78 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



a large fallen tree. For I could not stand for long in one spot, on account of the 

 leeches. These little fiends were legion, and no subtle binding of tight puttees served 

 to keep them out. 



Once when I knew that a pheasant was somewhere near by, I crouched waiting 

 among the undergrowth. In five minutes, although not a breath of air stirred, yet 

 every leaf near me was a-quiver. Hundreds upon hundreds of the tiny thread-like 

 forms were coming toward me from all directions. A score were upon my shoes ; I 

 could feel the tremor of many looping along the brim of my topee. One began to feel 

 for a hold on my neck. Finally, nature could stand it no longer, and I dashed to 

 the nearest log and freed myself from as many as possible. Several always succeeded 

 in reaching their goal, and day after day I would return with shoes and stockings 

 soaked with blood. These birds were indeed the real blood pheasants. 



While I waited for the birds which I knew came daily to scratch and feed near the 

 banks of a small stream, I watched one of the leeches. From my puttee I flicked it 

 upon the log, as it happened, to windward of me. Instantly it stood straight upright — 

 a sinister, mottled form like no other living creature I have ever seen. Bending down 

 I blew gently toward it. Like a flash the sensitive bulb which does duty as a head 

 began to quiver, and once on the right scent it began cautiously to loop in my direction. 

 Every loop brought the scent to it stronger ; faster and faster it came until it seemed 

 almost to circle over the surface of the log. It reached me, and I stood upon it with 

 my full weight, but, tough as a bag of leather, it rolled out unhurt. Then a scurry of 

 squirrels distracted my attention and I left the log. 



Besides leeches, this pheasant is guarded from intruders by noiseless mosquitoes 

 and pestiferous sand-flies, which make continued quiet watching very arduous and at 

 times impossible. 



But after a long, silent walk, with no pheasant or other bird or beast to hold my 

 interest, a sunny glade was sometimes encountered and a sudden burst of song and 

 a crowd of jungle creatures was my reward. 



One such windfall which, I remember, was concealed until the last moment by a 

 thick tangle of low palms, so that my entrance was made suddenly, without caution. I 

 was disappointed to see two Peacock Pheasants running swiftly toward shelter. Had 

 I come quietly upon them I might have seen much of interest, for they appeared to have 

 been fighting. Many feathers were scattered about a clearing where ground ginger was 

 in full bloom, and there were even a few drops of blood, although, from the swift escape 

 of the birds, I judged that little harm had been done. 



Finding a comparatively leechless spot among the low palms I waited and 

 watched. 



The beauty of the glade was a bee-eater, green as the leaves themselves, except for a 

 wonderful frontal cap of lilac and head and breast of scarlet. A great squirrel — gaudy 

 as a butterfly in white, black, maroon and bufl", crashed through the branches from tree to 

 tree — and then the leeches found me. But I was not going to give up yet, so I crouched 

 on my heels, native fashion, and marked out a dead line, or rather dead circle. Every 

 leech which crossed that mark was dropped into a bottle of alcohol for a leech-desiring 

 scientific friend who had never had his enthusiasm dampened by a study from the life I 

 The bee-eater swooped to a low perch and wiped his beak on a twig, when something 



