THE PHEASANT. 367 



wood it may be found. The pheasant is a more than half-reclaimed 

 bird. While the hare and the partridge wander in wildest freedom 

 through the land, heedless of the fostering care of man, the bird in 

 question will come to us, at all hours of the day, to be fed. It will 

 even sometimes associate with the poultry on the farm ; and, where 

 it is not disturbed, it will roost in trees, close to our habitations. 



Its produce with the barn-door fowl is unprolific, and seems to 

 have nothing to recommend it to our notice on the score of brilliancy 

 of plumage, or of fineness of shape. 



The pheasant crows at all seasons on retiring to roost. It repeats 

 the call often during the night, and again at early dawn j and fre- 

 quently in the day-time, on the appearance of an enemy, or at the 

 report of a gun, or during a thunderstorm. I am of opinion that it 

 does not pair. The female lays from seven to eighteen eggs ; but, 

 in general, the nest contains about twelve. 



Notwithstanding the proximity of the pheasant to the nature of 

 the barn-door fowl, still it has that within it which baffles every 

 attempt on our part to render its domestication complete. What I 

 allude to is, a most singular innate timidity, which never fails to 

 show itself on the sudden and abrupt appearance of an object. I 

 spent some months in trying to overcome this timorous propensity in 

 the pheasant; but I completely failed in the attempt. The young birds, 

 which had been hatched under a domestic hen, soon became very 

 tame, and would even receive food from the hand, when it was offered 

 cautiously to them. They would fly up to the window, and would 

 feed in company with the common poultry. But if anybody ap- 

 proached them unawares, off they went to the nearest cover with 

 surprising velocity. They remained in it till all was quiet, and then 

 returned with their usual confidence. Two of them lost their lives 

 in the water, by the unexpected appearance of a pointer, while the 

 barn-door fowls seemed scarcely to notice the presence of the in- 

 truder. The rest took finally to the woods at the commencement 

 of the breeding season. This particular kind of timidity, which 

 does not appear in our domestic fowls, seems to me to oppose 

 the only, though at the same time an insurmountable, bar to our final 

 triumph over the pheasant. After attentive observation, I can per- 

 ceive nothing else in the habits of the bird, to serve as a clue by 



