46 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



I gathered up the mould from this place in my handkerchief and later examined it 

 carefully. Six pieces of whitish eggshell were present, quite distinguishable from 

 several broken land shells. So the evidence of the native seems trustworthy, whose 

 story, indeed, was told and retold in so straightforward a manner that there seemed no 

 reason to doubt it, especially as the number of eggs corresponded to the general habits 

 of the better known relations of this pheasant. He knew of the dancing place of the 

 argus, of its nocturnal calling, and the habits of many other jungle creatures, and his 

 story of this nest is at least worthy of record. As chicks half in down, half in the 

 juvenile plumage, have been obtained near Semangko Pass in the latter half of 

 February, we can be reasonably certain that late January is the breeding season. 



We may consider the Bronze-tail Pheasant as the highest ranging member of its 

 family in this region. In this respect it is the blood pheasant of the Malay Peninsula. 



Its chosen haunts are the humid, dark ravines of the medium and higher mountains, 

 being apparently more abundant on the east or north-east slopes. They choose always 

 to run rather than fly, and, like so many pheasants, seem to feed in one particular zone 

 and roost in another. We know nothing of their roosting-place, but presumably it is 

 on the branches of some tree free from vines and parasites, as in the case of its 

 congeners, the peacock pheasants. The deadly musangs or civet cats, which must ever 

 menace the life of these birds, would make a ground roost fatal. 



It is a true wilderness pheasant, seldom found near villages, although I know of 

 one young bird being trapped close to a house. 



Like most jungle pheasants, I never knew it to take to wing, but whether frightened 

 or making its way at its own pace, it always chooses to walk or run. I twice saw birds 

 perched on the bare dead limbs of tall trees, apparently sunning themselves, in this 

 respect bringing to mind the peafowl. 



The haunts of the Bronze-tailed Pheasant touch the extremes of sunlight and 

 shadow. Near the stream-beds, in the depth of the ravines, all is dark and sunless ; 

 inches of rotting leaves distill spicy odours, and coolness reigns. On the sunlit ridge 

 warmth and brilliance pervade all things. The sides of the upper slopes of the ravines 

 are the most favoured spots, and here we often find evidences of the feeding-places — 

 deep holes scratched in the mould, or in logs half returned to earth. Here the delicate 

 selaginella trails its fleecy strands of maiden's hair over the rocks, and other graceful 

 tropical mosses reveal every damp spot. 



Here, if anywhere in the jungle, we shall find blossoms — the long, sweeping 

 trumpets — golden and azure blue. The leaves of both are hardly to be outdone in 

 beauty by the flowers. One plant has leaves of delicate green, ribbed with shining 

 silver, and coated with a sheen of the same colour ; while in another the long, pointed 

 leaves are thick and furry, of darkest green, centred with a stripe of pale whitish green. 

 And the under-side is of richest wine colour. Sometimes the sweetest of odours fills the 

 air, and beneath moss and fern we shall find white violet-like blossoms, their three-parted 

 lower lips gay with lines of lilac and yellow. 



Amid such royal patterns as these, etched on the vegetation of the steep slopes, lives 

 this beautiful pheasant. Spending so much of its life amid the shadows of the jungle 

 floor, and bathed day after day in grey mists and cloud, its plumage seems to have 

 assumed the sombreness of its haunts. But as even in these dark ravines we find the 



