I NTRODUCTION xxxvii 



given, with long stares at the surrounding jungle, or upward at the dying light in the 

 sky. Finally the birds settle down, and sleep with the head tucked behind a wing. 

 I have watched birds sleeping quietly, their rounded forms silhouetted against the 

 moon, and crept quietly back to camp, leaving them at rest. And, again, I have seen a 

 pine marten send down a pair of Kaleege, screaming with terror as they fluttered blindly 

 out into the darkness. I think, however, that but few dangers come to these birds while 

 they are roosting. Their bodies give forth no tell-tale scent, and the roost is chosen 

 with utmost care. Peacocks differ from other pheasants in that they seem not to fear 

 the onslaught of owls. Their invariable rule is to choose a very lofty dead tree, and to 

 spend their nights singly or as many as seven together, far above the surrounding 

 jungle, insulated from terrestrial enemies by the unclimbable, smooth, hard bole of the 

 weathered forest giant. Junglefowl inhabiting semi-arid regions make their way to the 

 centre of some thorn-bush for protection. The Cheer appear to be the least arboreal in 

 their roosting habits, and I found them in widely separate places spending the night on 

 steep hillsides, under the shelter of turf or of some outjutting boulder. The most 

 unusual roosting sites which I observed were in Nepal and Java. On a Nepalese 

 hillside three Impeyans used a niche on a gigantic boulder, well out of the way of 

 roving foxes; in Java a family of Green Junglefowl sought shelter every night deep 

 within a coralline cave on the summit of a ridge, perching on the jagged limestone far 

 beneath the surface of the ground. 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 



No one will deny to pheasants the possession of enemies, and could we know more 

 of the dangers which await them on every hand, and the tragedies which overcome 

 scores of their number every day in the year, the list of foes would be a long one. At 

 first thought the count of their friends would seem to be confined to their mates and 

 broods, to all Buddhists, and to gentle Christians like St. Francis. But without giving 

 the word friendship a broader meaning than it often holds among mankind, pheasants 

 may be said to have real friends among the wild kindred, even though we must admit 

 that the bonds are those of fear and hunger. 



One of the commonest sights in the Far East is the constant association of cattle 

 egrets with water buffalo. The appearance of the great blue-black beasts is almost 

 always synchronous with a flock of the white herons. To a less universal extent we 

 find similar conditions among many of the pheasants. In northern Burma, when one is 

 hidden in a blind of bush on a hillside, and there come to the ear the chuckling gurgles 

 of a band of laughing thrushes, the chances are ten to one that, following closely in the 

 rear, is a flock of pheasants. The relation here, as elsewhere, is reciprocal. The 

 pheasants are on their usual afternoon trip down to water, feeding casually as they go. 

 The babblers join them, and benefit by the multitude of flying insects which are 

 disturbed by the scratching pheasants, and which are seized in mid-air or after they 

 alight. Keeping as they do to the shrubs and low branches, the babblers have a much 

 wider outlook than the terrestrial pheasants, and are able to detect danger at a greater 

 distance. Scores of times my most careful stalks, or quite perfectly concealed shelters 

 were rendered useless by the sharp eyes of the smaller birds. At a single alarm note, 



