314



Mr. A. R. Williams,



pyramids. In the rapidly gathering darkness everything was eerie-

and illusive. Plovers swept in long curves overhead and skimmed

across the surface of the marshy land, crying plaintively. A black¬

bird flew out of the hedge as I approached, and went off calling

“ ching, ching,” as if annoyed. Going through the gap, I trod on

a rotten stick, which cracked loudly underfoot. A quick rustling,

brushing noise sounded in the branches, there was a clap of wings

and the rush and beat of a cock pheasant’s powerful vanes forcing

the bird along at top speed. The sound of a pheasant’s wing-action

is unmistakable, even though the bird is invisible. It rapidly died

away through a lessening vibration to silence, broken only by the

whisper of the stream and the cries of the peewits.


VI.


The powerful wing-action of the pheasant is marvellous

Approaching the plantation, we hear the resonant crow of the cock

bird, and perhaps see brown bodies vanish into the undergrowth.

Going along the cart-track, whose ruts are filled with blackening

beech-leaves, we surprise an occasional rabbit, which sits a moment,

then slips away A squirrel darts with quick jerks from branch to

branch, and various small birds flit across the way. Brown withered

leaves still hang on beech and oak saplings, berries gleam here aud

there, larches are golden-brown, evergreens shine with a richer

green, coarse grasses and ground-ivy flourish, and fungi are plentiful.

Ahead rises a little close-growing group of beeches. At their foot

busy among the carpet of leaves, is a cock pheasant, his ruddy black-

barred tail vibrating jerkily with his slight movements. We stand

still, but too late ; the rustle of leaves is detected by the bird. He

raises his handsome head, turns his neck, his eyes gleam like a jewel.

Next moment he utters a loud warning call, gives a sudden jerk, and

rises vertically—“rockets”—through the bare branches. The output

of energy to rise thus such a distance must be enormous. The

hitherto almost silent wood echoes to the dash and flap of wings

meeting above and below his body at a speed too fast for eyes to

follow. As a display of flying ability, the rocketing of the pheasant

is equalled only by the long-distance gliding of gulls, the autumnal

evolutions of rooks, or the day-long busyness of swallows. But the



