i64 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



emerald mist in the furrows, half promising better things for the spring. Rarely was 

 seen a great-wheeled cart, dragged laboriously over the furrowed fields by two animals 

 tandem — a bullock, a burro, a mule, or a tiny, shaggy Mongolian pony as the case 

 might be. Once, on the opposite side of a wide, muddy stream we saw a brace of 

 pheasants, one a ring-neck and the other a Brown Eared-pheasant, dangling at the tail 

 of such a cart. We knew that the latter was not found in this vicinity, so the bird 

 must have been trapped elsewhere and brought here for sale. No shouts or gesticula- 

 tions on the part either of ourselves or the interpreter were of any avail in arousing the 

 huddled blue-garbed driver, and even when at last he condescended to glance in our 

 direction, the waving and jangling of a string of " cash " had no effect whatever. He 

 sank again into his formless, hunched position, and resumed what thoughts we shall 

 never know — whatever thoughts any one of these countless millions of Mongolians may 

 have. 



From the thick, muddy lagoons and sluggish creeks ducks rose now and then — 

 mallards, black, pintails, shovellers, and two kinds of teal. In the fields plover were 

 occasionally seen, single magpies appeared, while spur-winged plover and lapwings flew 

 before us in small flocks, or drifted with plaintive cries from one feeding-place to 

 another. Rooks and crows were the most noticeable birds, and towards sunset I ob- 

 served several hundred massing one by one, or arriving in small bands, in the centre of 

 a field. Before we lost sight of them, all rose at once and flew eastward, doubtless to 

 some roost, although how they could find any perching-place above the ground in 

 this treeless, shrubless land was inconceivable. White-necked crows were in fewer 

 numbers, flocking by themselves, although throughout the day they were constantly 

 seen associating with their less conspicuous relations. 



Always, everywhere, were the conical grave mounds, dotted to the horizon, many 

 topped with a small stone. Twice from these a hoopoe flew past. Such was the life 

 visible on the threshold of the Eared-pheasant country. 



I was constantly impressed with the protection against the bitter winter cold which 

 the creatures of this northern land showed. As our caravan proceeded slowly we passed 

 ponies with long, shaggy coats ; then a looped string of great Bactrian camels, super- 

 cilious and dignified, with dense fur trailing from their bellies and sides. The little 

 burros were swathed in long, matted hair up to the very eyes, while, strangest sight of 

 all, were the occasional giant black pigs with thick hair streaming almost to the ground, 

 as unexpected a sight at first to our eyes as would have been a mammoth. 



Leaving the outer region, we hastened onward, and one day entered a wholly 

 different country. Instead of the cool air and bright sunshine of the preceding days 

 there was a downpour of rain, cold and miserable. Only the long strings of camels 

 seemed unaffected, and even their dignity was rather upset by the constant slipping and 

 sliding of the great splay feet. 



This day we travelled in palanquins, and a more miserable jaunt had not yet been 

 recorded in our many thousand miles of adventuring. The country was cut up by flat 

 river bottoms, covered with stones and small boulders of all colours, mostly flint and 

 quartz. In the distance we could distinguish the barren mountains of Shansi, while 

 near at hand the steep muddy banks which cut up the country in all directions gave a 

 wild, rugged, most inhospitable appearance. Our bearers soon began to leave bloody 



