THE CHINA OR DENNY PHEASANT IN OREGON 19 
of the lowlands, or from the open meadow, comes his two-syllabled call in the stillness 
of the evening twilight. From his roost among the grass or sedge tussocks, or the great 
moss-covered branches of an oak, he springs away into the gloom with a startled cry. 
Throughout the long dry summer the young are reared by the female, until the days of 
autumn come; the male meanwhile frequently greeting you by the roadside with a glance 
of curiosity mingled with reserve, standing a moment, erect, in all his brightness of 
coloration, ducking an instant later to steal silently away among the grass. 
But his quiet soon ends. In the gray dawn of the first day of the open season, his 
peaceful fields soon become a firing-line. In singles, doubles, and fours, reports echo from 
hillside and lowland, and the bewildered bird flees, he knows not where, in escaping 
the hunter, even seeking the friendly orchards of corporate towns where his pursuers 
may not follow. 
His panic is not for long, and here it is that sympathy and admiration go out to the 
bird in this heroic effort to live. Here it is that the traits of stealth, cunning, and endurance, 
which are very life to him, are most strongly shown. The brief space following the first 
day of the open season is usually one of comparative quiet, allowing him to return once 
more to old haunts. The long months of peace have placed him momentarily off his 
guard, but like the routed yet determined and undefeated soldier he falls back on his 
