WHITE-CRESTED KALEEGE 
Gennaeus albocristatus (Vigors) 
NAMES.—Specific: albocristatus, L. albus et cristatus, white-crested. English: White-crested Kaleege. 
French: Faisan a huppe blanche. German: Weisshaubenfasan. Native: Kalij or Kaleege (Kumaon and 
Garhwal); Kookera, Kala-Murgha, Meerghi-Kaleege (Hills north of Mussooree); Kaleysur (male) Kalaysee 
(female), (Pahari Hindi); Kullu, Mandi, Suket; Kolsa (Western Punjab). 
BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Long, hairy crest white ; upper parts and throat glossy steel-blue ; mantle and 
upper tail-coverts narrowly, lower back and rump broadly margined with white; fore-neck and breast dirty white, 
shading on the remaining under parts into whitish-brown lanceolate feathers. Female: Hairy crest brownish-grey ; 
plumage in general reddish-brown, brighter on the rump and under parts, the upper parts finely mottled with black 
and edged with grey ; wing-coverts and under parts edged with white ; under parts with white shafts. In general 
paler than the other Himalayan Kaleege, 
RANGE.—Lower and middle ranges of the Western Himalayas. 
LEE, BERD STINE ES EvAGaNGEsS 
Down from the Tibetan snow-peaks a chilly wind came roaring through the spruces. 
In its wake swirled a dense cloud of pearly-grey, dimming the foliage, obliterating the 
distant slopes. Then, peal after peal of thunder reverberated through the mountains. 
Between two rough-barked deodars I was crouched in my green umbrella tent on the 
watch for kaleege or koklass pheasants. As the wind howled past, the tree-trunks 
creaked and groaned, dead twigs hurtled down upon the canvas, and I hung tightly on to 
the pole to keep the tent from blowing bodily away. As the last echo of thunder died 
out, the loud call of a koklass pheasant came from far off among the deodars and below 
me a kaleege called. Then the storm passed quickly. The grey haze across the western 
valley, etched with long, sloping lines of rain, showed how closely I had escaped a 
drenching. A glow of light touched a rocky peak to the north, and with terrific speed 
the sunlight swept toward me, down to the tumbling stream and up again, bursting upon 
me with a glow of warmth which effaced every trace of chill from the air. 
Not as yet knowing the habits of the pheasants, I had sought to cover as wide a 
field as possible during my first day or two of watching. I had pitched my observation 
tent upon a low saddle, dropping away rather steeply on each side, and rounding upward 
across the valleys, with their long, dark slopes of spruce and oak. The hillsides were 
partly bare and grassy, partly covered with low, shrubby growth. The shrubs were 
bright with panicles of bell-shaped blossoms and the setting of green grass held here and 
there golden patches of buttercups, picked out with the white lace-work of saxifrage. 
At this season the pheasants were still courting; the titmice were still in the 
midst of housekeeping, but other young birds had already left their nests. Two such 
families—utterly unlike one another—showed themselves near my tent. Up the trunk 
of a spruce crept two bits of feathered bark, Himalayan tree-creepers, one quickly and 
searching every cranny, the other slowly, rather uncertainly. Not a sound did the young 
1f@) 
