134 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 
of intelligence, with no need for the head to turn, as would be necessary in ourselves 
or in such a pursuer as a civet cat, but so set by nature on opposite sides of the head 
that they took in almost full measure of the surrounding circle of three hundred and 
sixty degrees of possible danger. When I gave up expecting battles and courtship 
displays and other intimate doings of the lives of my well-armed but moulting 
pheasants, I gave close attention to such little details as I have mentioned above, and 
soon saw that there was a perceptible difference in the behaviour of the old and the 
young males. The latter were apparently full-grown in size, and as their moult was 
about over, they differed in general appearance hardly at all from their parent. Only 
the short spurs, and a few remaining juvenile feathers stamped them for what they 
were. But a more intensive study showed many traits which set them apart, although 
no signs of affection or of actual dependence were ever noticed. These young pheasants 
were far from being as much on the alert as the old bird. They had many moments 
of abstraction, of idly doing nothing, and although they invariably ended by shooting 
up the head and neck to full attention, yet the few seconds which preceded this would 
have quickly spelled death if such a method was persisted in after they began to shift 
for themselves. 
This observation led me to wonder if I could not distinguish between the females 
by some such mental field mark. So the next time I saw the birds I devoted myself 
to solving this point. I succeeded at the expense of much bodily suffering. To be 
able to get near the birds I crawled under one of the Dyak grave mattings, and bending 
it over in front of my face I had an ideal point of vantage. 
But I soon found that one may not lie quiescent for hours upon a Dyak’s grave 
with impunity. I had disturbed a populous city of ants—innocuous as to bites or stings, 
or I should not have been able to lie still for a moment—but afflicted with an inordinate 
curiosity as to the meaning of this strange intruder. They certainly left no portion 
of my clothing unexplored, and it took all the will-power I possessed to restrain myself 
and disregard the scrambling host. Then I realized that certain nerves in my body 
were going to sleep under the unaccustomed pressure, and it was not until I rose and 
shook the dirt from my person that I learned the fact that every centre of drowsy 
sensation had been a hungry leech who had feasted to repletion while my attention 
was distracted by the pheasants. But with all the discomforts of my afternoon’s vigil 
I felt well repaid for succeeding in my desire, and the pleasure of having penetrated 
ever so slightly into the mental life of these splendid birds soon eclipsed all 
remembrance of my small but active tormentors. The first time the birds approached 
I feared they would pass me some distance away, too far for careful watching, but 
luckily one of the young males pursued some flying insect in my direction, and then 
found a feast of plenty, and his vigorous efforts in scratching among the leaves attracted 
the attention of the remaining birds, and all were soon gathered in the same spot. 
I had an excellent chance of observing the two females, and within a minute’s time 
I had fully made up my mind which was the older—the probable other parent. Even 
she, however, did not quite equal the adult male in constant alertness. I fancy that 
this was not individual, but sexual, a phenomenon which I afterwards noticed more 
especially in the behaviour of the white-tailed pheasants (Lodcofhasis) in the face of 
danger. ‘The hen’s very protective plumage seems to demand less constant watchfulness. 
