THE SILVER PHEASANT. 127 
of the family. The hens, though not usually allowed to do so, will readily hatch their 
own eggs, and attend upon their chickens with all the care of common fowls. I 
have recently seen a pair, belonging to Mr. Clarence Bartlett, in a moderate-sized 
aviary, the hen of which had laid, hatched, and was rearing a strong healthy brood 
of young, the cock being active in defence of his family, and attacking most 
viciously any person going into the inclosure. No game cock could be more 
determined or courageous in his behaviour; and the sharp spurs with which this 
species is armed rendered his assault a thing to be avoided, as he flew at the face 
of the intruder on his domain. 
A correspondent informs me that he has “reared several Silver Pheasants in 
confinement, and has turned them out about the grounds. The males are exceed- 
ingly tame, but also exceedingly dangerous. Last year I had a lovely specimen, 
which used to feed at the window of the breakfast-room with the peafowl and other 
birds, and even knock at the glass and make its way into the room. But in 
the spring, when hatching was going on, he attacked ladies and children in the 
most determined manner, always flying at the face. He would dodge people 
walking, and make his appearance from under the bushes in a very unexpected 
manner; on one occasion he knocked a lady down, and on another occasion entered 
the drawing-room and attacked a lady who was sitting there.”’ 
Another writer says:—‘I have for many years had a score of them running 
loose with the poultry—two cocks, one an old one, the other a young one of last 
year, just getting into full plumage; the others are hens. In bad weather and in 
winter they roost in the poultry house, at other times in the trees. The males are 
most pugnacious and jealous, fighting and bullying the fowls—so much so that I 
am obliged to have their spurs cut off—and the hens very spiteful to young poultry. 
The others I have shut up, otherwise they would fight until they killed each other. 
In the breeding time they are shut up in large pens. 
“T have frequently had the hens sit on and hatch their eggs; when they 
have young ones, if anyone goes near them they act like partridges. I have seen 
them charge dogs and drive them away. I have also seen a cock watching a fox 
stalking him, and when the fox made his rush the bird flew over him, but lost his 
tail. To show how severely they can make these spurs tell, one of my keepers 
kicked at an old silver cock pheasant to drive him away, when the bird turned on 
him and sent his spur right through his boot. They are quite as bad as peafowls 
in a kitchen garden; they will eat all the fruit. They are not very good birds for 
the table—I think little better than guinea fowls; but they are useful as being 
eatable in February and March.” 
Even in confinement it is a long-lived bird. Mr. Thompson, in his “ Natural 
History of Ireland,” states that he has known one live twenty-one or twenty-two 
years in captivity. 
