June 3. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
153 
operation should be done in the most rough handed 
manner—it is better so than delayed, as Nature helps 
wonderfully to correct our unskilful or slovenly work ; 
and though neatness in every department cannot be too 
much insisted on, yet in a kitchen-garden, at the most 
important time for things growing, do not neglect sow¬ 
ing or planting one crop for the sake of making another 
more pleasing to look upon by bestowing your attention 
solely to it. It is true, certain crops, by their import¬ 
ance, deserve a much greater amount of our care than 
others, and whatever becomes the cultivator’s hobby 
generally fares best; without questioning his choice of 
objects, we beg to remind him that others have an equal 
claim to his notice, and he ought not by any means to 
despise the more humble articles, which form the miscel¬ 
laneous produce of the kitchen-garden, as, be assured, 
they will be all wanted in their turn. J. Robson. 
ON THE REARING OF PHEASANTS IN A 
CAPTIVE STATE. 
[It had been intended to reserve the following valuable 
i hints, to take their proper place whenever the articles on 
j birds, and the subjects in connexion with them, now appear- 
| ing in The Cottage Gabdener, shall be collected, and re¬ 
printed in a volume by themselves. But the season now 
approaching suggests that it would be selfish to let them lie 
| hidden in a portfolio when they may be useful to, and thank¬ 
fully perused by many readers, who will soon require to avail 
themselves of the practical information they contain. It 
will be a sufficient guarantee of their merit to state that they 
were kindly supplied by Mr. John Baily, 113, Mount-street, 
Grosvenor-square.] 
“ On the subject of aviaries for pheasants I can, perhaps, 
give you a little information, and spare you some expense, 
as I have been principally concerned in breeding and rearing 
many thousands. I dislike anything like a wire jdieasantry; 
j since, while it affords no real security against poachers, it is 
, bad for the birds. Our pens, in which there are now 
(October) from five to six hundred birds, are made of laths 
j about eight feet high ; there is no covering at top, as every 
bird is kept with the wings cut. If there are brambles, 
| bushes, or stunted trees in the pen, so much the better; if 
: not, (as the birds, still retaining a notion of their former— 
i query, natural —state, like a little concealment, although now 
! as tame as farm-yard fowls), we place a stout rod or two up- 
j right, and against it lay on each side a row of bavins or 
bundles of any sort of wood, which affords a covert in the 
j hollow left between them. At this time of the year a pen, 
about fifty yards square will conveniently hold a hundred 
i brace of birds. When the breeding season comes on, they 
are then separated; a cock and three hens being put into a 
pen about five yards long by three wide ; a hollow is formed 
I in the centre, and filled nearly to a level with loose sand; 
! over this a felled fir-tree is laid, or any other cover, and here 
the hen lays her eggs, which fall without injury on the soft 
I sand. When the laying is over, the birds are replaced in 
I their original pen. The advantages of this mode of manage¬ 
ment are two fold: first, the expense is very trifling; and 
next, while the birds are in the laying-pens, the winter pen 
! being open, becomes sweet. It is almost impossible to keep 
| pheasants the year round, on the same ground, without taint ; 
anil where that exists, the young cannot be reared, but ‘ the 
gapes ’ and other diseases carry them off. 
. “ While you are writing on pheasants, any hints may be 
! acceptable, as you can rejector select at pleasure. I give you 
my authorities, but cannot unfortunately give you the per¬ 
mission to publish names, except my own humble designa¬ 
tion. 
“ Major A-d told me last spring that he had been almost 
uniformly successful in curing ‘ the gapes ’ by these meaus : 
—the disease being a gaping, and an effort to remove some¬ 
thing offensive from the throat, he takes a strong feather, 
and strips all but the last incli-and-a-half; he inserts it into 
tiie throat of the bird, and twists it violently round several 
times, and then withdraws it rapidly. He has generally 
I found that doing this once cures; if not, he repeats it, 
| almost always with success. 
“ Another gentleman tells me that he gives pills made of 
oatmeal and pounded peppercorns, mixed with a little garlic. 
I am not sure the last will cure the gapes, but I can 
positively speak of its beneficial effects on pheasant poults 
when drooping. 
“ The objections to wire pheasantries are: first, they require 
painting; next, the birds break their feathers against them ; 
and lastly, when dissatisfied, which will sometimes happen, 
they attempt to get their heads between the wires, and in¬ 
jure themselves by making their heads and beaks bleed ; and 
this is more important than would appear at first sight. All 
(jallinaceie are more carnivorous than people imagine; and 
where blood appears, they will peck, to the destruction of 
the sufferers. Thus, if pheasants are in bad health, or are 
badly fed, i. e., lack something necessary to their well-being, 
they will, in the moulting season, devour the young and 
sickly feathers from the backs of their partners, taking the 
feather for the sake of the young and bleeding end of it. So 
contagious is this propensity, that if one takes to it in a pen 
of fifty, unless he is removed all will become to a certain ex¬ 
tent cannibals. I last year (1840) bought forty tame 
pheasants of a gentleman. They were badly packed ; and 
in trampling each other one had his back torn. The rest 
directly fell upon him, and ate his back to the bone. They 
devoured each other so that I could only sell eight of them. 
The rest died, although they had plenty of food before them. 
“ I am very glad you will have an opportunity of breeding 
your own fancy pheasants, and believe you will find it a 
delightful occupation; but I hope your court-yard is not 
paved. If it is, you must cover it with at least eighteen 
inches of sand and gravel, and supply them plentifully with 
grass cut in living turves. It is also an excellent plan to 
have some lumps of chalk in the pen. 
“ If you happen to have glebe-land, or a dry hilly field, or a 
large plot of grass attached to your parsonage, you need not 
be imder any anxiety as to the disposal of your pheasants 
when they are hatched. But as you will probably get from 
each hen from sixteen to twenty eggs, it will be well not to 
incumber yourself with too many. The care of a hundred 
tame pheasants is the work of a man, or a boy ; and I know 
you are nut partial to the latter as poultry-keepers. 
“Before I give you any of my ideas respecting young 
pheasant^, I would most strenously object to your feeding 
the old birds with earth-worms. I know they are very fond 
of them ; and they are equally so of raw meat: but both are 
alike bad for them. They make them savage, and induce 
that feeling of cannibalism which I mentioned before. They 
also tend to make them dissatisfied with them ordinary food; 
which is an evil: because during a hard frost, for instance, 
you would be much troubled to get enough for nine phea¬ 
sants. All live food, such as worms and gentles, should be 
carefully avoided, except as a last resort. When a bird is 
pining, dissatisfied, and off his feed, a live worm, or some 
gentles writhing and twisting about will then sometimes 
catch his attention and tempt him, and bring about a favour¬ 
able change. 
[Acknowledging the deference justly due to Mr. Baily’s 
great practical experience, I cannot help protesting against 
the interdict contained in the above paragraph. As I have 
unhesitatingly caused my own birds to break the taboo, I 
ought openly to state my belief that they were the better, in¬ 
stead of the worse for such indulgences. In truth, it is not 
easy to follow the excellent rule of supplying them with 
green turves, without thereby smuggling hi what we are here 
taught to consider as contraband goods.] 
“We will suppose the laying season is come. The eggs 
must be gathered early every morning, and a watch must be 
kept that they be picked up soon after being laid, or it often 
happens that one or other of the birds in idleness pecks the 
shell; the egg runs, all eat of it, and continue the same with 
every one that falls. If this does not happen, it will some¬ 
times be starred and spoiled. When you have enough to 
set a hen, and if she be a large one she will cover fifteen, or 
sometimes seventeen (always an odd number, because no 
luck attends an even one !), you first set her a day or two on 
some common eggs, to see that she sits close, and then en¬ 
trust the pheasant’s eggs to her care. 
“ When the poults are hatched, the hen is put under a rip, 
or coop, having bars in front (only two), just wide enough 
to allow easy egress for the poults. The spot is chosen on 
