240 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



and is interesting as a radical departure from the pronounced terrestrial nidification of 

 this group. 



When all the records of number of eggs are compared, there seems to be a very 

 significant gradation from north to south, marking a regular increase. A correspondent 

 writes that in Kanara there are never more than four in a nest, and usually three ; this 

 test being applied to many nests found early in the season, and with eggs about to 

 hatch, thus freeing this record from the complications both of a second laying or an 

 incomplete set. South of Mt. Abu, six to seven seems to be the average number, while 

 in the Nilgiris and southward, eight or nine to thirteen are recorded. Whether this is 

 due to an increase in the number of dangers or not, is an interesting speculation. In 

 connection with this, it is significant to note that the birds from the northern part of the 

 range seem to run larger and heavier than those from farther south. Two observers at 

 extremes of the Junglefowl's range tell of the hen covering the eggs with dried leaves 

 when she goes away to feed, but I can obtain no recent verification of this, while a third 

 man, writing from Poona, emphasizes the close resemblance of the eggs to the dried 

 leaves among which they lie. 



There is great variation in the colour and size of the eggs, and when the extremes 

 are compared it would never be supposed that they were laid by the same species of 

 bird. At one extreme we have an egg of a long, oval shape, with a pale, creamy-white 

 shell like that of a domestic hen ; the other extreme shows a broad oval, of a deep rich 

 buff or ca/i^ au lait, and a coarse texture, deeply and densely pitted, like the shell of a 

 peahen's egg. Every intermediate type is met with, some of which are everywhere 

 thickly speckled with brownish red. The eggs vary from 43 to 51 mm. in length, and 

 31 to 38 in breadth, averaging 47 by 34 mm. 



Several observers write me that in the north, at least, there is some evidence that 

 two broods are reared in a season. I think this rather doubtful, and probably due to 

 finding late broods consequent upon the first laying of eggs being destroyed. In the 

 north, two seems to be the usual number of young reared to maturity, while in the 

 south, I have had three reports of half-grown young in families of four, four and six 

 respectively. 



The young are able to look out for themselves soon after hatching, hiding at their 

 mother's note of warning by squatting or scurrying under leaves or into clumps of 

 bamboo. Not many days pass before their tiny wing-feathers are sufficiently well grown 

 to support them. Even before they are strong enough to rise from the ground they will 

 clamber, with the aid of feet and wings, up into shrubs and bushes, and from this point 

 of vantage leap boldly into the air, and go off with a diminutive whirr like quail, getting 

 up speed quickly, keeping up the pace for a few yards and then dropping exhausted into 

 the undergrowth. Mr. T. R. Bell, of Kanara, has had Junglehens come up when he had 

 sat for a long time, near where several little chicks were hiding, and pretend to be 

 maimed, and when this failed, erecting their hackles and showing considerable anger. 

 Only once was the cock seen at such a time, and he kept at a safe distance. The notes 

 of the hen as she calls her chicks is like the voice of the domestic bird, a soft took-took- 

 took, and the cock uses the same utterance at times. The peep, peep, of the chicks is the 

 same infantile note as in our barnyard birds. The young birds remain with the parents 

 at least until they have attained fully adult plumage, and how much longer is not known. 



