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 



