54 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



well-drained terrains, coupled with a fairly cool climate, are ideal conditions for the 

 Lineated Kaleege, open forest in the neighbourhood of water affording them all that any 

 pheasant could desire. 



This bird has been recorded from an elevation of over four thousand feet and from 

 sea-level, but these are above and below its usual haunts, and the great majority of the 

 species doubtless spend their lives between a thousand and twenty-five hundred feet. 



Leaving the fast-drying plain of the Irrawaddy, with its cactus and water-lilies, the 

 latter striving to ripen their seeds before their lagoons disappear, the former storing 

 every drop they can absorb against the coming dry season, we approach the purple out- 

 lying hills of the Shan States. These rise abruptly from the plain, usually as a small, 

 transverse spur jutting out from the regular north and south range. One passes many 

 small rivulets and waterfalls pouring down to the plain. 



Even at a thousand feet the flora has completely changed. At thirty-six hundred 

 feet (Maymo) a dense growth of small oaks and chestnuts alternates with the curious 

 "Nelly" fruit-tree, larch-like at a distance, and what appear to be familiar hickory-nut 

 trees. Pines scent the air, and occasionally we come upon a whole forest of them. 

 Blackberries are ripening at the end of the rains, and now the Lineated Pheasants come 

 occasionally into the less-frequented lanes and roads, picking the berries from the bushes 

 or scratching up the mould at their base for grubs. This is always in the early morning, 

 and close approach would not be difficult were it not for the blossom-headed parrakeets 

 which fly off screeching, spying one from afar and warning every pheasant to take to 

 shelter. 



Lineated Kaleege are not gregarious, even to the extent of the white-crested species, 

 but, on the other hand, they are by no means solitary birds. At times other than the 

 breeding season isolated individuals, especially old cocks, may be found feeding and 

 roosting alone, and hens may occasionally appear to be living by themselves. But the 

 family ties and the lure of certain routes to water are two factors which serve to bind 

 together, however loosely, the birds of related blood or of a limited neighbourhood. 

 When concentrating on these birds, one may come across as many as fifteen in a day's 

 search, but this is unusual. As in the case of most of the other kaleege the family ties 

 are strong, and the usual parties of three to seven are often composed of parents with the 

 brood of the year. 



A reliable index of the amount of sociability among most birds is the rare or more 

 frequent use of the voice, and with this in mind it is surprising that kaleege are not 

 more gregarious than they are. They may truly be called voluble, and seem to enjoy 

 exercising their vocal organs at all times of the day. I have heard them thus conversing 

 or calling, both on their perches before descending and after retiring, on low branches 

 when resting in the heat of the day, when feeding, and when on their way to water. 

 The loud call, which is also the note of suspicion and even alarm, is the familiar, long- 

 drawn-out, liquid gurgle, preceded by several guttural or mumbled sounds. When 

 carefully stalking birds, and this loud, startling cry comes from the underbrush appar- 

 ently at one's elbow, the effect is always that of an electric shock, and the one note is 

 almost as difficult to vocalize as the other. Major Nisbett has sent me the following as 

 approximating his idea of it — 



lVurk-^crk-urk-uk-si — ie ! urk-urk-uk-si — ie ! 



