and does not cease until the sun has set in a dusty haze, and the spotted owlets have emerged and begun to cackle and call as is their wont.
These last are by no means the only birds that hold concert parties during the hours of darkness. In open country the jungle owlet and the dusky-horned owl call at intervals, and the Indian nightjar (Caprimulgus asiaticus) imitates the sound of a stone skimming over ice. In the forest tracts Franklin's and Horsfield's nightjars make the welkin ring. Scarce has the sun disappeared below the horizon when the former issues forth and utters its harsh tweet. Horsfield's nightjar emerges a few minutes later, and, for some hours after dusk and for several before dawn, it utters incessantly its loud monotonous chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, which has been aptly compared to the sound made by striking a plank sharply with a hammer.
March is the month in which the majority of the shrikes or butcher-birds go a-courting. There is no false modesty about butcher-birds. They are not ashamed to introduce their unmelodious calls into the avian chorus. But they are mild offenders in comparison with the king-crows (Dicrurus ater) and the rollers (Coracias indica).
The little black king-crows are at all seasons noisy and vivacious: from the end of February until the rains have set in they are positively uproarious. Two or three of them love to sit on a telegraph wire, or a bare branch of a tree, and hold a concert. The first performer draws itself up to its full height and then gives vent to harsh cries. Before it has had time to deliver itself of all it has to sing, an impatient neighbour joins in and tries to shout it down. The concert may last for half an hour or longer; the scene is shifted from time to time as the participants become too excited to sit still. The king-crows so engaged appear to be selecting their mates; nevertheless nest-construction does not begin before the end of April.
Some human beings may fail to notice the courtship of the king-crow, but none can be so deaf and blind as to miss the love-making of the gorgeous roller or blue jay. Has not everyone marvelled at the hoarse cries and rasping screams which emanate from these birds as they fling themselves into the air and ascend and descend as though they were being tossed about by unseen hands?
Their wonderful aerial performances go on continually in the hours of daylight throughout the months of March and April; at this season the birds, beautiful although they be, are a veritable nuisance, and most people gratefully welcome the comparative quiet that supervenes after the eggs have been laid. The madness of the March hare is mild compared with that of the March roller. It is difficult to realise that the harsh and angry-sounding cries of these birds denote, not rage, but joy.
The great exodus of the winter visitors from the plains of India begins in March. It continues until mid-May, by which time the last of the migratory birds will have reached its distant breeding ground.
This exodus is usually preceded by the gathering into flocks of the rose-coloured starlings and the corn-buntings. Large noisy congregations of these birds are a striking feature of February in Bombay, of March in the United Provinces, and of April in the Punjab.
Rose-coloured starlings spend most of their lives in the plains of India, going to Asia Minor for a few months each summer for nesting purposes. In the autumn they spread themselves over the greater part of Hindustan, most abundantly in the Deccan.
In the third or fourth week of February the rosy starlings of Bombay begin to form flocks. These make merry among the flowers of the coral tree, which appear first in South India, and last in the Punjab. The noisy flocks journey northwards in a leisurely manner, timing their arrival at each place simultaneously with the flowering of the coral trees. They feed on the nectar provided by these flowers and those of the silk-cotton tree. They also take toll of the ripening corn and of the mulberries which are now in season. Thus the rosy starlings reach Allahabad about the second week in March, and Lahore some fifteen days later.
The head, neck, breast, wings and tail of the rosy starling are glossy black, and the remainder of the plumage is pale salmon in the hen and the young cock, and faint rose-colour in the adult cock.
Rosy starlings feed chiefly in the morning and the late afternoon. During the hottest part of the day they perch in trees and hold a concert, if such a term may be applied to a torrent of sibilant twitter.
Buntings, like rosy starlings, are social birds, and are very destructive to grain crops.
As these last are harvested the feeding area of the buntings becomes restricted, so that eventually every patch of standing crop is alive with buntings. The spring cereals ripen in the south earlier than in northern India, so that the cheerful buntings are able to perform their migratory journey by easy stages and find abundant food all along the route.
There are two species of corn-bunting—the red-headed (Emberiza luteola) and the black-headed (E. melanocephala). In both the lower plumage is bright yellow.
Among the earliest of the birds to forsake the plains of Hindustan are the grey-lag goose and the pintail duck. These leave Bengal in February, but tarry longer in the cooler parts of the country. Of the other migratory species many individuals depart in March, but the greater number remain on into April, when they are caught up in the great migratory wave that surges over the country. The destination of the majority of these migrants is Tibet or Siberia, but a few are satisfied with the cool slopes of the Himalayas as a summer resort in which to busy themselves with the sweet cares of nesting. Examples of these more local migrants are the grey-headed and the verditer flycatchers, the Indian bush-chat and, to some extent, the paradise flycatcher and the Indian oriole. The case of the oriole is interesting. All the Indian orioles (Oriolus kundoo) disappear from the Punjab and the United Provinces in winter. In the former province no other oriole replaces O. kundoo, but in the United Provinces the black-headed oriole (O. melanocephalus) comes to take the place of the other from October to March. When this last returns to the United Provinces in March the greater number of melanocephalus individuals go east, a few only remaining in the sub-Himalayan tracts of the province.
The Indian oriole is not the only species which finds the climate of the United Provinces too severe for it in winter; the koel and the paradise flycatcher likewise desert us in the coldest months. From the less temperate Punjab several species migrate in October which manage to maintain themselves in the United Provinces throughout the year: these are the purple sunbird, the little green and the blue-tailed bee-eaters, and the yellow-throated sparrow. The return of these and the other migrant species to the Punjab in March is as marked a phenomenon as is the arrival of the swallow and the cuckoo in England in spring.
The behaviour of the king-crows shows the marked effect a comparatively small difference of temperature may exert on the habits of some birds. In the United Provinces the king-crows appear to be as numerous in winter as in summer: in the Punjab they are very plentiful in summer, but rare in the cold weather; while not a single king-crow winters in the N.-W. Frontier Province.
Of the birds of which the nests were described in January and February the Pallas's fishing eagles have sent their nestlings into the world to fend for themselves.
In the case of the following birds the breeding season is fast drawing to its close:—the dusky horned-owl, the white-backed vulture, Bonelli's eagle, the tawny eagle, the brown fish-owl, the rock horned-owl, the raven, the amadavat and the white-throated munia.
The nesting season is at its height for all the other birds of which the nests have been described, namely, most species of dove, the jungle crow, the red-headed merlin, the purple sunbird, the nuthatch, the fantail flycatcher, the finch-lark, the pied woodpecker, the coppersmith, the alexandrine and the rose-ringed paroquet, the white-eyed buzzard, the collared scops and the mottled wood-owl, the kite, the black vulture and the pied kingfisher.
The sand-martins breed from October to May, consequently their nests, containing eggs or young, are frequently taken in March. Mention was made in January and February of the Indian cliff-swallow (Hirundo fluvicola). This species is not found in the eastern districts of the United Provinces, but it is the common swallow of the western districts. The head is dull chestnut. The back and shoulders are glistening steel-blue. The remainder of the upper plumage is brown. The lower parts are white with brown streaks, which are most apparent on the throat and upper breast. These swallows normally nest at two seasons of the year—from February till April and in July or August.
They breed in colonies. The mud nests are spherical or oval with an entrance tube from two to six inches long. The nests are invariably attached to a cliff or building, and, although isolated ones are built sometimes, they usually occur in clusters, as many as two hundred have been counted in one cluster. In such a case a section cut parallel to the surface to which the nests are attached looks like that of a huge honeycomb composed of cells four inches in diameter—cells of a kind that one could expect to be built by bees that had partaken of Mr. H. G. Wells' "food of the gods."
The beautiful white-breasted kingfisher, (Halcyon smyrnensis) is now busy at its nest.
This species spends most of its life in shady gardens; it feeds on insects in preference to fish. It does not invariably select a river bank in which to nest, it is quite content with a sand quarry, a bank, or the shaft of a kachcha well. The nest consists of a passage, some two feet in length and three inches in diameter, leading to a larger chamber in which from four to seven eggs are laid.
A pair of white-breasted kingfishers at work during the early stages of nest construction affords an interesting spectacle. Not being able to obtain a foothold on the almost perpendicular surface of the bank, the birds literally charge this in turn with fixed beak. By a succession of such attacks at one spot a hole of an appreciable size is soon formed in the soft sand. Then the birds are able to obtain a foothold and to excavate with the bill, while clinging to the edge of the hole. Every now and then they indulge in a short respite from their labours. While thus resting one of the pair will sometimes spread its wings for an instant and display the white patch; then it will close them and make a neat bow, as if to say "Is not that nice?" Its companion may remain motionless and unresponsive, or may return the compliment.
In the first days of March the bulbuls begin to breed. In 1912 the writer saw a pair of bulbuls (Otocompsa emeria) building a nest on the 3rd March. By the 10th the structure was complete and held the full clutch of three eggs. On that date a second nest was found containing three eggs.
In 1913 the writer first saw a bulbul's nest on the 5th March. This belonged to Molpastes bengalensis and contained two eggs. On the following day the full clutch of three was in the nest.
The nesting season for these birds terminates in the rains.
The common bulbuls of the plains belong to two genera—Molpastes and Otocompsa. The former is split up into a number of local species which display only small differences in appearance and interbreed freely at the places where they meet. They are known as the Madras, the Bengal, the Punjab, etc., red-vented bulbul. They are somewhat larger than sparrows. The head, which bears a short crest, and the face are black; the rest of the body, except a patch of bright red under the tail, is brown, each feather having a pale margin.
In Otocompsa the crest is long and rises to a sharp point which curves forward a little over the beak. The breast is white, set off by a black gorget. There is the usual red patch under the tail and a patch of the same hue on each side of the face, whence the English name for the bird—the red-whiskered bulbul.
Molpastes and Otocompsa have similar habits. They are feckless little birds that build cup-shaped nests in all manner of queer and exposed situations. Those that live near the habitations of Europeans nestle in low bushes in the garden, or in pot plants in the verandah. Small crotons are often selected, preferably those that do not bear a score of leaves. The sitting bulbul does not appear to mind the daily shower-bath it receives when the mali waters the plant. Sometimes as many as three or four pairs of bulbuls attempt to rear up families in one verandah. The word "attempt" is used advisedly, because, owing to the exposed situations in which nests are built, large numbers of eggs and young bulbuls are destroyed by boys, cats, snakes and other predaceous creatures. The average bulbul loses six broods for every one it succeeds in rearing. The eggs are pink with reddish markings.
March is the month in which to look for the nest of the Indian wren-warbler (Prinia inornata). Inornata is a very appropriate specific name for this tiny earth-brown bird, which is devoid of all kind of ornamentation. Its voice is as homely as its appearance—a harsh but plaintive twee, twee, twee. It weaves a nest which looks like a ragged loofah with a hole in the side. The nest is usually placed low down in a bush or in long grass. Sometimes it is attached to two or more stalks of corn. In such cases the corn is often cut before the young birds have had time to leave the nest, and then the brood perishes. This species brings up a second family in the rainy season.
The barn-owls (Strix flammea) are now breeding. They lay their eggs in cavities in trees, buildings or walls. In northern India the nesting season lasts from February to June. Eggs are most likely to be found in the United Provinces during the present month.
The various species of babblers or seven sisters begin to nest in March. Unlike bulbuls these birds are careful to conceal the nest. This is a slenderly-built, somewhat untidy cup, placed in a bush or tree. The eggs are a beautiful rich blue, without any markings.
The hawk-cuckoo, or brain-fever bird (Hierococcyx varius), to which allusion has already been made, deposits its eggs in the nests of various species of babblers. The eggs of this cuckoo are blue, but are distinguishable from those of the babbler by their larger size. It may be noted, in passing, that this cuckoo does not extend far into the Punjab.
As stated above, most of the shrikes go a-courting in March. Nest-building follows hard on courtship. In this month and in April most of the shrikes lay their eggs, but nests containing eggs or young are to be seen in May, June, July and August. Shrikes are birds of prey in miniature. Although not much larger than sparrows they are as fierce as falcons.
Their habit is to seize the quarry on the ground, after having pounced upon it from a bush or tree. Grasshoppers constitute their usual food, but they are not afraid to tackle mice or small birds.
The largest shrike is the grey species (Lanius lahtora). This is clothed mainly in grey; however, it has a broad black band running through the eye—the escutcheon of the butcher-bird clan. It begins nesting before the other species, and its eggs are often taken in February.
The other common species are the bay-backed (L. vittatus) and the rufous-backed shrike (L. erythronotus). These are smaller birds and have the back red. The former is distinguishable from the latter by having in the wings and tail much white, which is very conspicuous during flight.
The nest of each species is a massive cup, composed of twigs, thorns, grasses, feathers, and, usually, some pieces of rag; these last often hang down in a most untidy manner. The nest is, as a rule, placed in a babool or other thorny tree, close up against the trunk.
Three allies of the shrikes are likewise busy with their nests at this season. These are the wood-shrike, the minivet and the cuckoo-shrike. The wood-shrike (Tephrodornis pondicerianus) is an ashy-brown bird of the size of a sparrow with a broad white eyebrow. It frequently emits a characteristic soft, melancholy, whistling note, which Eha describes as "Be thee cheery." How impracticable are all efforts to "chain by syllables airy sounds"! The cup-like nest of this species is always carefully concealed in a tree.
Minivets are aerial exquisites. In descriptions of them superlative follows upon superlative. The cocks of most species are arrayed in scarlet and black; the hens are not a whit less brilliantly attired in yellow and sable. One species lives entirely in the plains, others visit them in the cold weather; the majority are permanent residents of the hills. The solitary denizen of the plains—the little minivet (Pericrocotus peregrinus)—is the least resplendent of them all. Its prevailing hue is slaty grey, but the cock has a red breast and some red on the back. The nest is a cup so small as either to be invisible from below or to present the appearance of a knot or thickening in the branch on which it is placed. Sometimes two broods are reared in the course of the year—one in March, April or May and the other during the rainy season.
The cuckoo-shrike (Grauculus macii) is not nearly related to the cuckoo, nor has it the parasitic habits of the latter. Its grey plumage is barred like that of the common cuckoo, hence the adjective. The cuckoo-shrike is nearly as big as a dove. It utters constantly a curious harsh call. It keeps much to the higher branches of trees in which it conceals, with great care, its saucer-like nest.
As we have seen, some coppersmiths and pied woodpeckers began nesting operations in February, but the great majority do not lay eggs until March.
The green barbet (Thereoceryx zeylonicus) and the golden-backed woodpecker (Brachypternus aurantius) are now busy excavating their nests, which are so similar to those of their respective cousins—the coppersmith and the pied woodpecker—as to require no description. It is not necessary to state that the harsh laugh, followed by the kutur, kutur, kuturuk, of the green barbet and the eternal tonk, tonk, tonk of the coppersmith are now more vehement than ever, and will continue with unabated vigour until the rains have fairly set in.
By the end of the month many of the noisy rollers have found holes in decayed trees in which the hens can lay their eggs. The vociferous nightjars likewise have laid upon the bare ground their salmon-pink eggs with strawberry-coloured markings.
The noisy spotted owlets (Athene brama) and the rose-ringed paroquets (Palaeornis torquatus) are already the happy possessors of clutches of white eggs hidden away in cavities of decayed trees or buildings.
The swifts (Cypselus indicus) also are busy with their nests. These are saucer-shaped structures, composed of feathers, straw and other materials made to adhere together, and to the beam or stone to which the nest is attached, by the glutinous saliva of the swifts. Deserted buildings, outhouses and verandahs of bungalows are the usual nesting sites of these birds. At this season swifts are very noisy. Throughout the day and at frequent intervals during the night they emit loud shivering screams. At sunset they hold high carnival, playing, at breakneck speed and to the accompaniment of much screaming, a game of "follow the man from Cook's."
The swifts are not the only birds engaged in rearing up young in our verandahs. Sparrows and doves are so employed, as are the wire-tailed swallows (Hirundo smithii). These last are steel-blue birds with red heads and white under plumage. They derive the name "wire-tailed" from the fact that the thin shafts of the outer pair of tail feathers are prolonged five inches beyond the others and look like wires. Wire-tailed swallows occasionally build in verandahs, but they prefer to attach their saucer-shaped mud nests to the arches of bridges and culverts.
With a nest in such a situation the parent birds are not obliged to go far for the mud with which the nest is made, or for the insects, caught over the surface of water, on which the offspring are fed.
The nesting season of wire-tailed swallows is a long one. According to Hume these beautiful birds breed chiefly in February and March and again in July, August and September. However, he states that he has seen eggs as early as January and as late as November. In the Himalayas he has obtained the eggs in April, May and June.
The present writer's experience does not agree with that of Hume. In Lahore, Saharanpur and Pilibhit, May and June are the months in which most nests of this species are likely to be seen. The writer has found nests with eggs or young on the following dates in the above-mentioned places: May 13th, 15th, 16th, 17th; June 6th and 28th.
The nest of June 28th was attached to a rafter of the front verandah of a bungalow at Lahore. The owner of the house stated that the swallows in question had already reared one brood that year, and that the birds in question had nested in his verandah for some years. There is no doubt that some wire-tailed swallows bring up two broods. Such would seem to breed, as Hume says, in February and March and again in July and August. But, as many nests containing eggs are found in May, some individuals appear to have one brood only, which hatches out in May or June.
Those useful but ugly fowls, the white scavenger vultures (Neophron ginginianus), depart from the ways of their brethren in that they nidificate in March and April instead of in January and February. The nest is an evil-smelling pile of sticks, rags and rubbish. It is placed on some building or in a tree.
The handsome brahminy kites (Haliastur indicus), attired in chestnut and white, are now busily occupied, either in seeking for sites or in actually building their nests, which resemble those of the common kite.
In the open plains the pipits (Anthus rufulus) and the crested larks (Galerita cristata) are keeping the nesting finch-larks company.
All three species build the same kind of nest—a cup of grass or fibres (often a deep cup in the case of the crested lark) placed on the ground in a hole or a depression, or protected by a tussock of grass or a small bush.
On the churs and sand islets in the large Indian rivers the terns are busy with their eggs, which are deposited on the bare sand. They breed in colonies. On the same islet are to be seen the eggs of the Indian river tern, the black-bellied tern, the swallow-plover, the spur-winged plover and the Indian skimmer.
The eggs of all the above species are of similar appearance, the ground colour being greenish, or buff, or the hue of stone or cream, with reddish or brownish blotches. Three is the full complement of eggs. The bare white glittering sands on which these eggs are deposited are often at noon so hot as to be painful to touch; accordingly during the daytime there is no need for the birds to sit on the eggs in order to keep them warm. Indeed, it has always been a mystery to the writer why terns' eggs laid in March in northern India do not get cooked. Mr. A. J. Currie recently came across some eggs of the black-bellied tern that had had water sprinkled over them. He is of opinion that the incubating birds treat the eggs thus in order to prevent their getting sun-baked. This theory should be borne in mind by those who visit sandbanks in March. Whether it be true or not, there is certainly no need for the adult birds to keep the eggs warm in the daytime, and they spend much of their time in wheeling gracefully overhead or in sleeping on the sand. By nightfall all the eggs are covered by parent birds, which are said to sit so closely that it is possible to catch them by means of a butterfly net. The terns, although they do not sit much on their eggs during the day, ever keep a close watch on them, so that, when a human being lands on a nest-laden sandbank, the parent birds fly round his head, uttering loud screams.
The swallow-plovers go farther. They become so excited that they flutter about on the sand, with dragging wings and limping legs, as if badly wounded. Sometimes they perform somersaults in their intense excitement. The nearer the intruder approaches their eggs the more vigorous do their antics become.
Every lover of the winged folk should make a point of visiting, late in March or early in April, an islet on which these birds nest. He will find much to interest him there. In April many of the young birds will be hatched out. A baby tern is an amusing object. It is covered with soft sand-coloured down. When a human being approaches it crouches on the sand, half burying its head in its shoulders, and remains thus perfectly motionless. If picked up it usually remains limply in the hand, so that, but for its warmth, it might be deemed lifeless. After it has been set down again on the sand, it will remain motionless until the intruder's back is turned, when it will run to the water as fast as its little legs can carry it. It swims as easily as a duck. Needless to state, the parent birds make a great noise while their young are being handled.
Birds decline to be fettered by the calendar. Many of the species which do not ordinarily nest until April or May occasionally begin operations in March, hence nests of the following species, which are dealt with next month, may occur in the present one:—the tree-pie, tailor-bird, common myna, bank-myna, brown rock-chat, brown-backed robin, pied wagtail, red-winged bush-lark, shikra, red-wattled lapwing, yellow-throated sparrow, bee-eater, blue rock-pigeon, green pigeon and grey partridge.
March the 15th marks the beginning of the close season for game birds in all the reserved forests of Northern India. This is none too soon, as some individuals begin breeding at the end of the month.
Have you ever sat around the table with friends or family, enjoying a perfectly acceptable lunch or dinner, and listened – powerless – as the conversation slowly turns to the topic of “culture” or “art” or “the world”?
Don’t panic – instead arm yourself with some unbelievable fact nuggets about the world that will make you seem thoroughly cultured. Facts that will leave everyone jaw-on-the-floor amazed.
Do you want to pull off this exquisite dinner-table trick?
Then read on.
First, you need to build ‘presence’. Let me explain what I mean by this.
You have to make yourself look cultured, like you really know what you’re talking about. Then you’re ready to recite any of the 50 facts below and leave your company reeling in shock.
Master the body language of a seasoned academic with this simple 4 step technique:
Purse your lips (pout)
Raise an eyebrow (creating an aura of intrigue)
Lift your coca cola and swill it round the glass for a moment (showing your sophistication)
Finally, lean back slightly in your chair (indicating you are at ease with yourself)
Now you’re ready for the facts.
Category 1: Nature
The deepest place on Earth is the Mariana Trench in the Pacific Ocean. It’s 36,201 feet (11,034m) deep. That’s almost seven miles!
The longest river in the world is the River Nile, clocking 6,853km in length. Its water resources are shared by 11 different countries, too.
Lobsters are not ‘biologically immortal’, but they do produce an enzyme that repairs their cells and helps their DNA to replicate indefinitely. That’s where the myth comes from.
The deepest freshwater lake in the world is Lake Baikal, located in Siberia. It plunges to a whopping depth of 5,315 feet (1,620m). Woah!
Pineapples take two years to grow.
Acacia trees in Africa communicate with each other. They emit gasses to alert other trees to produce the toxin tannin, which protects them from hungry animals.
Armadillos are bulletproof. (This is NOT an invitation to test the fact.)
Niagara Falls never freezes.
Each limestone/granite block that makes up the Great Pyramid of Giza weighs 2.5 tons. And there are 2.3 million of them. Yes, you read that correctly.
It would take you approximately 18 months to walk all the way along The Great Wall of China. (It’s over 5,000 miles long).
Category 2: History
The national flag with the most colors in it is Belize (1981), with 12.
The first hand-held mobile phone call was made on April 3rd, 1973, in NYC.
Buzz Aldrin (the second man to ever step on the Moon, in 1969) actually peed himself while walking on the surface, apparently.
In Ancient Egypt, the word for ‘cat’ was actually pronounced ‘mew’, or ‘meow’.
The American Revolution (1765-1783) came before the French Revolution (1789-1799).
The Anglo-Zanzibar War (1896) was the shortest war ever – lasting just 38 minutes!
The printing press, which revolutionized the sharing of information, was invented by Gutenberg around the year 1440.
The largest contiguous land empire in history is The Mongol Empire (13th & 14th centuries).
Egypt is classified as the oldest country in the world, dating back to 3100 BCE.
Tim Berners-Lee created the first ever web browser (World Wide Web), in 1990.
Category 3: Art & Culture
In 2019, scientists discovered the world’s oldest known work of art on an Indonesian Island called Sulawesi. It was created 44,000 years ago.
The name “sandwich” comes from an 18th-century aristocrat called the 4th Earl of Sandwich.
9310 Tweets are sent out every second.
“Salvator Mundi” by Leonardo da Vinci is the most expensive painting in the world, valued at $450.3M.
The most-visited country on the planet is France, with 90M visitors, according to figures from the UNWTO in 2018. Who’s at number two? Spain.
92% of the world’s currency is digital.
“Avengers: Endgame” is the top-grossing film of all time, making over $2.7B!
The wealthiest company in the world in 2020 was Saudi Aramco.
The Statue of Unity in Gujarat, India, is the tallest in the world, standing at a whopping 579 feet (182m). Note: The Statue of Liberty is 93m by comparison!
Brazil boasts the most biodiversity of any country on the planet, with more than 50,000 species of plants and trees.
Category 4: People & Countries
Scientists say tears tell you the reason for someone crying. If the first drop comes from the right eye, it’s tears of joy. Otherwise, it’s because of pain.
In the UK in 2019, renewable energy generated more electricity than fossil fuels for the first time ever. Also, did you know Norway gets 0% electricity from coal? And Germany has installed 1 kW of renewable capacity per person in the last decade?
a) (Climate change is the biggest global issue of our time, but there are some things to feel positive about!)
The longest reigning monarch ever was Louis XIV of France. He ruled for 72 years, 110 days. Exhausting.
Marie Curie was the first person ever to win TWO Nobel Prizes – one for physics in 1903, the other for chemistry in 1911 for her work on radioactivity.
King Henry VIII of England had servants called “Grooms of Stool”, who wiped him clean after he visited the toilet. Gross.
0.5% of the male population are descended from Genghis Khan. (Scientists did a study in 2003 showing that about 16 million dudes share a Y chromosome with the famous Emperor.)
Iceland, the Faroe Islands, and the Isle of Man all have claims to having the oldest parliament in history, all of which were founded in the 9th and 10th centuries.
Russia is the most forested country in the world, with 815 million hectares.
China is the world’s most populous country, with around 1.4 billion people living there.
The youngest person to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize is Malala Yousafzai (aged just 17 in 2014), for her work as a child rights activist and champion of girls’ right to education.
Category 5: “No way! Really?”
Sunsets only exist because Earth’s atmosphere acts as a prism for light. In scientific terms, it’s called “scattering”.
a) Molecules and particles in the atmosphere (which are more numerous at sunset) scatter short-wavelength violet and blue light away from your eyes, so we can see the other colors on the spectrum, like yellow and orange.
The most remote place in the world is the Tristan da Cunha islands in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. They’re 2,434km from Saint Helena, the nearest inhabited place. Imagine Mum sends you out for groceries but the local supermarket is closed? That’s a long trip.
When you do a Google query, 1000 computers are used to find the answer in 0.2 seconds.
There are almost 5 billion internet users in the world.
The median age of the world’s population is around 30 years, as of 2019.
We actually produce enough food to feed everyone on the planet; the problem is distribution.
In 2010, Google tried to find out how many books there were in the world. They reckon there are about 130,000,000 of them. (Let’s call this one a semi-fact, though, ok?)
A tiger’s roar can be heard up to two miles away.
The Earth is 147.2 million kilometers away from the Sun, and it’s about 4.5 billion years old. That’s some serious heritage.
Owls don’t have eyeballs.
There we go, that’s 50 for you! Thanks for reading. Hopefully now you’re able to arm yourself with some “fact nuggets” to boost your next chat on ‘culture’ and ‘the world’. Good luck
1987 Coup in Tunisia
In a bloodless coup in Tunisia, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali took over the Presidentship of Tunisia from President Habib Bourguiba.
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1947 Coup in Thailand
The military staged a coup against Thawan Thamrong Nawasawat and installed Khuang Aphaiwong as Prime Minister.
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1917 October Revolution
The Bolsheviks, led by Vladimir Lenin, took over the winter palace and ended the rule of the post-Tsarist provisional government and transferred all powers to the communists in Russia
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1916 First woman to be elected to US Congress
Jeannette Rankin from Montana became the first woman to be elected to the U.S. House of Representatives.
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1869 First inter-city cycle race
The first city to city cycle race was held between Paris and Rouen. James Moore, an Englishman living in Paris at that time won the race.
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1952 David Petraeus
American military officer, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency
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1943 Joni Mitchell
Canadian singer-songwriter, guitarist
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1913 Albert Camus
French author, journalist, philosopher, Nobel Prize laureate
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1888 C. V. Raman
Indian physicist, Nobel Prize laureate
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1867 Marie Curie
Polish chemist, physicist, Nobel Prize laureate
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Deaths On This Day, November 7
2011 Joe Frazier
American boxer
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1980 Steve McQueen
American actor
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1962 Eleanor Roosevelt
American politician, humanitarian, 34th First Lady of the United States
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1913 Alfred Russel Wallace
Welsh/English geographer, biologist, explorer
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Donald Trump will be the first president to take office while several criminal cases against him are pending.
His ascent to the highest office in the US while facing dozens of criminal charges has left the country in uncharted territory.
Many of his legal problems will go away when he steps into the White House. Discussions already have started between Trump's team and the office overseeing federal cases about how to wind those down,Donald Trump was convicted on 34 felony counts of falsifying business records in May in New York.
A jury of New Yorkers found him guilty of all counts in connection with a hush-money payment made to an adult film star.
Judge Juan Merchan pushed back Trump's sentencing from September to 26 November, after the election.
He could still go forward with the sentencing as planned despite Trump's win, said former Brooklyn prosecutor Julie Rendelman.
But legal experts said it is unlikely that Trump would be sentenced to prison as an older, first-time offender.
If he was, his lawyers would appeal the sentence immediately, arguing that jail time would prevent him from conducting official duties and that he should remain free pending the appeal, Ms Rendelman said.
"The appellate process in that scenario could go on for years," she said.anuary 6 case
Special counsel Jack Smith filed criminal charges against Trump last year over his efforts to overturn his 2020 election loss to Joe Biden.
Trump pleaded not guilty.
The case has been in legal limbo since the Supreme Court ruled this summer that Trump was partially immune from criminal prosecution over official acts committed while in office.
Smith has since refiled his case, arguing Trump's attempts to overturn the election were not related to his official duties.As president-elect, Trump's criminal problems from the case now "go away", according to former federal prosecutor Neama Rahmani.
"It's well established that a sitting president can't be prosecuted, so the election fraud case in DC District Court will be dismissed," he said.
Mr Rahmani said that if Smith refuses to dismiss the case, Trump can simply get rid of him, as he has pledged to do already.
"I would fire him within two seconds," Trump said during a radio interview in October.
Classified documents case
Smith also is leading a case against Trump over his alleged mishandling of classified documents after he left the White House, charges Trump denies.
He is accused of storing sensitive documents in his Mar-a-Lago home and obstructing Justice Department efforts to retrieve the files.
The judge assigned to the case, Trump-appointee Aileen Cannon, dismissed the charges in July, arguing Smith was improperly appointed by the Justice Department to lead the case.
Smith appealed the ruling, but with Trump set to take office, talks are now underway about ending the case.
Mr Rahmani said he expects the classified documents case will meet the same fate as the election case.
"The DOJ will abandon its Eleventh Circuit appeal of the dismissal of the classified documents case," he said.
Georgia election case
Trump is also facing criminal charges in Georgia over his efforts to overturn the 2020 election in the state.
That case has faced a number of hurdles, including efforts to disqualify District Attorney Fani Willis over her relationship with a lawyer she hired to work on the case.
An appeals court is in the process of weighing whether Willis should be allowed to stay on the case.
But now that Trump is the next president, the case could face even more delays, or possibly dismissal.
It is expected to be paused during Trump's time in office, according to legal experts.
Trump's lawyer Steve Sadow said as much when asked by the judge if Trump could still stand trial if elected.
"The answer to that is I believe that under the supremacy clause and his duties as president of the United States, this trial would not take place at all until after he left his term in office," he said.
It is now "virtually certain" that 2024 - a year punctuated by intense heatwaves and deadly storms - will be the world's warmest on record, according to projections by the European climate service.
Global average temperatures across the year are on track to end up more than 1.5C above pre-industrial levels, which would make 2024 the first calendar year to breach this symbolic mark.
These high temperatures are mainly down to human-caused climate change, with smaller contributions from natural factors such as the El Niño weather pattern.
Scientists say this should act as an alarm call ahead of next week's UN climate conference in Azerbaijan, COP29."This latest record sends another stark warning to governments at COP29 of the urgent need for action to limit any further warming," says Liz Bentley, chief executive of the Royal Meteorological Society.Global temperatures have been so high through the first 10 months of 2024 that only an implausibly sharp drop in the final two months would prevent a new record from being set.
In fact, it is likely that 2024 will end up at least 1.55C hotter than pre-industrial times, according to data from the European Copernicus Climate Change Service.
"Pre-industrial" refers to the benchmark period of 1850-1900, which roughly equates to the time before humans started significantly heating up the planet, for example by burning large amounts of fossil fuels.
The projection means that 2024 could surpass the current record of 1.48C, which was set only last year.
"This marks a new milestone in global temperature records," says Samantha Burgess, deputy director of Copernicus.This would also represent the first time that a calendar year has passed 1.5C of warming, according to Copernicus data.
This would be symbolic, because almost 200 countries pledged to try to limit long-term temperature rises to that level under the Paris climate agreement in 2015, hoping to avoid some of the worst impacts of climate change.
If the 1.5C limit is breached, that does not mean the Paris goal has been broken, because it refers to average temperatures over a period of 20 years or so, in order to smooth out natural variability.
But every year-long breach brings the world closer to passing the 1.5C mark in the longer term. Last month, the UN warned that the world could warm by more than 3C this century based on current policies.
The specifics of 2024 also offer cause for concern.
Early 2024 warmth was boosted by the natural El Niño weather pattern. This is where surface waters in the east tropical Pacific Ocean are warmer than usual, which releases extra heat into the atmosphere.
This latest El Niño phase began in mid-2023 and ended around April 2024, but temperatures have remained stubbornly high since.
Over the past week, global average temperatures have set new records for the time of year every day, according to Copernicus data.
Many scientists expect the opposite, cooler phase, La Niña, to develop soon. This should, in theory, lead to a temporary drop in global temperatures next year, although exactly how this will play out is uncertain.
"We will watch with interest what happens going into 2025 and beyond," says Ed Hawkins, professor of climate science at the University of Reading.
But, with levels of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere still rising quickly, scientists warn it is likely only a matter of time before new records are set.
"The warmer temperatures [are making] storms more intense, heatwaves hotter and heavy rainfall more extreme, with clearly seen consequences for people all around the world," says Prof Hawkins.
"Stabilizing global temperatures by reaching net zero emissions is the only way to stop adding to the costs of these disasters."
At least 40 people were killed in Israeli air strikes in eastern Lebanon on Wednesday, according to the Lebanese health ministry.
The Israeli military said the strikes, in the governorates of Baalbek and Bekaa, hit operatives and infrastructure of the Iran-backed armed group Hezbollah.
Lebanon's culture minister said one of the strikes seriously damaged an Ottoman-era building in the vicinity of the Roman ruins in the city of Baalbek, which is a Unesco World Heritage site.
Strikes also hit the southern suburbs of Beirut on Wednesday, after the Israeli military issued new evacuation warnings. The military said it struck Hezbollah command centres, weapons stores and other infrastructure.A later military warning covered four neighbourhoods in southern Beirut including an area near Lebanon's only commercial airport, which has continued to operate during the war between Israel and Hezbollah.
Soon afterwards, pictures showed a large fireball and thick black smoke rising into the night sky above Beirut.
Meanwhile, a rocket fired by Hezbollah fighters from Lebanon killed an Israeli man near a kibbutz in northern Israel, paramedics said.On Wednesday morning, Lebanon's Civil Defence agency said the bodies of 30 people had been recovered from a four-storey apartment building that was hit by an Israeli strike the previous evening.
The building in Barja, a predominantly Sunni Muslim coastal town south of Beirut that is outside Hezbollah's traditional strongholds, was reportedly housing displaced people.
The Israeli military said it had struck "terror infrastructure” belonging to Hezbollah.
A man who lived on one of the upper floors of the apartment building said his son and wife were injured by falling masonry.
"These rocks that you see here weigh 100kg, they fell on a 13kg kid," Moussa Zahran told Reuters news agency as he surveyed the damage.
“I removed [the rocks] and... handed my son to the civil defence through the window. I carried my wife and came downstairs and got out behind the building... I thank God, glory be to Him, for this miracle.”
An Irish Times correspondent cited a member of the civil defence at the scene as saying that those killed whose bodies were found complete included seven women and three children - a seven-month-old baby and two girls aged seven and 12.
Neighbours also said the building was housing displaced people who had fled from other areas, she added.
There was no evacuation warning ahead of the strike, according to Reuters.
The Lebanese health ministry gave a preliminary death toll of 20 from the strike on Barja late on Tuesday but did not provide an updated figure on Wednesday.On Wednesday evening, the ministry said 40 people had been killed and 53 others injured in a series of Israeli strikes in Bekaa and Baalbek governorates, which make up most of the eastern Bekaa Valley. They included 16 people killed in the village of Nasriyah and 11 in Baalbek city, it added.
Lebanese Culture Minister Mohammad Mortada also told the director-general of Unesco that one of the strikes had "caused serious damage to the ancient Manshiya building" in Baalbek city, which he said dated back to the Ottoman period and was located in the vicinity of the ruins of several Roman temples.
"The destruction of this exceptional monument next to a Unesco World Heritage site is an irremediable loss for Lebanon and for world heritage," he warned.
An AFP news agency correspondent also reported that the famous 19th Century Palmyra Hotel near the Roman ruins was damaged by nearby strikes, which the health ministry said killed two people.
On Thursday morning, the Israeli military put out a statement saying it had killed approximately 60 Hezbollah fighters in strikes on about 20 "terror targets" in the area of Baalbek and north of the Litani river, about 30km (20 miles) north of the border with Israel.
Dozens of other strikes targeted a rocket launcher, weapons storage facilities and other infrastructure, it added
Japan's Mount Fuji has seen its first snowfall after going through the longest period without snow since records began 130 years ago.
Snow fell on Japan's highest peak about a month later than expected, as the country recovers from one of its hottest summers.
The news was welcomed, with locals celebrating and sharing photos of the snow-clad peak.
Mount Fuji is one of Japan’s most popular tourist attractions and has inspired centuries of artwork.Snow was spotted on Wednesday, 6 November, by the Japan Meteorological Agency’s branch in Shizuoka.
As photos of the snowy peak spread on Wednesday, an X user commented, "Oh, I've been waiting for this". Another wrote, "I've never been so excited for the first snowfall this year".
“Finally… make-up makes you look even more beautiful,” read a third tweet, referring to the white peak.
The weather agency’s office in Kofu officially confirmed the presence of snow on Mount Fuji's peak on Thursday. It could not do so on Wednesday due to clouds obstructing the view of the summit.
This was the most delayed sighting since 2023 when snow was first seen on the summit on 5 October, according to AFP news agency. The previous record was 26 October - that happened twice, in 1955 and 2016.
Located south-west of Tokyo, Mount Fuji stands at 3,776m (12,460 ft). It last erupted just over 300 years ago and is visible from the capital on a clear day.
With temperatures between June and August 1.76C (3.1F) higher than average, Japan had its joint hottest summer on record - the other was in 2003.
The warmer-than-usual weather continued in September.
While it's hard to attribute delayed snowfall on Mount Fuji directly to climate change, it is in line with what experts predict in a warming world.