We owe the red junglefowl (Gallus gallus) and its cousins a huge debt of gratitude. In a process that began 8,000 years ago, we domesticated this the leading rooster and, over time, added a mix of genes from the others to give ourselves chickens, bantams, broilers, capons, and pullets, which we could deep-fry, roast, stew, broil and write a compendium of recipe books on. Also, systematically, we robbed the ladies of their eggs on an industrial scale to turn out a variety of omelettes, scrambled eggs, bhurjis, sponge cakes, etc.
The red junglefowl’s cousins are the grey (Gallus sonnerattii), green or Javan (Gallus varius) and the Sri Lankan (Gallus lafayettii) junglefowl. Here, we examine the red junglefowl and its partner, the grey junglefowl — the two species found in our region.
The male red junglefowl (gents are up to 70 cm long with a stylish 28-cm sickle-shaped steely blue-black tail; the ladies are 46 cm long) is a striking fellow, clad in volcanic oranges and reds, blues, deep greens and white. It sports fine golden hackles, a red comb (that may wobble and fold over itself in exciting moments), and wattles, all used to show off his status to the ladies of junglefowl society. The more impressive the comb, the more the ladies like it. Also, he is armed with spurs on his legs, which the ladies usually lack. Red junglefowl ladies are demure, clad in browns, rustic oranges and earthy beiges because they look after the chicks, and in the wild, motherhood and glamour usually do not auger well for the chicks’ prospects.
The red junglefowl is found in the sub-Himalayan region right across from Northeastern Pakistan to Assam, including in Jammu and Kashmir and the southern parts of Central India. The birds, led by a rooster, scratch and strut around in groups of 4-5, inhabiting forest areas, both disturbed and pristine, even close to human habitation. But they seem to know about their reputation as fine table birds and are exceedingly wary, scuttling or skulking with their heads down into thick undergrowth at the faintest sign of danger. They are loathe to fly, usually only doing so to roost in the canopy, but if cornered, they will bluster off almost vertically, spiralling up through a gap in the canopy as if going up a corkscrew chimney.
Wild red junglefowl are lighter (1-1.5 kg) than the equivalent village cockerels, but during the breeding season, emit the same iconic “cock-a-doodle-doo!” calls as their compatriots do, at dawn and dusk, though their calls are sort of truncated and cut-off towards the end. While wooing a lady — usually in the dry seasons (winter and spring), the gentleman will run in semi-circles around her, drooping the wing facing her till it nearly touches the ground and raising the other at the shoulder. He will have 4 to 5 hens in his harem (though not averse to having extra-harem affairs) and will use his spurs if rivals need to be seen off and territory defended. (Humans additionally attach razor blades to their legs while organising cock-fights — nice, aren’t we?). To entice the lady further, he tempts her with food offerings in what’s been called a “tidbitting display”. Clucking softly, he’ll pick up a morsel, nod and bob his head vigorously, dropping it to the ground so she can pick it up or take it straight from his beak. The honeymoon usually follows.
Females lay five to six eggs in a scrape in the ground, and incubation takes 21 days. The fluff balls fledge in 4-5 weeks, and after three months, their mom has had enough of them time and sends them packing.
Adult red junglefowl are more vegetarian than their chicks, picking up seeds (bamboo seeds seem to be a favourite), grain, fruit, berries, small insects, and even lizards and small snakes. A little grit also goes down well to help mash all this in the gizzard.
The grey junglefowl (males 60-80 cm, females around 50 cm), endemic to India, prefers the forests of peninsular India and the Western Ghats, down to the extreme south. In parts of Central India, its range overlaps with that of the red junglefowl, and the species readily mingle and hybridise. 'The male, in charcoal and black is attractively spangled and scalloped in white and gold around its throat. It has shaft-like golden hackles (narrow feathers) on its upper back and mantle, made of a hard waxy substance which fishermen find ideal for making fishing flies (bait). So much so that, at one time, the demand for these from abroad was so great that it threatened the species. Fortunately (for the wild population, at least), the birds bred well in captivity. The males, too, sport a dashing, sickle-like steely-blue tail and red comb. The ladies are much dowdier in moth colours and rather partridge-like.
Though their calls are different, the grey junglefowl’s habits are much like that of the red junglefowl. They emit a strange, grating call written out as “ku-kaa-kurra-kuk” or ‘kuk-kayaa-kayaa-kuk’, something that you may recall from the soundtrack of several Indian wildlife documentaries. Like its refulgent cousin, the grey junglefowl is extremely wary of humans. However, if left unmolested, it is happy to scratch around near human habitation and forest villages in thickets and scrub jungles. It breeds between February and May, the female laying 4-7 eggs and incubating and fledging much like the red junglefowl.
All junglefowl belong to the pheasant family and, for centuries, have been regarded as “game birds” that are still hunted for the pot. And shikaris — poachers, really — are sure to tell you that the wild birds are far tastier than the broilers bred in their millions by the gargantuan poultry industry worldwide.