i68 A MOxNOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



phenomenon in this thirsty land. At such a time the birds may disappear altogether 

 from a given district, retiring deep into the jungle, or concentrating along the shrunken 

 rivers or the stagnant pools. It is interesting to note, however, that they seem particu- 

 larly able to withstand any reasonable climatic vicissitudes, and in a dry year they are 

 the last to give way, long after the other common birds and the mammals of the country 

 have left for moister regions. 



As regards abundance, the question of mankind's feeling toward these birds 

 introduces, of course, a very unnatural factor. Where held sacred there may be 

 thousands within a comparatively narrow area. In the real jungle, where they have 

 to take their chance with the other wild creatures, they appear to be relatively more 

 abundant than other birds of their family. This is due to the fact that they are not 

 skulking birds, but their desire is to detect approaching danger as soon as possible and 

 to escape by flight as often as by fleetness of foot. So that in passing through a given 

 bit of jungle, inhabited, let us say, by equal numbers of peafowl, junglefowl and pheasants, 

 one is made aware, both by sight and ear, of many more of the former than of the two 

 latter, and the wrong impression is gained that the Peafowl are by far the most abundant 

 species. 



Peafowl are gregarious birds, and seem to enjoy one another's companionship. 

 Throughout much of the year even the full-plumaged adult males do not object to each 

 other's company, and only at the approach of the breeding season do they draw apart 

 with their harems. Even the voluntary domesticity to which they yield themselves 

 seems to have a degenerating efl'ect on their relations with each other, and the males 

 seem to show little of the fierce competition which certainly holds true of the isolated 

 individuals away from man's presence and protection. 



Nature has endowed the Peacock with a voice as unmusical as it is powerful, and 

 the bird takes as much pleasure in exercising its vocal chords as it does in showing 

 off its wonderful train. While it is especially noisy during the season of courtship, yet 

 not a week of the year passes without the bird giving voice. Little excuse is required. 

 A peal of thunder, the report of a gun, the noise of a falling tree is often sufficient to set 

 calling every bird within hearing. I have known the call to be uttered while roosting 

 in a high tree, while lying prone upon the ground, and a brave attempt made at uttering 

 it when the bird was in full flight. When walking quietly through a deep, dense jungle, 

 with no sound of wind or insect audible, it is most startling to hear this piercing, raucous 

 cry ring out close at hand. When a flock of birds has been scattered, especially late in 

 the afternoon, there ensues a great calling until all are gathered together again. 



The cry is almost indescribable. It has a crescendo, wailing quality which can be 

 mistaken for the note of no other bird. The note of alarm, on being suddenly flushed, 

 is a loud kok-kok-kok-kok ! This is also uttered, although less shrilly, at the commence- 

 ment of the long upward flight at evening into the roosting tree. The call of the Peahen 

 is not as loud, but quite as raucous. The young birds have a soft chirp, and the 

 warning and content notes of the mother are devoid of all harshness. 



Peafowl are able to rise rapidly and at a remarkably sharp angle from the place 

 where they start. The hens can sustain themselves for a number of flights of several 

 hundred yards each, but the cocks when burdened with a train of full length are less 

 successful, and it is not at all uncommon, when the birds are cornered away from dense 



