THE COMMON PHEASANT. 125 



been noted by Rutty to possess additional flavour when killed 

 by a hawk. 



Its food consists of all kinds of grain, potatoes, wheat, tur- 

 nips, insects, and their larvse ; and, on one occasion we dis- 

 covered the remains of a field mouse in the stomach of a fe- 

 male. 



About the middle of March the plumage of the pheasant 

 receives additional lustre : the scarlet of his cheeks becomes 

 more vivid, and his tail is carried more to advantage. Con- 

 scious of his present beauties, his usual skulking habits are 

 abandoned, and he struts slowly and proudly in the covered 

 glades of the preserve, courting the advances of the female 

 with his amorous crowing, he is prepared to battle with any 

 male intruder who seeks to display his rival beauties in the 

 presence of the more sombre dressed lady. 



The nest is formed in a slight hollow, and is generally co- 

 vered with long grass or underwood ; the eggs average from 

 five to ten in number, and are pale green in colour. When 

 disturbed, the pheasant occasionally emits an alarm- cry, and 

 either rises and flies directly off, or runs with celerity to the 

 nearest cover. Only during the brumal months the phea- 

 sant is to be found perching at night, when it affords an easy 

 opportunity to the practised poacher. In the summer and 

 moulting season it frequents the open covers, at night resting 

 on the ground, an advantage considerably in favour of the 

 prowling fox. 



Few of our birds, when observed in a state of nature, appear 

 to such advantage as the pheasant ; a principal feature in its 

 favour being the usual picturesque appearance of the vicinity 

 which it frequents, large woods of ancient growth, the 

 margin of streams covered with underwood, or the borders of 

 a meadow or shrubbery. The instant erection of the head, 

 the brilliant eye and scarlet cheeks, and while he rapidly threads 

 his way through the tangled underwood, the flashing of his 

 plumage in the broken rays of the sun so bewilder the casual 

 observer, that he can scarcely believe he has seen a pheasant 

 until he is gone. 



*' See, from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, 

 And mounts exulting on triumphant wings. 

 Short is his joy he feels the fiery wound 

 Flutters in blood, and, panting, beats the ground. 

 Ah ! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, 

 His purple crest and scarlet-circled eyes? 

 The vivid green his shining plumes enfold, 

 His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold !" 



