CHAPTER XX 



THE REED-PHEASANT 



Long before the frogs awake from their winter sleep, long 

 ere the peaty dikes are green with the spear-like tips of 

 the reed-colts, the grey-headed, tawny buff cock-birds with 

 their black moustachios begin their low chings through the 

 tossing yellow reed-beds, where the gusty wind plays in 

 and out, casting ever-shifting shades and lights that dazzle 

 and stupefy the fenman on egging bent; for the reed- 

 pheasant's eggs and skins are beloved of the collector, 

 that fatuous gatherer of unconsidered trifles. If the weather 

 be open upon St. Valentine's day the birds begin to pair, and 

 you may, as you glide along the silver water-ways, see a little 

 band fly up into the ambient air as high as a wherry's vane, 

 chmging as they fly, then suddenly stop, turn, and dart 

 down again into the yellow reed-bed, as if shunning the light. 

 Before this augury the taciturn fenman by 3^our side will say 

 slowly, " They'll soon be laying now." And he is right ; for 

 immediately follows the playtime or honeymoon, when the 

 happy pair fly about the " th3^te (thick) reed," plucking reed- 

 feathers and tossing them wantonly hither and thither. 



At such seasons, if you lie silently by a green rond 

 ablaze with kingcups bordering a reed-bed, you will see 

 the handsome cock-bird, grotesque with moustaches, flit to 

 and fro, and run up and down the reeds like a mouse, for 

 in pairing these birds never seem to quarrel or chase each 

 other in that aimless manner peculiar to most birds. In- 

 deed, I have known two birds to lay in one nest. Then, 

 too, as you wander through some of the reed-jungles, you 

 will find in the chate several cocks' nests, as the country- 



