WESTERN TRAGOPAN 73 



crane her head and neck about, and, bending low down, busied herself in some way 

 invisible from where I watched. At last she jumped down to the branch below, then to 

 the next, and so on, making a complete circuit of the trunk as she descended, and 

 finally, when out of my sight, flew with but a low rustle of wings to the ground. For 

 forty minutes I saw or heard nothing more, and then the crackle of a twig set me on the 

 qui vive, and I soon saw her near the nest. A rough spruce twig had caught in her 

 breast plumage and snapped off, tweaking out a feather or two, as I discovered when 

 later I climbed the tree. Again she wrought silently at the nest, and again descended 

 her resinous stairway. Once more she returned, this time with a beakful of leaves, 

 which I could distinctly see, as they were so unlike the needles through which she 

 ascended. She soon went away as before, and I never saw her again, although I waited 

 until late afternoon, when my abused body would allow no further insult, and for very 

 agony I had to leave my shelter and roll about upon the turf outside. Once, having 

 thrown caution to the winds, I climbed the tree with some difficulty, for the needle- 

 armoured, stiff-twigged maze made anything but pleasant going. Knowing that the 

 wary bird would easily detect my clumsy trail of sap-bleeding footprints, I tied together 

 the entire nest, brought it down, and made a careful analysis of the structure. A glance 

 showed that it was not the work of the pheasant, but an old nest of some other bird ; 

 this disappointing fact being only too evident from the weather-worn character of the 

 well-woven substructure of sticks and bleached grass. The lining was as obviously of 

 very recent date ; indeed, the green leaves of oak and some unknown weeds were still 

 almost fresh and unwilted, while the twigs — a dozen or more with a strong aromatic 

 scent, were still sappy at the ends, for all had been freshly broken off, and none were 

 dead or dried. All had been plucked within forty-eight hours, as I satisfied myself by 

 actual comparison with leaves and twigs which I gathered one day and examined on 

 the following. This was the work of the Tragopan which I had been watching, 

 although she could not have brought all the twigs and leaves on the three trips when 

 under my observation. She must have begun work on the previous day. 



I now turned my attention to the nest proper. I found that the twigs and grass 

 were not nearly so bleached as the old dried stems about me on the ground, and traces 

 of green near the nodes of the grasses seemed to make certain that it was this year's 

 nest. Two small fragments of shell, which had sifted down into the matted lining, 

 might have been parts of the egg of a raven or crow, or of many another species ; it 

 was impossible to make certain. The general character of the nest was corvine— no 

 more could be said. 



One's thought goes back instantly to Captain Lantour's nest — a true nest, but on 

 the ground, and on the slender basis of these two nests we may theorize as to whether 

 Tragopans are acquiring or losing the trait of arboreal nidification. Notes on other 

 species in captivity show that the birds are pronouncedly arboreal, and will either refuse 

 altogether to lay, or will lay irregularly, or often an unusual number, unless they can 

 deposit their eggs in some elevated box or nest. 



One can readily see how many terrestrial dangers would be avoided by birds of 

 this size nesting in trees ; but, on the other hand, if they are in the habit of utilizing the 

 large stick nests built and already used by other birds, they are running considerably 

 more risk than if they built a nest themselves. The nest of which I have written was 



