HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 133 



RELATION TO MAN 



A bird of so striking an appearance as the Impeyan Pheasant could not fail to 

 impress strongly the human inhabitants of its native haunts. The most pleasant phase 

 of all its relations with mankind is the legends and stories which have arisen in con- 

 nection with its habits or its wonderful plumage. One, which belies the apparent 

 stupidity of this bird, tells how the Kalchuniya and the Monal or Impeyan disputed for 

 many, many hundreds of years as to what time the sun rose. The Kalchuniya, who lived 

 in deep, dark valleys, said the sun appeared first upon the lower hills, while the Monal, 

 on the contrary, claimed that it shone first on the highest mountains. Now these two 

 birds were the earliest risers of all in this region, and they would entrust the settling 

 of the dispute to no one, so they agreed to keep watch on a certain night, and whoever 

 first saw the sun should inform the other and announce his victory. The Kalchuniya 

 flew off, and was soon lost among the dark foliage of the lower hills, where he perched 

 and began his long night's vigil. The Monal, as was his custom, flew upward and 

 perched for the night upon a lofty summit, ruffled his plumage, placed his head between 

 his wings and slept. The night passed, and at earliest dawn the first rays of the morn- 

 ing sun awakened the Monal, who at once flew far down into the valley which was still 

 wrapped in darkness, where he found his friend the Kalchuniya in deep slumber. The 

 Monal awoke his rival, and won. It will be observed even to-day that the Kalchuniya 

 does not run like other birds, but hops as if it had lost its feet, showing that when the 

 Monal awoke it, hundreds of years ago, it received some injury. The moral of this tale 

 is as plain as it is uncommendable ; the victory of the crafty sluggard over his zealous 

 but scatter-brained rival. 



To the millinery hunter, what the egret is to America, and the bird of paradise 

 to New Guinea, the Impeyan Pheasant is to India — the most coveted of all plumages. 

 There is a great tendency to blame the native hunter for the decrease of this and other 

 pheasants, and from what I have personally seen in many parts of the Himalayas there 

 is no question but that the Garhwalese and Nepalese hillman has wrought havoc among 

 the birds, but he is by no means the sole cause. As long ago as 1879 we read that 

 "The great demand for the brilliant skins of the Moonal that has existed for many 

 years has led to their almost total extermination in some parts of the hills, as the 

 native shikaris shoot and snare for the pot as well as for skins, and kill as many 

 females as males. On the other hand, though for nearly thirty years my friend 

 Mr. Wilson has yearly sent home from 1,000 to 1,500 skins of this species and the 

 Tragopan, there are still in the woods whence they were obtained as many as, if not 

 more than, when he first entered them, simply because he has rigidly preserved females 

 and nests, and (as amongst English Pheasants) one cock suffices for several hens." 

 Ignoring the uncertainty of the last statement, it is rather absurd to think of a single 

 man "preserving" females and nests in the Himalayas in the years 1850 to 1880, 

 when the British Government, despite most efficient laws and worthy efforts, is 

 unable to protect the birds of these wild regions to-day. The statement that after 

 thirty to forty-five thousand cock Impeyans were shot or snared, as many or more 

 than the original quota remained could only emanate from the mind of a professional 

 feather hunter, and Hume should not be blamed for more than the mere repetition 



