﻿i2 
  A 
  MONOGRAPH 
  OF 
  THE 
  PHEASANTS 
  

  

  white-throated 
  laughing 
  thrushes 
  may 
  fly 
  up 
  from 
  the 
  ground. 
  They 
  hiss 
  and 
  seeeep 
  ! 
  

   and 
  at 
  last 
  pour 
  forth 
  their 
  hysterical, 
  irritating 
  chorus 
  of 
  guffaws, 
  until 
  one 
  gladly 
  

   hastens 
  out 
  of 
  hearing. 
  When 
  a 
  pair 
  of 
  these 
  birds, 
  nest-building, 
  is 
  encountered, 
  they 
  

   utter 
  not 
  a 
  sound 
  as 
  they 
  fling 
  themselves 
  quickly 
  out 
  of 
  sight. 
  Another 
  common 
  

   ground-feeder 
  in 
  these 
  haunts 
  of 
  the 
  Koklass 
  is 
  the 
  great 
  Himalayan 
  grosbeak. 
  The 
  

   males 
  in 
  gay 
  yellow 
  and 
  black, 
  the 
  females 
  in 
  sombre 
  grey, 
  fly 
  up 
  from 
  their 
  feast 
  of 
  

   conifer-seeds, 
  and 
  then 
  from 
  the 
  tree-tops 
  comes 
  their 
  loud, 
  hollow 
  che-che-ult 
  1 
  

   Through 
  the 
  forest 
  aisles 
  there 
  flashes 
  now 
  and 
  then 
  the 
  scarlet 
  gleam 
  of 
  a 
  male 
  

   minivet, 
  and 
  in 
  a 
  momentary 
  cessation 
  of 
  his 
  lofty 
  fly-catching 
  we 
  hear 
  his 
  musical, 
  

   whistling 
  trill. 
  

  

  Until 
  one 
  sits 
  down 
  in 
  the 
  probable 
  path 
  of 
  Koklass 
  and 
  waits 
  patiently, 
  one 
  does 
  

   not 
  notice 
  the 
  strong 
  undertone 
  of 
  sound 
  — 
  the 
  hum 
  of 
  a 
  myriad 
  flying 
  things. 
  It 
  is 
  

   impossible 
  at 
  this 
  season 
  to 
  find 
  a 
  spot 
  at 
  midday 
  either 
  in 
  sunshine 
  or 
  shadow 
  free 
  

   from 
  insect 
  pests. 
  They 
  search 
  one's 
  face 
  and 
  eyes 
  with 
  fiendish 
  persistence. 
  Little 
  

   yellow 
  diptera 
  are 
  very 
  bad 
  biters 
  and 
  their 
  punctures 
  give 
  trouble 
  for 
  days. 
  Then 
  

   there 
  is 
  a 
  tiny 
  villain 
  whose 
  attack 
  you 
  do 
  not 
  notice 
  until 
  he 
  is 
  almost 
  ready 
  to 
  depart, 
  

   when 
  a 
  sudden 
  sharp 
  shooting 
  pain 
  may 
  make 
  you 
  flinch 
  at 
  a 
  critical 
  moment 
  of 
  

   observation, 
  perhaps 
  alarming 
  a 
  pheasant 
  whose 
  approach 
  you 
  have 
  long 
  awaited. 
  

   There 
  are 
  no 
  mosquitoes, 
  and 
  the 
  mornings 
  and 
  late 
  afternoons 
  among 
  the 
  deodars 
  are 
  

   perfect. 
  

  

  When 
  we 
  have 
  concealed 
  ourselves 
  amid 
  the 
  saxifrage 
  and 
  star-flowers 
  and 
  judged 
  

   our 
  position 
  well, 
  we 
  may 
  be 
  fortunate 
  enough 
  to 
  see 
  a 
  pair 
  of 
  dark 
  objects 
  some 
  

   distance 
  down 
  the 
  slope, 
  through 
  a 
  vista 
  of 
  trunks. 
  Resting 
  the 
  glasses 
  in 
  a 
  chink 
  of 
  

   branch 
  and 
  trunk 
  and 
  focussed 
  on 
  the 
  pair 
  of 
  Koklass, 
  we 
  settle 
  for 
  a 
  long 
  period 
  of 
  

   watching. 
  Every 
  movement 
  shows 
  how 
  wary 
  they 
  are. 
  Were 
  we 
  to 
  raise 
  but 
  a 
  finger 
  

   in 
  air 
  they 
  would 
  be 
  off 
  like 
  shots. 
  

  

  The 
  cock 
  scratches 
  with 
  one 
  foot, 
  and 
  with 
  a 
  low 
  chuckle 
  calls 
  his 
  mate. 
  They 
  

   feed 
  busily 
  for 
  a 
  few 
  minutes 
  and 
  then 
  a 
  fir-cone 
  falls 
  with 
  a 
  thud 
  near 
  them. 
  They 
  

   spring 
  two 
  feet 
  into 
  the 
  air, 
  but 
  recover 
  themselves 
  instantly, 
  so 
  keen 
  and 
  quick 
  is 
  

   their 
  discrimination 
  between 
  real 
  and 
  seeming 
  danger. 
  Later 
  a 
  faint 
  crash 
  reaches 
  our 
  

   ears 
  and 
  both 
  birds 
  stand 
  at 
  full 
  height 
  on 
  tiptoe, 
  their 
  half-raised 
  crest 
  making 
  them 
  

   the 
  very 
  personification 
  of 
  concentrated 
  attention. 
  Another 
  and 
  another 
  crash 
  and 
  

   swaying 
  of 
  branches 
  announce 
  the 
  approach 
  of 
  a 
  troop 
  of 
  langur 
  monkeys, 
  and 
  as 
  they 
  

   pass 
  close 
  on 
  one 
  side, 
  the 
  pheasants 
  stand 
  motionless 
  until 
  the 
  last 
  youngster 
  has 
  

   swung 
  himself 
  from 
  sight. 
  Then 
  the 
  birds 
  move 
  slowly 
  to 
  one 
  side 
  and 
  out 
  of 
  my 
  line 
  

   of 
  vision. 
  

  

  Ordinarily 
  the 
  Koklass 
  is 
  shy 
  and 
  rather 
  solitary, 
  in 
  the 
  sense 
  that 
  it 
  is 
  adverse 
  to 
  

   gathering 
  in 
  large 
  flocks 
  even 
  to 
  feed 
  like 
  the 
  impeyan. 
  On 
  the 
  other 
  hand, 
  it 
  is 
  

   pre-eminently 
  monogamous, 
  and 
  the 
  pairs 
  remain 
  together 
  throughout 
  the 
  year, 
  so 
  that 
  

   there 
  is 
  no 
  doubt 
  but 
  that 
  the 
  birds 
  pair 
  for 
  life, 
  which 
  unfortunately 
  in 
  the 
  majority 
  

   of 
  cases 
  means 
  probably 
  for 
  only 
  one 
  or 
  two 
  years. 
  

  

  In 
  the 
  cold 
  season, 
  when 
  concentrated 
  as 
  I 
  have 
  described, 
  numbers 
  of 
  old 
  birds 
  

   may 
  sometimes 
  be 
  flushed 
  within 
  a 
  short 
  distance 
  of 
  one 
  another, 
  but 
  even 
  here 
  there 
  

   is 
  obviously 
  no 
  true 
  flock 
  attraction, 
  the 
  birds 
  going 
  off 
  in 
  different 
  directions 
  and 
  

   seldom 
  giving 
  the 
  flock 
  call, 
  which 
  is 
  so 
  common 
  an 
  utterance 
  with 
  such 
  birds 
  as 
  blood 
  

  

  