28 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



dripping mass of short bamboo which partly hid a sunny bank of pebbles. Scratching 

 among these was the object of our search— a male Lady Amherst Pheasant in all its glory 

 of ruff and body plumage. The scarlet side-feathers shone like shafts of rubies and its 

 eyes, matching its cape, gleamed with the very essence of the wilderness. Among the 

 shadows of the overhanging bamboos we made out a hen pheasant. It was remarkable 

 to see the large size of some of the pebbles which these birds overturned with their 

 vigorous scratching. Now and then a stone larger than an egg would stick tight in the 

 damp sand and the birds' toes would slip smoothly over it, but at last it would give, and 

 more by prying than scratching, the pheasant would roll it over. 



Then both would search eagerly for some kind of food, flicking the damp sand aside 

 and snatching at what they found. This source of food proved to be almost entirely 

 earwigs and spiders of various species. From under stones and bark I collected almost 

 forty species of the former insects, many of them new to science, and in the crops of two 

 male Amhersts I found the following : 



(rt:)— Spiders (3 Drossodes ignobilis Petrun., 2 Dipoena tristis Petrun., and 2 Pholodromus tahupiimensis 



Petrun., all new species) ; earwigs. 

 (^)— A mass of earwigs of five or six species, mostly immature, all pebble-haunting species ; several spiders 



and small beetles ; fifteen bamboo sprouts ; several pieces of fern fronds. 



This pair of birds — the first we had seen — were very attentive to each other, and 

 when either had uncovered an unusually attractive supply the other was called with a 

 low, subdued chuckle. This was not surprising on the part of the cock, but to hear the 

 hen summon her mate when several feet away, was an exhibition of feminine altruism 

 which is seldom seen in the bird world. They were so busily engaged in feeding that 

 although every now and then the cock would stand on very tiptoe and scan the whole 

 horizon, yet by keeping absolutely motionless we escaped discovery, thanks chiefly to 

 the slowly waving blades of bamboo which shielded us. The hen trusted to her mate, 

 and seldom gave even a hasty glance around. 



They were remarkably persistent in their search for food, and during a space of ten 

 minutes did not once leave the two square yards of pebbled promontory which extended 

 into the rushing waters. 



The only visitors during our watch of the pheasants were a band of titmice, and once 

 the dipper flew past and perched for a moment near the white-caped Amherst. Hardly 

 had it balanced on the slippery moss when it darted toward the pebble beach, snatched an 

 earwig or some similar morsel in the very face of the cock, and was off again as the larger 

 bird made a dash at the intruder. 



The pheasants now slowly worked their way around a large boulder marking a turn 

 of the stream, and indeed it was to the eddying swirl of waters which this boulder turned 

 aside that the pebble beach owed its existence. The birds waded in the shallows and 

 the long, drooping tail of the male Amherst trailed in the water. We crept cautiously 

 after them, but they had vanished into the bamboo tangle. 



Nothing spectacular or unusual was vouchsafed us in this first glimpse of these 

 beautiful birds, but the very sight of them repaid us for all the hard marching and 

 toilsome climbs, the torrid heat of midday and the icy winds which at night searched 

 out every corner of our tent and sleeping-bags — all of which we had to experience to 

 win our way to the home of the Amherst Pheasant. 



