﻿io 
  A 
  MONOGRAPH 
  OF 
  THE 
  PHEASANTS 
  

  

  enacted 
  in 
  the 
  gloom 
  of 
  the 
  forest 
  ; 
  the 
  murderous 
  pursuit 
  of 
  the 
  marten 
  ; 
  the 
  awkward 
  

   attempt 
  of 
  the 
  young 
  flying 
  squirrel 
  to 
  sail 
  to 
  another 
  tree 
  ; 
  the 
  daring 
  but 
  unsuccessful 
  

   leap 
  of 
  the 
  marten. 
  Then 
  the 
  mother 
  coming, 
  not 
  to 
  the 
  rescue, 
  for 
  these 
  gentle 
  

   creatures 
  have 
  no 
  weapons 
  of 
  offence, 
  but 
  at 
  least, 
  relying 
  on 
  her 
  activity, 
  to 
  scream 
  her 
  

   fury 
  at 
  the 
  terrible 
  pursuer. 
  Her 
  flight 
  had 
  been 
  made 
  between 
  two 
  trees 
  at 
  least 
  a 
  

   hundred 
  feet 
  apart. 
  Passing 
  against 
  the 
  stars 
  I 
  had 
  seen 
  her 
  skilful 
  twist 
  and 
  break 
  as 
  

   she 
  steered 
  unerringly 
  for 
  the 
  trunk 
  ahead. 
  

  

  Such 
  was 
  my 
  first 
  meeting 
  with 
  the 
  Koklass 
  Pheasant, 
  although 
  at 
  the 
  time, 
  in 
  the 
  

   exciting 
  onrush 
  of 
  the 
  other 
  creatures, 
  the 
  flight 
  of 
  the 
  birds 
  was 
  momentarily 
  forgotten. 
  

  

  On 
  succeeding 
  days 
  I 
  had 
  many 
  more 
  chances 
  of 
  studying 
  these 
  pheasants, 
  at 
  times 
  

   keeping 
  them 
  under 
  observation 
  for 
  an 
  hour, 
  but 
  though 
  such 
  opportunities 
  yielded 
  

   manyfold 
  more 
  actual 
  facts 
  of 
  their 
  life 
  history, 
  yet 
  never 
  did 
  I 
  feel 
  a 
  more 
  intimate 
  

   appreciation 
  of 
  the 
  terrible 
  dangers 
  with 
  which 
  these 
  and 
  all 
  the 
  game-birds 
  have 
  to 
  

   contend. 
  Fast 
  asleep 
  on 
  a 
  high 
  fir 
  branch, 
  amid 
  the 
  quiet 
  in 
  the 
  dead 
  of 
  night, 
  think 
  of 
  

   being 
  stealthily 
  approached 
  by 
  such 
  a 
  terrible 
  enemy 
  as 
  a 
  pine 
  marten 
  — 
  a 
  weasel 
  many 
  

   times 
  exaggerated 
  in 
  strength 
  if 
  not 
  in 
  cruelty 
  and 
  cunning. 
  Well 
  is 
  it 
  for 
  birds 
  that 
  

   nature 
  has 
  denied 
  them 
  the 
  scent 
  glands 
  which 
  makes 
  it 
  possible 
  for 
  beasts 
  of 
  prey 
  to 
  

   stalk 
  their 
  furry 
  victims. 
  How 
  much 
  more 
  hopeless 
  had 
  the 
  marten 
  come 
  upon 
  the 
  

   roosting 
  pheasants 
  in 
  its 
  wanderings 
  than 
  the 
  more 
  or 
  less 
  uncertain 
  pursuit 
  of 
  the 
  

   nocturnal, 
  volant 
  squirrels. 
  

  

  When 
  all 
  had 
  become 
  quiet 
  again 
  in 
  the 
  deodar 
  forest, 
  the 
  dawn 
  for 
  a 
  long 
  time 
  

   seemed 
  stationary 
  — 
  only 
  the 
  ghostly, 
  eerie 
  comet-light 
  sifting 
  in 
  and 
  around 
  the 
  trees. 
  

   I 
  crouched 
  down, 
  with 
  my 
  back 
  to 
  the 
  base 
  of 
  a 
  giant 
  spruce, 
  and 
  watched 
  and 
  listened. 
  

   Unless, 
  from 
  such 
  a 
  position, 
  one 
  has 
  observed 
  the 
  tiny 
  moth 
  millers 
  in 
  their 
  nocturnal 
  

   life, 
  it 
  is 
  impossible 
  to 
  realize 
  how 
  different 
  it 
  is 
  from 
  their 
  diurnal 
  life 
  during 
  the 
  

   hours 
  of 
  sunlight. 
  In 
  the 
  day, 
  if 
  we 
  see 
  them 
  at 
  all, 
  it 
  is 
  only 
  a 
  glimpse 
  as 
  they 
  scuttle 
  

   beneath 
  a 
  leaf 
  or 
  into 
  a 
  crevice. 
  Now 
  a 
  score 
  or 
  more 
  flew 
  about 
  me, 
  their 
  wings 
  

   humming 
  loudly 
  as 
  they 
  passed 
  my 
  ear. 
  I 
  thought 
  at 
  first 
  large 
  beetles 
  were 
  flying 
  

   about, 
  but 
  when 
  a 
  beetle 
  really 
  appeared 
  the 
  metallic 
  twang 
  of 
  his 
  bass-viol 
  flight 
  

   revealed 
  the 
  difference 
  at 
  once. 
  The 
  millers 
  pursued 
  each 
  other, 
  and 
  flitted 
  in 
  and 
  out 
  

   among 
  the 
  twigs 
  like 
  the 
  ghosts 
  of 
  butterflies. 
  Now 
  and 
  then 
  they 
  alighted 
  on 
  the 
  dead 
  

   leaves 
  and 
  made 
  remarkably 
  loud 
  rustlings 
  as 
  they 
  walked 
  about. 
  At 
  five 
  o'clock 
  the 
  

   first 
  buzz 
  of 
  a 
  fly 
  was 
  heard 
  ; 
  utterly 
  unlike 
  the 
  subdued 
  hummings 
  of 
  the 
  nocturnal 
  

   creatures 
  ; 
  and 
  at 
  this 
  tiny 
  trumpet 
  of 
  daybreak, 
  three 
  or 
  four 
  species 
  of 
  birds 
  broke 
  into 
  

   song, 
  led 
  by 
  the 
  double-phrase 
  ballad 
  of 
  a 
  tiny 
  green 
  warbler. 
  

  

  A 
  Koklass 
  Pheasant 
  crowed 
  from 
  far 
  up 
  the 
  mountainside, 
  and 
  two 
  white-crested 
  

   kaleege 
  began 
  to 
  challenge 
  one 
  another 
  below 
  me. 
  Then 
  a 
  chukor 
  joined 
  in, 
  calling 
  

   twice. 
  The 
  comet 
  vanished 
  ; 
  the 
  East 
  became 
  a 
  blaze 
  of 
  glory, 
  blue 
  and 
  gold 
  streaming 
  

   over 
  the 
  mountains 
  of 
  Kashmir 
  — 
  and 
  my 
  first 
  night 
  with 
  the 
  Koklass 
  was 
  at 
  an 
  end. 
  

  

  GENERAL 
  DISTRIBUTION 
  

  

  The 
  centre 
  of 
  distribution 
  of 
  the 
  Common 
  Koklass 
  Pheasant 
  is 
  Garhwal. 
  Here 
  the 
  

   palest 
  specimens 
  seem 
  to 
  be 
  found 
  in 
  greater 
  abundance. 
  Eastward 
  it 
  keeps 
  more 
  or 
  

   less 
  within 
  subspecific 
  descriptive 
  bounds, 
  until, 
  about 
  the 
  Kumaon-Nepal 
  frontier, 
  it 
  

  

  