BORNEAN ARGUS PHEASANT 



Argiisianns grayi (Elliot) 



Names. — Specific: grayi, in honour of George Robert Gray, 1808-1872, the eminent British ornithologist, 

 author of the " Genera of Birds," and for many years curator of birds in the British Museum. Engh'sh : Bornean 

 or Gray's Argus Pheasant. Native : Kwe (Dutch Borneo) ; Ruai moo-bough, adult male, ruai lal-lung, immature 

 male (Sarawak). 



Type.— Locality : Borneo. Describer: D. G. Elliot. Place of Description: Ibis, 1865, p. 423. Location 

 of Type : British Museum. 



Brief Description.— Male ; Similar to the Malayan Argus, but with the buff of the mantle and wing- 

 coverts replaced with pure white ; the neck and upper breast is bright rusty red with yellowish shaft-stripes, instead 

 of dull chestnut ; there is also much more white in the under plumage. Female ; The neck is bright rusty red 

 instead of chestnut ; the under parts are marked with sandy-brown, with much less rufous. 



Range. — Interior of Borneo. 



THE BIRD IN ITS HAUNTS 



The first glimpse I had of an adult male Argus Pheasant was the only time I ever 

 saw the bird away from its dancing-place. I had tramped all day through the jungle 

 and had located what I thought was an old arena on a hillock, only fifty yards from the 

 bank of the Mujong River. In late afternoon I swam in the river, and then, alone in my 

 little native craft, drifted down stream toward the great war canoe which was my present 

 home. When within a few bends of it, I drew myself by the overhanging branches 

 close to one bank and watched the day die over the brown Bornean stream. 



The sun was hidden in a blaze of yellow and gold clouds before it sank, so this 

 gave a long twilight, an unusual thing in the tropics. Then an afterglow tinted the 

 eastern clouds violet and pale wine colour. The two banks of the river became darker, 

 duskier green, and finally all but the sky-mirrored outermost leaves changed to black. 

 The sky was pale blue ; the muddy water a nameless, beautiful brown. The banks had 

 been lifeless much of the day, the jungle folk keeping to the inner forests. Now, how- 

 ever, in the cool of early evening, birds' voices were heard. Small flocks of fruit 

 pigeons dashed over the trees. Large mynas perched on the few isolated tall trees, and 

 now and then great doves with white breasts swung swiftly across the river. In a black 

 concavity of the pale clayey bank a lighter spot appeared, framed by bushes. My 

 glasses showed a wild boar, fore-feet stamping, tushes gnashing and twisted tail 

 flicking. Had he not been against the blackest shadow he would have been invisible, 

 as he was coated with the mud of the banks. The flies gave him no peace, and he soon 

 turned and climbed awkwardly up into the dark jungle behind. Now a flying fox 

 appeared, flapping and soaring by turns like a pelican, and then a score of these giant 

 bats came in sight, high in air, all headed for some favourite fruit tree. 



As the mynas flew from their tree to some distant roost, the bats swung up to the 

 fruit and enveloped it like feeding starfish, swinging around head downward and eating 

 away with all their might. 



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