on Pheasants.



315



methods and extent of birds’ flights are always interesting and

wonderful, and the wing-feats of migrants must not be forgotten.


The cock pheasant’s upward rush is over in a few seconds >

he is out of sight above the tree-tops, and the wood resumes its

normal quietness, broken at intervals by slight sounds which are

magnified among the trees.


VII.


A chill biting wind blows from the east, penetrating the

thickest clothing, and making one shiver even when wearing winter

garments, overcoat, and gloves. The sky is a uniform leaden grey.

From it falls a drizzling rain with flakes of snow. It is cold enough

for frost, but the atmosphere is too damp to allow of freezing,

Across fifty acres of swedes the sleet drives with soaking persistence,

and the big leaves throw water on legs and feet. From the planta¬

tion beyond the swede-field a small column of smoke arises, indi-

dicating that the woodman too feels the cold, and is trying to warm

himself and boil a kettleful of water for breakfast.


Disturbed by the bang of the gate and the noise of the horse

and cart, a huge flock of rooks and jackdaws, with the inevitable

retinue of starlings, rose from the middle of the field, wheeled to the

left, described a long curve towards the copse, then away with loud

caws and cries to the right, scattering into the next field. A moment

later a dark object darted out of the wood and flew straight as

an arrow towards me, calling loudly on one note as if alarmed or

annoyed. The wings vibrated with great force and rapidity, the

bird was within twenty yards of me, then swerved to my left.

Stopping the quick pulsing wing-beats, and holding them out¬

stretched stiff and still, it glided swiftly in a downward slant

towards the hedge. For a few seconds I had a perfect silhouette

of him, as with head craned forward, neck straight, boat-shaped

body balanced by the legs and taut wings, and long tapering tail

sloping slightly upwards he steered for the hedge. He ceased

calling, seemed to slacken his rigid frame, drew himself together,

and alighted at the foot of the hedgerow. It was a cock pheasant.

In the poor light His head appeared black, neck-ring grey, and body

dark brown. He stood motionless, the model of alertness. Then

my horse tossed his head and stamped with a hind foot. The



