I70 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



footed nocturnal creatures which are unable to climb the great, smooth-barked trunks 

 of these trees. This choice of position characterizes much of their wild life ; the total 

 disregard of being seen, always provided that they themselves have a point of view 

 where their remarkably keen sight will give them a good opportunity of perceiving the 

 danger first. All the habits of life of the Peacock refute the idea of any protective value 

 in their blue and green plumage. However easy it may be to make a stuffed Peacock 

 melt into his surroundings among green foliage and spots of blue sky, the fact remains 

 that the wild live bird never takes a chance of escaping detection by such a ruse, but 

 gets up and flies off to a safe distance or height at once. The only instance of mimicry 

 of which I have ever heard was told me by an Englishman living at Uva, Ceylon. 

 Each evening he walked past a certain tall tree in the jungle, and never failed to see a 

 Peacock roosting on the same branch. At last one moonlight night he went out and 

 fired at the supposed bird, and brought down the stub of a deformed branch which had 

 deceived him. 



The cock roosts alone or with his harem of one to five females. Before dusk he 

 makes his way to the vicinity of the tree, not under it, however, and after prolonged 

 listening and looking in all directions, and sometimes after several crouching, false 

 starts, he springs from the ground and beats heavily, but with remarkable rapidity, 

 upward at an acute angle to the lofty branch upon which he will spend the night. The 

 effort which this incurs is indicated by the apparently involuntary abrupt call to which 

 he often gives voice, analogous perhaps to the audible exhalation of a workman wielding 

 a heavy sledge. At intervals of a few minutes the hens follow, flying more easily. 

 Then succeeds another period of restlessness and statuesque listening, before the birds 

 settle down close together, all facing one way. The quick tropical night has usually 

 closed down by this time, but on two or three occasions in south Ceylon I have been 

 able to watch, through my glasses, all the details of settling to rest. Two evenings in 

 succession were very different in character. On the first a strong wind was blowing 

 directly across the branch, and all the birds went to roost facing it. The following 

 evening was calm and breathless, and all faced in the opposite direction. From one 

 such roosting tree of a cock and three hens, two hens were shot early one morning. 

 For eight days it was unoccupied, but on the ninth the cock returned with two hens, 

 showing the strong attachment which these birds have for a favourite roost. One of 

 the hens was presumably the remaining one of his old family, while the second must 

 have been a new addition. 



The roosting tree is usually bare of branches for most of its height, but with a 

 considerable number near the summit. The perch chosen is on one of the lower of 

 these, and is almost invariably devoid of foliage, thus providing a clear outlook in all 

 directions. I have known of more than one tree which was dead, without leaves and 

 with only one or two gnarly, bare branches, one of which was the nightly roost, exposed 

 to all the rains and winds of heaven. 



The birds usually descend rather early, before actual sunrise, the cock leading and 

 the hens following at once, all scaling gracefully in a gentle curve to the ground some 

 distance away. After a rain or a heavy dew the Peafowl remain on their perch until 

 the sun is well up and their plumage and the jungle has been partly dried. At such 

 times they rise, stretch legs and wings and shake and preen their feathers, the cock 



