li6 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



brakes, were seared by an early frost ! The air held the very essence of winter. A 

 faint sound out in the valley caught my ear, and a moment later a whistle of wings and 

 a chorus of shrill noi^s, peep-sweet ! peep! peeep ! came from a compact flock of sand- 

 pipers ; another suggestion that this was but a northern autumn day. Soon afterwards 

 a loose flock of wagtails alighted near by. The migrants from far to the north had 

 begun to arrive. 



But now a sudden, wild rush of wind brought a warm tropical torrent. A thatch 

 of living palm fronds overhead partly turned the hour's rain which then began, and my 

 ditch served a double purpose and kept my tiny enclosure almost dry. It was over, as 

 suddenly as it had commenced. The sun, now hidden from my direct view by the wall 

 of the opposite slope, came forth and flooded the upper jungle and the low-lying rain 

 clouds, and not ten yards away a beautiful long-billed partridge stepped daintily out of 

 the ferns and shook the moisture from its feathers. Such wonderful tints as it bears 

 on its back — the hue of every damp twig and bit of moss and sodden leaf — all blended 

 harmoniously, excelling even our woodcock and whip-poor-will, and equalled only by 

 the great podargus goatsucker. Twice or thrice it called, a sweet, long-drawn whistle, 

 which died in the mists of the lower valley, and then the bird went on down the slope. 



A family of white-throated, crested bulbuls found my tent and from all sides 

 shrieked their surprise and wrath, and almost made me give up my vigil in disgust. 

 Two days had already passed and I had caught not a glimpse of a pheasant, so I 

 waited a few minutes longer for the birds to tire and go. They soon concluded that 

 my shelter was only a new sort of vegetable growth and they too went on. 



When dusk had begun to close down my reward came. A rustle of the tall ferns 

 behind was the only warning and forth there shot, running at full speed, two Argus 

 Pheasants, both females. At the first glimpse of them, in my excitement, I forgot all 

 caution and crawled half-way out of the tent opening, watching them breathlessly. 

 They came straight on, silent except for the swish of leaves against their breasts, wings 

 held partly raised, heads and necks low and stretched far out. This I saw at a glance. 

 Then the first turned at right angles, breaking her momentum with a single, full sweep 

 of one of her wings and vanished into the dark depths of the great tree-ferns. The 

 second female ran on until she reached the first outjutting boulder, and after a moment 

 of splendidly poised indecision she sprang into the air. Two or three wing-beats were 

 all that were necessary to give her steadiness and momentum, and then on down-curved 

 pinions she scaled out of sight into a dense blue cloud of mist hanging over the valley. 

 Just as I have seen a tiny bob-white scale over a Virginia field, just as a tragopan leaps 

 from a snowy Himalayan ridge, so this great pheasant rocketed through the tropical air 

 to safety far below. 



Another loud rustling in the undergrowth ! I could even see the twigs and leaves 

 moving. But nothing came forth, and though I ran at full speed straight to where 

 I had heard and seen the commotion, the jungle was silent. What the pursuer was I 

 never knew, but it was a dangerous foe indeed which thus could frighten such wary 

 birds to seek safety in the open. They must have been set upon suddenly, a few yards 

 from where they appeared to me. I waited until after dark, but heard nothing. Then, 

 when the purple night had closed down, from across the valley, muffled by the dense 

 forest and the padding of mist, came the loud call of the male Argus, standing perhaps 



