156 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



stems one by one, to form a low tunnel, I pushed slowly and cautiously ahead. Never 

 have I been " closer to Nature " than on this stalk. My trail was more like that of a 

 snail or worm than of any vertebrate! Glints of light filtered through the green 

 ahead, and I saw that a low, perpendicular bank of earth barred my way on each side. 

 Then the forms of one or two birds appeared, and with a screen of leaves still inter- 

 vening, I watched what was probably the first wild Sclater's Impeyan ever seen by a 

 white man. A minute after I had reached my last position, one of the birds shook itself 

 with all its might, sending down a shower of dirt into my eyes, while a feather or two 

 floated off above me, down the hillside. 



An inch nearer, another leaf cleared away, and I saw that there was but one bird, 

 the appearance of the others being caused by several large mottled caladium leaves, 

 waving about just behind the pheasant. 



It was a splendid male, digging vigorously and almost continuously with its beak, 

 working gradually around in a circle, so that I saw in turn its breast, sides and back. 

 I watched it for five minutes, when it turned, without apparent cause, but not from 

 fright, and disappeared into the low, marshy tangle behind. 



As quick as I could lift my arm and pull up my gun from where it was dragging 

 behind me, I fired at the still moving stems, and listened for some hint of the effect. 

 Not a sound came forth. 



I clambered up to where the bird had stood, rushed into the underbrush, and 

 almost stepped upon the pheasant as it lay six feet from the opening. As I leaned 

 down, trembling with excitement, two living bombs burst from the ground a few feet 

 away — a p a i r f hens, or young males — and in the fraction of a second were out of 

 sight. 



On succeeding days, although I made inquiries everywhere, I could find no native 

 who had ever seen or could give a name to this bird. The three which I blundered 

 upon were doubtless strays from farther north, from somewhere in that mysterious land 

 where no white man may go at present and live. Had I a yellow skin, slanting eyes, 

 long hair and a knowledge of the twanging words which came to my ears each night 

 from my servants' camp-fire, I might have followed these birds northward. As it is, 

 strange people guard their haunts, neither Chinese nor Tibetans nor Kachins, but a 

 mingling of the blood of all three, jealous of their useless land, living their bestial 

 lives in filth and cold and squalor amid the howling winds of these heartbreaking 

 steeps. 



At any rate we must extend the range of this bird, and connect the Mishmi Hills 

 with the mountains of the Salween. The male which I secured was feeding on short, 

 crooked bits of succulent rootlets, and with these it had swallowed a surprising amount 

 of earth and other ddbris. 



DETAILED DESCRIPTION 



Adult Male.— Lores bare ; forehead and face sparsely feathered with tiny, oval, 

 green feathers. A dense, round clump of featherlets just at base of nostril. Top of 

 the head bluish green shot with purple, the feathers being strongly recurved forward, 

 ear-coverts with a stronger purplish sheen, but not curled. Back and sides of the neck 



