194 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS 



striking distance. Other observers besides myself have noticed this, and have recorded 

 the fact that the Pahang sand-bars form a favourite haunt of these birds. On the east 

 coast of the Peninsula they prefer park-like country, dry if possible, or grassy land with 

 scattered clumps of trees. 



I found such a country when I crossed the river and stepped ashore after the brief 

 vision of the five Peafowl in early morning. Every cloud had vanished, and Bukit 

 Singum stood sharply silhouetted against the blue Malasian sky. Beyond the fringe of 

 river jungle the region showed flat and open, a fifty-acre expanse covered with grass or 

 small dense thickets of vetches and melastoma. A few yards from the river I flushed 

 four birds which flew over the low vegetation and on into thick jungle. A single twig 

 cracked and the quartette rose with a rush calling, Wak ! wak I ivak I wak 1 Their 

 loud cries were answered in the distance by a pair of red junglefowl. Eight massive 

 dead trees lifted their bare trunks and scraggly limbs high above all the jungle, and after 

 the alarm seven of these held each a single Peafowl, while three perched on the eighth. 

 No protective coloration for these birds ! Their green and variegated plumage, 

 according to human ideas, might merge perfectly with the jungle foliage. But they 

 themselves had apparently little faith in such static tactics. And in this rather thinly 

 wooded country I realized that only a subterranean creature could successfully run the 

 gauntlet of those score of piercing eyes and come within striking distance of the trees of 

 refuge. Two of the birds were at such a distance that they appeared as mere dots on the 

 limbs, but my glasses showed them with heads turned in my direction, watching me 

 with more than telescopic vision. 



After watching them for some time I shot several small birds which I desired, and 

 at each muffled report of the insertion barrel, the loud IVaaaaa-aak ! went up from 

 each tree, uttered in a musical, quavering tone. Then I returned to the house-boat and, 

 armed only with glasses, began a stalk around the border of the open area. I found 

 a dense dwarf palm growth from which I could see four of the trees, while a gentle 

 breeze which constantly moved the fronds prevented their discovery of me. Three of 

 the Peacocks had full-length sweeping trains, and within a half-hour all had descended 

 to the ground, the great feathers undulating with the utmost grace as the birds slanted 

 swiftly to earth. Several foregathered a hundred yards away, and I crept slowly 

 toward them. Here, as elsewhere, the home of the Peafowl was essentially a dove 

 country — half-open grassland, surrounded by the dense growth of bamboo and jungle 

 tangle through which I was making my way. Here and there buffaloes had driven a 

 maze of tunnel paths and trodden the crackling leaves to powder, making easy stalking. 

 Every few yards from the heart of old buffalo sign there shone the intensely scarlet 

 terrestrial blossoms of the ground ginger {Hornstedtia metriochihis), gleaming from the 

 black mould like huge jewels — leafless blossoms of glowing pigment. 



My quest this particular day was futile, the birds were too much on the alert, and 

 a wretched little babbler set up a screeching alarm just as I had settled into a good point 

 of vantage in an ancient buffalo wallow, and the Peafowl did not stand upon the order 

 of their going. 



Future stalks were more productive. The easiest method of observation was to 

 locate a favourite drinking-place by tracks and sign on some gravel or sand-bar where 

 the river was narrow, and then take up a good point of view across the stream. Here 



