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Hubert D. Astley—Miscellanies



Furthermore, the colours of both have faded, and have been repro¬

duced in this state, giving no idea of the brilliance in the living bird.


And then the whole of this wondrous colouring disappears, and once

more there is a red spotted Pheasant walking quietly about. One

rubs one’s eyes ; one wonders “ Have I got them ? ” The trans¬

formation is so complete, so entirely unexpected, before you are aware

of the ways of the creature. I deem it to be one of the most striking

and wonderful displays in all bird life. With the Peacock the feathers

are there, patent to the eye, and so, too, with the Paradise Birds and so

on ; they only have to shake them out or up or sideways, but with the

Tragopans all that beauty is completely hidden. One wonders how that

gorgeously enamelled wattle is tucked away at the throat. And what

a pity that the display lasts no more than about a fortnight; two weeks

out of fifty-two ! For fifty weeks the beauty lies hidden, and when it is

forthcoming you may see it but three or four times for but a minute at

a time, unless you can watch all day. And at other moments during the

courting season—that short, short period—the male Satyr Tragopan

constantly gives vent to his loud weird cry, a cry resembling in part

the miawling of a cat, in part something in distress. “ Wa-a-u—

Wa-a-a-u— ” drawn out and repeated some six or seven times, the

bird’s mouth being opened more widely each time and to the fullest

extent, as if the effort was great. It slightly reminds me of a Badger’s

cry. It is very weird.


My pair of Stanley Cranes is a decided addition to the garden,

especially when the male, full-winged, flies round. If he lands on the

other side of the moat his mate sets off running for all she is worth,

sometimes along the path under the pergola which divides the moat

from the ponds above, sometimes past the windows of the house, over

the stone bridge, and along the paved terrace to the orchard. And then

what happy greetings and pirouetting and dancing, as she rejoins

her mate !


My Cranes have dismally failed to hatch their eggs—that is,

White-necked Australian and Mantchurian. Each pair has a large

meadow to itself and each pair has had eggs, which have been

incubated for weeks, and at the end, nothing ! The Australians



