172 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



picture which will never fade from my mind. Behind him the soft greens and greys of 

 the forest ; above, the clear blue sky ; in the distance, across the valley, the purpling 

 ranges, and there, in the centre, the splendid bird glowing in the sunlight, reflecting now 

 crimson, now gold from his plumage, and as he turns there flashes out, as strong to the 

 eye as the gleam from a heliograph, the patch of pure white feathers upon his back. No 

 protective colouring here — a glowing form of living copper and white. From my 

 position the hen is very conspicuous, but when she steps down among the rocks and 

 half-dead grass, she is easily lost, and when she has gone some distance down the 

 slope I have to keep careful watch. As long as she moves, however, she is easy to 

 detect. 



If I found her difficult to follow, another pair of eyes did not, and the birds 

 had reached a flat, rocky terrace, when there occurred one of the most spectacular 

 incidents in all my pheasant watching. Without the least hint of warning, something 

 hurled itself over the nearest summit of the ridge and hurtled past me with a whistling 

 scream of pinions which startled me beyond control. I thrust out my head, upsetting 

 camera and notebook, just in time to see a golden eagle strike the hen pheasant — or one 

 of them, for the other two birds had appeared — and fall with it to the ground. The 

 great wings of the bird of prey were widespread as it struck the earth, and such was its 

 impetus that its head and beak were for a moment flattened among the low-growing 

 plants. Recovering itself, it then freed one foot, and with wings half spread, hopped 

 awkwardly to the rim of the ledge. Here it shook itself and searched the valley in all 

 directions for many minutes before it took notice of the ruffled bundle of feathers which 

 it clasped in its talons. 



Quick as the onslaught had been, the pheasant must have leaped into the air, for 

 my first view was of the moment of attack, when both birds were several feet above the 

 ground. I had no eyes for the other birds, which escaped unheeded in the excitement. 

 All nature seemed to realize that a tragedy had taken place, and for many minutes not a 

 twitter or chirp reached my ear, not a living creature other than the eagle was in sight. 



It seemed as if the eagle must have known the pheasants were somewhere on the 

 hillside, and blindly hurled himself over the crest, trusting to his wonderful eyesight 

 and instantaneous reaction of every muscle. It was the most marvellous exhibition of 

 aerial control I have ever witnessed. Had the danger been less unexpected, the hens 

 would probably have squatted and the cock would have paid the penalty, for that 

 immaculate speculum would have been as certain of detection against the green as a 

 flash-light. But theorize as I might I had witnessed a real wilderness tragedy. 



Some slight movement on my part drew the attention of the eagle, and without 

 effort he leaned forward, spread his pinions and floated off into the blue air, still holding 

 the pheasant, and instantly dropped below my range of vision, never to enter it again. 



GENERAL DISTRIBUTION 



I found typical ijimae in the three most southern provinces of Kiusiu, Osumi, 

 Hyuga and Satsuma. The birds are not abundant anywhere, but occur in fair numbers 

 on the small mountainous island of Sakurajima, near Kagoshima. The centre of their 

 distribution may be said to be the mountain of Kirishima. 



