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Updated: May 12, 2025
Keep it away " His voice gave out and he buried his head in his hands and rolled upon the gaudy carpet. And now they all heard what he had heard first they heard the tonk-tonk-tonk of a cowbell, coming near and nearer toward them along the hallway without. It was as though the sound floated along.
It came nearer and became plainer tonk-tonk-tonk; then the tonks all running together briskly. A sheep bell or a cowbell that was it; but why did it seem to come from overhead, from up in the sky, like? And why did it shift so abruptly from one quarter to another from left to right and back again to left? And how was it that the clapper seemed to strike so fast?
The monotonous tonk-tonk-tonk of the coppersmith and the kutur-kutur-kutur of the green barbet are no more heard; in their stead the curious calls of the great Himalayan barbet resound among the hills. The dissonant voices of the seven sisters no longer issue from the thicket; their place is taken by the weird but less unpleasant calls of the Himalayan streaked laughing-thrushes.
This bird is fully as vociferous as the coppersmith, but instead of crying, tonk-tonk-tonk, it suddenly bursts into a kind of hoarse laugh, and then settles down to a steady kutur-kutur-kutur, which resounds throughout the hillside. This call is perhaps the most familiar sound heard in the hills. It is a vivid green bird with a dull yellow patch, devoid of feathers, round the eye.
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