xxxiv INTRODUCTION 



The greg-arious nature of pheasants has brought into play another method of 

 communication, not vocal but mechanical. This is the wing drumming. In no 

 pheasant is this aeolian language so highly developed as in our ruffed grouse, where 

 the alar reverberations almost usurp the voice in challenge and mating call. In 

 several groups of pheasants are found brief, unskilful wing beating or rather clapping, 

 as in the Junglefowl, given usually just before or after crowing. The best-known 

 instance is the domestic cock, who claps his wings smartly together over his back before 

 uttering his rather perfunctory crow. In the True Pheasants this clapping gives place 

 to a whirring, and in the Kaleege and Silvers is found the highest development of 

 this method of communication. At the breeding season the cocks challenge and also 

 summon the females by a series of loud, deep reverberations, produced by vibrating 

 the wings with great rapidity throughout the narrow arc of a circle, the bird standing 

 erect, the wings half raised and half extended. But even after the period of nesting 

 has begun, this wing whirring does not cease, and in fact is continued throughout the 

 year. By means of it the birds are able to express many emotions and even shades 

 of feeling, to convey suspicion, warning, fear, to summon their family or call together 

 the scattered covey. It is a sound which in volume suggests some large and dangerous 

 creature, and it doubtless benefits the timorous authors proportionately, intimidating 

 invisible enemies as well as communicating warning or welcome to birds of their own 

 species within earshot. On the other hand, when the sound is imitated by a bit of 

 whirling palm-leaf or a handkerchief in the hollow of a man's hand, it becomes a fatal 

 siren, luring the pugnacious or amorous cock to destruction. Every hue, every pattern, 

 every habit, every character in these birds is often a two-edged sword, cutting toward 

 both life and death. 



FLIGHT AND GAIT 



The pheasant wing is much like that of the quail or grouse, short and rounded, 

 built for the quick, rapid beats which carry the bird with a rush, out of immediate 

 danger. The subsequent flight is of less importance. In thick jungle it usually ends 

 in a tree close at hand. In the open, the chances are that the birds are flushed from 

 a mountain or hillside, and when once clear of all obstruction the bowed wings are 

 set and the pheasant scales swiftly downward. When the alarm is thorough, the bird 

 will occasionally continue the rapid beating and make its way on a more or less even 

 line straight across the valley. Usually the bird or the flock drops to the ground a 

 few hundred yards away and continues its course on foot. 



A Reeves Pheasant has been said to make a single flight of several miles on 

 some of the large preserves — the longest record for any pheasant of which I know. 

 I have seen a Peacock with full-grown train rise from tall grass and fly steadily for 

 the third of a mile, never losing altitude and finally alighting near the summit of 

 a dead tree, some seventy feet from the ground. Unless forced to do so, pheasants 

 prefer to escape on foot, and some species I have never been able to flush, even 

 with the aid of a dog. 



While Cheer Pheasants are, perhaps, among the weakest fliers of their family, 

 they can probably attain the greatest speed. No other pheasants that I have observed 

 seem to hold the wings closer to their bodies while shooting down a steep hillside. 



