72 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



other debris, a hollow may be scraped out, or is soon moulded by the pressure of the 

 eggs and sitting bird. The Tragopans, of all the groups of pheasants, are most arboreal, 

 and hence parallel the curassows and guans of the Neotropical region. As I shall 

 show, in the case of the Cabot's and Temminck's tragopans, their nesting habits 

 in captivity strongly suggest that birds of this genus build nests of their own in trees, 

 or at least off the ground. 



No concrete proof of this has been forthcoming, however, until I was fortunate 

 enough to stumble upon circumstantial evidence of so positive a nature that I include 

 it in detail without hesitation. In this, as in my account of the roosting bird, the 

 Tragopan entered upon the scene wholly unexpectedly. 



How often it is that Nature will suddenly exhibit to us a hint of some long-desired 

 mystery when we least expect it, when perhaps we are wholly absorbed in something 

 else — an unexpected gleam into the tail of our eye — and yet for day after day hold 

 herself aloof and sphinx-like, when we make our most concentrated attempts to force 

 her secrets. 



In western native Garhwal I had set up my observation tent on a sloping hillside 

 of pine. In this case, I had placed it under and within the dense sweeping branches of 

 a young deodar, so that it made a formless mound of green, indistinguishable from the 

 mass of dark needle foliage about it. Here I left it for three days, and then entered it 

 one morning with the intention of observing more closely some cheer pheasants, which 

 were accustomed to pass over this slope twice a day. An hour after I had begun my 

 vigil, I cut a new observation slit in the rear, for the purpose of finding the author 

 of a sweet, silvery thread of warbling notes. A moment before, they had been uttered 

 within a foot of the tent, and now I found the bird had flown to the short, depressed 

 branches of a silver spruce, forty feet up, and not far away. The activity of the little 

 bird, whatever it was, prevented my identifying it ; but, in searching for it, I discovered 

 a rough mass of sticks, lodged close against the trunk, and partly overhung and 

 concealed by several of the silvery-green needle-fans of this splendid conifer. I marked 

 it down as an object for examination when I should leave the tent, and, after the usual 

 few minutes of exercise and massage within my little green mound, by which alone I 

 could compel my aching limbs to endure the hours of cramped posture, I returned to my 

 survey of the hillside. 



Passing over many unimportant but interesting bits of forest life which I observed 

 on this memorable day, I at last caught a low, pheasant-like chuckle, which made every 

 nerve tingle like an electric shock. It came from behind, and, as I had been thus 

 outflanked more than once by pheasants, I peered out, but could see no sign of life. 

 Then the chuckle again and a quiver of needles, and on the branch below the stick nest 

 I saw a large bird. Even then, Tragopans were so far from my mind that I stared in 

 unrecognizing bewilderment. Once more the low gurgling chuckle came, and the bird 

 walked unsteadily to the trunk and leaped up to the nest itself. Then I realized that 

 I was looking at a Western Tragopan hen, and a few days later I was to hear the 

 self-same low chuckle given, as I have already related, as the vesper song of a 

 cock bird. 



The Tragopan, in her dull, mottled garb, was almost invisible as she stood 

 motionless beside the nest in the shadow of the spruce foliage. Soon she began to 



