36 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 
valley. From these a terrific burst of hail descended without warning. The foliage and 
moss were torn to shreds as by shot. The pain of the impact was so great that I 
crouched close between an out-jutting bit of rock and a sloping tree-trunk. Holding my 
hand out for a moment, it stung and pained as if lashed by a whip. In a very short 
time the pellets of ice were piled up three to five inches, and untold numbers of forest 
creatures must have perished miserably. The ferns about the old nest of the kaleege 
were lashed flat. Two nests, the one of a warbler and the other a flycatcher’s, which I 
had been watching, were literally beaten from their supports and their contents crushed. 
Every blossom was in shreds, not a leaf remained whole, and the forest, from the 
peace and warmth and life of the full flush of spring, took on the death-like aspect of 
winter. 
While the storm lasted the cold was intense and the downpour was intermittent ; 
first hail in sheets for several minutes, then blue sky and a momentary gleam of the sun 
through a rent in the swirling grey clouds; next a fierce downpour of rain, changing 
almost at once to the cruel ice. Such storms kill dogs, fowls, geese, cattle and even 
men, and the destruction of pheasants and their eggs and young must be enormous. 
Immediately after this terrific storm, a pair of dainty verditer flycatchers and a tiny 
white butterfly flew across the glade, showing that somewhere there were havens of 
safety where even the most delicate craft might weather out the gale. Owls and small 
martens are probably the worst enemies of the kaleege among the living inhabitants of 
the forests. . 
The natives say that the males are very pugnacious and fight fiercely during the 
season of courtship. Certain it is that the birds remain together throughout the year, 
apparently paired for life, and that the male stays in the immediate vicinity of the nest 
during incubation, and later takes his full share in finding food for, and defending 
the chicks. 
The nesting season varies with the altitude. Lower down, in the foot-hills, the 
eggs may be deposited as early as March, while mid-April is the usual season for the 
majority of the kaleege. Again, near the upper limits of the pheasants’ range, eggs 
have been found as late as the end of July. 
No nest worthy of the name is ever built. On the tea plantations the eggs are laid 
in clumps of grass at the foot of the tea-bushes, while in the forest itself a hollow is 
scratched, or the dead leaves and moss merely pressed down by the weight of the bird’s 
body, often under the shelter of a projecting rock, or, as in the case of the nest of which 
I have already written, hidden by ferns and close to a great fallen tree. 
I have known of five eggs which had been incubated for at least ten days, and which 
thus would seem to compose a full set, while ten appears to be the largest set recorded. 
Six to eight are by far the more usual numbers. Unusually fortunate covies including 
eight young have been observed, but two, three, or at the most four, are the more usual 
number of survivors of the nesting perils. 
The eggs vary considerably in shape, some being broader, more round, while other 
slender ones are more perfect ovals. In tint, too, there is very wide variation, from pale 
pinkish creamy, and very pale caf¢ au Jait to a very rich dark coffee colour. The tint 
appears to be quite constant in the eggs of the same individual, one pheasant having a 
whole nestful of pale eggs, while another will lay eggs invariably of a warm, darkish 
