258 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



HOME LIFE 



The breeding season varies considerably in the various portions of the bird's 

 haunts, and even in one locality several months may intervene between the laying 

 of neighbouring pairs. I believe that this and not a double brood explains the 

 presence of chicks of various ages in any one place. It usually corresponds with some 

 portion of the dry season, from June to November, more often in the first month or 

 two of the East Monsoon, for then the abundance of insect life and the newly sprouting 

 plant life is propitious for the rearing of the hungry young birds. In Patjiran the 

 extremes of the breeding season must extend at least from June until November, 

 judging by the ages of the young birds which I secured. In the interior they are 

 reported to nest usually in June, and I believe this is correct. 



The cocks are said to fight fiercely during the breeding season and assiduously to 

 court their mates. Their method of courtship does not differ from that of the red 

 junglefowl, except that the head is brought more prominently into display. They 

 seem to be fully aware of the beauty of their comb and wattle, and when the cock is 

 strutting before the hen and flattening himself obliquely toward her, the head is always 

 stretched out and leaned well in her direction. At such times the wattle is stretched 

 to the utmost, and temporarily the head of the bird appears merely a small median 

 connection between the two great parti-coloured sheets of skin — the comb and 

 wattle. 



I have seen the Junglefowl only in pairs, and I have watched many of these day 

 after day. Other observers report that the species is sometimes polygamous, a cock 

 having as many as four hens in his harem. 



The nest is usually a hollow in the ground hidden amongst dense vegetation of 

 some kind. Several, however, have been authentically reported as being placed in the 

 shelter of a clump of parasitic ferns growing at some height against the trunk of a tree, 

 and again, more than one has been found in the heart of a tree-fern's top, surrounded 

 by the curving fronds, with a lining of the soft red down from the stalks of the 

 ferns. 



The only nest which I found was one which had retained its traces from the 

 preceding breeding season, preserved by the dryness of the air and the security of its 

 location. I had made my way to a new ridge of limestone a mile or more inland, and 

 with great difficulty had forced a path through briars and cacti to a sheltered wall of 

 jagged rock, the whole surface of which was gutted and sculptured and whetted to 

 razor edges by the wind and water. Close above a ledge, breast high, several large 

 oak-leaf ferns were growing, strongly rooted to the face of the rock, and just beneath 

 one, on the ledge itself, I found considerable old sign, weather-worn feathers in the 

 deep crevices, and a number of pieces of dried egg-shell. Having satisfied myself that 

 this was without doubt the remains of a Junglefowl's nest, I broke down several thorny 

 plants in order to set up my tripod. A thousand bits of flame burned my flesh, and 

 regardless of sharp rocks and cactus needles, I leaped down from the ledge covered with 

 a host of fire ants. After I had freed myself from them I carefully approached, but an hour 

 afterwards the whole ledge was still alive with them, and I had to content myself with 

 a distant photograph. Thus was the nest of one Junglefowl protected from disturbance. 



