GREEN PEAFOWL 195 



the best way was to force a dug-out straight into the vegetation which overhung the 

 water, rearrange the foliage and lie flat, with glasses mounted like a brace of swivel guns 

 on the gunwale. In such a position only a few venturesome leeches could reach one, 

 and in this region any place where one could lie quiet for several hours with only a 

 dozen leech visitors was a haven indeed. 



I found that the Peafowl came regularly morning and evening to the river. In the 

 morning, as I have related, often before the mists had cleared away, they would come 

 silently, and would depart after a half-hour of leisurely preening and drinking. At five 

 in the afternoon they would come again and often remain until dark. They would 

 sometimes wade into the shallows, always holding their train high out of reach of the 

 water, and more than once after a hot day I have seen them completely immerse their 

 whole head in full enjoyment of the cool water. 



With one family of four, an adult cock, two hens and a bird of the year, I became 

 quite well acquainted, although the friendship was rather one-sided, for naturally they 

 never knew they were under surveillance. One bird, and one alone, sometimes the 

 cock, more rarely a hen, preceded the others, and it was fascinating to see the care with 

 which every object in sight was scrutinized. The bird would leave the shelter of the 

 bushes with slow, high steps, scanning the water, the sand-bar, the sky, the jungle in 

 every direction. Clever indeed would the enemy have to be which could outwit the 

 Peafowl scout at such a time. A hornbill or drongo crossing overhead would cause a 

 moment's hesitation. A few minutes later the others appeared, more or less together, 

 but with not nearly the super-alertness of the first. They evidently trusted the advance 

 guard as to detection of general danger. One afternoon when the leader — the cock 

 this time— turned without apparent reason and walked slowly back, night shut down 

 without a single bird appearing. 



By carefully going over the ground and watching at all hours I was able to map 

 out with considerable accuracy the daily life of these four birds. After leaving the river 

 in early morning, they went either to a big colony of termite mounds, or to a narrow 

 valley shut in by steep limestone walls and filled with rotting vegetation. Twice they 

 disappeared and fed in some unknown direction, but usually I could locate them in one 

 or the other of these two places. No skill of woodcraft would have enabled me to do 

 this if I had had to depend on sight alone, but I could locate the birds, after a little 

 practice, at a considerable distance by the sound of scratching and the low conversa- 

 tional tones which they kept up. They fed for several hours, but toward noon they 

 invariably worked slowly toward another sand-bar, farther down-river and almost 

 wholly encircled by vegetation. In the course of my house-boat trip down the Pahang 

 and up several of its lesser tributaries I found three such bars, all of which seemed to 

 form favourite siesta places for Peafowl. To this particular bar three other birds came, 

 but never mingled with the first four. I found a tree, strangely enough free from 

 stinging ants and leeches, and on one of the larger branches I made an arboreal cache 

 in which I hid myself, and, at the expense of frightfully cramped limbs, observed the 

 birds at their noonday siesta several times in succession without being observed. 



The birds are wise in this selection of a hidden sand-bar. As they are almost 

 surrounded by foliage, they can see through it and easily detect approaching danger. 

 For the same reason, combined with approximation to the river, they are as cool as the 



