254 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



am inclined to think that the home range of these birds on the coast is extremely 

 limited. On the other hand, forest wardens, the only reliable natives with whom I 

 came in contact, informed me that in the rainy season the number of Junglefowl 

 was augmented by birds from the interior, which came down from the hills for 

 some reason toward the coast, and retired at the beginning of the dry season. As 

 even at the height of three thousand feet there would be no temperature change 

 sufficient to account for this general shifting, we must credit it to a direct food 

 stimulus, or a desire to escape from the excessive humidity of the hills at this time 

 of the year. 



Although the breeding season had scarcely begun, I found the cocks very voluble, 

 crowing not only in early morning, but even when feeding, and in the presence of 

 other adult cocks. These would sometimes crow at one another, the challenge 

 and defiance ending, -however, with the vocal outburst. Later, the affair would 

 doubtless have entailed more serious results. 



I was able to master the essentials of the wild fowl's vocabulary from my blind. 

 The note of content, when lazily feeding, or when stretched out on their side flicking 

 the dust over and through their wings, was a slowly uttered, drawn-out wdk, wak, wak, 

 wdk. When several captive cocks were placed in their respective baskets close to 

 one another, they would talk for an hour at a time, the tone being a most irritating, 

 rasping drawl, which seemed never to cease, but as soon as one bird got out of 

 breath, it was instantly taken up by a second, and so on ad nauseum. When 

 suspicion of danger came to the wild birds, and the alarm brought them to full 

 attention in readiness to escape, the note was the syllable chop! chop I chop I or 

 op! op I uttered many times, sharply and in quick succession. When in this 

 emotional state, the cocks held their head high, the position distending the brilliant 

 throat wattle into a gorgeous sheet of colour. The tail was, at the same time, 

 lowered, until the feathers fairly dragged on the ground. Another mood, apparently 

 when the bird is certain of impending danger and all too willing to escape, but does 

 not know from which quarter it threatens, is indicated by a series of disagreeable, 

 shrill, metallic tones, drawn out like the content note of a domestic hen, but of 

 the same timbre as the despairing wail of a captured fowl : awk-awwwwk-aaaawwwk I 

 The note of utter despair when a bird is cornered and makes a final wild effort at 

 escape, or when a captive bird is seized by the legs, is a long-drawn-out wail, almost 

 peacock-like, louder and quite different in quality from the last call described, 

 ati — waaaaak ! and uttered only once or twice, after which the bird is silent. 



The notes of the female are somewhat difTerent. The call-note, which is usually 

 answered by other birds within hearing, sounds like chak, chak, chak, repeated 

 slowly six to ten times. The call of suspicion or uneasy curiosity is a high, strident 

 ak-kak-kak-kak-kak-kak, kept up at a rapid rate from ten seconds to half a minute. 

 I was told by natives in widely-separated parts of Java, that the hen invariably 

 made an outcry when she left her nest to feed — whether after laying an ^gg or not, 

 I could not learn. This note was given me as kdwak, kowak, kowak, kokowak, and 

 such was the general agreement, independently confirmed, that I am inclined to 

 give it some credence ; at least I present it for what it is worth. 



The imitations of the crow of the wild cock, which were given me in various 



