RED JUNGLEFOWL 185 
development of this phenomenon, while at the same time I wish to give full credit to the 
bird for sheer bravery and extreme parental devotion. For while the action in itself may 
not be voluntary, yet when it has failed, and the bird, as I have seen in the case of 
many species, realizes that the danger is becoming acute, and she returns and actually 
buffets the assailant—this, it seems to me, rises to the level of voluntary initiative. 
The spasm has passed, and the bird, with all the strength and power in her body, strives 
to divert attack from her offspring. 
I have never observed even a trace of this simulation of disability on the part 
of domestic hens, so this must be a very recent acquisition in the Junglefowl, whereas 
we all know of a hen’s conscious bravery in the face of attack by hawk or dog. In 
domesticity this latter trait is evidently of value, while the other ruse, like the power of 
strong flight, is unnecessary, and hence has degenerated and been lost. 
We have seen that the distribution of the Red Junglefowl has been considerably 
increased through the agency of man. Swinhoe has given us an account of his 
_ finding the bird in the Island of Hainan. 
“T fully believed that Hainan would yield a pheasant of some kind, and I never 
ceased inquiring of the natives whether ‘ Hill-fowl’ (the usual expression for pheasants) 
were found among their woods. The reply was in the affirmative, and I eagerly 
looked out for them. Judge my disgust, then, when I discovered that the wonderful 
‘Hill-fowl’ was only a wretched Junglecock. Though greatly disappointed, in heart 
I was still pleased to make the acquaintance of a bird that I had not met before. 
On the 18th of February I was rambling in the early morning at Shuy-wei-sze 
(Central Hainan), and stepped through a hedge into a field, at the further end of 
which was growing a patch of sweet potatoes. A rustic who was with me pulled me 
by the sleeve and cried ‘Twa-kai’ (Hill-fowl). I turned, expecting of course to see 
a pheasant. The clodhopper was pointing at an ordinary-looking rooster standing in 
the middle of the field with body erect and tail decumbent. Seeing me take no 
notice, the native cried out again, ‘Shoot, it is a wild bird, and not a barn-door 
fowl.’ I looked again and saw the bird moving away behind a hedge. When I got 
in view of him again, he ran for the hedge with all speed. There was no waddle 
in his gait, and I then saw that it was a wild bird. I fired and ran up. The 
wounded bird flapped and tumbled about precisely as a cock does when its neck is 
broken and it is thrown down to die. My heart misgave me; I thought I had shot 
some poor peasant’s fowl; but I was wrong—every one I met told me that it was a 
genuine wild fowl, and on carefully examining it I found it to be so. Unfortunately 
neither its hackles nor its tail were fully developed. Its comb was small, and its 
spurs wart-like. Its iris was orange-yellow. Skin under the ear cream-white, purplish 
pink at its forward corner. Bill ochreous, brown on culmen. Legs brownish-grey, 
tinged with purple. Its. intestines measured 35 feet; and its stomach contained 
sweet potatoes, vetches, and stone-grits. Its flesh was juicy and delicious eating, and 
quite different in flavour from that of the Barn-door. Its festes were of an enormous 
size; so that there can be no doubt the bird was breeding. On the 27th of February 
I visited the same field again; and on the same spot where I first saw the cock, 
appeared the hen. Several natives were with me. They shouted, ‘H6 ho Taw-kai’ 
(look, look! Hill-bird); and at the noise the hen rushed into the hedge, and we tried 
VOL, II BB 
