PHOTOGRAVURE 15 



HOME AND FEEDING GROUND OF THE WHITE EARED-PHEASANT 



Climbing upward from a cool, dark ravine in northern Yunnan, I passed through zones of moss-hang 

 oaks and rhododendrons to frosted, stunted willows and dwarf bamboos. Looking back down the forest- 

 covered slopes, I saw three White Eared-Pheasants step out into a glade. They watched me, and they 

 watched a great black eagle which hung high overhead, and they stood poised so that they could dash 

 to safety into the undergrowth. Finally a mist, drifted across the valley — a wisp of cloud as white as the 

 birds themselves. Swifdy as it had formed, it dissolved again, and when it had passed, the pheasants 

 had vanished. 



Descending to the spot, I found their tracks at the foot of a gnarled-rooted trunk amid a tangle of 

 dying jack-in-the-pulpit and forest debris. That night, when I crawled into my sleeping-bag, I knew that 

 somewhere far off, perched among the rough, knobby branches, were these birds of purest white, their soft 

 plumage matted with moisture, their heads drawn back in soundest sleep. 



