136 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 
the other pheasants in the paddock that all had to be removed. The hen then made 
a rough hollow under a dense bush, lined only with the bent, dead grass stems which 
happened to be growing on the spot. Here at intervals of one and two days she laid 
six eggs, and on these she sat faithfully for twenty-four full days. This period of 
incubation lasted from July 21 to August r4. The cock never took his turn upon the 
nest, but was very faithful, fairly wearing a path in his circling guard duty several 
yards distant from the spot. I never saw him approach closely to the nest, but he 
was very pugnacious, and never failed to make a pretence of attacking any one who 
approached the place where his mate was sitting. 
The five young chicks which hatched, left the nest within a few hours after 
emerging from the shell, and kept very close to their mother, hardly leaving the shadow 
of her body for the next two days. As soon as the chicks had left the nest the cock 
joined his mate, and from this time onward they were constantly together. The cock 
took his full share in feeding the young birds, calling them to him and giving them 
small morsels as frequently as did the hen. Whenever they crowded under him, 
attempting to brood, however, he apparently did not understand what was expected 
of him, as he would walk slowly away, lifting his feet very high so as not to crush 
the little downy creatures. His attitude towards danger also changed with the sudden 
increase of his assiduity in caring for his offspring. When any one approached he 
slunk away, holding body and tail low, making himself as inconspicuous as possible. 
The chicks at such a time behaved much like young grouse or quail, separating at the 
first note of danger from the mother, pushing deep into the grass, or squatting flat 
as their little bodies would allow if no shelter was near. The hen pheasant presented 
a complete antithesis to these tactics. Instead of slinking off or of attempting to hide, 
she ruffled up every feather on her body, her wings were half spread and all a-tremble, 
her red eyes dilated and fairly blazed with righteous fury. Then with shrill squeaks— 
apparently too full of emotion to voice her feelings in any louder way—she would 
fairly hurl herself at the intruder, sometimes striking one headlong as high as the 
knees ; then, falling to the ground, she would cling with feet and claws to one’s shoes, 
wings spread and drawn around in a semi-circle, like an infuriated owl, pecking with 
all her might at shoes and ankles. She presented a picture of absolute fearlessness 
and mother fury. Pushed away with one foot, she returned at once with undiminished 
vigour, and not until one had beaten a retreat did she slowly and reluctantly return 
to where her young had implicitly obeyed her warning, remaining crouched and 
silent. 
In about a week the young birds were able to use their wings with considerable 
skill, and from this time on, when alarmed and given the danger signal, they flew off 
in various directions, radiating out on every side except that of approaching danger 
to the limits of their paddock before settling and crouching. In two or three weeks 
the hen accepted the occasional visits of human beings as a necessary, normal event, 
and the moment she ceased warning her brood, just so quickly did they, too, cease 
to show fear, and all became reasonably tame. The year following this, the same cock 
and hen bred again. After the first autumn moult the young birds are superficially 
hardly distinguishable in colour of body plumage from their parents. 
