172 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



Eared-pheasants in the distance, which I was watching through my glass, saw the 

 bird of prey long before I did and simultaneously squatted flat, showing their trust in 

 their brown, dead grass coloration. As the eagle worked slowly away, they gained 

 confidence and, still with bent legs and lowered head and tails, they crept into the 

 nearest scrub and did not emerge until the dreaded one had disappeared. I was 

 surprised, as I had not thought that such large, sturdy birds going in flocks would show 

 such spontaneous fear. But those fierce northern wolves of the air — the gyrfalcons, and 

 these great sea eagles are very evidently foes to be guarded against — enemies of the 

 most dangerous character. 



There is no doubt that the senses of sight and hearing are of equal importance to 

 these pheasants — each becoming of preponderating value according to whether the 

 birds are in the open or among the low, dense, scrubby undergrowth. Then the 

 association with the musk deer is another asset — the addition of the sense of smell, 

 which in birds is insignificant and defective in comparison with the two senses 

 mentioned above. 



The mode of escape of the Brown Eared-pheasant is most characteristic. I did not 

 have the opportunity of seeing the birds attempt to evade the attack of a four-footed 

 enemy, and the crouching at sight of the bird of prey would of course be used only in 

 the case of similar aerial dangers. When I came suddenly upon a flock of these birds 

 the result was always the same and, I take it, is that which occurs in the case of an 

 attacking quadruped. The birds would usually be scattered irregularly over the rocky 

 or grassy slope on the instant of my coming into view, but while there was never any 

 alarm note uttered, every eye would seem to spy me at the same moment, and every 

 bird would turn like a flash and, with a most surprising burst of speed, run uphill. 

 Even when I came upon them from above, they merely ran along the slope for a short 

 distance and then turned upward. At the rate they go, threading the dense thickets 

 and dodging around the boulders, a fox or any such animal would find it no easy 

 matter to catch one. We all know how swiftly a common pheasant can cover the 

 ground, head and tail raised, legs moving so rapidly that they fairly make a blur of 

 motion, and yet an Eared-pheasant could readily outrun the other species. 



If I stood still for a while the birds would reach the summit with unabated speed 

 and then, as I found by running swiftly after them, they would continue their cursorial 

 flight down the opposite side, their brown forms and tossing tail plumes appearing for 

 an instant here and there among the irregularities of the slope. But if I at once dashed 

 in pursuit, and, although left far behind, yet showed them that I apparently intended to 

 run them down, the sight which met my eyes when I pantingly reached the summit 

 was wholly different. Every bird took off from the highest point, sprang into the air 

 and began a long, scaling flight into the valley far below, or, if this was of a narrow, 

 gorge-like formation, they aimed for the opposite slope. This flight was almost 

 motionless as a rule, but now and then a bird which had not had sufficient initial 

 impetus would begin to flap, and at once I realized what really poor fliers are these 

 Eared-pheasants. Their wing-beats were laborious and irregular, they swung from 

 side to side like an aeroplane without sufficient headway, and in no case was their 

 flight prolonged beyond two hundred yards or thereabouts, while very often the birds 

 came down within twenty or thirty yards, either taking a fresh start like a flying fish, 



