THE SNOW PARTRIDGE. 5 



the perfumed blaze of a deodar bon-fire, the most miserable 

 victim of ennui would be compelled to confess that there was 

 still something to live for. 



I fear I grow prolix ; but as I look back upon " the days 

 that are no more" the old enthusiasm wakes. I seem once 

 more to breathe that fresh crisp mountain air — more exhilarating 

 than France's sunniest vintages — once more to feel the thrill 

 that the double thud of the two noble, clean-killed birds sends 

 through one, amidst this glorious scenery and in this champaign 

 atmosphere. And after all, while scores of men go in for and 

 rave about big-game shooting, not one in a thousand have 

 any conception of the splendid sport that the small game of 

 the Himalayas affords ; and it would be ungrateful were I, who 

 have enjoyed it so often and so keenly, to pass it by altogether 

 in silence. 



But I gladly turn to the practical wisdom of my old friend 

 Mountaneer. He says : " In general haunts and habits, this bird 

 much resembles the Snow Pheasant, frequenting the same high 

 regions near the snow in summer, and migrating to the same 

 bare hills and rocks in winter. The Pheasant,- however, pre- 

 fers the grassy slopes and softer parts of the hills — the Partridge 

 the more abrupt and rocky portions, where the vegetation is 

 scantier, and more of a mossy than a grassy character. They 

 are also more local, and confined to particular spots, and do 

 not, like the Pheasant, ramble indiscriminately over almost 

 every part of the hill. They are generally remarkably tame. 

 When approached, they utter a harsh whistle, and if they keep 

 still, it is often several moments before they can be distinguished, 

 their plumage much resembling and blending with the general 

 colour of much of the ground they frequent. If approached 

 from above, they fly off at once ; if from below, they walk away 

 in the opposite direction, calling the whole time, and often clus- 

 ter together on the top of some large stone in their way. 

 Their flight exactly resembles that of the Pheasant, and the 

 whistle when on the wing being nearly the same, and the 

 birds having the same white on their wings, they could hardly 

 be distinguished, when flying past at a distance, but for their 

 size. They seldom fly far, and if followed and put up again, 

 often fly back to the spot where first found. At times they seem 

 unwilling to get up at all, and several shots may be fired at 

 them before they take wing. I once found a flock on a steep 

 ledge of rock in the forest, a few days after a severe snow- 

 storm, which had driven them down to their winter quarters ; 

 they were a little scattered, and resting on the projecting ledges, 

 and I fired eleven shots within twenty yards without one bird 

 attempting to get up. At one bird I fired twice without its 

 moving at all. 



"The Snow Partridge feeds on moss and the tender shoots 

 of small plants. It is always fat, and its flesh is tender and 



