November, 1921 
489 
| snow and concealing pools of water, al- 
E most over my hunting-boots. I splashed 
about in the semi-darkness and made 
noise. Truly, this was a disagreeable 
place to be in, at that time of day, hunt- 
ing the smartest China rooster in a half- 
dozen counties. 
Farther over toward the creek the 
ground was higher and my temper im- 
proved. But darkness was rapidly shut- 
ting down. I stood and listened, then 
listened some more. Then I moved for- 
ward forty yards or so and listened again. 
One’s ear’s are one’s first line of defense 
(and offense) in hunting China pheasants 
with a rifle at roosting time. I strained 
my ears for a far-away roosting call. 
And then it boomed out loud and 
strong not more than a hundred yards 
away just one no 
more. A quick, prickly electric thrill 
raced through all my nerves sending a 
warm blow through my body. Hope went 
up like the mercury in a thermometer 
when a match is applied to the bulb. 
Now then for the finest Indian-work I 
had ever done in my life ! And quickly, 
too, for the night was on. 
Focusing my mind, with all the power 
I possessed, upon the spot whence the 
call had come, I almost raced half the 
distance in a bee-line then slowed down 
to the nearest thing to a cat-like walk 
that I could ex- 
ecute, never for 
a minute losing 
in my mind’s 
eye 'the spot in 
the woods 
whence the call 
had come. 
I searched the 
rapidly darken- 
ing trees with 
the glasses, try- 
ing to keep a 
half-circle of 
trees for forty 
yards ahead of 
me absolutely 
devoid of un- 
seen pheasants. 
Nothing but 
clumps of dark- 
mo s s and 
patches of black 
shadows inter- 
spersed between 
the melting 
snowbanks on 
top of the big 
branches greet- 
ed my eye 
through the 
lenses. Phea- 
sants which 
seemed to sit 
eve r yw here 
about on the 
trees quickly 
turned into 
clumps of gray 
moss, knots on 
gnarled limbs, 
or opaque black 
shadows under 
the searching 
eye of the 6 x 
binoculars. 
I did not dare move about much for 
I was now in close approximation to 
the location of the call, and perhaps the 
roost. A single awkward move would 
send them off across the swollen, im- 
passable creek. That would be the end 
of all my hopes. I maneuvered a few 
feet at a time, very gingerly, and with 
bated breath I stopped and stood under 
a thick little tree listening. The drip 
from a bough somewhere above came 
down on my cap making loud reports 
in the silence. I moved out from un- 
der it. 
C UDDENLY, the sound of a 
^ heavy bird flying up into a tree and 
smashing into the branches about 40 
yards to my left then more 
silence. It seemed, for an instant, that 
even the everlasting dripping had 
stopped. Heavy abysmal silence, follow- 
ing the smash into the branches. Birds 
were closer than China but none were in 
sight, not even to the 6 x bii oculars. My 
heart surged on the inside of my mack- 
inaw like a horse being whipped. It 
strove desperately to break clear away. 
I clamped my will-nower down and 
promised myself over and over I 
wouldn’t ^et ‘buck-ague.” I wanted to 
see those birds so-o-oo bad and I couldn’t 
see them. 
I moved up a little, lifting and placing 
my feet with the greatest care. Sound 
of a heavy bird taking flight with a great 
noise of wings. Then an explosion in 
the tree-tops. Birds were taking flight 
everywhere around me. The air and the 
trees seemed to be full of them. And 
they were all going. A pain like being 
shot in the stomach paralyzed me. They 
were all going and I could do nothing 
to prevent it. 
I could dimly see the dark shadows 
flitting through the trees while the noise 
of the hubbub pounded upon my ear- 
drums as hard as my heart pounded on 
the inside of my mackinaw. I felt sick 
and weak — and limp. 
Then gradually I recovered. Slowly 
came the reaction. A few scattering ex- 
plosions still occurred as late-going birds 
took flight. These remnants built up a 
little measure of hope again. I concen- 
trated all my attention upon actually see- 
ing one sitting before they had all taken 
flight. As each bird flew I thought it 
surely must be the last. But I gathered 
my faculties and looked with more cool- 
ness and system now. 
Presently I saw one. I didn’t even 
need to use the binoculars There she 
stood tall, slim and straight as a sub- 
altern, stretched up to full height right 
out in the open on the branch of a little 
tree absolutely 
bare of leaves 
— and 
scarcely forty 
feet from me. 
The only fear I 
felt was that 
she would take 
flight before T 
could swing the 
rifle upon her. 
as it had to 
be raised and 
aimed. I brought 
it up slowly, oh, 
so slowly 
— — with a 
growing hope in 
my heart. Once 
I saw her in the 
field of the tele- 
scope I counted 
her mine. I 
merely held low 
and pressed the 
trigger. She 
tumbled from 
her perch with 
a flutter and 
threshed about 
the wet leaves 
on the ground.- 
Again sporadic 
bursts of wings 
of birds still 
breaking into 
flight. After a 
minute all was 
still again, ex- 
cept the faint 
wing-beats of 
the dying hen 
pheasant on the 
wet leaves. 
( Continued on 
page 516 ) 
Out into an open grove where the snow had melted I followed from tree to tree 
