PHOTOGRAVURE 18 
WHERE HORSFIELD’S KALEEGE MAKES ITS HOME 
Tuersr pheasants wander in families or small companies through the dense jungles, coming now and 
then upon beautiful streams, flowing slowly and quietly around the roots of great trees, or pouring in a 
headlong cascade over a ledge of rocks. Here the birds slake their thirst and then pass on again into 
the forest. I once watched a pair of birds scratching and pecking on a hillside among green begonias 
and jack-in-the-pulpits, making the leaves and twigs fly in all directions. The sound could be heard for 
many yards, but the vigilance of the birds never relaxed, and at the slightest suspicion of danger they 
were off like two meteors. 
