﻿ELLIOT'S 
  BARRED-BACKED 
  PHEASANT 
  

  

  Syrmaticus 
  ellioti 
  (Swinhoe) 
  

  

  NAMES. 
  — 
  Specific 
  : 
  ellioti, 
  for 
  Dr. 
  D. 
  G. 
  Elliot, 
  the 
  eminent 
  American 
  zoologist. 
  English 
  : 
  Elliot's 
  or 
  Chinese 
  

   Barred-backed 
  Pheasant. 
  French 
  : 
  Faisan 
  d'Elliot. 
  Native 
  : 
  Han-ky 
  (Fowl 
  of 
  the 
  Dry 
  Places, 
  Chinese). 
  

  

  Brief 
  DESCRIPTION. 
  — 
  Male 
  : 
  Crown 
  brownish 
  ; 
  hind 
  neck 
  bluish 
  grey 
  ; 
  throat 
  and 
  lower 
  neck 
  black 
  ; 
  

   side 
  neck, 
  two 
  wing-bars 
  and 
  belly 
  white 
  ; 
  mantle, 
  shoulders, 
  wings 
  and 
  breast 
  fiery 
  bronze-red, 
  with 
  a 
  small 
  

   sub-terminal 
  black 
  spot 
  ; 
  wing-band 
  across 
  lesser 
  coverts 
  steel 
  blue. 
  Lower 
  back 
  and 
  rump 
  black, 
  glossed 
  with 
  

   blue, 
  barred 
  and 
  tipped 
  with 
  white 
  ; 
  tail 
  broadly 
  barred 
  with 
  pale 
  grey 
  and 
  chestnut. 
  Female 
  : 
  general 
  colour 
  

   various 
  shades 
  of 
  brown, 
  barred 
  and 
  mottled 
  above 
  and 
  spotted 
  on 
  the 
  breast 
  with 
  black 
  ; 
  chin, 
  throat 
  and 
  belly 
  

   mostly 
  white 
  ; 
  flanks 
  and 
  under 
  tail-coverts 
  tipped 
  with 
  white. 
  Mantle 
  boldly 
  marked 
  with 
  black, 
  setting 
  off 
  the 
  

   conspicuous 
  white 
  shaft-streaks 
  ; 
  lower 
  throat 
  and 
  fore 
  neck 
  sometimes 
  black 
  ; 
  lateral 
  tail-feathers 
  chestnut, 
  

   tipped 
  with 
  black 
  and 
  white 
  bands. 
  

  

  RANGE. 
  — 
  Mountains 
  of 
  south-eastern 
  China. 
  

  

  THE 
  BIRD 
  IN 
  ITS 
  HAUNTS 
  

  

  I 
  found 
  Elliot's 
  Pheasant 
  in 
  several 
  localities 
  in 
  Eastern 
  China, 
  all 
  more 
  or 
  less 
  

   similar 
  in 
  character, 
  and 
  all 
  wholly 
  unlike 
  the 
  haunts 
  of 
  pheasants 
  in 
  other 
  countries. 
  

   Mountains 
  wild 
  and 
  rugged 
  in 
  contour 
  ; 
  the 
  rocky 
  heights 
  of 
  deep 
  river 
  gorges 
  looming 
  

   dark 
  and 
  mysterious 
  through 
  the 
  morning 
  mist. 
  Seen 
  thus 
  they 
  might 
  well 
  seem 
  to 
  

   mark 
  some 
  untrodden 
  land 
  or 
  new-discovered 
  continent. 
  But 
  the 
  glamour 
  of 
  the 
  

   sunshine 
  dispels 
  all 
  this 
  imagery, 
  and 
  we 
  find 
  ourselves 
  face 
  to 
  face 
  with 
  a 
  country 
  

   which 
  during 
  past 
  centuries 
  has 
  seen 
  its 
  hundreds 
  of 
  millions 
  of 
  human 
  inhabitants 
  

   come 
  and 
  go. 
  A 
  few 
  miles 
  away 
  is 
  a 
  city 
  teeming 
  with 
  a 
  million 
  and 
  a 
  half 
  of 
  Chinamen, 
  

   with 
  no 
  railroads 
  and 
  not 
  a 
  single 
  wheeled 
  vehicle. 
  Yet 
  they 
  have 
  over-run 
  this 
  whole 
  

   region, 
  have 
  combed 
  the 
  surface 
  of 
  mountain 
  and 
  valley 
  for 
  untold 
  generations. 
  

  

  Every 
  level 
  spot 
  around 
  us 
  shows 
  the 
  bright 
  emerald 
  of 
  sprouting 
  rice 
  ; 
  every 
  trail 
  

   winding 
  over 
  the 
  wildest, 
  most 
  isolated 
  slopes, 
  leads 
  at 
  last 
  to 
  a 
  grave, 
  either 
  a 
  flimsy 
  

   hut 
  of 
  thatch 
  sheltering 
  a 
  rough-hewn 
  coffin 
  of 
  unpainted 
  wood, 
  or 
  an 
  elaborately 
  carved 
  

   horseshoe 
  of 
  great 
  granite 
  blocks. 
  These 
  old 
  graves 
  are 
  picturesque 
  and 
  wholly 
  in 
  

   keeping 
  with 
  their 
  wilderness 
  setting. 
  The 
  rocks 
  or 
  cement 
  of 
  which 
  they 
  are 
  made 
  

   soon 
  become 
  weathered 
  and 
  lichened, 
  and 
  except 
  for 
  the 
  conventional 
  repetition 
  of 
  their 
  

   designs 
  there 
  is 
  little 
  to 
  distinguish 
  them 
  from 
  the 
  surrounding 
  out-cropping 
  boulders. 
  

  

  Two, 
  four, 
  even 
  seven 
  hundred 
  years 
  these 
  graves 
  have 
  watched 
  the 
  seasons 
  come 
  

   and 
  go, 
  and 
  after 
  all 
  this 
  time, 
  the 
  worshipping 
  descendants 
  from 
  time 
  to 
  time 
  climb 
  

   laboriously 
  to 
  the 
  lofty 
  sites 
  and 
  offer 
  their 
  little 
  rice-paper 
  prayer 
  flags, 
  weighting 
  them 
  

   down 
  with 
  stones 
  along 
  the 
  tops 
  of 
  the 
  walls. 
  Here, 
  when 
  we 
  scrape 
  aside 
  moss 
  and 
  

   lichen, 
  we 
  can 
  make 
  out 
  the 
  carven 
  phoenix 
  with 
  wildly 
  waving 
  tail, 
  and 
  here 
  at 
  sun- 
  

   down 
  sometimes 
  come 
  living 
  pheasants 
  to 
  roost 
  in 
  the 
  interstices 
  of 
  the 
  balustrades 
  and 
  

   the 
  overhanging 
  hieroglyphiced 
  walls. 
  

  

  