﻿IJIMA'S 
  COPPER 
  PHEASANT 
  

  

  Syrmaticus 
  soemmerringi 
  ijimae 
  (Dresser) 
  

  

  NAMES. 
  — 
  Specific 
  : 
  ijimae, 
  named 
  in 
  honour 
  of 
  Prof. 
  Ijima, 
  Professor 
  of 
  Zoology 
  in 
  Tokyo 
  University. 
  

   English 
  : 
  Ijima's 
  or 
  Kiusiu 
  Copper 
  Pheasant 
  ; 
  White-backed 
  Satin 
  Pheasant. 
  Native 
  : 
  Koshijiro-yamadori 
  

   (White-rumped 
  Mountain 
  Bird, 
  Japanese). 
  

  

  BRIEF 
  DESCRIPTION.— 
  Male 
  : 
  Similar 
  to 
  soemmerringi, 
  but 
  with 
  the 
  lower 
  back, 
  rump, 
  and 
  a 
  lateral 
  line 
  

   along 
  the 
  sides 
  more 
  or 
  less 
  pure 
  white. 
  This 
  concentration 
  of 
  white 
  leaves 
  most 
  of 
  the 
  remaining 
  plumage 
  dark 
  

   chestnut 
  with 
  a 
  metallic 
  fringe. 
  Female 
  : 
  Like 
  the 
  other 
  forms, 
  but 
  more 
  buffy 
  in 
  general 
  tone 
  and 
  without 
  bars 
  

   on 
  the 
  central 
  tail-feathers. 
  

  

  Range. 
  — 
  The 
  southern 
  part 
  of 
  Kiusiu 
  Island, 
  Japan, 
  in 
  the 
  provinces 
  of 
  Osumi, 
  Hyuga 
  and 
  Satsuma. 
  

  

  THE 
  BIRD 
  IN 
  ITS 
  HAUNTS 
  

  

  One 
  day 
  in 
  early 
  spring 
  I 
  leave 
  my 
  quaint 
  little 
  Japanese 
  hotel 
  and 
  wend 
  my 
  way 
  

   slowly 
  through 
  the 
  narrow 
  streets 
  and 
  lanes 
  of 
  Kagoshima. 
  I 
  pass 
  the 
  early 
  opened 
  

   markets, 
  with 
  their 
  long 
  strings 
  of 
  pitiful 
  thousands 
  of 
  " 
  heodoris 
  " 
  — 
  the 
  merest 
  fluffs 
  

   of 
  feathers 
  — 
  for 
  sale 
  at 
  two 
  sen 
  each. 
  At 
  the 
  last 
  house 
  on 
  the 
  road, 
  after 
  I 
  leave 
  the 
  

   city 
  behind, 
  from 
  a 
  rough 
  bamboo 
  cage 
  comes 
  the 
  sweet, 
  half-broken 
  song 
  of 
  one 
  of 
  

   these 
  birds 
  — 
  a 
  beautiful 
  medley 
  of 
  notes 
  as 
  of 
  our 
  wood 
  thrush 
  and 
  robin 
  combined. 
  

   Steady 
  walking 
  soon 
  brings 
  me 
  beyond 
  the 
  last 
  house, 
  and 
  almost 
  at 
  once 
  I 
  begin 
  to 
  

   climb, 
  first 
  rolling 
  slopes, 
  then 
  steeper, 
  more 
  precipitous 
  ridges. 
  Between 
  are 
  narrow 
  

   valleys 
  opening 
  into 
  beautiful 
  vistas 
  of 
  distant 
  terraced 
  rice-fields. 
  Now 
  and 
  then, 
  as 
  I 
  

   cross 
  a 
  low-hanging 
  terrace, 
  a 
  small 
  flock 
  of 
  thrushes 
  dashes 
  up 
  from 
  the 
  fields, 
  or 
  a 
  

   wagtail 
  runs 
  swiftly 
  over 
  the 
  newly 
  turned 
  sods. 
  As 
  I 
  climb 
  upward 
  I 
  begin 
  to 
  look 
  

   down 
  upon 
  the 
  flat-raked, 
  clean-swept 
  bottom 
  lands, 
  every 
  inch 
  made 
  a 
  part 
  of 
  the 
  

   eternal 
  rice-field 
  checker 
  board. 
  Little 
  terraces 
  are 
  scraped 
  out 
  and 
  banked 
  against 
  

   even 
  the 
  steep 
  slopes 
  up 
  which 
  I 
  am 
  clambering. 
  Finally 
  I 
  reach 
  a 
  place 
  where 
  a 
  

   mere 
  hand's-breadth 
  of 
  soil 
  is 
  lodged 
  behind 
  a 
  cup-shaped 
  boulder, 
  and 
  in 
  this 
  diminutive 
  

   field 
  three 
  heads 
  of 
  rice 
  are 
  sprouting 
  ; 
  typical 
  of 
  the 
  minuteness, 
  the 
  thoroughness, 
  of 
  

   the 
  whole 
  nation. 
  

  

  The 
  most 
  beautiful 
  spots 
  beloved 
  by 
  the 
  White-rumped 
  Satin 
  Pheasant 
  are 
  also 
  

   the 
  rarest. 
  Usually 
  they 
  are 
  preserved 
  only 
  because 
  of 
  the 
  regard 
  for 
  some 
  ancestral 
  

   shade 
  whose 
  body 
  lies 
  buried 
  near 
  by. 
  Here 
  we 
  find 
  a 
  carpet 
  of 
  ferns, 
  bracken, 
  

   and 
  soft 
  bamboo 
  grass 
  ; 
  then 
  a 
  mid-growth 
  of 
  graceful 
  camellias 
  — 
  the 
  tsubaki 
  of 
  

   the 
  Japanese 
  — 
  whose 
  myriad 
  scarlet 
  bell 
  flowers 
  sway 
  in 
  the 
  wind, 
  their 
  clapper 
  

   stamens 
  muffled 
  with 
  knobs 
  of 
  yellow 
  pollen. 
  Pheasants 
  will 
  feed 
  upon 
  these 
  petals 
  

   when 
  they 
  fall 
  to 
  the 
  ground. 
  High 
  above 
  all 
  rises 
  the 
  great 
  evergreen 
  expanse 
  of 
  

   camphor 
  trees 
  — 
  in 
  grace 
  and 
  size 
  rivalling 
  any 
  grove 
  of 
  oaks. 
  Their 
  majestic 
  trunks 
  

   are 
  thickly 
  coated 
  with 
  moss 
  on 
  the 
  northern 
  side, 
  and 
  the 
  green 
  is 
  picked 
  out 
  with 
  

   the 
  light-green 
  rounded 
  leaflets 
  of 
  an 
  omnipresent 
  clinging 
  vine. 
  

  

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