20 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



old cock kaleege was squatting on the stump of a fallen tree, and with its feathers all ruffled 

 and tail spread, was causing this extraordinary sound by rapidly beating its wings 

 against its body." This latter assertion is an error, corresponding to the long 

 controversy which waged about the method of production of the drumming of the 

 American ruffed grouse : whether by beating against a hollow log, or against the 

 inflated sides of its own body, or merely by the impact of the wings upon the air. The 

 latter was soon found to be the sole method, and the same is true of the White-crested 

 Kaleege, and indeed of all the members of this extensive group of Gennaeus pheasants. 



I have seen several of them drumming in a wild state, and all of the more commonly 

 kept captive species, and the method never varies. The bird stands rather erect, with 

 head and neck stretched out, and with a single motion raises and half opens its wings, 

 and imparts to them so rapid a vibration that they seem but a grey haze against the 

 body. There is never any question of their touching the body — the hazy arc is not of 

 wide extent — somewhat less, in fact, than the corresponding phenomenon in the ruffed 

 grouse — and its limits are very distinctly outlined. The sound is produced by the air 

 rushing through the tensely-strung flight feathers. As I shall have occasion elsewhere 

 to relate, the drumming sometimes has a remarkable ventriloquial quality, and is most 

 difficult to locate. The sound is a deep, resonant woof-woof -woof-woof / sometimes 

 drawn out into a reverberating, drum-like roll, woof-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-woof ! — a sound which 

 is like an electric shock to the lover of the wilds where these birds live. I cannot 

 believe that the same sudden leap of pulse and thrill of joy at the sound is as keen in 

 the sportsman, to whom its chief import is the hope of a shot, as when it stands chiefly 

 for the sheer joy of life in the wilderness and the excitement of close association with all 

 these splendid wild creatures. 



The statement that the drumming is heard only at the breeding season is not quite 

 true, although there is no doubt that its real function is performed at that period. But 

 very rarely, even in the autumn or winter, when a cock bird is suspicious of danger and 

 yet has neither seen nor heard anything definite — at that moment of inexplicable keenness, 

 when some psychological sense of which we as yet know nothing makes the bird feel 

 that all is not right, the bird will sometimes drum, almost or quite silently. The 

 feathers are apparently held loosely, their edges pliant or separated, for while the wings 

 vibrate as rapidly as ever, yet no sound comes forth. I have observed this several times, 

 and in more than one species. The impulse in such a case is probably purely nervous 

 and unconscious. The bird is tense, every sense on the alert, knowing that all is not 

 right, yet with no hint of the character or direction of the danger, and as yet unwilling, 

 and knowing not in what direction, to flee. Fear not yet predominating, impatience and 

 suspicion produce an irritated, unsettled state of mind which impels it to resort to the 

 challenge action, but, tempered with caution, the action alone is manifested, the sound is 

 repressed. If I have read the bird's emotions aright — and such explanation seems well 

 within the mental plane of the pheasant — it shows an interesting correlation of widely 

 separated seasonal activities with a passing, transient emotion. 



The nest itself, like that of most pheasants, is scarcely worthy of the name, although 

 in some instances there seems a decided attempt to gather materials. This usually takes 

 the form of a slight pad or mat of dead leaves, fine grass and moss, and in a depression 

 in the centre the eggs are laid. In one instance, where the bird had gathered a greater 



