﻿CHEER 
  PHEASANT 
  61 
  

  

  Wilson 
  has 
  well 
  described 
  the 
  morning 
  and 
  evening 
  call 
  of 
  the 
  Cheer, 
  although 
  

   when 
  the 
  notes 
  are 
  uttered 
  hastily 
  and 
  run 
  together 
  they 
  strike 
  the 
  ear 
  as 
  a 
  sort 
  of 
  

   curious 
  tremulous 
  or 
  querulous 
  squeal, 
  very 
  penetrating 
  and 
  characteristic. 
  It 
  is 
  

   from 
  the 
  sound 
  of 
  the 
  separate 
  notes, 
  which 
  are 
  often 
  given 
  in 
  slow 
  succession 
  

   or 
  even 
  singly, 
  that 
  the 
  native 
  name 
  of 
  the 
  bird 
  is 
  derived, 
  the 
  hill-tribes 
  calling 
  it 
  

   Cher, 
  pronounced 
  to 
  rhyme 
  with 
  the 
  French 
  mere. 
  The 
  wild, 
  frantic 
  vocal 
  outburst 
  

   which 
  is 
  heard 
  when 
  the 
  birds 
  are 
  suddenly 
  flushed 
  cannot 
  better 
  be 
  described 
  than 
  

   a 
  series 
  of 
  screeching 
  chuckles. 
  Observing 
  the 
  birds, 
  as 
  I 
  did 
  many 
  times, 
  while 
  they 
  

   were 
  wholly 
  undisturbed, 
  I 
  was 
  able 
  to 
  hear 
  something 
  of 
  their 
  more 
  conversational 
  

   utterances. 
  The 
  content 
  note 
  of 
  the 
  hen, 
  and 
  occasionally 
  of 
  the 
  male 
  as 
  well, 
  is 
  a 
  low, 
  

   sleepy 
  waaaaaaak, 
  waak, 
  wank, 
  exactly 
  like 
  the 
  similar 
  utterance 
  of 
  a 
  domestic 
  fowl 
  

   when 
  she 
  is 
  searching 
  idly 
  for 
  food. 
  When 
  a 
  pair 
  of 
  Cheer 
  were 
  digging 
  side 
  by 
  side 
  

   they 
  mumbled 
  inarticulately 
  to 
  themselves 
  now 
  and 
  then, 
  while 
  a 
  sharp 
  tuk 
  ! 
  uttered 
  

   almost 
  involuntarily, 
  would 
  bring 
  the 
  other 
  bird 
  at 
  once 
  to 
  full 
  attention. 
  If 
  suspicion 
  

   of 
  danger 
  then 
  increased, 
  the 
  cock 
  might 
  leap 
  up 
  to 
  the 
  nearest 
  mound 
  of 
  turf 
  and 
  utter 
  

   the 
  tuk 
  ! 
  tuk 
  ! 
  tuk 
  ! 
  twenty 
  or 
  thirty 
  times, 
  his 
  whole 
  body 
  twitching 
  at 
  each 
  note 
  

   with 
  the 
  effort 
  of 
  utterance. 
  When 
  approached 
  in 
  captivity 
  the 
  Cheer, 
  if 
  at 
  all 
  

   pugnacious, 
  will 
  often 
  give 
  voice 
  to 
  a 
  murmuring 
  through 
  almost 
  closed 
  beak, 
  

   much 
  like 
  the 
  characteristic 
  note 
  of 
  the 
  silver 
  pheasants. 
  Once 
  when 
  a 
  bird 
  dashed 
  

   past 
  me, 
  sending 
  forth 
  the 
  flood 
  of 
  agonized 
  chuckles, 
  it 
  dipped 
  just 
  over 
  a 
  ridge 
  below 
  

   me, 
  and 
  almost 
  at 
  once 
  gave 
  vent 
  to 
  a 
  series 
  of 
  plaintive 
  cries, 
  as 
  if 
  it 
  might 
  have 
  been 
  

   captured 
  and 
  held 
  by 
  some 
  enemy. 
  I 
  hastened 
  after 
  it, 
  but 
  the 
  outcry 
  ceased, 
  and 
  

   I 
  could 
  find 
  no 
  trace 
  of 
  pheasant, 
  enemy 
  or 
  tragedy, 
  and 
  cannot 
  conceive 
  what 
  caused 
  

   the 
  sudden 
  change 
  in 
  notes. 
  

  

  First-hand 
  accounts 
  of 
  the 
  habits 
  of 
  the 
  Cheer 
  are 
  too 
  rare 
  to 
  omit 
  any 
  of 
  the 
  notes 
  

   on 
  the 
  nesting. 
  Wilson 
  says 
  that 
  "'the 
  female 
  makes 
  her 
  nest 
  in 
  the 
  grass 
  or 
  amongst 
  

   low 
  bushes 
  and 
  lays 
  from 
  nine 
  to 
  fourteen 
  eggs 
  of 
  a 
  dull 
  white, 
  and 
  rather 
  small 
  for 
  so 
  

   large 
  a 
  bird. 
  They 
  are 
  hatched 
  about 
  the 
  end 
  of 
  May 
  or 
  beginning 
  of 
  June. 
  Both 
  

   male 
  and 
  female 
  keep 
  with 
  the 
  young 
  brood 
  and 
  seem 
  very 
  solicitous 
  for 
  their 
  welfare." 
  

  

  I 
  had 
  erected 
  my 
  umbrella 
  tent 
  for 
  two 
  days 
  on 
  a 
  bit 
  of 
  rocky 
  shelf 
  half-way 
  down 
  

   a 
  steep 
  slope 
  in 
  central 
  Garhwal, 
  and 
  had 
  spent 
  many 
  cramped 
  hours 
  watching 
  a 
  cock 
  

   Cheer 
  doing 
  little 
  or 
  nothing, 
  but 
  remaining 
  persistently 
  near 
  a 
  patch 
  of 
  young 
  deodars. 
  

   One 
  afternoon 
  as 
  my 
  eye 
  was 
  glued 
  to 
  one 
  of 
  the 
  loop-hole 
  slits, 
  running 
  idly 
  over 
  the 
  

   expanse 
  of 
  coarse 
  grass 
  and 
  fern, 
  a 
  hen 
  Cheer 
  suddenly 
  appeared 
  from 
  nowhere, 
  standing 
  

   and 
  looking 
  about 
  her. 
  Soon 
  she 
  took 
  a 
  step 
  forward, 
  and 
  then 
  turned 
  and 
  walked 
  

   back 
  beneath 
  the 
  low, 
  drooping 
  branches 
  of 
  the 
  conifer, 
  and 
  shortly 
  reappeared 
  on 
  the 
  

   other 
  side 
  of 
  the 
  clump 
  of 
  small 
  trees. 
  As 
  both 
  birds 
  then 
  vanished 
  I 
  returned 
  to 
  camp 
  

   after 
  another 
  hour 
  of 
  vain 
  watching. 
  The 
  next 
  morning 
  neither 
  cock 
  nor 
  hen 
  Cheer 
  

   was 
  visible, 
  and 
  ensconced 
  within 
  the 
  tent 
  I 
  began 
  searching 
  for 
  signs 
  of 
  them. 
  As 
  my 
  

   eye 
  rested 
  for 
  a 
  moment 
  on 
  the 
  spot 
  where 
  the 
  hen 
  had 
  appeared, 
  I 
  suddenly 
  detected 
  

   her 
  through 
  the 
  grass 
  stems 
  squatted 
  close 
  to 
  the 
  ground. 
  I 
  thought 
  she 
  was 
  still 
  

   alarmed 
  at 
  my 
  entrance 
  into 
  the 
  tent, 
  but 
  as 
  an 
  hour 
  passed 
  and 
  she 
  did 
  not 
  move, 
  

   while 
  the 
  cock 
  marched 
  past 
  several 
  times, 
  feeding 
  as 
  he 
  went, 
  my 
  suspicions 
  began 
  to 
  

   be 
  aroused, 
  and 
  I 
  suspected 
  that 
  she 
  was 
  actually 
  sitting 
  upon 
  eggs. 
  About 
  three 
  in 
  

   the 
  afternoon 
  she 
  rose 
  as 
  before, 
  stood 
  motionless 
  a 
  minute 
  and 
  repeated 
  her 
  exit 
  to 
  the 
  

  

  