36 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



valley. From these a terrific burst of hail descended without warning. The foliage and 

 moss were torn to shreds as by shot. Th^ pain of the impact was so great that I 

 crouched close between an out-jutting bit of rock and a sloping tree-trunk. Holding my 

 hand out for a moment, it stung and pained as if lashed by a whip. In a very short 

 time the pellets of ice were piled up three to five inches, and untold numbers of forest 

 creatures must have perished miserably. The ferns about the old nest of the kaleege 

 were lashed flat. Two nests, the one of a warbler and the other a flycatcher's, which I 

 had been watching, were literally beaten from their supports and their contents crushed. 

 Every blossom was in shreds, not a leaf remained whole, and the forest, from the 

 peace and warmth and life of the full flush of spring, took on the death-like aspect of 

 winter. 



While the storm lasted the cold was intense and the downpour was intermittent ; 

 first hail in sheets for several minutes, then blue sky and a momentary gleam of the sun 

 through a rent in the swirling grey clouds ; next a fierce downpour of rain, changing 

 almost at once to the cruel ice. Such storms kill dogs, fowls, geese, cattle and even 

 men, and the destruction of pheasants and their eggs and young must be enormous. 

 Immediately after this terrific storm, a pair of dainty verditer flycatchers and a tiny 

 white butterfly flew across the glade, showing that somewhere there were havens of 

 safety where even the most delicate craft might weather out the gale. Owls and small 

 martens are probably the worst enemies of the kaleege among the living inhabitants of 

 the forests. 



The natives say that the males are very pugnacious and fight fiercely during the 

 season of courtship. Certain it is that the birds remain together throughout the year, 

 apparently paired for life, and that the male stays in the immediate vicinity of the nest 

 during incubation, and later takes his full share in finding food for, and defending 

 the chicks. 



The nesting season varies with the altitude. Lower down, in the foot-hills, the 

 eggs may be deposited as early as March, while mid-April is the usual season for the 

 majority of the kaleege. Again, near the upper limits of the pheasants' range, eggs 

 have been found as late as the end of July. 



No nest worthy of the name is ever built. On the tea plantations the eggs are laid 

 in clumps of grass at the foot of the tea-bushes, while in the forest itself a hollow is 

 scratched, or the dead leaves and moss merely pressed down by the weight of the bird's 

 body, often under the shelter of a projecting rock, or, as in the case of the nest of which 

 I have already written, hidden by ferns and close to a great fallen tree. 



I have known of five eggs which had been incubated for at least ten days, and which 

 thus would seem to compose a full set, while ten appears to be the largest set recorded. 

 Six to eight are by far the more usual numbers. Unusually fortunate covies including 

 eight young have been observed, but two, three, or at the most four, are the more usual 

 number of survivors of the nesting perils. 



The eggs vary considerably in shape, some being broader, more round, while other 

 slender ones are more perfect ovals. In tint, too, there is very wide variation, from pale 

 pinkish creamy, and very pale cafd au lait to a very rich dark coffee colour. The tint 

 appears to be quite constant in the eggs of the same individual, one pheasant having a 

 whole nestful of pale eggs, while another will lay eggs invariably of a warm, darkish 



