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A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

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FRONTISPIECE, PLATE I]

KUSER’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE

FRONTISPIECE, PLATE I

KUSER’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE

L[thagenes kusert Beebe

In the late afternoon, a small flock was working its way down a mountain slope to some sheltered
roosting place at a lower elevation. An unseasonable snowstorm, falling on the tumbled uplands of
northern Yunnan, had half covered the Chinese primroses which were blossoming in dense clusters. The
dead grass of last year and newly budding dwarf bamboos were visible, and in a hollow some weather-
beaten conifers had found a foothold near the upper limit of tree-growth. When darkness fell the Blood

Partridges, perched deep in the tangle of a rhododendron thicket, would be safe from foxes and martens.

A MONOGRAPH OF THE
PHEASANTS

WILLIAM BEEBE

Curator of Birds of the New York Zoological Park ; Fellow of the New York Zoological
Society and Director of the Tropical Research Station in British Guiana; Fellow
of the American Ornithologists’ Union and of the New York Academy
of Sciences ; Member of the British Ornithologists’ Union ;
Corresponding Member of the Zoological
Society of London, etc.

IN FOUR VOLUMES

VOLUME I

PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE
NEW YORK ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BY

WITHERBY & CoO.
326 HIGH HOLBORN, LONDON, ENGLAND
1918

PREFACE

THE study of the living pheasants in their natural environment in various parts
of Eastern Asia—this was the main object of the seventeen months’ journey through
Asia and the East Indies taken by the author of this monograph. ‘The urgency of this
journey sprang from the fact that the members of this most beautiful and remarkable
group are rapidly becoming extinct, so that the record of their habits and surroundings,
which is important to the understanding of their structure and evolution, will soon be
lost for ever. | .

The literature of the group is already vast; innumerable papers and some
monographs have been written, but to no naturalist hitherto has the opportunity been
given to study nearly all of these birds in life. This opportunity came to William
Beebe through the generosity of Colonel Anthony R. Kuser of Bernardsville, New
Jersey, a member of the Board of Managers of the New York Zoological Society, and
one of the benefactors of the Zoological Park. Having been interested for many years
in developing his large collection of domesticated pheasants, it was he who suggested
that a monograph of the entire family of these birds be undertaken, and who offered
to support both the exploration and subsequent publication in a most complete manner,
so as to produce a work which, from the standpoint of truth, of beauty and of
thoroughness, should be worthy of the important place which the pheasants occupy in
the science of ornithology.

The expedition was planned with the greatest care by the author and officers of the
Society, and the author was given a leave of absence from his duties as Curator of Birds
in the Zoological Park for a period of seventeen months (December 26, 1909, to
May 26, 1911) for the express purpose of studying the pheasants in the field. Ceylon,
India, Burma, China, Japan, the Malay States, Borneo and Java were visited and the
pheasants of each country found and studied. Of the nineteen groups of these birds,
eighteen were successfully hunted with the camera, with field-glasses, and, when
necessary for identification, with the shot-gun. A talented artist, Mr. Bruce Horsfall,
accompanied the expedition during part of the journey to paint the various scenes of
pheasant environment. The trip, which extended over twenty countries, resulted in
a rare abundance of material, both literary—concerning the life histories of birds—and
pictorial, photographs and sketches. During the summer which followed the expedition
(1912) the time of the author was spent in studying the great type collections in the
Museums of London, of Tring, of Paris and of Berlin.

Thus nearly one hundred species are included and systematically described. The
full-grown male and female characters, the changes of plumage from chick to adult,
the songs, courtships, battles, nests and eggs, and the general life history and relation

to the surroundings, both human and animal, form the chief subject matter.
b vii

viii PREFACE

The birds are illustrated in nearly one hundred coloured plates by six of the leading
American and English artists. The haunts of the pheasants are shown in an equally
large number of photogravures, reproduced from the author’s photographs, ranging in
scene from the slopes of the -Himalayan snow peaks, sixteen thousand feet above the
sea, to the tropical sea-shores of Java. In addition to these are found numerous maps
showing the distribution of the birds, diagrams of feathers, and numerous other
illustrations. The elaborate history of the Red Junglefowl, the ancestor of our
domesticated poultry, is unique, and the story of the part that this fowl has played in
human history is a phase of the subject which has not before been presented. For the
naturalist-sportsman, stories and detailed directions for the shooting of the pheasants
in their native lands have been collated, while legends and native superstitions round
out the account of the relation of these birds to mankind. For the reader interested in
keeping and breeding these beautiful birds, there is included a résumé of the best
methods in use, both on large preserves and estates, as well as in the many small
aviaries, which are now found both in England and America.

Never, perhaps, in the history of the birds of the earth will it be possible to produce
another work of quite such scope; for not a month passes but the rarer birds of all
kinds are being pushed back further into the jungle and into the mountains, where
before long they will make their last stand. Hence the monograph presents a very
strong sentimental appeal to all bird lovers.

This monograph, which represents eight years of preparation, is by far the most
important scientific work as yet undertaken by the New York Zoological Society.
That the author has fulfilled his part, both in exploration and in subsequent scientific
research and in popular as well as detailed description, will be witnessed on every page
of these four volumes, which, we trust, may ever endure as a monument to the labours
of the author and to the generosity of the benefactor.
HENRY FAIRFIELD OSBORN,

President of the New York Zoological Soctety.
New York City.

CONTENTS

PREFACE
INTRODUCTION

PHEASANTS: A BRIEF GENERAL ACCOUNT

Distribution .
Comparative auiaice
Voice :

Flight and Gait

DaiLty RouND OF LIFE

Food

Roosts . ‘
Friends and Paciies :
Protective Colouring
Home Life

RELATION TO MAN

BLOOD PARTRIDGES
HIMALAYAN BLoop PARTRIDGE (/thagenes cruentus)
NEPAL HIMALAYAN BLoop PARTRIDGE (lthagenes cruentus cruentus)
SrkHim HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes cruentus affints)
TIBETAN BLooD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes tibetanus)
KuseEr’s BLoop PARTRIDGE (/thagenes kusert) .
GEOFFROY’s BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes geoffroyt)
WILson’s BLoop PARTRIDGE (/thagenes wilsont)
NoRTHERN BLoop PARTRIDGE (Jthagenes sinensis)
Davip’s NoRTHERN BLooD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes sinensis sinensis)
MIcHAEL’s NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes sinensis michaélis) .
BEREzOWSKY’s NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes sinensts berezowskit)

TRAGOPANS
SATYR TRAGOPAN (T7vagopan satyra) .
WESTERN TRAGOPAN (7vagopan rer
BLYTH’s TRAGOPAN (Tragopan blytht blytht)
TIBETAN TRAGOPAN (Tragopan blythi moleswortht)
TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN (Tvagopan temmuinckt) .
Capot’s TRAGOPAN (T7ragopan cabott)

IMPEYAN PHEASANTS
HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT (Lophophorus tmpeyanus)
CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT (Lophophorus lhuysit) .
ScLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT (Lophophorus sclatert)

EARED-PHEASANTS
Brown EARED-PHEASANT (CYrossoptilon mantchuricum)
BLuE EARED-PHEASANT (CYossoptilon auritum) .
WHITE EARED-PHEASANT (Crossoptilon tibetanum)
WiLp Hysrips (Crossoptilon)

1X

PAGE
vii
X1X
xxi
XXVil
XXX1
XXX
XXXIV
XXXKV

XXXV
XXXVI

XXXVII
XXXVili

xlii

xl vill

113

153

159
163

179
185

193

LIST OF COLOURED PLATES, PHOTOGRAVURES
AND MAPS

COLOURED PLATES

Prate I. KUSER’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE (J/thagenes kuseri Beebe) .- Frontispiece
Painted by A. Thorburn, after G. E. Lodge.

In the late afternoon, a small flock was working its way down a mountain slope to some
sheltered roosting place at a lower elevation. An unseasonable snowstorm, falling on the tumbled
uplands of northern Yunnan, had half covered the Chinese primroses which were blossoming in
dense clusters. The dead grass of last year and newly budding dwarf bamboos were visible, and
in a hollow some weatherbeaten conifers had found a foothold near the upper limit of tree-growth.
When darkness fell the Blood Partridges, perched deep in the tangle of a rhododendron thicket,
would be safe from foxes and martens.

Prate Il. EGGS OF BLOOD PARTRIDGES, TRAGOPANS, IMPEYANS AND
EARED-PHEASANTS . Facing page xliv

Drawn by H. Gronvold.

1. Two eggs of Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge (/thagenes geoffroyt), Tachienlu, Western China,
collected by Mr. Pratt.

2. Egg of Kuser’s Blood Partridge (/thagenes kusert).

3. Two eggs of Satyr Tragopan (Zvagopan satyra), laid in captivity.

4. Two eggs of Cabot’s Tragopan (Zragopan caboti). The left-hand one collected in Kuatun,
China, May 17, 1878, by J. D. D. la Touche; the right-hand one laid in captivity in
Yorkshire, England.

5. Egg of Western Tragopan (Tragopan melanocephalus), laid in captivity.

6. Egg of Blyth’s Tragopan (Tragopan blytht blythz), laid in Assam in captivity, by a bird from
the North Cachar Hills.

7, Two eggs of Temminck’s Tragopan (Tvragopan temmunckz), from “China.”

8. Egg of Brown Eared-Pheasant (Cvossoptilon mantchuricum), laid in captivity in the Zoological
Gardens, London.

9g. Three eggs of Impeyan Pheasant (Lophophorus impeyanus), all from northern India; the
centre one collected at Lookel, June 1, 1874.

10. Egg of White Eared-Pheasant (Crossoptilon tebetanum), collected by Mr. Pratt, near Ta-
chienlu, May 1890.

11. Egg of Blue Eared-Pheasant (Crossoptélon aurttum), laid in captivity.

All from the British Museum Collection, except Nos. 2, 5 and 6, which are from that of
Mr. Stuart-Baker.

Pirate II]. SIKHIM HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes cruentus
afjints Beebe) . ; . Facing page 6

Painted by G. E. Lodge.

Blood Partridges keep close to the edge of the melting snow, gradually ascending in the spring
and summer. But in the high altitudes of the Sikhim mountains, late spring storms often cover
every growing plant deep in snow. To obtain food the Blood Partridges are obliged at once to
retreat far down the valleys to where the warmth has turned the snow to rain. Occasionally the
birds are able to remain storm-bound and yet find food. This occurs when the insects, caught
suddenly unawares, retreat in numbers to pass a few days benumbed with the cold in the seed cases
of last year’s lilies. Some of these are empty, others partly filled with seeds, and here earwigs,
beetles, moths and spiders find a temporary haven. And this haven at least one flock of Blood
Partridges discovered and ruthlessly rifled, spilling insects and seeds upon the snow and feeding to
its heart’s content.

Xi

xii LIST OF COLOURED PLATES

Plate IV. PLUMAGES OF THE HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE ([thagenes
cruentus Hardwicke) . . . Facing page

Drawn by H. Gronvold.

The Blood Partridge acquires its adult plumage during the first year of its life. If a chick
slips from its shell in May, it will be hardly distinguishable from its parents in October. Except
for a lack of spurs it is as well equipped for the dangers of life as its father.

Figure 1 shows the chick in its down about a week old. The little wings are just visible, but the
legs are the most prominent feature. The head and neck are grey and black, and the body is of a
warm rufus.

Five weeks later the down has been shed and the young bird is in full juvenile garb of dull
mottled buff and black, with terminal spots of pale buff. The legs have increased but little, but
the wings and tail show that the bird roosts high and can escape swiftly from any enemy. Figure 2
shows a juvenile bird of six weeks.

In Figure 3 a young cock of two months is well advanced in the adult plumage. Most of the
juvenile brown has left his back and tail, and the green and scarlet feathers are rapidly covering
the breast. The two outer juvenile tail feathers and the white-shafted outer primaries are still
unshed.

Pirate V. GEOFFROY’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes geoffroyz Verreaux) Facing page

Painted by G. E. Lodge.

Still dominated by the majesty of Kinchinjunga, although from a wholly new angle, we find
this species of Blood Partridge among the snowy uplands of eastern Tibet. In pairs, or usually in
small-sized flocks, they glean a livelihood among the cold-stunted vegetation of the alpine meadows.
The nine birds which I saw together had their pleasing grey and emerald plumage set off by a
mass of blossoms which only the brief summers of these altitudes can bring forth—white anemones,
yellow saxifrage, and blue gentians that matched the sky above the distant snow peaks.

Pirate VI. NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE (/thagenes sinensis David) Facing page
Painted by G. E. Lodge.

Five hundred miles north of the Himalayas, on the alpine slopes of the Nanshan ranges, lives
the Northern Blood Partridge. The Chinese call it Song-hoa-ky, the flower bird of the firs; and
its soft pastel crimson, emerald russet and grey merit well the name. They spend their life among
low firs, among thickets of stunted willows and mountain ash. Few white men have seen them,
but the Chinese hunters find their coveys easy to approach, for they know little of mankind and
fear only the eagles and foxes and leopards which are ever on the lookout for them.

Prate VII. THE SATYR TRAGOPAN (7vagopan satyra Linnaeus) . . Facng page
Painted by A. Thorburn.

The place is Sikhim in the Eastern Himalayas, looking toward Kabru and Kinchinjunga ;
the time is early May at ten thousand feet, when spring is at its height. The Satyr Tragopans
have finished their courtship and paired, and in a few days will begin to nest. From some mossy
perch the booming crescendo challenge of the cock rings out every morning. Around him the
rhododendron trees are masses of colour; scarlet, salmon, cerise, pink and rose, and beneath, the
ground is lavendered with alpine primroses. Words can never describe the beauty of this
magnificent bird in its Himalayan home.

Prate VIII TRAGOPAN PLUMAGES (7vagopan satyra Linnaeus) . . Facng page
Drawn by H. Gronvola.
: fae unlike Blood Partridges, do not acquire the adult plumage in the first year of
their life.
Figure 1. The chick in the down plumage has a rich rufous head, the body being dark rufous

above and pale yellow buff below. The wing feathers are well developed and the chick is able to
fly a day or two after it leaves the egg. |

LISl- OF -COLGURED—PLATEHS Xl

Figure 2. A bird six weeks old has assumed full juvenile plumage, typical in pattern; a
warm buffy background mottled and barred with black, with a conspicuous terminal, paddle-shaped
shaft-stripe.

Figure 3. Birds in the first year plumage are quite uniform as to body, but if the moult has
been late the head and neck will correspondingly be more adult in colour and pattern, as in the
bird figured. Even a few days will make considerable difference in the pigment deposited, so
that cocks of this age show a remarkable amount of variation.

PrateE IX. WATTLES OF COCK TRAGOPANS ne a . Facing page 62
Drawn by H. Gronvold.

These wonderful structures come to their full development at the breeding season. At this,
as at all other times, they are usually quite invisible, being drawn up to an inconspicuous fold of
skin beneath the chin, hidden by feathers. At the climax of courtship the great apron of skin
becomes distended and its remarkable pigments and patterns are momentarily displayed to their
full expanse before the hen.

Figure 1. Wattle of Western Tragopan (Tvagopan melanocephalus).
Figure 2. Wattle of Cabot’s Tragopan (Zvagopan cabott).

Figure 3. Wattle of Temminck’s Tragopan (7vagopan temminckt).
Figure 4. Wattle of Blyth’s Tragopan (7ragopan blythi blytht).
Figure 5. Wattle of Satyr Tragopan (Tvagopan satyra).

Pirate X. WESTERN TRAGOPAN (Tvagopan melanocephalus Gray) . Facing page 66
Painted by A. Thorburn.

In the mountain forests of the Western Himalayas lives this great bird, its black and crimson
plumage covered with a shower of silvery stars. Its cry echoes through the gorges of Kashmir and
the tumbled masses of mountainous Garhwal. A dozen are sometimes found together, and
throughout the winter they keep within calling distance of one another. They are fond of the
buds of trees, and thus can find sustenance even when the ground is covered deep with snow.

PraTE XI. BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN (Tvragopan blythi blythi Jerdon) .- . acing page 78
Painted by A. Thorburn.

The deep, hot valleys of Assam and the hundreds of miles of lowland plains are populated by
many birds, but never a Tragopan is found there. A mapped diagram of the haunts of this bird
would appear like a cobweb tracing of all the crests and upper slopes of the higher mountains. Here
the oak forests are moss-hung and scented with orchids and jasmine. The ice-cold rivulets are
beloved of these birds, and they come out from the bamboo to the mossy boulders to quench
their thirst and to send forth*their musical clanging cry—a challenge to battle or a summons to a
mate, as the case may be.

Prate XII. TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN (Tvagopan temmincki J. E. Gray) . Facing page 88
Painted by A. Thorburn. |

Although the most widely distributed, yet this is the least known of its group. Its home is
in the great heart of China, far from the beaten trails which all travellers follow, and among the
oaks and rhododendrons of high altitudes. This Tragopan spends much of its time among their
gnarly branches, feeds on their buds and fashions its nest in the dense foliage. Few white men
have seen it wild, but the Chinese frequently trap it. They have spread out the great curious
throat wattle and have found a resemblance in its pattern to one of their written characters ; so to
them the Tragopan is 7’so-che, the bird of longevity.

Pirate XIII. CABOT’S TRAGOPAN (Tvagopan caboti Gould) . . Facing page 100
Painted by A. Thorburn.

Hundreds of bird-lovers have this Tragopan living in their aviaries; probably less than a
half dozen white men have seen it wild. In houseboat and sampan one can penetrate to their
haunts in Fokien, but except for a quick shot at sight, one must have the patience and facility
of a real wilderness creature to watch these wary birds undiscovered. They are surrounded
everywhere in the valleys by Chinese, who plant their rice or bury their dead on every available
spot. But the birds still hold their own in the face of a race which, while it has deforested the
whole country, yet prefers rice and fish to a diet of game.

XIV Lisi OF COLOURED PLATES

Prate XIV. HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT (Lophophorus wmpeyanus
Latham) ; : : ; . : : . acing page 114

Painted by C. R. Knight.

From Afghanistan to Bhutan, along the whole range of the Himalayas, the Impeyan makes
its home. Only the Blood Partridges live at a greater altitude. From one to three miles above
the sea, the Impeyan feeds and sleeps and nests. There is beauty to be found in both the cock
and the hen, but the colouring of the hen is the umber of dead leaves and the smooth brown of
lichens, while the cock is a living mirror of iridescence. Yet life is possible to both amid the
same surroundings; they face the same problems, make the same fight for existence in the face
of dangers which threaten from the mountain slopes and from the clouds above them. And each
year they rear their broods, which marks the success of their long battle against great odds. In
this, they are but repeating the life of the generations before them; for the Impeyan chain is a
long one. It reaches back unnumbered years to that mysterious time before the first men
appeared—and the first links were formed long, long before human beings were present to watch
the progress of this slow but courageous evolution.

PuatE XV. PLUMAGES OF THE HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT
(Lophophorus impeyanus Latham).
This plate will be found at the end of the fourth volume.

Prate XVI. CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT (Lophophorus thuysit Verreaux and
St.- Hilaire) : : : : Z Facing page 148
Painted by G. E. Lodge.

In the heart of Central China, wandering over a limited zone of the highest mountains, this
bird is making a brave fight -for existence. The Chinese trap it on every occasion, and it is
hardly possible that it can exist for many more years. No white man has seen it alive. The
Chinese, inspired by the beautiful metallic lustre of the feathers, call it Ho-than-ky, the fowl-of-
burning-charcoal.

Puate XVII. SCLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT = (Lofhophorus — sclateri
Jerdon) ; Facing page 152
Painted by G. E. Lodge.

The least known of all the Impeyans is this curl-crested bird, clad in shimmering gold, green
and blue iridescence. Until now, only the wild tribes of Aborland have known where to find
it, and the few skins in our museums have been secured by them. After a day of difficult
exploration, I found three of the Impeyans deep in the wilderness of northern Yunnan. One I
secured and the two others boomed away over the bamboos, far off into the distant valley. Their
haunts are so well guarded by savage tribes that it may be impossible to see them before the
birds become extinct. So limited is the region they inhabit, so narrow are the upper ridges on
which they make their home, there can be but few of them alive in the world.

Prate XVII]. BROWN EARED-PHEASANT (Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe)
Painted by G. E. Lodge. Facing page 164

On a cold day in early April, on a tundra-like expanse far beyond Pekin, I watched this flock
of Eared-Pheasants drift past. Around my umbrella tent, tiny voles appeared whenever the sun
shone ; buntings and wagtails dashed down for a few minutes, feeding; small, timid musk deer
walked slowly downward toward the stream at the valley bottom. The pheasants fed as they
moved, gathering about some tuft of grass and uprooting it with their stout beaks to search the
loam for grubs and tubers, They did not suspect my presence, they uttered no sound, and in a
few minutes they had passed out of my sight for ever.

PraTe XIX. BLUE EARED-PHEASANT (Crossoptilon auritum Pallas) . Facing page 178
Painted by G. E. Lodge.

The mountain slopes of north-eastern Tibet, with their larch, cedar and birch woods, are the
roosting places of these birds, which by day come out into more open zones where growths of
low bamboo, rhododendron, hawthorn and wild rose afford protection for their nests. The Chinese
farmers set traps innumerable, for the central tail feather of the Eared-Pheasant is the badge of
authority for the military leaders and therefore brings a high price. Year by year the birds are

a on

LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURES XV

becoming rarer, and it is not likely that they can hold their own for a much longer period. They live
in pairs during the summer, but in autumn unite in good-sized flocks. When the snows come, these

birds work downward into the lower valleys and roost close together among the upper branches
of the tallest trees.

Prate XX. WHITE EARED-PHEASANT (Crossoptelon tibetanum Hodgson) Facing page 184
Painted by G. E. Lodge.

Although clad dominantly in white, these pheasants do not live in the snow, but retreat
before the early storms of winter downward into the valleys. Their home is in south-eastern
Tibet and central China, among the wildest mountains. Except in the breeding season they are
gregarious, living in flocks and often associating intimately with the tiny musk deer. They keep
to thick cover and are ever on the watch for the great eagles which swoop down upon them
without warning. The Tibetans of this region are very superstitious and allow no animals and
birds to be killed when they can prevent it. So the race of “Shaggas,” as they are called, has a
good chance for existence as long as the lamas wield this kindly influence.

PHOTOGRAVURES

PHoTOGRAVURE I. THE EASTERN. HIMALAYAS . Facing page xx
Photograph by William Beebe.

The most wonderful scene in the world is the Himalayan snows from Darjeeling. Sitting
at the edge of the moss-hung forest at about seven thousand feet, one sees, through a filigree of
tree ferns, range after range, extending through green and blue and purple distance up to the
sharp edge of the snow line. The apex of all is Kinchinjunga, with beautifully draped Kabru
far to the left. Six species of pheasants live in these glorified hills.

In the deeper valleys, where the chill of the snows never comes, are Red Junglefowl and
Peafowl. In the upper forest, Black-backed Kaleege roost and nest. Still higher, near the snows,
at nine or ten thousand feet, are the Satyr Tragopan and the Impeyan—most gorgeous of birds.
The last of the sextet lives at fourteen or fifteen thousand feet—at the very edge of the snows.
This is the Blood Partridge,

PHoToGRavurRE 1a. WINTER HOME OF THE NEPAL HIMALAYAN BLOOD
PARTRIDGE ‘ . Facing page 10
Photograph by William Beebe.

In the Eastern Himalayas the limit of perpetual snow is at sixteen thousand feet, and in
winter the storms rush down from the crests and sweep everything before them to tree level.
Even the hardy Blood Partridges have to retreat and seek shelter and food several thousand feet
lower down. Here the great pines and spruces defy the elements, rearing their sturdy gnarled
trunks and spreading wide their scraggy branches. Between their trunks extend dense masses of
stunted rhododendrons, and among these the Blood Partridges spend the long winter days. From
the pines come the voices of titmice and nuthatches and creepers, and now and then the shadow
of a passing vulture cuts through the icy air. Only lonely Nepal shepherds ever visit these slopes.
It matters not to the birds that farther down in the valley there is warmth and insect life. There
too are safe roosting places. The Blood Partridges will have none of these, but cling to the edge
of the tree-line, ever ready to work upward at the first hint of spring.

PHOTOGRAVURE 22 SUMMER HOME OF THE SIKHIM HIMALAYAN BLOOD
PARTRIDGE . ; . Facing page 20
Photograph by William Beebe.

Three miles above the sea in the Himalayas the air is rarified, the sunlight is brilliant, the
flowers masses of intense colour. The frost splits the rocks and the storms beat upon them with
hail and scatter them piecemeal. In the alpine meadows only those low growths find foothold
which are pliable and willing to bow before the blasts.

Tussocks of coarse tundra grass, slender lily stems, creeping juniper holding with knotted
fingers to every crevice—these give the touch of life. And to this desolate zone come the Blood
Partridges in spring, and here they nest among the shrubs in sheltered gullies, and search among
the tussocks for seeds and insect life, or — themselves in the rock débris on the leeward sunny
side of the great jagged ridges.
¢

XV1 LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURES |

PHoToGRAVURE 3. HOME OF THE NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE J/aeng page
Photograph by William Beebe.

An alpine feeding ground of Blood Partridges in the autumn. When the snow melts on the
Nanshan Mountains in north central China a dense growth of plants springs up, and in midsummer
these meadows are ablaze with colour. The Blood Partridges nest among the blossoms and pluck
the buds and scratch up the shallow-rooted plants for grubs. As autumn approaches, the petals
fall and the meadows become covered with a myriad seed cases, hard-seeded berries, and fluffy-
topped everlastings. Then the Partridges pass back and forth with their broods, brushing off the
filmy seeds, restless and ever ready at the first blackening frost to retreat to lower levels.

HOME OF KUSER’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE

In northern Yunnan, the winds from the snows find their way over the passes along narrow
paths. On either hand, rugged oaks and pines are able to keep a roothold, but in the sweep of the
icy blast nothing can grow but low, stunted bamboos and coarse grass. The Blood Partridges live
at these altitudes, roost among the trees, but find their food in the flower-dotted expanses of the
close-cropped upland meadows.

PHoToGRAvuRE 4. HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE SATYR TRAGOPAN Facing page
Photograph by William Beebe.

In early morning the swish of a lammergeier’s wings is heard through the close-lying clouds,
and the croak of a Himalayan raven comes faintly. Then a Satyr Tragopan calls and the mist
sweeps from the valley. The snows are still hidden, but we see the slopes covered with a dense
forest of rhododendrons and magnolias. Through the day these birds feed among the underbrush,
and if they escape the eye of eagle and cat, and avoid the snares of the Nepalese shepherds, they
will roost at night in some safe perch, high above the dangers of the earth.

PHOTOGRAVURE 5. BREEDING HAUNTS OF THE SATYR TRAGOPAN Facing page
Photograph by William Beebe.

When the Tragopan makes its nest it leaves the more open forested slopes and descends some
steep, cool ravine. Here the bamboo grows on either hand in ranks so dense that a man cannot
force his way through. The heart of the ravine is clear, the rushing torrents in early spring
having swept every growth away save moss and rock-clinging patches of grass. Here a trickle of
icy water tinkles its way downward to the river far below, and within sound of its drops the Satyr
hen lays her eggs. They are well hidden in the heart of the friendly bamboo and rhododendron
scrub. The silicious stems rise in serried rows in all directions, presenting a sheaf of spear-tips
to the soaring eagle, and the crackling of the dried fallen leaves reveals the approach of every
marauder. Only occasional Tibetans straggle along the distant trails, and the dull-hued hen sits
safely and finally leads forth her brood for their first drink in the depths of the rocky ravine.

PHotroGravure 6. HAUNTS OF THE WESTERN TRAGOPAN . . Facing page
Photograph by William Beebe.

Steep mountain sides of rugged, outjutting rocks, where only turf and saxifrage can find
roothold ; more gentle slopes covered with sombre forests of deodars and silver firs; park-like
vistas of emerald lawns starred with hosts of strawberry blossoms; such is the home of the
Western Tragopan. In the warm sunshine the chicks spread wide their plumage, and lying on
their sides lazily kick the dust over their little feathers. With the cool onrush of cloud shadow
they shake themselves and hastily preen their disarranged plumage. When the storm from the
Tibetan upland breaks, the little Tragopans scuttle for shelter beneath the ample wings of the
gentle grey mother.

PHoTocravurE 7. YUNNAN HOME OF TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN . Facing page
Photograph by William Beebe.

A cock Temminck’s Tragopan was perched on the dead stub in the right-hand foreground
ten minutes before the picture was taken. It leaped down and I secured it among the everlastings
and bamboo stubble of the lower photograph. This was a typical Chinese wilderness devoid of
trails or evidence of mankind, while the vegetation was gnarled and seared by the blasts which
ever swept down from the snows, It was autumn, and the leaves and trunks were as colourless as
the overcast sky. Against this background the magfificent bird showed like a glowing coal.

LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURES XVil

PHoTOGRAVURE 8. CHINESE HOME OF CABOT’S TRAGOPAN . Facing page 104
Photograph by William Beebe.

The distant Min River flows through Tragopan country, whose mountain slopes are studded
with pine saplings and spots of gorgeous azaleas. The second-growth and tangled turf and dwarf
bamboos make rapid progress impossible for anything larger than a pheasant.

Into this cleared space there dashed, without warning, a cock and hen Tragopan; they
zigzagged back and forth, encircled the berry-covered tree and vanished into the scrub. The foliage
dripped, the fog soon shut tightly down, and to my ears came only the occasional whirring of the
moisture-laden wings of some passing small bird.

PHOTOGRAVURE 9. EASTERN HIMALAYAN HAUNT OF THE IMPEYAN
Photograph by William Beebe. Facing page 122

At the climax of three mountain ranges in eastern Nepal, a mighty boulder juts out from the
steep slope. It is painted with lichens, encrusted with moss, and in a narrow shelf on its sheltered
side a trio of Impeyans roosted. This roosting place, at an altitude above the limit of trees, was
an isolated haven of safety, out of the reach of martens, foxes and wild dogs. The birds were
crowded close together on the thick, soft cushion formed by the alpine moss, and above them there
were the leaves of a tiny rhododendron which had found a foothold in a little crevice. Early in
the morning before the full sunlight would expose them to a passing eagle, the three would leap
outward and scale down for their morning drink at a snow-fed torrent.

PHOTOGRAVURE 10. WESTERN HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE IMPEYAN Facing page 130
Photograph by William Beebe.

Two miles above the sea, in the coniferous forests of Garhwal.

Between a jagged bit of rock and a sturdy deodar, I crouched early in the morning, every
needle and leaf about me drenched with dew. Behind were six ranges of mountains, dropping
away from the fathomless valley at my feet, and yet rising ever higher and higher to the distant
Tibetan snows.

Before me was a glade surrounded by small trees, and having the appearance of recent
ploughing or of thorough trampling by the hoofs of a great herd of cattle. This was a feeding
ground of cock Impeyans, and within an hour on this particular morning fourteen full-plumaged
birds appeared. Wielding their beaks like picks, they dug deep holes and overturned clumps of
turf in their eager search for grubs and succulent tubers. Probably each had a mate somewhere
in the surrounding forests brooding her eggs, but each morning these birds, too gaudy to dare
to approach their nests, came here for a social meal, then separated to feed alone during the
remainder of the day.

PHotToGRAVURE 11. NEST AND EGGS OF THE IMPEYAN . Facing page 136
Photograph by William Beebe.

At the base of an ancient, weather-beaten stub, half hidden in a mass of Himalayan ivy and
maidenhair fern, a hen Impeyan had made her nest. She would never have been revealed had not
a crested tit discovered and scolded her. In the cool air of these high Garhwalese forests, I watched
the bird day after day. During her brief absence, I photographed the two great spotted eggs.
The succeeding day I surprised a group of bander-log—the great grey Langur monkeys—and one
of them had stolen the spotted eggs and was climbing up a slanting tree-trunk. The lives of the
two young Impeyans were thus snuffed out; the spring courtship, the battles of the cock, the care
on the part of the patient mother, all had been of no avail.

PHOTOGRAVURE 12. YUNNAN HOME OF SCLATER’S IMPEYAN . Facing page 156
Photograph by Wiliam Beebe.

The steep slope of sprouting bamboo was most terrible to climb. I made my way through the
shaded ravine running obliquely upward through the centre. On the way up, I found innumerable
traces of barking deer and Silver Pheasants, and I disturbed a king cobra from his den at the foot
of a wild banana. At the summit, beyond a tangle of caladiums and painted leaves, I encountered
the three Impeyans, the first wild birds ever seen by a white man, The full-plumaged cock was
scratching among the undergrowth shown in the lower photograph, and at my blind shot fell in the
same place. The others flew up a few feet beyond and scaled out of sight down the opposite slope.

Map II. 2

Map IV. by

LIST OF MAPS

PHotocravurE 13. NORTHERN CHINA—THE HOME OF THE BROWN

EARED-PHEASANT . ; . Facing page

Photograph by William Beebe.

The haunts of this bird are guarded neither by dense tropical jungles nor savage tribes, but by
bleak inhospitable wastes, where shelter and food are unknown. The sharp stones cut the feet of
the palanquin bearers until the path is bloody. To find the birds themselves, one must leave
all attendants behind and search day after day over the semi-barren tundras, hiding behind
scrubby growths of vegetation to scan every rock and shadow.

The only inhabitants of this region are nomadic Tartars, whose sole possessions are their
flocks of black-headed sheep. Now and then these wandering men bring a small herd to Pekin to
exchange for the necessaries of life. Their fathers and grandfathers before them have done this
selfsame thing, have followed the dim, stony trails which converge toward the old gateway in the
Great Wall—until the path under the gateway has been worn smooth by the passing caravans of
over twenty-one centuries. Now and then the most ragged of the shepherds will have the tail
feather of an Eared-Pheasant stuck jauntily in his rough skin cap.

PHOTOGRAVURE 14. THE HAUNTS AND THE HUNTERS OF THE BROWN

EARED-PHEASANT . Facing page

Photograph by William Beebe.

A thousand photographs of the home of this bird would seem to be nothing more than
pictures of the same place. There is nothing more to be seen than coarse grass and straggling
weeds, touched by scattered flowers in the spring, and covered lightly by drifting snow in the
early autumn. The bare rocks are lichened and have become the colour of half-frozen soil. In
_ such an environment the Eared-Pheasant lives happily and holds its own even against the Chinese

pot-hunter, the circling eagles and the stealthy leopards. With antiquated gun but Oriental
patience, the Mongol hunter pursues his game and never misses. Only the vast extent of these
desert regions and the wandering habits of the birds have saved them from complete extinction.

PuoroGravure 15. HOME AND FEEDING GROUND OF THE WHITE

EARED-PHEASANT . ; ; . Facing page

Photograph by William Beebe.

Climbing upward from a cool, dark ravine in northern Yunnan, I passed through zones of
moss-hung oaks and rhododendrons to frosted, stunted willows and dwarf bamboos. Looking
back down the forest-covered slopes, I saw three White Eared-Pheasants step out into a glade.
They watched me, and they watched a great black eagle which hung high overhead, and they
stood poised so that they could dash to safety into the undergrowth. Finally a mist drifted across
the valley—a wisp of cloud as white as the birds themselves. Swiftly as it had formed, it dissolved
again, and when it had passed, the pheasants had vanished.

Descending to the spot, I found their tracks at the foot of a gnarled-rooted trunk amid a
tangle of dying jack-in-the-pulpit and forest débris, That night, when I crawled into my
sleeping-bag, I knew that somewhere far off perched among the rough, knobby branches, were
these birds of purest white, their soft plumage matted with moisture, their heads drawn back in
soundest sleep.

MAPS

168

174.

190

I. SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE PHASTANINAE Facing page xxviii

* = BLOOD PARTRIDGES .
Map III. 55 ; = TRAGOPANS i
” IMPEYANS :
Mar V. a; 5 =. EARED-PHEASANTS ‘

4

160

INTRODUCTION

THE readers of such a monograph as this, are attracted either because of the pleasure
they find in the beauty and grace of pheasants; from the interest of keeping them in
captivity or on preserves; from the enthusiasm of a sportsman; or for reference in
ornithological research. With this in mind, I have arranged the text so as to afford
equal facility to all these varied interests.

The natural history of the pheasants is the dominant theme; their wild life and the
part they play in the scheme of nature in their Asiatic haunts. Hence I have striven
to put this phase to the fore in the cases both of general and specific treatment.

In the present volume I have written a brief synoptic account of pheasants as
a whole, reserving the details of their care in captivity for a chapter in the final volume.
In treating of the various species, a brief description of the adult birds precedes each
account, the more intimate details of plumage, moult and variation, together with the
synonomy being readily accessible at the end of each species monograph.

In the preparation of any work of a monographic character, there comes to the
writer, sooner or later, the feeling that his part in it is small indeed compared to the
great company of others who have aided him. From the philosopher who passed away
many decades ago but whose written word is still an inspiration, to the naked Dyak
who proudly comes bearing a trapped bird to Tuan—a gift not for money, but as from
one hunter to another—between these extremes there extends a long roll whose aid
is given freely and for sheer love of the wilderness folk.

The friendship and unselfishness of Col. Anthony R. Kuser throughout the
undertaking are not to be measured by praise or verbal gratitude. It is my hope that
the work itself may be a token of appreciation. To Dr. William T. Hornaday,
Prof. Henry Fairfield Osborn, Madison Grant and to the members of the Executive
Committee of the New York Zoological Society I am indebted for leave of absence
and unfailing interest and help. To Major Henry Jones of London, whose gift of a set
of paintings of the genus Pastanus was as generous as it was valuable. Among the
host of friends throughout Europe and the Far East, two names stand out, both heads
of museums, who welcomed an American ornithologist and provided him with every
available aid in their power. These are Dr. Arthur Willey of Colombo, Ceylon, and
Dr. Nelson Annandale of the Indian Museum, Calcutta.

For seventeen months I travelled in Asia and the East Indies, studying the
pheasants in their native haunts, and was fortunate enough to find and study every
one of the nineteen genera of these birds which I recognize in this work.

In the eastern Himalayas, from the terai of Nepal, Sikhim and Bhutan to the
southern border of Tibet, I found the Black-backed Kaleege, the Impeyan, the Satyr
Tragopan, and, high up near the snows, the Blood Partridges. Here I travelled on

horseback and afoot and worked with the aid of sturdy Tibetan men and women, of .
xix

XX INTRODUCTION

Bootias and of Nepalese shepherds. Far to the west, among the spruces and deodars
of Garhwal, and Kashmir, I took horse and dandy and tonga and found wild hillmen of
unknown tribes waiting to help in the search. Here again I met the royal Impeyan,
and in addition the White-crested Kaleege, the Cheer, the Koklass, and the Western
Tragopan. The Indian Peafowl and the Red Junglefowl rewarded days of labour in the
terrible heat of the Plains, and the same Peafowl but another Junglefowl in Ceylon,
where I voyaged in outrigger canoes and lumbering bullock-carts, and hunted with
gentle-faced Tamils and hideous Veddahs. In Burma appeared the Bar-tailed and the
Peacock Pheasants, Horsfield’s Kaleege, the Lineated and the Silvers, and along the
border of Tibet and Yunnan, the rare Sclater's Impeyan, Temminck’s Tragopan and
a new species which I have called Kuser’s Blood Partridge. Here I saw the White
Eared-Pheasant and the Amherst Pheasant along the mountain torrents, and here the
men were as wild as the pheasants, and the Lolos and Kachins and mongrel Chinese
rolled down rocks on my trail by day, and shot poisoned arrows by night at my Ghurka
sentries. In the Malay States, in the humid, leech-ridden jungles of Selangor, Penang
and Johore I found the Ocellated and the Great Argus, the Green Peafowl, the Crested
and the Crestless Firebacks ; and, higher up among the mountains, the Bronze-tailed
Peacock Pheasants. Here were no natives to help, the Malays too slothful and the
Sakais too timid and wild, and my memories of those heart-breaking but happy all-day
tramps are solitary ones. From end to end of Java I searched for the one-wattled
Junglefowl, to find it at last at very sea-level. Then wonderful weeks in a Dyak
war-canoe, through forests and over rapids, took me to the heart of Borneo, to the
home of the White-tailed Pheasant and the dancing arena of the Grey Argus. Three
separate expeditions were made into the interior of China, the first through Fokien,
by houseboat, then up the Yangtse, and the final one through the plague zone and by
palanquin and horse out into the desert regions beyond Pekin and the great wall.
These brought me unforgettable glimpses and unexpected knowledge of the true
Ring-necked Pheasants, of the Chinese Silver, Cabot’s Tragopan, the Reeves, and the
Brown Eared-Pheasant. A Japanese reconnaissance revealed all the forms of pheasants
living on those islands, the Green Versicolour, and the Copper in its various subspecies.

I should never have undertaken such a work as this on any group of birds which
I had not studied in their wild home. And now that I look back on the splendid
pheasants in their varied surroundings, I think of them as friends, as fellow living
organisms on this earth, whose companionship has brought both joy and sorrow, but
whose lives have always been a stimulus to hard, honest work; the toil of the explorer
and the field naturalist, with extremes of exaltation and of physical pain which no —
dweller in cities can ever realize.

Handicapped as the pheasants are by long tails, decorated wings, ruffs, and the
most brilliantly coloured feathers, covering flesh beloved by every carnivore from
man to marten, these wonderful birds have found a place for themselves on mountain,
plain and island, and by exercise of the keenest of senses, have outwitted their foes
and overcome physical characters which long ago would have doomed less virile
groups of birds to extinction.

My survey of their haunts made me pessimistic in regard to their future. In
India there seemed a slight lessening among the natives of the religious regard for wild

THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS

THE most wonderful scene in the world is the Himalayan snows from Darjeeling. Sitting at the
edge of the moss-hung forest at about seven thousand feet, one sees, through a filigree of tree ferns, range
after range, extending through green and blue and purple distance up to the sharp edge of the snow line.
The apex of all is Kinchinjunga, with beautifully draped Kabru far to the left. Six species of pheasants
live in these glorified hills.

In the deeper valleys, where the chill of the snows never comes, are Red Junglefowl and Peafowl. In
the upper forest, Black-backed Kaleege roost and nest. Still higher, near the snows, at nine or ten thousand
feet, are the Satyr Tragopan and the Impeyan—most gorgeous of birds. The last of the sextet lives at

fourteen or fifteen thousand feet—at the very edge of the snows. This is the Blood Partridge.

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INTRODUCTION XxX1

life which has been such a boon to the birds in this densely populated part of the world;
in the Malay States and elsewhere great rubber plantings threaten the whole fauna of
some places; in Nepal and Yunnan the plumage hunter is working havoc; in China
the changing diet from rice to meat and the demand in Europe for shiploads of frozen
pheasants has swept whole districts clean of these birds. And everywhere unwise and
unseasonable shooting and trapping by the natives has told heavily. For some of the
pheasants there seemed but short shrift.

A new, wholly unexpected change has now come to pass, and the terrible history
being made in Europe will mean a new lease of life to the creatures of the Eastern
jungles. The demand for rubber and for the luxury of frozen pheasant will lessen ;
the milliner for a time will be unable to sell his ill-gotten wares; the pressure of
Caucasian influence will lighten temporarily, the influx of foreign capital will dwindle,
and in a thousand places intended clearings will be abandoned, projected buildings
will be deserted. The deep call of the Tragopan and the crow of the Kaleege will
increase in volume throughout the jungles of the East, and the birds will return to
places from which the inroads of man had driven them. This breathing-space, this
far-flung influence of war, may be the last pause in the slow, certain kismet which,
from the ultimate increase and spread of mankind, must result finally in the total
extinction of these splendid birds. 7

PHEASANTS: A BRIEF GENERAL ACCOUNT

Twenty-five centuries ago long-tailed, ground-loving birds of brilliant plumage
were abundant along the banks of the rivers flowing from the Caucasus Mountains
into the Black Sea. Aeschylus tells us this district was called Colchis and the
principal river the Phasis. Both the Greeks and the Romans knew these birds,
esteeming them for their flesh, and calling them ®acvaves épus or Phastanus avis
—the bird of the Phasis. Even to-day we speak of them and their allies in the
almost similar word—Pheasant. The root remains the same, whether as a Frenchman
we say Fraisan, as a German Fasam, or as an Italian Fagzano.

‘Pheasants were painted and embroidered on very old Chinese paper and silk
tapestries perhaps a thousand years before the Greeks knew of them—pheasants of
other kinds, such as the Golden and the Silver. But our knowledge of these early
records is very vague.

Of even less definite report, though of far greater interest, are the giant pheasants
which flapped their wings and crowed, nested and laid their eggs in the strange old
Miocene days, when mammals, from shrews to mastodons, were in their prime.
This was when the sabre-toothed tigers and huge primitive dogs pursued tapirs and
the tiniest of deer over what is now the pleasant southland of France, from the
Garonne to the Pyrénées. Forever lost to us are the colours and patterns and habits
of these pheasants of old, but from their bones we know that some of them were
larger than any living to-day. These and a few more recent fragments are all the
evidence we have of the countless generations of birds which preceded the magnificent
pheasants living at present on the earth.

It seems probable that the more immediate ancestors of the pheasants lived in

XX1l INTRODUCTION

Asia, perhaps near the Himalayas, but during the Miocene a wave of life flowed from
Asia into Europe, and the fossils which have been found were doubtless of members of
this invasion. In the course of time these pheasants died out in Europe and all those
which are now found there have been transported from Asia by man.

Our knowledge of the lives of the pheasants has thus far been of the most
fragmentary character. Forty-five years ago the sum total of human knowledge in
this field was crystallized in a “ Monograph of the Phasianidae” by Dr. Daniel Giraud
Elliot. In my research, his monograph has served as a starting-point. Since 1872
no publication of importance has appeared which has been devoted to these birds
alone. The only work of wider scope worthy of mention from the point of view
of originality is Hume and Marshall’s “The Game Birds of India, Burma and Ceylon,”
published in 1879. From the point of view of life histories this work has been
copied systematically ever since, and very little added.

Starting out with the scattered information revealed by a search of ornithological
literature, I have endeavoured to round out as fully as possible the lives of these
wonderful birds. And with whatever success I may have attained, is always the
synchronous realization of how much there is still to learn. Of their evolution,
of their forms, colours, habits, enemies, instincts, I can present as yet the merest
outline. Their dangerously little knowledge gave to the earlier naturalists dogmatic
assurance in the face of all these tremendous problems. To-day we have come
to have the greatest faith in the scientist who dares to say “I don’t know”; who,
without setting forth half-considered theories of his own, is willing to search for
the modicum of truth which lies hidden at the bottom of some of the even more
improbable theories championed by his confréres; and finally, who has the intuition
to realize and the courage to admit the operation of uxknown factors, which it is the
object of our life work to discover.

My views on the evolution of the pheasants have become ever broader, more
plastic as my studies have progressed. I lean less and less upon any one explanation
or theory, and seem to see cases of the operation of several, and the shadowy indica-
tions of others of which as yet we have no concrete conception. Again I emphasize
the fact that we may be certain that there was no such thing as linear development
of group after group. Whatever or however changes have taken place they have
been radial: variations in all directions; attempts to make successes in life in every
conceivable niche and manner. The true pheasants, typified by the so-called
English Pheasant, show, between their numerous forms, gradations so delicate that
there is no question of their origin other than by continuous variations. In the
Black-throated Golden and the Black-shouldered Peafowl we have undisputable
cases of mutation. In the origin and significance of the successive changes of
plumage of the White-tailed Wattled Pheasant of Borneo; of the train of the
Peacock and the wings of the Argus; of the clothing of a dull pheasant hen with all
the glories of her mate simply as the result of disease or age, we are in the face of
mysteries, wholly inexplicable. The explanation of any one of these would satisfy the
vaison détre of a lifetime of labour. But one must be content to acquire merit
by adding even a handful of material to the great structure, and so it only be
sincere and true it shall be well worth while.

INTRODUCTION XX1l1

Pheasants are members of the great group of gallinaceous or fowl-like birds, a
group which has been recognized with more or less precision since the time of Linnaeus.
The earlier naturalists knew them as Rasores, or scratching birds, from their universal
habit of digging among leaves or into the ground with their claws, and uncovering the
seeds and grubs and worms upon which they feed. But this was too superficial a
character to hold any group of birds together. Many unrelated birds, such as our
white-throated sparrow, could qualify as members on this criterion.

At first thought it would seem as if there could never be any doubt as to the
identity of a pheasant, or even a gallinaceous bird. But, unlike such completely isolated
groups as penguins, owls and tinamous, the Galliformes have outliers or hangers-on
which in general character are linked with members of other orders. Until either
we unearth much more significant fossil material than has heretofore been discovered,
or until the embryology of scores of species has been thoroughly worked out, we
must regard these lines of relationship as mere hints, evanescent twigs and branches
connecting the foliage of living species of birds.

Considering the group as a whole, the Galliformes, or fowl-like birds, are unquestion-
ably low in the scale of avian evolution. In spite of their fine feathers and elaborately
specialized plumage characters, neither anatomically nor mentally are they of high rank.
They appear also to occupy a rather central place, near the focus of many lines of avian
radiation. Of still more arrested development and showing a certain degree of relation-
ship is the strange hoatzin, which leads dimly but certainly in the direction of the
touracous and cuckoos. The hemipodes are another outlying group, evidently a
terminal branch. The sand grouse still more certainly point the way from the Galli-
formes to the pigeons. And thus we strive to orient the various groups, and must
always fail unless we consider them divorced from all linear classification, and as
organisms radiating in the three planes of space.

One hundred and fifty-eight years ago Linnaeus gave us a fairly homogeneous
group which he called Gallinae. This consisted of five genera and twenty-five species.
Seven of these latter come within the scope of this monograph—

Pavo cristatus . : . Indian Peafowl.

Pavo bicalcaratus : ; ; : : . Grey Peacock Pheasant.
Meleagris satyra Z ; : ‘ F . Satyra Tragopan.
Phasianus gallus. : ; ; ; : . Red Junglefowl.
Phasianus colchicus . ; : : . Common Pheasant.
Phasianus pictus : : : . Golden Pheasant.
Phasianus nycthemerus . ; : . Silver Pheasant.

Sharpe, in what is perhaps the best of the later general classifications of birds,
recognizes a suborder Phasiani, with five families: Tetraonidae, Phasianidae, Numididae,
Meleagridae and Odontophoridae. The second family is the one which concerns us. It
embraces the partridges and quails of the Old, and the grouse of the New World, the
snow cocks, red-legged partridges, francolins, tragopans, pheasants of all species, jungle-
fowls, and peafowl. Of the fifty-one genera into which Sharpe divides this assemblage,
I have included only twenty-two in this monograph, and these I have reduced to nine-
teen. The attempts to subdivide this family have heretofore been of necessity frankly
tentative and speculative, or based on some superficial character which invariably

XX1V INTRODUCTION

presented an incongruous exception. Of the first type of effort we may instance
Dr. Elliot’s grouping in his monograph published over forty years ago, and of the
second the selection of the relative length of the flight feathers, to the logical
application of which the most typical and important genus /Phaszanus offers an
insuperable exception.

We hear constantly of the artificiality of classification, of the makeshifts of genera
and species, but seldom is the absolute truth of this realized until we have an intensive
study of some limited group of organisms. As regards importance of definitive
characters in family, genus and species of Pheasants, we can in many cases
compare them respectively only with genera, species and subspecies of mammals or
reptiles.

As I have said, there has been little attempt, and that of a wholly artificial character,
at classification of the Pheasants on any scale higher than genera, and the most thorough
search I could make revealed no consistent differences in either bones or muscles, length
or number or colour of feathers. Finally, 1 came upon a character, external and transient,
but in rhythmical return and in consistency well worthy of consideration. I found that
each year there was a regular sequence in the moulting of the tail-feathers and that
this held good throughout the life of the bird, the individuals of the species and the
members of the genus. In addition, it agreed closely with the assumed relationships
which had heretofore been taken for granted.

Thus I have distinguished the following groups—

Subfamily PERDICINAE (Quail-like) :
[Tail moult centrifugal, from the central feathers eee ; Pim es Ss 2k
outward. | Tragopans : . Lragopan.
Fared-Pheasants. : . Crossoptilon.
Impeyans : ; ; ; . Lophophorus.
Kaleege and Silvers ; . Gennaeus.
Crestless Firebacks . : . Acomus.
Subfamily PHASIANINAE (Pheasant-like) ae ise ae oS ee
[Tail moult centripetal, from the outer feathers ae eee SL sae
inward.] Junglefowl ; . Gallus.
Koklass Pheasants . : ; . Pucrasia.
Cheer Pheasants. ; : . Catreus.
True Pheasants : ; : : . Phasianus.
Long-tailed Pheasants. ‘ . Syrmaticus.
Golden and Amherst ; . Chrysolophus.
Subfamily ARGUSIANINAE (Argus-like) Bronze-tailed Peacock Pheasants. . Chalcurus
[Tail moults 3rd from the central pair outward SSAC OCn Ean , ; are, eae
and inverd | Ocellated Argus. . Rheinardius
Argus Pheasants. : . Argusianus.
Subfamily PAVONINAE (Peafowl-like) Peaf
[Tail moults 6th from the central pair outward.] { eee 3 ; ; ; ; ——

There is a certain amount of variation in the moults of the Argusianinae and Pavoninae which tends to
amalgamate these two groups, but for the present I shall keep them separate.

Further than this it is impossible to go in linear classification. Whatever may
have been the generalized ancestor of the pheasants, the nineteen groups in which we
are interested have evolved more or less radially, and, considered as terminal living
foliage on the tree of evolution, all are equally distant from that common ancestor. In

Stee

INTRODUCTION XXV

only a few can we with certainty discern a certain linking relationship, which might
partially be expressed in supergenera. We more nearly approximate the truth in such
a schematic arrangement as this, which at least has the advantage of two planes of
space—

Lthagenes, etc. Tragopan, etc.

+ Lophophorus
Crossoptilon

Polyplectron—Chalcurus ~

Acomus \ E :
Gen nacust Lobtophasts
Hypothetical \Lophura/
Generalized
[ ARGUSIANINAE] Aesciey ([PHASIANINAE] -4-- Gallus
of pay
Pheasants — Pucrasia

Argusianus—Rheinardius -

Pavo

The first two groups of birds which I have included in the present work—the
Blood Partridges and Tragopans, judged by the tail moult and other characters as well,
are on the quail and partridge side of the line, but I have included them as representing
the genera most nearly allied to the pheasants.

As regards the twelve genera in the subfamily Phasianinae, it is impossible to
arrange them relative to one another in any system excepting one involving the three
planes of space. All show inter-relations of an exceedingly intricate character.

I begin this family with the Impeyans because they show something in common
with certain genera of the Perdicinae, and because certain fossil bones present characters
slightly suggestive of this group. Otherwise they stand alone. This isolation is true
of the next genus, the Eared-Pheasants, to an even greater extent, although the shape
of the tail rather allies them to the succeeding genera. The next four groups, all with
arched, compressed tails, show indisputable relationship; in shape and carriage of the
tail, in the plumage ontogeny, in sexual colours and in eggs and voice. These are the
Kaleege and the Silvers, the Crestless and Crested Firebacks, and the White-tailed
Wattled Pheasant. The Junglefowl are faintly reminiscent of the above, but, on the
whole, isolated. The Koklass stand by themselves as if in mutational segregation, but
introduce less abruptly than any of the foregoing groups, three great genera of splendid
pheasants—birds with tails flat, straight and usually of great length. These are the
Cheer, the true Pheasants and the long-tailed Reeves, Copper, Mikado and Bar-tailed,
which I have grouped together. Finally, we have the Golden and Amherst—of
mysterious relationship, magnificent twins from the depths of western China.

In the subfamily Argusianinae, two well-marked subdivisions are recognizable: the

XXVI1 INTRODUCTION

Peacock Pheasants and the Argus, each composed of two genera, one less and the other
more specialized.

At the end, in veritable regal isolation, come the Peafowl.

If the human manipulation of classifications were of paramount interest, a volume
might be written on the genera of pheasants alone. A suggested genus could doubtless
be found somewhere in ornithological literature for every species which we recognize
to-day. And each would represent the personal bias of some author, sincere enough
probably, but for the most part handicapped by lack of perspective, and especially by
the failure of general application which thorough comparison with all the other genera
would yield. No matter what character or characters are chosen as criteria of generic
differentiation, consistency should be the test brought constantly to bear.

The great variation in the apparent generic relationships for a long time gave me
infinite trouble. It seemed impossible to make any decision which was not based on
personal bias; to prevent aught but a tentative re-shuffling of the groups. I felt that
certain so-called genera were heterogeneous, and yet could find no character of separa-
tion which an English or French or German ornithologist would probably accept as
logical. At last I went outside the birds themselves, and utilized a factor even more
novel than the tail moult character of the subfamilies. This is geographic distribution,
and I found that the purposes of taxonomy were consistently fulfilled by refusing to
include, in any single genus, species whose ranges coincided or overlapped. The results
were not startling, but the rearrangement showed a conservative breaking-up or
coalescing of certain genera whose status had long been in dispute.

Any definite genealogical tree has been absolutely impossible in the light of past
knowledge or from the more thorough research which I could bring to bear. From
' osteological to plumage characters all show such variation that any gradual transition
from genus to genus seems hopeless. Evolution, as I have already said, appears to
have been radial, and in every species the most generalized characters are found
intermingled with those of the utmost specialization. Like the human brain correlated
with a pentadactyl hand and foot, we find extremes in almost every species of
pheasant.

This condition of things bears directly upon a phase of evolution which has been
almost neglected and yet which may ultimately prove to be one of the most important
aspects of the subject. This is the inter-relation of factors within the individual species,
which I shall only mention here. When we are perturbed over the comparative status,
either higher or lower, of any pheasant, let us remember that it is an organism composed
of a vast number of characters, of varying importance, each of which is evolving, either
degenerating, holding its own or becoming more specialized. And our confusion
over correctly orienting the bird as a species is explainable when we realize that of this
vast number of characters, all are evolving in their particular manner, perhaps by
continuous variation, by mutation, or by some method of which we as yet know
nothing. In pondering problems of evolution, it seems to me that we shall arrive at
fundamental conclusions sooner by thinking less of our subject as such-and-such a
pheasant, either specifically or sub-specifically related to some other one, than if we

consider it, more abstractly, as an organism, composed of a vast, intricately related
plexus of characters.

INTRODUCTION XXVII
KEY TO THE GENERA OF PHEASANTS
Family PHASIANIDAE
Subfamily PERDICINAE *
Tail moult centrifugal.
Tail of 14 feathers Ithagenes.
Tail of 18 feathers Tragopan.
Subfamily PHASIANINAE
Tail moult centripetal.
Tail not compressed.
Tail slightly rounded : Lophophorus.
Tail strongly graduated.
Both sexes crested.
Tail of 16 feathers . Pucrasta.
Tail of 18 feathers . Catreus.
No crests present.
6s with normal rumps; Qs dominantly rufous on lateral rectrices . . Syrmaticus.
6s with disintegrated rump plumage; 9s not dominantly rufous on lateral meric: Phastanus.
Tail compressed.
Rectrices long and narrow Chrysolophus.
Rectrices short and broad.
Rectrices fewer than 18.
A fleshy comb present . Gallus.
No fleshy comb present.
Rectrices 14 in number Acomus.
Rectrices 16 in number.
Facial area red ; feathery crests, 9s with mantle not chestnut . Gennaeus.
Facial area be or, if red, with ae crest in g and chestnut mantle in ae Lophura.
Rectrices more than 18.
Rectrices from 20 to 24. Crossoptilon.
Rectrices from 28 to 32. Lobtophasis.
Subfamily ARGUSIANINAE
Tail moult from 3rd pair, outward and inward.
Ocellations on both wings and tail.
Rectrices 16 Chalcurus.
Rectrices 20 to 24 Polyplectron.
Ocellations on the wings alone.
Secondaries normal, not longer than primaries Rhewnardius.
Secondaries enormously developed . Argusianus.

Subfamily PavoNINAE
Tail moult from the 6th pair, outward

DISTRIBUTION

Pavo.

At the present day the natural distribution of pheasants is confined to Asia and

certain of the East India Islands. They are found from the coast of the Black Sea in
the west, to Japan in the east. A line extending eastward from the northerly shores
of the Caspian, the Aral Sea, Lake Balkash and north-eastern Manchuria delimits their
northern haunts. Throughout most of Persia, Afghanistan, Mongolia, and all except
eastern Tibet, pheasants are unknown; while they are generally distributed throughout
Korea, Japan, India, Ceylon, China, Manchuria, Burma, Siam, Indo-China, the Malay
Peninsula, Sumatra, Borneo, Palawan, Java, Bali, Lombok, Sumbana and Flores.
This corresponds very closely with the primary faunal division of the Oriental Region,

* This key does not cover the Perdicinae groups which are not included in this work.

XXVI11 INTRODUCTION

southward to Wallace’s Line. On the north, however, the pheasants extend over the
south Asiatic portion of the Palaearctic Region.

In the Himalayas the Blood Partridge has been observed at an altitude of sixteen
thousand feet, over three miles above the level of the sea, while in Java I have seen
Junglefowl feeding in tidal pools at the very edge of the breakers. Unlike members
of the Perdicinae, such as the common quail of the Old World, which migrates from
Europe to Africa each autumn, pheasants are in no sense birds of passage. As a rule,
they are not even great wanderers, exceptions being the Silver and Reeves, which
occasionally disappear from an entire district for a year or more, temporarily changing
their nesting as well as their feeding haunts. In the north there is a well-marked
seasonal migration due to the advance of the deep snows of winter. In the tropical
zone of distribution more or less regular seasonal movements occur and may be caused
by either of two reasons, the first of which is the fruiting of certain trees providing a
local abundance of food, to which the pheasants of the surrounding country flock in |
large numbers. An excellent example is the Ceylon Junglefowl, which shifts into the
hills in great numbers when the nilloo berries ripen. A second stimulus to changing
ground is the breeding season, when the birds leave their more open haunts and those
near villages and native fields, and betake themselves to the deepest part of the jungle
to make their nests. In the tropical species a regular diurnal movement is very general,
due to temperature, the birds feeding morning and evening more or less in the open,
and retiring to the dense shelter of shady undergrowth to spend the heat of the day.

The irregularity of distribution of the Blood Partridges (/¢/agenes) is doubtless the
result of two causes, first apparently because of our superficial knowledge of the fauna
of the interior of Asia, and actually because of the extremely high elevation at which
these birds live. From the higher ranges of eastern Nepal these birds extend through
south-eastern Tibet, dipping a little way south into Yunnan. They have found
lodgment on an isolated mountain peak in south-central Szechuan. Then, north-
eastward, we find another form of these sturdy creatures braving the rigours of the
Nan-shan and Ala-shan Mountains in Kansu and Shensi.

The Tragopans (7vagopan) are another mountain-loving group, and their distribu-
tion corresponds quite closely to the chief ranges of Asia. One species, however, has
made its way well over Assam, and another occupies an indefinitely known territory in
south-central China, ranging over rather low mountains.

The resplendent Monals or Impeyans (Lophophorus) form a third essentially
Palaearctic genus, more conservatively Himalayan than either of the two preceding,
but, in general outlines, recalling the distribution of both.

The Eared-Pheasants (Cvossoftilon) are, perhaps, the most northerly of all. Their
southern limits are the banks of the Yangtze in Yunnan, and from here they range
northward between Tibet and China, and north-eastward to beyond Pekin.

The following four genera are undoubtedly inter-related, and it is interesting to
keep this in mind in considering their distribution. The great group of Kaleege and
Silver Pheasants (Gewzaeus) are intermediate in their haunts, living neither at very high
elevations nor often descending to the low plains. They are decidedly pheasants of
the hills, or of the foot-hills of the greater ranges. We find them along the entire
Himalayan terai, throughout Assam, Burma and southern China. They have

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INTRODUCTION XX1X

established themselves in Formosa, Hainan, and in central Indo-China. They are
essentially birds of a temperate climate, and in Siam and Tenasserim they give place to
their truly tropical relatives, the Crested Firebacks (Lophura). These brilliant pheasants
occupy the western part of the Malay Peninsula and the eastern half of Sumatra and
almost all of Borneo. Paralleling them in the Malayan and Sumatran distribution are
the Crestless Firebacks (4comus), which in Borneo, however, are found only in the
coastal region of Sarawak. The superlatively specialized member of this super-genus is
the White-tailed Wattled Pheasant (Lodzophasis) of central Borneo.

From this extremely localized species we reach the opposite extreme in the Jungle-
fowl (Gallus), birds of comparatively low open jungles. These birds range over Ceylon,
south and central India, the Himalayan terai, Assam, Burma and throughout all the
countries to the southward, on into Sumatra and Java with its string of lesser islands to
the eastward.

The distribution of the isolated group of Koklass Pheasants (Pucrasza) recalls that
of the Tragopans, in the mountains of the north, with unaccountable gaps which must
formerly at least have been occupied or traversed.

The Cheer (Ca¢veus) calls the western Himalayas its home, and is almost sur-
rounded by the wide-ranging True Pheasants (Phasianus). In a host of confusingly
intergraded forms these range from the shores of the Black Sea in the Caucasus east-
ward through northern Persia, Turkestan and throughout China into Korea and
Manchuria. Japan and Formosa are their island homes, and to the south-west they dip
into eastern Burma.

The gorgeous Long-tailed Pheasants (Syrmaticus) are geographically scattered
units—Burma, central China, south-eastern China, Japan and Formosa; as isolated as
are the various forms themselves.

The Golden and Amherst Pheasants (Chrysolophus) are also isolated geographically
and physically, in the mountains of western and central China.

The two groups of Peacock Pheasants show nicely correlated habitats. The rare
and less specialized Bronze-tailed birds (Chalcurus) are limited to the mountain ranges
in the centre of the Malay States and of Sumatra, while the more typical Peacock
Pheasants (Polyplectrvon) inhabit eastern Sumatra, the lowlands of the Malay States and
northward throughout Indo-China, Siam and Burma as far as the terai of the eastern
Himalayas.

The Ocellated Argus (Rheznardius) are also the less specialized members of this
wonderful type of bird, and our imperfect knowledge of their haunts compels us at
present to limit them to central Indo-China and the central mountains of the Malay
States. The True Argus (47gusianus) extends over all the Malay Peninsula, eastern
Sumatra, and Borneo except along the coast.

The Peafowl (favo) are wide-ranging, covering all India and Ceylon, Assam,
Burma, Siam, Indo-China and the Malay Peninsula. Sumatra, by some strange freak
of dispersal, is uninhabited, but in Java, lying many miles to the south, the birds are
numerous. , |

Reviewing the distribution of the pheasants as a whole, we find that the nineteen
genera group themselves as follows :—

XXX INTRODUCTION

PALAEARCTIC REGION

MANCHURIAN SUB-REGION— ORIENTAL REGION—
Ithagenes Gennaeus
Tragopan Acomus
Lophophorus Lophura
Crossoptilon Lobiophasis
Pucrasta Gallus
Catreus Chalcurus
Phastanus (also in Siberian sub-region and in Polyplectron

northern Oriental region) Rhetnardius
Syrmaticus (also in northern Oriental region) Argusianus
Chrysolophus Pavo

Phasianus and Syrmaticus, while extending into the northern part of the Oriental
region, are unquestionably of true Palaearctic origin. With the exception of the wide-
ranging Paszanus, all the eight genera are typical of the Manchurian sub-region. In
regard to the Oriental region, it seems impossible to recognize the divisions into Indo-
Chinese and Indo-Malayan sub-regions. Gewuaeus is the only genus confined to the
former, and 4Acomus and Chalcurus alone are limited to the latter. All the remaining
groups are found in both of these sub-regions. Gadlus and Pavo are the only genera
of Pheasants which enter the Indian and Ceylonese sub-regions.

The genera of pheasants under consideration almost without exception support the
finer zoogeographical divisions of Wallace rather than those of Lydekker or Sclater.

I have already indicated the importance which I attribute to geographical
distribution in the demarcation of genera. In such a case as the removal of the Reeves
Pheasant from /kasianus and in other instances, such a criterion seems fully in °
agreement with physical characters of differentiation.

The correlation between distribution and the three subfamilies of true pheasants
tends to strengthen these divisions :—

Lophophorus
Crossoptilon
Pucrasia
Catreus
Phasianus
Syrmaticus
Chrysolophus

Palaearctic Region

PHASIANINAE

Acomus
Lophura
Lobiophasis
Gallus
Chalcurus
Polyplectron
Rhetnardius
Argusianus

Oriental Region

i

ARGUSIANINAE { Oriental region

|
|
| Gennaeus
|
|
{

PAVONINAE { Oriental region Pavo

Summing up the general distribution, there seems little doubt but that the
pheasants are essentially northern in origin, and mountainous rather than low-living.
Progression southward in every instance, both specifically as well as generically, is
correlated with increasing specialization, and consequently we may assume that it also

INTRODUCTION XXXI

indicates a lengthening of the distance from the place of origin. In the three sub-
families of typical pheasants we find seven genera which are quite northern, practically
confined to the Palaearctic region. The remaining ten are found in the Oriental
region. It is among these that we find the surest proof of the northern or mountainous
origin. The supergenus group, commencing with the rather generalized Genunaeus,
frays out southward into more and more specialized forms—Lofhura, Acomus and
Lobiophasis. Gallus has the most generalized species, ga//us in the north, and the
highly modified varius far to the south in Java. The same applies to the Peafowl. In
the cases of the Peacock Pheasants and Argus, the least specialized forms, Chalcurus
and ARheimardius, are wholly mountain loving, while Polyplectron and Argusianus live
nearer sea-level.

COMPARATIVE ABUNDANCE

Only in the case of Peafowl in India, in places where the birds are held sacred, and
in the rice-field pheasants of isolated parts of China, can any member of the pheasants
be said to be really abundant. Enemies are too numerous, and birds of such consider-
able size too conspicuous to be able to maintain themselves in great numbers in any
locality. Yet in parts of the Himalayas far removed from mankind I have sometimes
seen five species and several dozen individuals in the course of a day’s tramp. And the
sound of a gun would often enable one to locate (vocally and, of course, temporarily)
every cock pheasant within earshot.

The comparative sociability gave me, at certain seasons, fairly accurate data to
estimate the pheasant population of circumscribed districts. The Argus seems the most
unsociable of all his kindred. For month after month the birds wander through the
jungle or keep their dancing grounds in order, associating with none of their kind,
perhaps never even seeing another Argus until the breeding season, and then only
a solitary rival cock or two to vanquish in combat, or a hen attracted by the loud
nocturnal calling. It would seem as if some of the Kaleege must fairly breed in colonies,
so fond are they of one another's company. I have seen them day after day feeding,
wandering about and roosting in large flocks. The regularity of movement of these
flocks makes it an easy matter to form a comparatively accurate census of any single
locality. After the breeding season, pheasants in a wild state are quite tolerant of one
another, but even when in flocks there seems to be a pretty definite recognition of caste,
might always being right. A rough classification of pheasants based on their general
sociability results in something like the following table—

SOLITARY IN PAIRS GREGARIOUS
Lobtophasis Tragopan Ithagenes
Chalcurus Gallus Lophophorus
Polyplectron Pucrasia Crossoptilon
Rheinardius Catreus Gennaeus
Argus Syrmaticus Acomus

Chrysolophus Lophura
Phastanus
Pavo

This indicates merely that those in the first column are seen more often singly—

both males and females—than in company with others of their kind; those in the second
é

XXX1l INTRODUCTION

column are usually observed in pairs or trios, while one’s dominant memory of the
eight genera listed as gregarious is of birds in flocks. It is interesting to note that
the more jungle-loving, tropical pheasants, including all the members of two sub-
families, are essentially solitary. This is due, perhaps, to the multiplicity of terrestrial
enemies and the difficulty which a flock of birds would have in escaping any sudden
onslaught in the dense undergrowth.

VOICE

Pheasants have been generously endowed in the matter of voice, and, indeed, in
their life economy the sense of hearing is second in importance only to that of sight.
The gamut in feeling is great; that of latitude no less. The loud crow of chanticleer
has gathered strength under the protection of mankind, and follows daylight around the
earth wherever mankind has made a home. The nocturnal challenge of the Ocellated
Argus has been heard by perhaps a scant half dozen white men, and only on a few
isolated dukz¢ts of the Malayan range. Mingled with the roar of the avalanches which
crash down from the Himalayan glaciers, we may hear the seep/ seep/ of the Blood
Partridge and the louder call of the Impeyan, In the warm wind blowing from the
sea off the Javan coast comes the regular boom of breakers and the high, broken crow of
the Green Junglefowl. |

To the sportsman or field naturalist in search of creatures other than pheasants, the
chief vocal memory of these birds must always be the shrill cackle of terror which so
often accompanies sudden alarm and headlong flight. Using still-hunting and tent
observation as my methods of study, I was able to enter more intimately into the life of
these birds and listen to their more composed small-talk. The varied utterances of the
barnyard fowl are well known, and, with the exception of the more solitary inclined
species of wild pheasants, I feel certain that all have an equally varied vocabulary.
Whether watching the birds from my umbrella tent or an ambush among the branches,
or observing those in pheasant aviaries, this correlation between natural social instincts
and volubility invariably holds good. A pen full of Peacock Pheasants is usually
silent ; a flock of Silvers keeps up a running comment audible many yards away. So
deeply implanted is this trait that these latter birds talk to themselves when quite
alone. In a cage I have seen a Kaleege contentedly murmuring to himself by the
hour, and in some isolated patch of jungle I have watched one of the same group
scratching vigorously for his own delectation, and unintermittently voicing his pleasure
or impatience at the results.

In the life-histories of the various species I have entered into details which I shall
not repeat here. Briefly, we may recognize several general divisions of utterances.
First in importance is the crow of the cock, which may be both a challenge to rivals
and a call to females within earshot. Then there is the alarm note, often uttered by
both sexes—by a cock to his harem, or by a hen to her brood. With modifications this
may serve to express a considerable variety of emotions; when less vigorous it may
indicate suspicion, and when agonizingly increased becomes the scream or cackle of
terror. As the vocal antithesis of this we have in many of the social species the content
note, which is given under many conditions, but only when the birds feel quite safe,
whether feeding, wandering slowly about, or preparing to roost. The call note is very

INTRODUCTION XXXI111

unlike any of the others, and is heard only among gregarious pheasants, and chiefly
when a flock has been scattered and is collecting again. The call to safety of a hen
to her brood is a very gentle form of the alarm note, repeated rapidly. Occasionally
in captivity, and rarely in a wild state, I have heard the most pleasing of all their
utterances. The evening song of the pheasant is an elaborate variation of the content
song, uttered from the branch to which the bird has flown to roost for the night, but
before it has settled down. A Tragopan, a Golden, two Kaleege and a Ring-necked
Pheasant have thus sung to me, and these experiences are among the most memorable
in my study of the birds.

An entire chapter might be written on the crows and challenges of pheasants. Like
most of the activities of these birds, the crowing takes place chiefly at daylight and dusk,
especially in the tropics. In the mountains desultory challenging may go on all day.
The call of the Tragopan is more like the mournful wail of the Panda than the utterance
of a bird. The broken crow of the wild red Junglefowl differs not at all from that of a
bantam, while the varied calls of the other three species are a vocal protest against their
being considered in the line of descent of our domestic fowl. The isolated character
of Pucrasta is enhanced by the individuality of their crow, which gives rise to their
onomatopoetic name, Koklass. Another reliable character emphasizing the close rela-
tionship of the Kaleege, Silvers and Firebacks is their voice. It can neither be written
nor adequately imitated by the human larynx. There comes to the ear a low guttural
mumbling or rumbling, breaking suddenly into an abrupt, long-drawn-out, staccato,
liquid gurgle. The four genera in this group, ranging from the White-crested Kaleege
in Kashmir to the White-tailed Bornean bird, all have this peculiar mode of expression.
It has so often come to my ears as the climax of many hours of concentrated watching,
that I can never hear it without profound emotion. Next tothe cosmopolitan crowing
of the domestic cock, the voice of the so-called English Pheasant is, perhaps, most widely
known. Whether heard on the uplands of England, on the steppes of the Caucasus,
among the rice-fields of Japan, or in our own American fields, the sudden broken,
trisyllabic note can never be mistaken.

It is difficult to overestimate the importance which the voice of these birds plays
in their lives. With many it is so potent that its imitation, even clumsily achieved,
offers the easiest method of enticing them within gunshot. To the Argus more than
to any other, the call for a mate must be of vital importance, for not only does it call
in the night, from the depths of a tangled jungle, but, as we shall see, it is localized,
bound to one spot by the exigencies of its habits of life, so that without the constant,
far-reaching announcement of its presence and needs, the race must become extinct
in one generation. But the crowning mystery of these wonderful aerial vibrations, upon
which the very existence of the race of Argus depends, is the avoidance of the enemies
to whom the loud call must be as significant as it is to a rival cock or an expectant hen.
Fraught with all the deepest meaning of animal life as it must be to the latter, we,
with our human ears, can never call the crow of a pheasant a sweet sound. The law
of compensation operates here as elsewhere, and the difference between a Peacock’s
plumage and its voice has become proverbial. A more raucous, penetrating sound
would be hard to imagine, yet it is perfectly adapted to its function in the wild life
of the bird.

XXX1V INTRODUCTION

The gregarious nature of pheasants has brought into play another method of
communication, not vocal but mechanical. This is the wing drumming. In no
pheasant is this aeolian language so highly developed as in our ruffed grouse, where
the alar reverberations almost usurp the voice in challenge and mating call. In
several groups of pheasants are found brief, unskilful wing beating or rather clapping,
as in the Junglefowl, given usually just before or after crowing. The best-known
instance is the domestic cock, who claps his wings smartly together over his back before
uttering his rather perfunctory crow. In the True Pheasants this clapping gives place
to a whirring, and in the Kaleege and Silvers is found the highest development of
this method of communication. At the breeding season the cocks challenge and also
summon the females by a series of loud, deep reverberations, produced by vibrating
the wings with great rapidity throughout the narrow arc of a circle, the bird standing
erect, the wings half raised and half extended. But even after the period of nesting
has begun, this wing whirring does not cease, and in fact is continued throughout the
year. By means of it the birds are able to express many emotions and even shades
of feeling, to convey suspicion, warning, fear, to summon their family or call together
the scattered covey. It is a sound which in volume suggests some large and dangerous
creature, and it doubtless benefits the timorous authors proportionately, intimidating
invisible enemies as well as communicating warning or welcome to birds of their own
species within earshot. On the other hand, when the sound is imitated by a bit of
whirling palm-leaf or a handkerchief in the hollow of a man’s hand, it becomes a fatal
siren, luring the pugnacious or amorous cock to destruction. Every hue, every pattern,
every habit, every character in these birds is often a two-edged sword, cutting toward
both life and death.

FLIGHT AND GAIT

The pheasant wing is much like that of the quail or grouse, short and rounded,
built for the quick, rapid beats which carry the bird with a rush, out of immediate
danger. The subsequent flight is of less importance. In thick jungle it usually ends
in a tree close at hand. In the open, the chances are that the birds are flushed from
a mountain or hillside, and when once clear of all obstruction the bowed wings are
set and the pheasant scales swiftly downward. When the alarm is thorough, the bird
will occasionally continue the rapid beating and make its way on a more or less even
line straight across the valley. Usually the bird or the flock drops to the ground a
few hundred yards away and continues its course on foot.

A Reeves Pheasant has been said to make a single flight of several miles on
some of the large preserves—the longest record for any pheasant of which I know.
I have seen a Peacock with full-grown train rise from tall grass and fly steadily for
the third of a mile, never losing altitude and finally alighting near the summit of
a dead tree, some seventy feet from the ground. Unless forced to do so, pheasants
prefer to escape on foot, and some species I have never been able to flush, even
with the aid of a dog.

While Cheer Pheasants are, perhaps, among the weakest fliers of their family,
they can probably attain the greatest speed. No other pheasants that I have observed
seem to hold the wings closer to their bodies while shooting down a steep hillside.

INTRODUCTION XXXV

They launch out with a few rapid wing beats and then drop like meteors, at the
last moment breaking their impetus with widespread wings, or turning like a flash
to left or right with a mighty sweep of the tail-feathers.

The gait of pheasants is usually slow and dignified. The neatness with which
a Golden or Silver will pick its way over rough ground is delightful to watch. An
Impeyan with its short legs and thickset body is probably the least attractive when
in motion. But the need for constant alertness and the frequent stops in order to
look and listen, give to almost all pheasants a carriage which is the embodiment
of grace and poise.

DAILY ROUND OF LIFE
FOOD

Looking back upon many intimate memories of pheasants busily feeding, and
upon scores of stomachs which I have carefully examined, one item of diet dominates
all others. Wherever termites or white ants occur, there they will be sought diligently
by pheasants. I have counted hundreds of these insects with additional quantities
of eggs and pupae in the crop of one bird, so the total consumption must be enormous.
This applies, of course, to pheasants in more tropical regions where termites abound.
In the north, as among the Himalayan ranges, the chosen food wherever available is
berries, such as those of the juniper, and the leaves of shrubby plants. Pheasants on
the whole, however, are decidedly omnivorous, and few edible objects, whether vegetable
or animal, come amiss to them. In the Himalayas, when certain flowers are in bloom,
the birds eat quantities of the petals.

Every important order of insect is taken without hesitation, and it is remarkable
what spiny creatures are swallowed whole without apparent damage to the mucous
membrane. Pheasants have unusually keen vision, and among the less injured types
of insects I found a certain percentage of what might be considered protectively coloured
ones. Twice only were the wings of butterflies distinguishable, an orange and yellow
Ixias of medium size in one case, and again a hindwing of the giant black spotted
jungle butterfly Hestza. There is no doubt whatever in my mind that both protective
coloration and mimicry are very potent agencies in preserving members of this order
from destruction, the first factor operating when the insect is at rest, and the second
when the birds have learned their bitter lesson. Again and again while safely cached
and watching pheasants, I have seen conspicuously marked butterflies flap slowly
about within easy reach, observed but undisturbed by the birds. Three times I saw
half-hearted attempts made to seize butterflies; once a short chase after a Kallima-like
individual as it snapped past, and the other two efforts, equally unsuccessful, made upon
more brilliant insects.

In Garhwal, about mid-May, small moths were exceedingly abundant among the
underbrush, and I found several species of pheasants feeding largely upon them. I
recall taking thirty-eight from the crop of one Kaleege.

Impeyans, Cheer and Kaleege are great diggers. The first-mentioned work
systematically in flocks, and like a little company of sappers and miners, excavate
deep holes in the turf of the high mountain meadows. As these hollows are extended
they coalesce, and soon a large area looks as if it had been deeply ploughed. While

XXXVI | INTRODUCTION

grubs and worms are all taken, yet the main object of search seems to be coarse tubers
which are broken up and swallowed. Strange to say, all this work is done with the
stout, curved beak, the upper mandible of which overhangs and is effectively used with
a pick-like motion.

In the tropics I found Firebacks and others scratching among the shallows
and pebbles of jungle brooks, devouring earwigs and small crayfishes. Still more
remarkable in habit were the Green Junglefowl on the sea-shore in Java, feeding on
shrimps and marine worms from the small coral pools left by the tide. In several
instances I obtained recognizably new species of insects from the crops of birds, and
from pheasants such as the Argus, numbers of strange seeds of trees or shrubs wholly
unknown to botanists. So attractive are certain kinds of food, berries or small fruits,
that their annual ripening is sufficient to attract birds from many miles, and from low
plains to considerable elevations. At such times the birds eat ravenously and become
fat and unwieldy, and larger numbers fall a prey to jungle cats and other animals than
when they are in better condition.

Early morning and evening are the usual feeding times. In the mountains and in
the more northern haunts, however, this habit is less rigorously observed, both because
the midday heat is not oppressive, and because a greater amount of calorific nourishment
is necessary.

ROOSTS

I was able to watch a number of species of pheasants returning nightly to their
roosts, and in many more cases I found undoubted roosting places. Intensive search
of these localities would almost always reveal stray feathers which afforded certain
identification, while the position and amount of sign yielded data as to the location of
the roosting branch and the length of time the place had been in use. Wherever
possible, pheasants of all species roost in trees, usually about midway to the summit,
and well out from the trunk, by preference selecting a tree devoid of branches for some
distance from the ground. This situation appears to be the one best suited for the
avoidance of nocturnal enemies. While still sheltered from passing owls by over-
hanging foliage, yet the distance from the trunk enables the birds to be forewarned of
scansorial enemies by the shaking of the branch. A hen may sleep close to her nearly
grown brood, but usually the birds roost separately, although as many as six or eight
may occupy the same tree. A prevailing wind always determines the direction which
the birds face. If undisturbed the birds return to the identical spot night after night,
while well-chosen roosts may be occupied for many months.

Red Junglefowl sometimes offer a startling exception to the non-gregarious roosting
habit. As many as thirty cocks and hens have been observed roosting close together
on the slanting stem of one giant bamboo. To all intents and purposes these were
wild birds, yet I accredit this phenomenon to the infusion of blood from some village
fowl, breaking down the more feral, solitary, roosting instinct.

The going to roost is no hasty matter, but one to be gone about with circumspec-
tion. The birds gather slowly and by devious routes, and there is much hesitation
and small-talk before the first upward leap or flight is essayed. When the final branch
is reached there ensues much half-hearted preening of feathers, the song is perhaps

INTRODUCTION XXXVII

given, with long stares at the surrounding jungle, or upward at the dying light in the
sky. Finally the birds settle down, and sleep with the head tucked behind a wing.
I have watched birds sleeping quietly, their rounded forms silhouetted against the
moon, and crept quietly back to camp, leaving them at rest. And, again, I have seen a
pine marten send down a pair of Kaleege, screaming with terror as they fluttered blindly
out into the darkness. I think, however, that but few dangers come to these birds while
they are roosting. Their bodies give forth no tell-tale scent, and the roost is chosen
with utmost care. Peacocks differ from other pheasants in that they seem not to fear
the onslaught of owls. Their invariable rule is to choose a very lofty dead tree, and to
spend their nights singly or as many as seven together, far above the surrounding
jungle, insulated from terrestrial enemies by the unclimbable, smooth, hard bole of the
weathered forest giant. Junglefowl inhabiting semi-arid regions make their way to the
centre of some thorn-bush for protection. The Cheer appear to be the least arboreal in
their roosting habits, and I found them in widely separate places spending the night on
steep hillsides, under the shelter of turf or of some outjutting boulder. The most
unusual roosting sites which I observed were in Nepal and Java. On a Nepalese
hillside three _Impeyans used a niche on a gigantic boulder, well out of the way of
roving foxes; in Java a family of Green Junglefowl sought shelter every night deep
within a coralline cave on the summit of a ridge, perching on the jagged limestone far
beneath the surface of the ground.

FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

No one will deny to pheasants the possession of enemies, and could we know more
of the dangers which await them on every hand, and the tragedies which overcome
scores of their number every day in the year, the list of foes would be a long one. At
first thought the count of their friends would seem to be confined to their mates and
broods, to all Buddhists, and to gentle Christians like St. Francis. But without giving
the word friendship a broader meaning than it often holds among mankind, pheasants
may be said to have real friends among the wild kindred, even though we must admit
that the bonds are those of fear and hunger.

One of the commonest sights in the Far East is the constant association of cattle
egrets with water buffalo. The appearance of the great blue-black beasts is almost
always synchronous with a flock of the white herons. To a less universal extent we
find similar conditions among many of the pheasants. In northern Burma, when one is
hidden in a blind of bush on a hillside, and there come to the ear the chuckling gurgles
of a band of laughing thrushes, the chances are ten to one that, following closely in the
rear, is a flock of pheasants. The relation here, as elsewhere, is reciprocal. The
pheasants are on their usual afternoon trip down to water, feeding casually as they go.
The babblers join them, and benefit by the multitude of flying insects which are
disturbed by the scratching pheasants, and which are seized in mid-air or after they
alight. Keeping as they do to the shrubs and low branches, the babblers have a much
wider outlook than the terrestrial pheasants, and are able to detect danger at a greater
distance. Scores of times my most careful stalks, or quite perfectly concealed shelters
were rendered useless by the sharp eyes of the smaller birds. At a single alarm note,

XXXVIIi INTRODUCTION

the entire flock set up such a shrieking, cachinnatory chorus that the pheasants
departed at once, and every jungle creature within earshot was put on guard. All
pheasants recognize and act upon the sudden alarm note of a bird, no matter what the
species. This is a language which the whole jungle understands. But this intimacy
between smaller alert birds with vocabularies as extensive and powerful as they are
significant, in some localities makes it almost impossible to approach or observe
pheasants, which by themselves are not especially wary. The Tragopans, because of
their semi-arboreal habits, need such aid less than pheasants of other groups. Besides
the Kaleege and Silver Pheasants, the Koklass and Junglefowl benefit from the
watchfulness of babblers, and I have seen Malayan Peacock Pheasants warned by
attendant laughing thrushes. In Burma, the black-gorgeted and the black-throated
thrushes are the species which are constantly associated with the Kaleege. These
pheasants seem to be particularly fortunate in this matter of wild friendships, for they
are often seen with the small musk deer, the two creatures keeping together for hours
at a time. Eared-Pheasants in the north, and the White-tailed Pheasants in Borneo,
have also found these deer good companions. In this instance it is unquestionably a
case of sense reciprocation. Both contribute equally in the matter of acute hearing, but
the pheasants supply by far the keener eyesight, while to the deer every scent is
significant of safety or danger. Assailants, invisible to the birds, must often be foiled
by the stamping signal of the tiny deer, which sends both in headlong flight.

At the present day, man is the pheasants’ worst enemy, and through no sense of
retribution, for these birds do no appreciable damage to crops in any part of the East.
But this danger is a matter of the last few years, and although this must inevitably be
the ultimate factor of extermination, it has had nothing to do with their evolution or
past life. In my searches for the birds month after month, I came, now and then, upon
direct evidences of tragedy, and in the monographs of the various species I have given
all the knowledge at my command on this subject. In the more northern parts of
their range, the leopards, lynx, jungle cats, foxes, wild dogs, martens and weasels take
heavy toll, the martens being perhaps the most dreaded. The larger owls, hawk-eagles
and the golden eagle are the principal foes of the air. I have known one of the latter
birds to strike down a cock Impeyan and a panda or cat-bear in quick succession.
In the Himalayas the chief enemies of pheasant eggs are bears, monkeys, crows and
snakes. As if this were not enough, the elements contribute their share of danger,
and an occasional downpour of great hailstones smashes every unprotected shell, and
is often severe enough to kill the sitting hen. In the tropics there is hardly a carnivore
or bird-of-prey of any size which does not contribute to the tragedies of the pheasants.
Civet cats, jungle hawks and serpents, doubtless stand at the head of the list of
tropical enemies.

PROTECTIVE COLOURING

In the matter of the struggle for success in life the pheasants are heavily handi-
capped. On the one hand, they are birds of large size, edible to all flesh-eating
creatures, weak-winged, practically devoid of the sense of smell, and often spending
their lives where dense underbrush allows an enemy to lie in wait unperceived. Their
assets are mainly two, sight and hearing. These are developed to the highest degree

INTRODUCTION XXX1X

of efficiency, and form an aerial zone of safety within which foes only of endless

patience in waiting, of superb skill in stalking, or fitted for nocturnal hunting can hope
to penetrate.

Ed

Pheasants are brave, and remarkably pugnacious, but their use of beak and spur
is confined chiefly to contests with rivals of their own species. The hens, with their
broods, usually trust to flight and instant dispersal on the part of the young birds,
although the Junglefowl are said, like the grouse, sometimes to simulate a broken wing.
But with pheasants discretion is the surest solution of safety, and, as I have said, their
wing-power is wholly adapted for quick, instantaneous reaction to attack. But it is
probable that, even without flight, many species could maintain themselves because of
the great development of running powers. The tropical forms almost never take to
wing, and I have even seen them make their way, leap by leap, up to some lofty perch
without ever raising wing from body. Even the better fliers add immeasurably to the
chances of escape by running swiftly after they have alighted in some distant thicket.
The birds show considerable discretion in the use of their powers. When attacked by
foxes or, unfortunately for them, by the dogs of sportsmen, they know better than to
risk a cursorial match with these fleet-footed creatures, and fly at once into the nearest
tree to wait until the animals leave. Under normal feral conditions this is a perfect
defence, but men and shot-guns are too recent injections into their cosmos to have
taught them that it means, in the case of dogs, certain death. When slower-footed foes
attack, the more sombrely coloured birds squat, or else escape is made on foot at a pace
which, in actual speed, as well as sharp turns and doubles, makes pursuit useless.
The longest of tails or trains seem to offer no hindrance at such a time.

These are the defences which the pheasants offer to enemies after they are
threatened or attacked. To keep from being perceived by foes keen of ear and eye is
an important part of their lives. When moving about, their slow, high-stepping gait
is well adapted to silent progression, and I have seen a flock of large pheasants pass
close to me without the least sound to indicate their movement. In this phase of
defence, too, the birds have learned to gauge the chances, and they will often scratch
loudly among the dead leaves of a forest, trusting to frequent listening to warn them
of the approach of danger.

The avoidance of being seen by enemies is the most interesting phase of this whole
subject, and, under the general heading of protective coloration, has been discussed and
argued of late by both field and museum naturalists, artists and sportsmen. This
discussion, much of it futile, some of it intensely significant, has accomplished one very
excellent thing, besides stimulating general interest in the meaning of colour in nature.
It has shown that the satisfactory solution of any problem presented, either by technical
science or the life histories of wild creatures, must be backed by an explanation capable
of logical and philosophical proof. Then, and then only, will it be accepted as truth
by all who are interested in the discussion. This will do away with sweeping
generalizations, and it will necessitate the testing of each case separately.

A concrete example of the hopelessness of any compromise occurred recently to me.
The question was whether the full-plumaged Peacock is protectively coloured or not.
After living in the haunts of these birds and studying them daily for many weeks
I became completely convinced that they were not protectively coloured, and that their

xl INTRODUCTION

sole desire was to detect danger at the earliest possible moment and at once fly up into
the tallest dead tree they could find, to command the widest outlook. In the course
of one trip along a river I observed over six hundred Peafowl, and without exception
this was their method of escape. When I related this to a friend who upheld the
universal protective idea, his answer was, ‘‘ Think of the six ¢Housand birds concealed
by their plumage which you did not see!” In certain limited areas where I came to
know the wanderings and range of the very individuals, I knew I had not overlooked
any Peafowl, but I could offer no conclusive proof of this, satisfactory to him.

When I began my study of pheasants in the field I made up my mind to eliminate
all theory and @ Jriovt assumption and to try to form my judgments wholly on the
merits of the phenomena which presented themselves. Before I had completed my
studies of a single species I perceived an entirely new point of view, and one upon which
I have been satisfied to base all my assertions of protective or non-protective colouring.
In many of the localities where I studied pheasants at close range the sight of a man
was rare or unknown to the birds, and their reaction at his appearance was exactly the
same as took place when any danger presented itself. The pheasants’ realization of
their own degree of protection seems to me an irrefutable solution of the question,
regardless of the fact that it must be to them wholly instinctive. I have taken this
up in detail under the various species, and shall present here only a brief summary.

I found a very marked difference in reaction to danger, not only specifically, but
sexually, and even according to the age and plumage development of one sex. The
Impeyan is an excellent example. If, as very seldom happened, one came unexpectedly
and at short range upon a flock, the birds all took to wing simultaneously. If the
alarm came from a distance, even if this was considerable, the cocks flew at once,
while the females crouched for a longer or shorter time according to the degree of
danger. This I came to look for in all species where the male was noticeably more
brilliant in colouring than the female. The Golden, Amherst, Silver, Kaleege and
White-tailed Pheasants all exhibited it. I received additional emphasis as to this
relative amount of fear from other than direct ocular evidence. In many parts of
Burma where Kaleege were abundant, females appeared to be more numerous than
males, and yet the drives which the natives occasionally made resulted in the capture,
in snares or dead-falls, of four or five times as many cocks as hens. This was doubtless
due to the squatting, slinking escape of the brown hens, lying close until the line of
beaters had passed by.

But this was only the most obvious proof which the birds themselves furnished.
Not only when I alarmed the Impeyans but when, as I watched from my blind, some
animal appeared in the distance and frightened them, I noticed time after time that the
half-grown males were intermediate in their reactions. Where several were in the flock,
they would squat at first but usually fly soon afterwards, following the more brilliant
adult cocks which had already disappeared far down the slope. The brown-tailed
Lobiophasis cocks in Borneo bore out the same delicate gradations. Government
surveyors and geologists in Calcutta, and several officers who were ardent entomologists
when off duty, had noticed these facts but without attaching any special significance to
them. No sportsman whom I questioned who hunted with dogs had observed anything
of the kind, obviously because the instant a dog appears every pheasant, of whatever

INTRODUCTION xl

species or sex, instantly flies up into a tree. Still other facts emphasized the truth of
the sex distinction. In the Brown Eared-Pheasants and the Cheer the sexes are very
similar, and it is the common experience of hunters who know these birds that both
cocks and hens squat or slink quietly away upon the approach of danger. Indeed, so
complete is the dependence of Cheer upon their resemblance to the turf of their moun-
tain meadows that when once well alarmed it is almost impossible to flush them without
a dog. They will lie close until one’s foot is almost upon them. Sportsmen write of
knocking them over with a stick and even catching them in the hand, a feat which would
be unthinkable in the case of the more brilliant pheasants.

Here we have a test of protection which seems to have no weak spot. There is no
question of our considering it with anthropomorphic vision or influencing the birds
in any way. Natural selection, or trial and error, or whatever one may wish to call it,
has etched into the instinctive actions of the birds, hereditary reactions to danger nicely
adjusted and synchronized with the sombreness or brilliancy of the plumage. It seems
to me we have here at least taken one step in the right direction of accurately gauging
the relative value to the birds of the general sum of their colouring.

In a tropical jungle even brilliantly coloured birds have a better chance of being
undetected than in northern forests, but the one secret of this is immobility. I have
watched Firebacks at close range and have been impressed with the way their manner
of feeding contributed toward this end. They seized the morsels of food with sudden
jerks of the head and neck, each peck being followed by a much longer period of
immobility. Or if two or three pecks were made at one time, the bird would then
straighten up and stand like a statue for a minute or more. Thus the percentage of
motion to that of immobility in these birds is very small, and the consequent chances
of observation by any enemy coming into view are greatly reduced. Again, intensive
watching showed a decided difference in the actions of fully adult and partly grown birds
of both sexes, the latter physically distinguishable only by their shorter spurs, but
mentally by a very apparent laxness and abstraction. They were on guard only part
of the time and apparently still depended on their parents or companions for warning.

Indian Peahens trust to their comparative sombre plumage and are far less wary
than cocks, more especially toward four-footed enemies than to man, but I have seen
a cock, in very tall grass, stand for a while with head and neck rigid while he watched
me in the distance. The resemblance to the crooked sticks which projected here and
there was perfect, but he permitted no closer approach. All truly wild Peacocks in
jungle or on river banks flew at once and did not stop until they reached some lofty
bare perch, where their grass-green bodies and sky-blue necks became a monochrome
black silhouetted against the bright clouds.

The great Argus Pheasant, while ever ready to slip away in the opposite direction
whenever its keen ears told it of some approaching danger, on occasion behaves in
a manner which is the very antithesis of the Peacock. When a troop of gibbons have
dashed past overhead and several of their number swung noisily down among the
branches close to the ground, in frantic pursuit of one another, I have seen an Argus
crouch flat, body, neck and head pressed close to the ground, its mottled plumage
and crinkled tail-feathers merging perfectly with the lights and shadows of the forest
floor. The Bornean Wattled Pheasant, with its great semicircular fan of blazing white

xlii INTRODUCTION

tail-feathers, never attempts to squat, and only a closet naturalist, or one who wilfully
blinds himself to the evidence not only of his own, but of the bird’s judgment, could
ever call such a bird protective in any sense.

HOME LIFE

As with all birds which live in the northern hemisphere, pheasants nest in the
spring of the year. In the Himalayas April, May and June are the usual months.
As we go toward the tropics the less distinct demarcation of the seasons leads to a
spreading out of the nesting period, and in the Malay States and Borneo this extends
over more than half the year. The Javan Junglefowl nests from June to November
and the Argus from February to August. In captivity the cock Argus sometimes calls
from April to September. <A species with an extensive range shows corresponding
variation from north to south. Peacock Pheasants in the north breed from March
to May, while farther south this extends to June. The Red Junglefowl makes its
nest from February to May in the terai, March to June in Burma, and February
to late August in the Malay States.

In brilliancy of colouring and elaborateness of feather ornaments pheasants are
equalled by only one other group, the hummingbirds. Whether or not we believe
in the theory of sexual selection, there is no disputing the fact that in almost every
case the brilliancy is confined to the male, and the ornamental crests, ruffs, wings,
trains, and tails serve only the one function of being displayed for a brief period
before one or several females. To add to the complexity of the problem I know of
not a single instance of a female showing what may be termed pleasure or even
interest in the display! And yet I believe that sexual selection is a very real
phenomenon, a very important one in the life of these and other birds.

The detailed discussion of this subject in the monographs of several of the
species must suffice, except for a brief résumé. The method of display of the cocks
is of considerable interest. This courtship display may be divided into lateral and
frontal, and in this category the genera appear as follows—

LATERAL FRONTAL
Crossoptelon Lophophorus
Gennaeus Chalcurus
Acomus Polyplectron
Lophura Rhetnardius
Lobwophasts Argustanus
Gallus Pavo
Chrysolophus
Pucrasia
Catreus
Phastanus
Syrmaticus

In the first division we find all the related groups with compressed, curved
tails together with those whose tails are long, slender and straight. In the second
line we again find the familiar association of the subfamilies Argusianinae and
Pavoninae and the isolated group of Impeyans. This classification is of use in
giving us a hint of the most specialized genera. There is no doubt that the

INTRODUCTION xi

frontal display is the latest acquired, the most specialized, for in practising it the
cocks invariably begin with the lateral, showing off first one side, then the other, as
they approach the hen, and only finally assuming the wonderful frontal posture as a
crowning climax.

The Eared-Pheasants are the only ones in which the sexes are identical in
colour, although even they are distinguished by the presence of spurs in the male.
In the Cheer the cock and hen are rather alike, both being rather generalized in
colour. But in all the other pheasants there is a decided brilliancy in the male.
Immediately after the breeding season there is a complete moult and all the plumage
is renewed, contour, flight and tail feathers, ruffs, ear-plumes, crests and trains.
Throughout the winter months, or in the tropics during the dry season, these
ornaments are kept more or less concealed, the ruffs and trains are closed tight, the
crests shut down, the fiery backs and wonderfully painted wings and tails seldom
giving forth a flash of their hidden glories. As spring approaches, the cocks begin
to send forth their challenge, either the penetrating crow, or in some cases
instrumentally with whirring wings. Shortly after this period courtship begins, one
of the most marvellous phases in the life of birds. The object of the cock is to bring
to the attention of his prospective mate every brilliant hue and pattern upon his
plumage, to make himself appear as large and as blazing an object as possible, to
swell out wattles, to rattle the dry quills of feathers, to utter sounds never heard at
other times, to shake the dry leaves all about, to vibrate his plumage so that
intricate optical effects are obtained. When no attention rewards his efforts he
will find some choice morsel of food to bribe the female’s wandering glance.

The pheasant’s chief concern throughout the year is to find food and avoid
danger. Vet the accomplishment of these prime necessities is jeopardized and
handicapped to the breaking point in order that he may have the wherewithal to
display himself for a fortnight or so. How much easier the life of a wild Peacock
would be if he could dispense with his train and iridescence; how much more of
peace and safety an Impeyan might know, if he could carry the hue of sandstone
instead of opal.

It is staggering to the student of evolution to attempt to explain the origin and
development of such a structure as the orange and black ruff of the Golden Pheasant.
It does not appear until the second spring, when an examination of it in detail shows it
to be a marvel of intricate specialization. Yet even when full grown it is as imperfect
to the eye as a closed fan. Each stick of the fan is meaningless in its carving and
painting, and only when it is opened the real beauty flashes into view. Throughout the
year the ruff of the Golden Pheasant is folded into a maze of black-marked orange
feathers. Only when shot forth full-spread before the eyes of the female do the velvet
bars fall into place, reinforced by others, hidden until now, and the whole becomes a sun
of wonderful concentric beauty. Thus, in order that for a week or two it may be
unfolded a few score of times, perhaps for the average duration of a second, it has been
carried for months, ensheathed in apparent imperfection.

Now as to the all-important result. The thought of the little brown hens picking
and choosing among their suitors is charming. From an aesthetic point of view even
we could accomplish this. Of any three Golden cocks, one is certain to be more ardent,

xliv INTRODUCTION

to spread his ruff a little farther, to flatten himself a trifle more completely, to hold his
statuesque pose a fraction of a second longer. He is the one to whom we should award
the contest, and indeed it is probably he who will succeed in winning a mate. But
not from the view point we have taken. However much I should like to do so,I can
credit pheasants with no appreciation of the beauties with which they are so generously
endowed.

One would like to think of the Golden hens as playing off one cock against another
in conscious mental comparison; of appraising this ruff with that patch of gold; this
crest of pure spun yellow glass with those stiffened plumes of crimson. To our eyes
such comparison is reasonable; the beauty of colour, of agility, of grace, of the cock
pheasants—all these appeal powerfully to our aesthetic sense. But long-continued
observation forbids such an interpretation. That the colours and the wonderful
pinwheeling of the orange and black ruff about the glowing eye, the infinite patience
striving continually to bring all the pigments and patterns of the body, of both sides
at once, constantly to the attention of the female; that all these are of paramount
importance in the courtship we cannot doubt for a moment, but that their effect is
similar to the effect upon our minds is another matter.

Stand close to a dozen Golden Pheasants thus courting, with the hot sun beating
down, and idly watch them for many minutes. The circling, dizzy movements and
play of blazing colours will soon have its effect, and one presently ceases to watch
definite birds, or definite actions; the whole scene resolving itself into a soothing
kaleidoscopic display, one’s eyes and mind being content to register only the general
polychrome effect. One finds oneself day-dreaming, the eyes focusing on no particular
object. It seems to me that the most reasonable explanation of the wonderful
performance is of a mental effect upon the hens, not aesthetic, not directly critical or
attentional, but a slow, indirect influence upon the nerves, the arousing of a soothing,
pleasing emotion which stimulates the wonderful sequence of instincts which will
result in nest-making, egg-laying, the weeks of patient brooding and the subsequent
care of the young through day and night, in fair weather and in storm.

This explanation implies no deprecation of the importance of sexual selection.
The male who, either by vanquishing his rivals or who by strength and persistency
most frequently and effectively displays, will win the hen, regardless of whether the
actual process be by aesthetic appreciation or by some subconscious hypnotic-like
influence. Yet, when we remember how impossible of definite explanation the term
aesthetic appreciation is in ourselves—how no two people in the world have the same
appreciation of art, music or nature, and how widely apart are the ideals of beauty
of the various races of mankind, we may perhaps say that my explanation has rather
worked round in a circle and that it is, after all, a very primitive form of aesthetic feeling.

We are all familiar with the pitifully degenerate courtship of the barnyard cock,
a momentary, awkward trailing of a particoloured wing. This is the lateral display in
its simplest form, culminating in the complex performance of the Amherst and the
White-tailed Pheasants. The essential effort is to depress the side of the body toward
the hen, flatten the back and elevate the opposite so that as much as possible of the
colour on both sides is brought into view. The tail is twisted to one side and spread,
the crest is raised, or the wattles displayed. Then, if the hen is looking, the bird freezes

PLATE Ii

EGGS OF BLOOD PARTRIDGES, TRAGOPANS, IMPEYANS
AND EARED-PHEASANTS

1. Two eggs of Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge (/thagenes geoffroyt), Tachienlu, Western China, collected
by Wir. Pratt.

2. Egg of Kuser’s Blood Partridge (/thagenes kusert).

3. Two eggs of Satyr Tragopan (7ragopan satyra), laid in captivity.

4. Two eggs of Cabot’s Tragopan (Z7vagopan caboti). The left-hand one collected in Kuatun, China,
May 17, 1878, by J. D. D. la Touche; the right-hand one laid in captivity in Yorkshire, England.

5. Egg of Western Tragopan (7ragopan melanocephalus), laid in captivity.

6. Ege of Blyth’s Tragopan (Zragopan blytht blytht), laid in Assam in captivity, by a bird from the
North Cachar Hills.

7. Two eggs of Temminck’s Tragopan (Zvragopan temminckt), from “ China.”

8. Ege of Brown Eared-Pheasant (Cvrossoptzlon mantchuricum), laid in captivity in the Zoological
Gardens, London.

9. Three eggs of Impeyan Pheasant (Lophophorus impeyanus), all from northern India; the centre one
collected at Lookel, June 1, 1874.

10. Ege of White Eared-Pheasant (Crossoptilon trbetanum), collected by Mr. Pratt, near Tachienlu,
May 1890.

11. Egg of Blue Eared-Pheasant (Cvrossoptzlon auritum), laid in captivity.

All from the British Museum Collection, except Nos. 2, 5 and 6, which are from that of
Mr. Stuart-Baker.

PLATE I]

, !RAGOPANS, IMPEYANS

AND EARED-PHEASANTS.

EGGS OF BLOOD PARTRIDGES

4

ety
“y

that

INTRODUCTION xlv

into some statuesque pose for as long a time as he thinks worth while. In the frontal
display the cock faces the hen, and in order to exhibit his entire upper plumage bends
far forward, his breast almost touching the ground, bill pointing downward. If the
wings are the chief ornamental feature, as in the Argus, these are spread into a great
sweep of feathers, which meet in front and shut out even his head and neck from view ;
if it is the train of the Peacock which is the chef a’ouvre, it is spread widely, and the
wings and tail subordinated, either as a supporting framework or as furnishing castanet
quill music. In the Peacock Pheasants the tail completes the lateral two-thirds of wing
ornament, rounding them out into a symmetrical whole.

The combats between rival males occur at the breeding season. In some groups,
such as the Ocellated and Argus Pheasants, spurs are absent, while the Blood Partridges
and all the Peacock Pheasants have two or more pairs. Number is no criterion of
pugilistic tendency, however, for the most confirmed fighters are the Junglefowls and
Firebacks, armed with a single pair of long, curved spurs, sharp as needles. In the
Crestless Firebacks even the hens are armed. These birds not infrequently kill one
another. Red Junglefowl appear to have fighting arenas, open spaces in the forest to
which combatants resort for the purpose of settling their rivalry. This is interesting as
showing an approximation to the assembling places of the prairie hens in the western
part of our own country.

No detail or portion of body or plumage is exempt from contributing to the
supreme annual féte of courtship. Wattles, combs, fleshy horns and great aprons all
enlarge and become colourful. The hues of beaks, legs, toes and even the iris of the eye
increase in brilliancy, and mentally the birds are at their height, reckless of danger, and
yet with all senses so attuned that they anticipate and evade it. Ready to fight to the
death if need be, to neglect food, drink, siesta, to carry to a successful issue, however
unconsciously, the third great duty of their lives, the perpetuation of their race.

There is scarcely a genus of pheasants about whose domestic habits as regards
monogamy and polygamy I have not had to change my opinion. I have finally come
to the belief that all are sometimes one, sometimes the other. The normal condition
is the mating each year of a cock and a single hen, and all the groups will show this
relation frequently, while in a few it is the rule. On the other hand, where hens are

abundant, a harem of two, three or four will often be found associated with one cock.
- These hens will frequently nest close together, and the cock remain in attendance on
all. In birds of more solitary habit, the hens will wander away and go through the
nesting and rearing seasons altogether alone, the cocks gathering in loose social flocks.

If we exclude the group of Tragopans, which, after all, finds a place in this work
only by courtesy, pheasants are remarkably homogeneous in the matter of nesting.
Tragopans are decidedly arboreal and, although seldom making their own nest, they alter
and add to the nests of ravens and other birds, and therein deposit their eggs. Even
when they choose some spot on the ground they give it a substantial shape or lining
of twigs and leaves.

All other birds within our scope are essentially ground nesters. The spot chosen
is usually in forest or jungle, near some partly open area, and close to the base of a tree,
a tuft of grass, or under the shelter of a boulder or dense shrub or bamboo. A slight
hollow is sometimes scraped clean and rounded out, or the depression may be caused

xlvi INTRODUCTION

merely by the pressure of the bird’s body, and the eggs laid on the natural debris of
leaves and moss which happens to be there. Perhaps as part compensation for their
conspicuous size, terrestrial habits and abundance of enemies, pheasants deposit numerous
eggs. The actual extremes range from two to eighteen or twenty, with the average
seven or eight. The Tragopans are of interest in that the number seems quite certainly
determined by the location of the nest. When placed in a tree or in an elevated nesting-
box in an aviary, two is the usual clutch. In a ground nest, four or six may be de-
posited, but even here the tendency to division into couples is well marked, both by
colour, size, and a longer interval between the deposition.

The members of the subfamily Argusianinae, comprising the Peacock Pheasants
and the Argus, are set off from all the other true pheasants by laying only two eggs,
although in captivity, in the case of the former birds, as many as seven clutches may
be induced by systematically removing the eggs. These are probably the wariest of
pheasants, and, indeed, they must need all the cunning of the feathered world to hold
their own with such a lessened chance of numerous offspring. The Cheer and the True
Pheasants lead in the matter of number of eggs, and correspondingly their life in the
open, often where trees affording safe perches are few and small, must greatly increase
the risks of death.

As regards colour of egg, pheasants fall into the following classification—

EGGS PLAIN EGGS MARKED
Kaleege and Silvers (Gennaeus) Blood Partridges (/thagenes)
Crestless Firebacks (A comus) & Tragopans (7vagopan)
Crested Firebacks (Lophura) Ceylon Junglefowl (Gallus lafayettt)
White-tailed Pheasants (Lodzophasts) Koklass Pheasants (Pucrasia)
Red Junglefowl (Gallus gallus) Argus Pheasants (Argusianus)
Javan Junglefowl (Gadus varius) EGGS SOMETIMES PLAIN, SOMETIMES MARKED

True Pheasants (Phaszanus)
Long-tailed Pheasants (Syrmaticus)
Golden and Amherst (Chrysolophus)
Green Peafowl (Pavo muticus)

Eared-Pheasants (Crossoptilon)
Sonnerat’s Junglefowl (Gallus sonneraiz)
Cheer Pheasant (Catreus)

Indian Peafowl (Pavo cristatus)

The uselessness of the egg markings for purposes of classification will be evident at
a glance, although in some groups of birds it is a valuable minor character of relation-
ship. Here, however, we find the Junglefowl and Peafowl both split up, and the Peacock
Pheasants separated from the Argus. Study of the shell structure has been equally
unsuccessful, the chief point of interest being the decided isolatedness of the Peafowl,
a fact evident in many other ways. Pheasants are conspicuous examples of birds which
lay white or whitish eggs in comparatively open nests. Yet, when we come actually to
examine the nests of wild pheasants, we find that seldom is one open to the sky. Almost
always they are shielded by arching grass or the foliage of some shrub, or at least shut
in on two sides by the rough bark of a fallen tree. Then, too, we realize that the pro-
tective coloration of pheasant hens is remarkably perfect and effective, and that they
are among the closest of sitters, so that the chances are well in favour of a passing
marauder missing the low-crouched, motionless form. And, again, very few unmarked
pheasant eggs are pure white. They are creamy-white or buff, or even olive-brown or
greenish, which among the varied hues of moss and forest debris, and the flickering
spots of sunlight sifting down through the foliage, are not unduly conspicuous.

INTRODUCTION xlvil

In size the eggs of pheasants vary from small eggs of the Japanese Green Pheasant
(Phastanus versicolor), only an inch and a half in length (30 x 38 mm.), to those of the
Green Peafowl (Pavo muticus), over twice as long (54 x 86 mm:). Two distinct factors
seem to enter into the period of incubation: actual bodily size of the pheasants and
the need of the young to fly as soon after hatching as possible. The two extremes are
separated by a difference of about ten days. The Junglefowl, Golden, Amherst and
Peacock Pheasants hatch in three weeks; the Silvers, Firebacks, Reeves, Common
Pheasants and Argus average twenty-three to twenty-five days; Tragopans require
twenty-seven, Impeyans twenty-eight, Eared-Pheasants twenty-eight to thirty, while
Peafowl chicks remain a full month within the shell. This succession accurately
represents a gradual increase in size from the slender Goldens and Peacock Pheasants,
the females of which weigh but fourteen ounces, to the Peahens of six to eight pounds.
Correlated with this is the fact that while the flight-feathers of Junglefowl, Goldens
and many other pheasants are but slightly developed at birth, young Tragopans,
Impeyans and Peafowl can fly and perch almost from the first.

The death-rate among the young of pheasants is very great, in spite of their incon-
spicuous colouring and their marvellous ability to hide in the scantiest shelter. [wo
seems to be the average number reared to maturity—at least, that is the average I have
observed among many species of wild pheasants. The feeding and care of the young
call for no special comment, as they do not differ materially from the domestic habits.
of fowls or of any gallinaceous birds. The part which the cock plays in incubation
and the care of the brood is as variable as the condition of monogamy and poly-
gamy. When his plumage is very brilliant he apparently never goes near the nest,
although he may rejoin the hen when she goes off for food, or afterwards when the
young birds begin to perch. In more decidedly polygamous species, the female and
her brood have still less attention, and she often assumes all the labour of rearing the:
young. ‘The tail of the Peacock Pheasants is used in a curious manner as a protection
for the young. When frightened, or when steadily on the march from place to place
without feeding, the two young birds keep at the very heels of their mother, well under
the overarching tail, and thus protected from any sudden attack. When they are reared
under a domestic hen this inherited habit is often the cause of their death, for while
there is no sheltering tail overhead, they keep so constantly close behind the hen that.
she not infrequently either steps upon them or kicks them while scratching. ‘The young
Peacock Pheasants are specialized in still another way. For the first week or so their
natural mother is accustomed to feeding them from her beak, and from the failure to.
do this on the part of the equally solicitous but awkward hen, they sometimes starve
to death while actually standing in the food-pan. The young of all pheasants remain
with one or both parents throughout their first autumn and winter. The succeeding
spring they gradually drift apart. Those which do not breed the first spring and still
retain the immature dress, frequently gather in loose flocks composed of several broods,
which feed and roost throughout the second year in more or less close association. The
second winter such birds as the Impeyans unite, adults, second year birds and young
of the year, and remain together during the cold weather. In the spring all breeding
cocks must separate or fight, and a parent will kill his full-grown offspring as willingly
as a strange rival if they do not leave his domain.

&

xlvill INTRODUCTION

And so to-day we find the magnificent races of wild pheasants, among the frozen
steppes of the Gobi Desert, in the flaming rhododendron forests and the sombre deodars
of the Himalayas; on the burning plains of India, and in the steaming jungles of
Borneo. They feed, they drink, they roost, pay court, fight, love, make their home,
feed and shelter their young, always and ever striving to avoid the scores of hungry
maws all about them. They wage the battle of daily life or death to the best of their
ability, just as their ancestors have done in the past—throughout the decades, the
centuries, the millenniums of which we can never know anything. And now, before
the hand of man has brought havoc to their last hiding-place, let us rejoice that we
have been able to enter, even thus imperfectly, into the intimacy of their lives on the
earth to-day.

RELATION TO MAN

Among the nineteen genera of birds which I include in this monograph, there are
distributed eighty species, some of which are clearly divisible into subspecific forms,
bringing the total up to about one hundred and eight. Here we have one-half of one
per cent. of all living birds, and yet it may safely be asserted that, for a number of very
different reasons, this small fraction has been, and is, of as much importance to mankind
as all the other forms of bird life together. First, from a utilitarian view point, it is
not only one genus, Ga//us, which leads all birds in value to man, but a single species,
the Red Junglefowl (Ga//us gallus). As the ancestor of all varieties of domestic poultry
this bird is of inestimable importance to mankind. Whether inmates of the kraals of
the most degraded savages, or housed in the elaborate concrete buildings of poultry
fanciers of civilization, fowls are widespread over the whole world. Their eggs and
flesh are among the most valuable and dependable sources of food which nature has
provided. Probably the Esquimo is the only branch of the human family which has
been unable to profit from this domestic creature.

I shall only touch upon this interesting subject. The Red Junglefowl is a bird of
the greatest significance, standing sharply apart from its fellows by reason of its latent
physical and mental possibilities. It is to be compared only with the wild rock dove, the
mallard and the grey lag goose. From the Red Junglefowl cock weighing about two
pounds, and clad chiefly in red and black, closely resembling the black and red game,
has been evolved all of our poultry, from the tiniest of bantams weighing about twenty
ounces to the great Brahmas which tip the scales at almost ten pounds. The plumage
has been reversed, lengthened, shortened, done away with altogether in certain regions;
the colours and patterns altered almost at will, and the proportions of all the limbs
reduced or exaggerated. The tail-coverts of a wild cock are less than a foot in length ;
those of the long-tailed Japanese breed may be over twenty feet long. The mental
powers have been affected; pugnacity made dominant, or, on the other hand, the fear of
man practically eradicated. From a wild Junglehen which lays at the utmost forty or
fifty eggs in the course of her life, we have domestic birds which are veritable egg
machines, a single hen producing as many as three thousand eggs. Yet all these are
in no sense species, for if the breeding is neglected and the birds are allowed to cross,
the succeeding generations soon revert to the appearance of their feral ancestors.

The relation of wild pheasants to mankind is a very one-sided affair. The birds

INTRODUCTION xlix

do very little damage to the crops, and even when they make a regular practice of
appearing among the grain morning and evening, it is the insect life which is the
principal attraction. We realize that this must be so when we see the hundreds and
thousands of Ring-necked Pheasants living in and about the Chinese grainfields,
working no havoc but probably doing much to keep down the insect pests. Now that
the Chinese are, with other occidental innovations, taking to a meat diet, the pheasants
are immune in none of their haunts save where Buddhist and Hindus hold sway.
Everywhere they are trapped, snared, pierced with poisoned arrows from blowpipe or
crossbow, or shot with repeating shotguns. In English governed colonies they are
protected by well-regulated game laws, and the brooding hen and the young chicks
are immune. 3
For many years pheasants have paid heavy toll to the millinery trade. Wilson, who
years ago gave us good accounts of the habits of the birds, admits the slaughter of
over forty-five thousand Impeyans alone, and I have seen huge bales of Silver Pheasant
feathers seized in the Rangoon custom house. Nepal and China still export large
quantities unhindered, but the market has been so cut down by exclusion laws in
Europe and the United States, and the kinds of feathers admitted so definitely defined,
that the trade in pheasants’ plumage must soon die out.
| Taken as a whole, pheasants are more adapted to captivity than any other group
of birds. Long after the last wild bird has vanished, several species will persist in
captivity. Besides the utility of the Red Junglefowl and the aesthetic value of the
Peacock, the Caucasian and the Ring-necked Pheasants are playing an important part
in providing sport, and incidentally food for large numbers of people. They are reared
in exceedingly large numbers on preserves in many countries, and have been introduced
into most temperate regions and important islands. In frequent cases they are actually
replacing ‘lost or nearly extinct native game birds, and hence have become important
factors in preserving the balance of life.on the earth.

ITHAGENES
BLOOD PARTRIDGES

ITHAGENES
BLOOD PARTRIDGES

ORDER GALLIFORMES
Family PHASIANIDAE
Subfamily PERDICINAE

Genus /7THAGENES

In general appearance and in actual affinity Blood Partridges are the least
pheasant-like of the genera treated in the present monograph. Birds of medium
size, they are francolins in general form, but resemble the majority of pheasants in
that the sexes are very dissimilar in colour. Both male and female have full, rounded
crests; the plumage is long and soft, and especially lanceolate in the males, which
also have the margins of the tail-feathers disintegrated. The tail moult is perdicine,
not phasianine, and although for this reason the affinities of these birds are with the
francolins and partridges, yet I have included them, as, with the tragopans, they
appear to be closely allied to the pheasants.

The bill is very short, stout and curved ; the facial area is almost bare of feathers :
the 1st primary is considerably shorter than the 2nd and roth, which are nearly equal ;
the 5th is usually the longest. The tail of fourteen feathers is somewhat rounded,
rather long, and about four-fifths the length of the wing. The moult is from within
outward. The tarsus is longer than the middle toe and claw, and in the male is armed
with from one to five short stout spurs.

In colour the females are of a generalized type, mottled brown with faint indica-
tions of some of the masculine patterns. This brown, or more exactly burnt umber,
is unquestionably the most primitive colour of the group. The secondary sexual
characters of the male (with the exception of spurs and the decomposed tail-fringe)
consist only of colour and pattern. The primitive hues of the female are carried to
a pigmental extreme in isolated patches of crimson, and structurally altered to the
blue-grey dorsal and green ventral body colours.

The short, rounded beak is decidedly non-phasianine (cf. Fraucolinus). The chin

and subcaudal patches of specialized colour, hint at partridge and quail affinities
3

4 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

(Ophyrzia, Coturnix, Frrancolinus); also the pectoral black (Caccadzs). The primitive
condition of the male's crest, differing so slightly in hue and shape from that of the
hen, is also a partridge or francolin character. Among the more typical pheasants,
the crown is a very favoured place for elaborate secondary sexual characters—combs,
crests and plumes.

The blue-grey is far too widespread a character of gallinaceous birds to point in
any definite direction. The females show this on the nape, while it comprises most
of the colour of the upper parts of the males. This hue almost vanishes when viewed
by transmitted light, appearing only as a black pigment in the barbs, showing that it
is undoubtedly wholly a structural colour. The peculiar non-iridescent apple-green is
a colour almost unique in the Order Galliformes, the nearest approach being the female
of Rollulus voulroul. The irregular number of spurs leads away from the pheasants
proper toward Galloperdix, although Polyplectron also shows this peculiarity. Jerdon
says, rather ingeniously, of /¢iagenes, ‘ From its small size and numerous spurs, it
may be considered as holding the same relationship to the Pheasants as Polyplectron
does to Peafowl or as Spurfowl to Junglefowl.” This suggested relationship is,
however, rather a parallelism than an actual affinity. The eggs remind us both
of Zragopan and Coturntix.

As we shall see, the first individual of this genus was described by Hardwicke
ninety-five years ago under the all-embracing generic name of Phaszanus. In the
year 1832 Wagler very properly instituted a distinct genus, /¢haginzs, for the bird,
and ten years later Agassiz amended this incorrect transliteration by a change to
Ithagenes.

ITHAGENES
Type.

Ithaginis Wagl., Isis, 1832, p. 1228 . : x Ithagints cruentus.
Plectropus Less., Comp. Buffon, VII. 1836, p. 355. : 3 : i a
Plectrophorus Gray, List Gen. B., 1840, p. 61. . : ‘ : : i S
Itaginis Reichenb., Nat. Syst. Vog., 1852, p. xxviii... ;

Ithagenes Sund., Av. Teut., 1872, p. 115 .

”

39
Ithagenes cruentus.

The genus /thagenes is a well-marked group inhabiting the highest mountain
ranges of central Asia. Six species are known, at least two of which are divisible
into subspecies. Future exploration will undoubtedly increase the number of forms.
The following Blood Partridges are recognized in the present work—

Nepal Himalayan Blood Partridge . Ithagenes cruentus cruentus (Hardwicke).

Sikhim Himalayan Blood Partridge
Tibetan Blood Partridge . i
Kuser’s Blood Partridge

Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge

Wilson’s Blood Partridge . :
David’s Northern Blood Partridge
Michael’s Northern Blood Partridge .
Berezowski’s Northern Blood Partridge

cruentus affints Beebe.
tebetanus Baker.

kusert Beebe.

geoffroyt Verreaux.

wzlsont Thayer and Bangs.
Sinensis sinensis David.
sinensis michaélis Bianchi.
sinensis berezowskit Bianchi.

MAP II.

— ee ere ee ae aa ee Ke —— — — —-—[- — — — — eee eee ee ee -_-—— —

Calcuttao Ww A

V,
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FORMOSA

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MAP SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE BLOOD PARTRIDGES.

Region 1. Ithagenes cruentus. Region 5. Ithagenes wilsoni.
“ 2 1s tibetanus. x, 6a. 63 sinensis sinensis.
‘ Sees eye kuseri. *s Bb. hs 2 michaelis.
es 4 5 sgeoffroyi. r 6e. 5 a berezowskii.

_ BLOOD PARTRIDGES

—— ASS Se KEY TO ITHAGENES.
= Tower thence: green Gee
= Bae as median wing-coverts Bren
_ Throat crimson. :
— _ Ear-coverts wholly black
= ” _Bar-coverts not wholly black.
-Lores erimison = ==.
B _Lores black. =
Breast spotted with ¢ crimson =
= Breast plain or stained with rusty
Be _fheoat grey.
i _ Larger, wing averaging 21 i mm. .
Smaller, wing averaging 170 mm.
ob ee median wing-coverts not green.
= Dorsal plumage with little or no green.
_ Wing-coverts golden yellow—.— =
: - Wing-coverts cinnamon or haan
a’ Dorsal plumage decidedly green
_ Lower breast not green (females). ==
a Sides of neck cinnamon.
General plumage brown.
_6' General plumage rufous-brown. — .
a’ Warmer in tone; a crimson wash on throat — ‘

b" Greyer in tone; crimson wash on throat very bint or absent =

b Sides of neck grey.
__ ¢ Breast vermiculated with blackish brown .
@ Breast not vermiculated with blackish brown.
_¢ Darker and smaller; wing 190-199.
@"” Paler and larger; wing ee 122
Cc Sides of neck brownish . =|

kusert.
tibetanus.

cruentus cruentus,

5 afints.

Leoffroyt.
weilsont.

SINENSIS SINENSIS.
berezowski1.
michaélts.

”

”

Ruse7t.

cruentus cruentus.
= affints.
geoffroyt.

SINENSTS SIMENSTS. —
» Mmichaéles.
a a

Whe I have separated the Himalayan Blood Partridge into two ecbercae forms,
ie distinction, in this case, is of interest chiefly to the student of geographical and

: pigmental variation.
except as epee Ss nay and subspecific description.

As the birds are identical in habits, I have treated them Se

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Ithagenes cruentus (Hardwicke)

NAMES.—Generic : [thagenes, of a true race, Greek, idayejs, legitimate ; Specific: crwentus, Latin, cruentus,
stained with blood; English: Blood Pheasant or Partridge, from the crimson spots on the breast; French:
Francolin ensanglauté; German: Bergfasan, Indischer Blutfasan, Griinhuhn ; Vernacular: Somong-pho (Lepcha,
Sikhim), Semo (Tibetan and Bhutian, Bhutan), Chilimé (Nepal).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Bluish-grey above, with white shaft-streaks ; wing-coverts greenish ; a buff cap;
greenish below with crimson throat, under tail-coverts and breast spots, the latter reduced or absent in birds from

southern Sikhim. Female: Reddish brown, finely mottled with black; forehead, face and throat cinnamon;
crown and nape blue-grey.

Ithagenes cruentus cruentus.

TyPE.—Male; Phaszanus cruentus Hardwicke, “Nepaul,’ Trans. Linn. Soc. XIII. 1822, p. 237. Female:
Phastanus gardnert Hardwicke, “The snowy mountains north of the Valley of Nepaul,”’ Trans. Linn. Soc. XV.
1827, p. 167. Both male and female types are in the British Museum.

Ithagenes cruentus affints.

TyPE.—Male and female; Beebe, ‘“ British Sikhim, near Nathang,” Zoologica, I. No. 10, 1912, p. 191. Both
male and female types are in the American Museum, New York.
RANGE,—Nepal and Sikhim.

THE BLOOD PARTRIDGE IN ITS WILD HOME

I WAITED, motionless, crouching in the shadow of a great frost-split boulder.
Behind me, the wall of a jagged cliff rose straight toward the heavens—a giant wall
that seemed to set me apart utterly from the world that lay beyond. Within a morn-
ing’s march of me was the little world made up of my camp and my men, and far away,
across wastes of land and water, was the great world of civilized men, where countless
human beings were creating and solving the small complexities of their daily life. But
I was alone. I had come into a new land, and the gates behind me were closed.

Far overhead, against the intense blue of the sky, a Himalayan skylark hung on
fluttering wings, sending its jubilant notes down to the sloping snow-fields beneath.
It was only a dark mote above me, but its melody came through the thin, icy air
startlingly beautiful and clear. It was springtime, and the small songster felt called
upon to tell the joyous fact to the eastern Himalayas. Indeed, there was no need for
it to carol such an obvious thing, for spring was everywhere for all to see—but then,
many needless things are beautiful.

The arctic meadow which swept downward toward the deep gorges of the Chang-
thap was dotted, between snow patches, with the warm pink of new-blown primroses.
These delicate little flowers bloom and live out their short lives under the frown of
eternal winter. Rising high above them, clear cut as diamond against sapphire, were
the wonderful peaks of snow—Kinchinjunga the indescribable, and the scarcely less
glorious Kabru, silent, mysterious—so isolated that they seem wholly detached from the
earth beneath. Even beside me, winter was fighting for a stronghold; in the purple

6

PLATE III

SIKHIM HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE
Lthagenes cruentus affints Beebe

Bioop Partridges keep close to the edge of the melting snow, gradually ascending in the spring
and summer. But in the high altitudes of the Sikhim mountains, late spring storms often cover every
growing plant deep in snow. To obtain food the Blood Partridges are obliged at once to retreat far
down the valleys to where the warmth has turned the snow to rain. Occasionally the birds are able to
remain storm-bound and yet find food. This occurs when the insects, caught suddenly unawares, retreat
in numbers to pass a few days benumbed with the cold in the seed cases of last year’s lilies. Some of
these are empty, others partly filled with seeds, and here earwigs, beetles, moths and spiders find a temporary
haven. And this haven at least one flock of Blood Partridges discovered and ruthlessly rifled, spilling

insects and seeds upon the snow and feeding to its heart’s content.

i
i

PLATE II]

AUCIdYLYVd GOOTd NVAVIVAIH WIHMIS

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 7

shadows of the cliff were small, scattered islands of white, pitted with falling drops
from overhanging icicles. It was so still that sometimes I could hear the faint tinkle
of these drops breaking through the thin ice crust of the snow. But it was a stillness
made up of countless sounds—so many of which had no meaning to me. I heard only
the song of the lark, and the murmur of a hundred rivulets, trickling along the first
stages of their long voyage to the sea.

I waited, watching, careful of every movement, and the afternoon light deepened
around me. Then above me, like the rush of a sudden tempest, came the loud beating
of wings. A great lammergeier swept over the edge of the cliff out past me into space.
It circled again, its red eye gazing fixedly down at me, as if to discern whether death
had made me worthy of closer attention.

I watched, always, for the other living things of this meadow—a meadow, though
miles above the sea. I could see the faint outline of a vinous-throated pipit, sitting
close on its nest. Snow was above and beneath it, but an overhanging bank of turf
shielded the small dwelling-place. Sometimes a tiny, dark form would creep out into
the coarse grass—one of those strange little voles which choose these bleak regions for
their tunnelled homes. Above them, flies and gnats were dancing in the thin air, and
on a bit of stunted bamboo a tortoise-shell butterfly flattened its bright wings in a
little oasis of yellow light.

Without warning, the sun dropped behind a distant ridge. It was as if some one
had turned out some enormous lamp. Luminous clouds appeared in the air that before
had been so clear, and the first whisper of the cold night wind echoed softly in the
crags. The insects vanished, and one by one the icicles and rivulets were silenced at
the touch of the coming twilight. From a high ravine came the plaintive call of a
white-capped redstart, and a grey fox barked from somewhere afar off. Then, in the
rich afterglow reflected from the mountains of snow, seven birds appeared over the crest
of the ridge. They came slowly, one after the other, and I knew them at once for the
Blood Partridges I had come so far to find.

Through my glasses every feather was distinct, every movement clear as the birds
straggled down the slope. Now and then several of them would loiter and pick at the
abundant red berries. But they did this carelessly, almost perfunctorily, being quite
evidently not hungry.

A small moth, his wings half benumbed, tried to fly before them. He was a
delicacy, and as such, was promptly pursued and captured. Three of the Partridges
were adult male birds, and the four others were clad in the warm brown hue of the
hens. As they picked their way from one tussock to the next, now over the coarse,
tangled grass, now through a half-frozen patch of snow, their tails were held high, and
the crimson beneath shone brightly. A hen pecked viciously at the bird beside her, and
was answered by a low, resentful double note. It was the only sound made by the little
covey. |

As the Blood Partridges drifted down the slope, they ceased their loitering and
advanced more steadily, stopping only now and then to watch and listen. They drifted
further and further away from me, until they seemed but little windswept fragments
of the meadow itself. I watched them eagerly, cautiously—watched them until they
vanished among the uppermost ranks of the dwarf rhododendrons.

8 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

I stood up, stiffened with cold and my long waiting. In the west, I saw the last
pink tinge die out upon the clouds which now hid the snows. As I turned toward
camp a single snowflake melted on my face, and I realized anew how grimly winter
fights for supremacy far up on the world’s roof. I realized, too, that I was tired; but
it was a weariness fully rewarded. I had seen the Partridges of the Snows.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

The Himalayan Blood Partridge spends its life farther from the centre of the earth
than any true pheasant. We may apply to its haunts the exceedingly hackneyed phrase
“the Roof of the World” or, with Kim’s Lama, we may speak more familiarly of them
as ‘the hills.” The centre of its limited range is one of the loftiest of all these
“hills °"—Kinchinjunga, The distribution of this Blood Partridge is thus confined to
the higher ranges of the south-eastern Himalayas. Its ability to withstand the rigors
of the climate at high altitudes is apparently limited only by the necessity of food
supply. Its life zone lies between nine and sixteen thousand feet, reaching either
extreme but rarely.

In such situations it is found throughout native Sikhim, but is absent from the
Darjeeling district. It has long been exterminated from the southern part of the
Singaleela range. It has been observed along the southern border of Tibet, north of
Kinchinjunga, and is not uncommon in the Chumbi Valley, east of Sikhim. The late
Maharajah of Nepal wrote me that the Blood Partridge was unknown to Nepalese
hunters west of Katmundu, but was distributed to the north and east, in the general
direction of Everest and Kinchinjunga. Birds have been shot in the high mountains
of extreme western Bhutan, but until political boundaries are shifted, or foreigners are
allowed to enter these forbidden lands, the exact east and west range of this species
cannot be determined.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Individual coveys or birds do not wander far, but remain rather closely to some
one mountain spur. There is a marked seasonal altitudinal migration, induced by the
annual advance and retreat of snow and general arctic conditions. But the birds
descend only as far as they find it necessary, and frequently remain near snow-line the
year around.

In the autumn, about October, the Blood Partridges which have bred in the same
neighbourhood unite in a rather compact flock of several families, including both old
and young, numbering from fifteen to as many as forty birds. Occasionally a single
family of six or eight will compose the winter covey. These remain together through-
out the winter, roosting and feeding in close companionship. The sexes are either equal
in numbers, or with a slight preponderance of cocks.

For birds of so gregarious a nature, Blood Partridges are remarkably silent, and seem
to convey warning or suspicion of danger to one another more by posture than voice.
For instance, when a covey is busily foraging and one of the birds draws itself up to
full height and gazes intently at some object, the entire flock at once ceases feeding and

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 9

remains immovable until the suspicion passes. Like most inhabitants of high or arctic
altitudes, they are not wary, and unless they have been persecuted, they will prefer
to watch curiously any unusual object rather than run off. In this they differ most
markedly from species living at lower altitudes.

When, however, danger actually threatens so that they have to flee, all the members
of the flock give voice to a series of sudden, sharp notes—seep/ seep! seep! After the
scattered members of the flock have recovered from their alarm, they utter the covey
call, which is only the alarm note drawn out—see-e-e-e-e-/pe/ snapping off short at the
end. I once heard a call uttered by a male when with the flock, something like s7/e-
silpe-stlpe-silpe! which is the nearest approach to what some authors have vaguely
called a cackle. The scanty literature in regard to this and many species of true
pheasants is indeed chiefly remarkable for vagueness. For example, what are we to
gather from Hooker’s statement that the Blood Partridge ‘‘seldom or never crows.”

The usual gait of Blood Partridges is a rather slow, fowl-like walk. They do not
impress one with the dignity of the more stately, mincing kaleege pheasants; their
carriage is less alert, more matter-of-fact. As Hodgson says, the tail is usually carried
low, partridge fashion, except when walking over rough ground, when it is raised, but
not spread.

When suddenly alarmed, a covey will rise in all directions, and, quail-like, the flight
is scaling, direct and brief. If opportunity offers, on alighting the birds prefer to run
up-hill, but the first object is to reach and enter shelter, usually scrub rhododendrons,
where they are safe from pursuit. If the underbush is more open, and one follows them
up, they will be found separated, listening and watching intently, but so unsuspicious
as to take a second glance at the approaching danger before running off again. If trees
are near and the alarm comes from a sudden rush on the part of a dog, the covey will
take to the lower branches. If the alarm is less abrupt, they scurry off on foot, necks
outstretched, heads and tails held rather high.

In feeding, the birds tend always to work out to the open country, passing slowly
over meadows, generally within easy running distance of scrub. |

Soon after the autumn coveys have been formed, the advance of the snowfall forces
them downward. They seem to show no partiality for either northern or southern
exposures, but are found both on exposed and protected slopes, lower down, of course,
on the former. While they spend much of their daily life at this season in the open, it
is almost always in the vicinity of patches of low, dense undergrowth. In the eastern
Himalayas the silver fir and rhododendron forests share much the same zones. At
eleven thousand feet the firs predominate, while, two or three thousand feet higher, the
taller trees gradually yield to a dense growth of rhododendron scrub. In certain parts
of Nepal these birds are reported to prefer clumps of mountain bamboo.

The winter home of the Blood Partridge is among the open coniferous forests
of fir and juniper nearer the lower levels. Here it is kept company by the hardy
Himalayan nutcrackers and coal tits, while hosts of northern sparrows and finches
feed with it amid the weeds and scrub. There is no hard-and-fast line, however, and
these partridges may occasionally be found away from trees amid deep snow in January,
as Hooker has reported.

In the spring of the year a slow, irregular ascent takes place, and the summer
Cc

10 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

haunts of the Blood Partridges are hardly lower than the upper zone of small pines,
while they range upward to the tundra-like alpine meadowland itself.

DAILY ROUND OF LIFE

The food varies both seasonally and with the locality. Hooker’s observations,
copied by so many recent authors, were based chiefly on birds in forests of fir during
heavy snowfall. He found them almost unpalatable, owing to the turpentine flavour
imparted by a diet of newly sprouted fir and juniper sprouts. Blanford speaks of them
in late September as good eating. Their diet consisted at this time of small fruits,
leaves, seeds, and the spore cases of moss. Hodgson includes insects and grass in their
menu, and states that they do not feed on the various bulbous roots so beloved by
impeyans and pandas. I can add tender bamboo shoots, the scarlet berries of a
creeping vine, and the pips of the Sikhim white rose to the vegetable food list of this
Partridge.

Once in Nepal, close to the Sikhim line, I found a family of five Blood Partridges
feeding in a most interesting way. The region was devoid of all but grassy vegetation,
with a few scattered clumps of low barberry bushes. A heavy snowfall, unseasonable,
as it was mid-April, had covered the ground and hidden all the seeds and leaves of the
low-growing plants. What I had not noticed during previous days was now made
conspicuous by the background of snow—the abundance of clumps of tall stems, each
topped with the seed-case of a last year’s lily. These three-parted, brown and brittle
cups showed where in past months had bloomed scores of red and yellow blossoms.
I was able to watch the feeding Partridges for only a few minutes before a raven
discovered me and croaked his disapproval, sending the covey scuttling off along the
hillside and over the nearest ridge. At the same time a flock of pipits and finches
flew up and away.

The snow was soft and I read in its surface the confirmation of what I had
observed. The Partridges had appeared to be leaping up at the seed-cases, or pressing
against and bending down the stems. I carefully examined many which had been
thus disturbed and found that there was good reason for these actions.

The fierce gales and winds of the past winter had tipped and swayed the lily-seed
goblets, and the flat, reddish seeds had been scattered over moss and snow, skimming
along on their circular wings for many yards around. But with all this upsetting,
only about half of the seeds had been shaken out. I have spoken in a previous
paragraph of the insect life which was noticeable even after a heavy fall of snow, and I
found that one secret of their presence was the half-emptied seed-cases, which, on these
high, treeless barrens, formed safe and snug retreats. Into one case a rove-beetle
had crawled; into another a small moth, although, owing to the number of seeds still
remaining, the tips of the insect’s wings protruded from the top. Here two tiny flies
were resting, hardly able to use their legs, much less their wings, in the chill of the
morning. There is no doubt but that these insects remain in their retreats in a state
of semi-frozen hibernation until the return of more seasonable weather.

When the snow and ice covered thickly all other food, the Blood Partridges found
here a bountiful feast—both of seeds and insects—in the lily cases. The maze of

PHOTOGRAVURE Ia

WINTER HOME OF THE NEPAL HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

In the Eastern Himalayas the limit of perpetual snow is at sixteen thousand feet, and in winter the
storms rush down from the crests and sweep everything before them to tree level. Even the hardy
blood Partridges have to retreat and seek shelter and food several thousand feet lower down. Here the
great pines and spruces defy the elements, rearing their sturdy gnarled trunks and spreading wide their
scraggy branches. Between their trunks extend dense masses of stunted rhododendrons, and among
these the Blood Partridges spend the long winter days. From the pines come the voices of titmice and
nuthatches and creepers, and now and then the shadow of a passing vulture cuts through the icy air.
Only lonely Nepal shepherds ever visit these slopes. It matters not to the birds that farther down in
the valley there is warmth and insect life. There too are safe roosting places. The Blood Partridges
will have none of these, but cling to the edge of the tree-line, ever ready to work upward at the first

hint of spring.

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 1a

PARTRIDGE

BLOOD

NEPAL

a

I

Oona asa

WINTER HOME

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE II

tracks revealed the patience and activity of the Partridges in levelling the stems,
while in a wider circle around the scene of action the dainty footprints of skylarks,
pipits, and finches were everywhere interlaced, showing that they had learned how to
secure a portion of the stray seeds which were thrown upon the white surface from the
efforts of the Partridges.

When I found that this habit of the Partridges was common to the several flocks
which I had the opportunity of observing, I realized how it was possible for these
birds to remain at such high, barren altitudes when all other sources of nourishment
were sealed by frost and snow. I investigated the seed-cases of a half dozen lily
clumps four hundreds yards apart, with these interesting results—

Nine were empty except for a scattering of seeds.

Twenty-six held a single earwig each.

Four held two earwigs (in three instances both insects were in the same partition).

One held an earwig in one partition, and a ladybird beetle and a dipterous
larva in another partition.

Three held similar dipterous larvae.

One held a small spider and two small flies.

Five held rove-beetles of two species, one of which proved to be new.

Eight held small chrysomelid beetles.

One held a chrysomelid and a carab beetle, a weevil and a small grey spider.

Two held small moths. |

One held a small moth, a mosquito, and a homopterous insect.

Thus almost fifty per cent. of the seed-cases contained one or more earwigs, and
some of these, as well as others of the insects, were heretofore unknown species. The
conditions at the time of collecting these were as. follows: At this season, mid-April,
snow covered the ground deeply and remained unmelted for three days. The preceding
week had been warm and clear, and insects were abundant, and all those now found
in the seed-cases were alive, although too numbed to fly or to do more than move
their legs weakly. In no instances were more than half the seeds remaining in the
cases, and where the stems were thin and more pliant, almost all the seeds had been
thrown out during the winter. The lily clumps were large and a dozen or more stems
sprang from a circular mass of dead, prostrate, whitened leaves, the whole forming a
mat about a yard in diameter. At this season new leaves were sprouting, and before
covered by the snow, showed as straight, vertical, green shoots several inches in height.

I have gone into all this detail for the purpose of throwing light upon an
interesting source of food supply of these and other birds during unseasonable snowy
weather at high, treeless altitudes.

Unlike the pheasants which live at lower elevations, the members of this genus
have no definite time of feeding. One may find them at high noon searching for
berries and insects among the moss and coarse grass. There is not the intense
midday heat or the array of enemies to limit their foraging to early morning and
late afternoon. Blood Partridges, unlike the impeyans, scratch lustily, sending
the creeping vines and moss flying, in their quest for animal food. But, also unlike
those more brilliant birds, they do not have scratching places. One cannot track the
birds by their foraging signs, as is so easy a matter with the impeyans and cheer.

12 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

As regards the roosting places, Blood Partridges, in their winter haunts, appear
to fly up into the branches of firs, sometimes the entire covey roosting close
together. At least, that is the consensus of opinion of sportsmen who have had the
opportunity of observing them-at this season. In the early spring they are satisfied
with low rhododendron trees or even scrub. When the birds settle for the night in a
dense thicket of this character they are, indeed, safe, for few creatures could penetrate
it, and certainly not without a loud crackling of twigs and leaves.

I have found evidences, in sign and in a stray feather or two, of such a roosting
place Being occupied for at least several consecutive nights. Tracks of dholes or
wild dogs were outside the thicket, but none on the scanty snow beneath the
evergreen rhododendron leaves. i

In regard to the tunnelling of Blood Partridges into snow for nocturnal shelter, we
have only Hooker's authority, his exact words being as follows: ‘“ During winter it
appears to burrow under or in holes amongst the snow; for I have snared it in January
in regions thickly covered with snow, at an altitude of twelve thousand feet.” On this
vaguely circumstantial evidence scores of writers of natural history volumes have
incorporated the burrowing habit, often as one of the principal habits of this species.
While snow burrowing is known among grouse, yet the ice, with which the cold night
fogs often seal the surface of the snow in the haunts of the Blood Partridge, would
make such a custom one of extreme risk. Instead of a regular habit, such a voluntary
imbedding in snow is probably of the rarest occurrence, if, indeed, it is not always
brought about by the subsequent snowing-in of a covey roosting on the ground, as we
have occasionally observed in the case of the bobwhite.

Mr. Luday, an English sportsman, tells me that more than once he has found
indubitable proof that these birds occasionally roost on the ground in the shelter of
a bit of crag or boulder, and, in this instance, they face outward from the centre, in the
regulation quail-like covey formation.

We have little first-hand information in regard to the competitors and enemies of
Blood Partridges. There are few consanguineous intruders in their domains, although
the monal is sometimes to be found in the same vicinity, but with very different
feeding habits. The snowcocks excel even the Blood Partridges in their altitudinal
distribution, and seldom approach the scrub and forests.

I have shot a large beech marten and known another to be seen in close vicinity
to Blood Partridges, and grey foxes are one of the commonest of carnivores in the
upper rhododendron zone. Dholes or wild dogs doubtless take toll when larger
game is not to be found, and the Himalayan leopards must look with favour upon these
green-feathered morsels. Among birds, the golden and Bonelli’s eagles are probably
most to be dreaded, although the former is the only one I have actually seen hunting
in Blood Partridge country. Of all the four-footed hunters, the slinking, lichen-hued
reynard of the rocky alpine meadows must be the worst enemy to such birds as these,
whose senses and activity are far from being equal to those of the true pheasants.
The rough, rolling, boulder-strewn character of their haunts, and the deadening
character of the thick, matted turf all favour the approach of such an animal as a fox,
who with a sudden leap must seldom fail in his attack.

In regard to the significance of the colours of the cock Blood Partridge, Waddell

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 13

writes as follows: ‘This color scheme is admirably calculated to protect the bird from
notice in its favorite surroundings, namely, the granite rocks covered with a pale,
greenish lichen, interspersed with patches of a dull crimson fungus. They seldom take
to wing, but run quickly and hide amongst the rocks.”

I concur in this opinion only to a limited extent. In the first place, there is no
doubt but that the colours of both sexes of /thagenes are at times protective. What I
consider absolute proof of this came to me one day when I was watching a flock of the
birds as they scratched and picked along a bit of open rocky slope. I had them all well
within the range of my stereos and suddenly, without warning, every bird squatted, and
turning its head sideways, stared unblinkingly into the sky over my head. I twisted
partly over in my hiding place of stunted bamboo grass, but only after a long search did
“I discover the speck in the heavens, which my glasses resolved into an eagle. Another
glance at the Partridges showed that all had remained motionless, and they did not
move for at least three minutes, when they suddenly resumed their feeding as if
nothing had happened. Now the rocks in this instance were coated with pale pink
primroses and brown lichens. So it was the females which matched more nearly the
latter general tint. There is no chance for the crimson spots and patches on the under
plumage—chin, breast and tail—of the male to function in any way whatever when the
bird is squatting—all are hidden from view. And we can hardly conceive that their
existence is chiefly protective when they are lacking in the males of some of the other
species of this genus, all of which inhabit similar open mountain slopes.

The unconscious trust in the protection of a squatting position is, without doubt,
indicative of a protective value, such as we see in sand grouse and many other desert
birds, quail, and the young of skimmers and terns. But as in the Blood Partridges, to
be thus protective, the pattern of plumage need not exactly match the surroundings.
The legitimate extent and application of protective coloration may be summed up in
the female Blood Partridge. Clad in plumage of mottled reddish brown, she is yet
conspicuous when making the slightest movement even among the brown-lichened
rocks; she is inconspicuous when squatting, even among greenish grass or pink
primroses.

HOME LIFE

Up to the present time no authentic account of the breeding habits has been
recorded, nor has the nest or egg of this species been discovered by a white man. We
have knowledge of both, however, in the case of two related species, Kuser's and
Geoffroy’s Blood Partridges (pages 27 and 32), and this data lends credence to the
following information given me and independently confirmed by several Lepchas and
Tibetans who were excellent observers and hunters. It may be taken for what it is
worth.

The Blood Partridge is monogamous, and the pair of birds and their young keep
together throughout the winter following the breeding season. In courting, the male
spreads its tail and wings, drooping the latter, raises the crest, swells out the breast
feathers and struts before the female, turning round and round. The males fight

fiercely with each other.
The nest is a hollow in dead leaves and moss, usually near a boulder or stump in

14 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

rhododendron forest at twelve to thirteen thousand feet. From five to ten speckled eggs
are laid, in April or May. The eggs are very good eating.

From my own observation of the equal numbers of the sexes in the coveys,
confirming Blanford’s statement of the same fact, there seems reasonable evidence of the
monogamy of this species. Hooker records ‘‘ young” seen in May; Jerdon writes of
“nearly half-grown young” in September, with the adults moulting at the same time.

RELATION TO MAN

The relation in which the Blood Partridge stands to man is a rather one-sided affair.
Unlike some of the kaleege, the Blood Partridges, while not wary birds, will have none
of man and his habitations, and soon disappear, if, indeed, they are not shot off, from
the vicinity even of atemporary camp. British sportsmen in India look askance at this
species as a game-bird, owing both to its unsuspicious nature and its confirmed cursorial
habits. When treed by a dog, and absorbed in watching the barking canine beneath,
an entire covey may be—and, shame to say, often has been—shot one after the other by
the so-called sportsman.

The history of Blood Partridges on the Singaleela Range, that high spur which
extends from a point north-west of Darjeeling northward toward Kinchinjunga, is
significant of what will soon universally be true of other parts of their limited haunts.

Jerdon mentions a covey crossing his path near Tonglo. An English sportsman
records that on November Io, 1880, near Sandukphu, a little farther north on the same
ridge, he shot thirty-six birds, of which twenty-two were cocks. In 1900 he rather
naively writes that the Green Blood Partridge is not now to be seen at all along the
Nepal boundary, owing to the forest chowkidars snaring them at all times of the year.

Ten years later, when I visited the southern part of the Singaleela Ridge, I found
that this statement was still true, and that the species was entirely absent. Only after
crossing the deep gorges of several intersecting streams to the north did I find any trace
of these birds, and not until I made a second long circuitous expedition to the vicinity
of the snows in Nepal were Blood Partridges found in coveys of any size.

Every year there is a greater demand for sheep, and the Nepalese shepherds
consequently increase in number, and seem to spend most of their time in snaring birds
of all descriptions. Both nooses and deadfalls are used. But the Blood Partridges
suffer far less than the tragopans, as we shall have occasion later to note.

Unlike some species of pheasants, these birds do not take kindly to captivity.
Even in Darjeeling several attempts to keep Blood Partridges have ended in failure, the
birds living less than two weeks. Although I have inquired carefully, I can find no
record of this species in any European zoological garden until the year 1911. On
June 3 of that year a pair of Blood Partridges were successfully landed in England and
placed in the London Zoo. These, however, died a very short time after their arrival,
their death being, perhaps, due to the unseasonable hot weather. Unfortunately, no
particular notes were made on the living birds. Mr. W. Frost, who succeeded in
bringing this pair of birds from India, writes me that they were captured early in
January, and during their voyage and until their death six months later they were
apparently in excellent health. ‘They were dainty, rather fastidious feeders, with little
liking for grain, although during the time when they were being brought down from the

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 15

hills the natives fed them solely on soaked paddy. In captivity they enjoyed salad-like
foods, such as chopped lettuce, onions, potatoes and carrots, and were keen on insects of
all descriptions, roaches, beetles, grasshoppers and mealworms. The males did not care
for each other’s presence in the same cage, often pecking and plucking angrily at one
another. The birds which the Bhotias sometimes bring down to Darjeeling are
apparently all hand-reared, as they are young and very tame and show no signs of
disfigurement from dashing against the cage tops. In the following year (1912) ten
more Blood Partridges, together with eleven Tibetan snowcocks, were secured, but
every one succumbed to the Calcutta heat, even before starting on their voyage.

TEXT IDENTIFICATIONS

ac)
>
Qa
5
a
Zz
B

8 Himalayan Skylark. <Alauda gulgula gulgula Frankl.

16 Primroses. Primula petiolaris Wall. ‘
9 Lammergeier. Gypaétus barbatus (Linn.).

13 Vinous-throated Pipit. Axthus roseatus Blyth.

16 Sikhim Vole. Microtus sikimensis (Hodgs.).

18 Himalayan Tortoise-shell Butterfly. Vanessa cashmirensis Koll.
25 White-capped Redstart. Chazmorrorntis leucocephala (Vig.).

25 Himalayan Grey Fox. Vulpes alopex montanus Pears.

13 Hooker, quoted in Hume, “Game Birds, India,” I. p. 156.

Silver Fir. Adzes webbiana Lind.

35 Rhododendron forests. Rhododendron arboreum, falconert, etc.

38 Mountain bamboo. Dendrocalamus hamiltonit Nees and Arnott.
40 Juniper. /unztperus sp.

41 Himalayan Nutcracker. Muctfraga caryocatactes hemispila Vig.
4t Sikhim Cole Tit. Parus rufonuchalis beavani (Jerd.).

3. Hooker, “ Himalayan Journals,” 1855.

6 Blanford, “ Fauna, British India,” IV. 1898, p. 104.

8 Hodgson, quoted in Hume, “ Game Birds, India,” I., 1878, p. 155.
10 © Scarlet berries. Hemiphragma heterophyllum Wall.

Sikhim White Rose. Rosa sericea Lind.

= = = ot
CODDDDODODDOUOUO HYNYYYNAD
= Ww

1 uw

10 19 Himalayan Lily. Lz/éum sp.

10 21 Himalayan Raven. Corvus corax tibetanum Hodgs.

It 12 Earwigs. Momotages feae (Bormans).

Lay 383 Forficula planticollis Kirby.

Ir 14 Ladybird Beetles. Coccinella 7-punctata Linn.

11 17 Twosmall Flies. An undescribed Crzorhina and a member of the Cordyluridae.
11 18 Rove Beetle. Osonzus beebet Beurh.

Ir 19 Chrysomelid Beetles. Zvrechotheca hirta Baly.

Ir 20 £Carab Beetle. Opzsthius tndicus Chaudoir.

Ir 20 Weevil, Zanymecus sp.

Ir 21 Moth. A Woctuzd.

11 22 Homopteron. Of the family /asszdae.

11 42 Impeyan or Monal. Lophophorus impeyanus Lath.

11 45 Cheer. Catreus wallichi (Hardw.). =

r2 9 Dholes. Cyon javanicus dukhuensis Sykes.

12 13 Hooker, quoted in Elliot, “Monograph Phasianidae,” [1.

12° 31 Snowcocks. Tetraogallus tibetanus Gould.

12 33 Beech Marten. Mustela foina Erxleb.

12 36 Himalayan Leopards. Fels pardus Linn., and F. nebulosa Griff.
12 37 Golden Eagle. Aguila chrysaétos (Linn.).

12 37 Bonelli’s Eagle. Ateraétus fasciatus (Vieill).

12. 44 Waddell, “ Lhasa and its Mysteries,” p. 139.

I4 4 Blanford, “ Fauna British India, Birds,” IV. p. 104

14 5 Hooker, quoted in Elliot, “Monograph Phasianidae,” IT.

14 5 Jerdon, quoted in Elliot, “ Monograph Phasianidae,” II,

14 18 Masson, “Game-birds of Darjeeling,” p. 14.

14 35 Blood Partridges in England, Seth-Smith, “ Avicultural Magazine,” (3), IT. p. 303.

16 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApvuULT Mate. — Forehead, lores and feathers around bare facial area, black;
fore crown cinnamon, shading behind into paler buff, the crest composed of these
buff feathers and of elongated blue-grey ones with white shaft-stripes; nape and mantle
grey (Payne's grey) with a white shaft-stripe; scapulars, lower back, rump, lesser and
inner median wing-coverts similar, but with the shaft-stripes faintly washed with green
and edged with black; outer median wing-coverts with much wider shaft-stripes of
apple-green, and the vane outside the black of a dark laurel green. The margins of
the upper tail-coverts are of a deep crimson colour, and the barbs are decomposed,
making these feathers look very long and narrow.

The primaries and their coverts uniform blackish brown, with the rhachis dark
brown proximally, shading into shining white for the distal half, while near the
extremity a wide shaft-stripe appears, slightly dilated at the tip of the feathers. The
secondaries are margined along the outer edge with a mottling of whitish buff.
The tertiaries are margined all around with impure greenish, but are otherwise
exaggerated copies of the lower back feathers.

Tail-feathers creamy white at the tip, shading irregularly into blackish brown
toward the base. Rhachis as in primaries. Lateral margins of the webs decomposed
and coloured deep crimson as in coverts, the crimson decreasing from the middle pair
outward, and wholly absent from the outermost one or two pairs.

Featherlets of bare facial area black, except for a circular subocular patch, nck
is crimson in fully adult males. Auriculars and sides of neck particoloured, partaking
of the black, pale green, grey or crimson hues of adjacent areas, according to whether
they sprout from the anterior, posterior, dorsal or ventral portions of their zone. Chin
and throat dark crimson on exposed parts of feathers, basal half black: posteriorly a
whitish-green tip appears and by the increase of this and of the basal black the crimson
disappears, and on the lower throat the black almost reaches the tip, and the green
has become only a wide central stripe. Continuing posteriorly, the black disappears
rather abruptly, its place being taken, about half-way down the feather, by a rusty or
orange tinge. On the breast this new tint culminates usually in spots of bright
crimson. In the central area of the breast in Nepal birds there is a rounded or slightly
elongated spot of this colour on each web. The amount of this pectoral crimson 1s
entirely independent of age. On the sides and lower breast the crimson is usually
absent, the green becoming of a deeper and stronger shade. On the sides a pale green
shaft-stripe appears and this gradés into the white-striped, grey flanks. The under
tail-coverts are rich, dark crimson tipped with whitish green. The down of the belly
has a strong buffy tinge and the tarsal feathers are of a generalized buff and mottled-
white type.

Mandibles black; cere and gape coral-red to intense crimson, in winter paling to
salmon colour; iris rich hazel; legs and toes crimson, paler in winter; claws dark horn
colour, paler at base.

Length, 438-482 (460); wing, 194-228 (211); tail, 164-178 (171); bill from
nostril, 11; tarsus, 66-76 (71); middle toe and claw, 59-65 (62) mm.

Weight, 1 lb. 1 oz. to 1 Ib. 4 oz.

PLATE IV

PLUMAGES OF —1EHE -—HEMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

L[thagenes cruentus (Hardwicke)

Tue Blood Partridge acquires its adult plumage during the first year of its life. If a chick slips
from its shell in May, it will be hardly distinguishable from its parents in October. Except for a lack
of spurs it is as well equipped for the dangers of life as its father.

Figure 1 shows the chick in its down about a week old. The little wings are just visible, but the legs
are the most prominent feature. The head and neck are grey and black, and the body is of a warm rufous.

Five weeks later the down has been shed and the young bird is in full juvenile garb of dull mottled
buff and black, with terminal spots of pale buff. The legs have increased but little, but the wings and
tail show that the bird roosts high and can escape swiftly from any enemy. Figure 2 shows a juvenile
bird of six weeks.

In Figure 3 a young cock of two months is well advanced in the adult plumage. Most of the juvenile
brown has left his back and tail, and the green and scarlet feathers are rapidly covering the breast. The

two outer juvenile tail feathers and the white-shafted outer primaries are still unshed.

PLATE IV

PLUMAGES OF THE HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE.

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE iy

Spurs, irregular in number, from one to five on each leg. By far the larger
number (60 per cent.) of the cocks have. two spurs on each leg; about 30 per cent.
have a larger number than this, while only 10 per cent. have fewer than four spurs.

COLOUR GENERALIZATION.—The most primitive mode of occurrence of crimson in
the male birds is as subterminal, round spots, one in the centre of each vane. This
type occurs in the feathering of the throat, the lesser under tail-coverts, breast spots
and even in adventitious pigmentation on the forehead and elsewhere.

In the fully adult males the feathers nearest the centre of the breast bear a crimson
spot or blotch on each web, which persists even on some of the sub-alar plumage of
the sides. In many cases the distal edges of the spot of bright colour is a straight,
sharp, transverse line, corresponding to the fault-bars which are distinct even in the
monochrome green, showing that the deposition of crimson pigment began very suddenly.
Basally (as in so many of the pheasants) Nature has been economical with her pigments,
and on the concealed portion of the feather the crimson fades abruptly into a rusty
orange stain, which tinges much of the basal vane—an atavistic reminder of the more
primitive tints of the female. The concentrated outpouring of pigment in the breast
ornaments of the male is exhausted in the formation of these visible spots, and becomes
diluted and lost where the eye of the world—or shall we say of his mate—can no longer
perceive it.

In well-marked birds we perceive a decided tendency for the pectoral crimson
to form longitudinal streaks, antero-posteriorly. A strongly marked feather on the
mid-breast with a spot on the right vane will invariably be followed by a succession
of similarly marked feathers down the breast. Even local individual variations in the
character of the spots tend thus to be repeated in any series of feathers growing one
below the other.

ApULT Femarz.—A typical, fully adult bird has the forehead and fore crown,
lores, face feathers around bare space, facial featherlets, sides of the neck, chin and
throat warm cinnamon; the auriculars and those continuing down the side of the
neck tipped with grey, with a broad buff shaft-stripe bounded by two wide black
stripes ; crown and nape blue grey (Payne's blue), changing abruptly into the uniform
pattern of the rest of the upper parts—a pale rufous brown, thickly vermiculated with
blackish brown. The concealed portions of the contour feathers are identical in this
pattern down to the grey, decomposed basal barbs themselves. This characterizes not
only the lower neck, back, rump, upper tail-coverts, all wing-coverts, and exposed edges
of secondaries, tertiaries and rectrices, but also the sides, flanks and lower belly.

Lower throat and entire breast clear burnt umber lacking the dark vermiculations,
which begin again rather abruptly on the lower belly. The paler cinnamon of the
throat is continued downward throughout the whole of this clear ventral area as a
pale buff shaft-stripe.

The plumage of the lower parts darkens posteriorly, until in the under tail-
coverts, blackish brown predominates, the umber being reduced to a few irregular
mottlings.

The flight, feathers are, on the whole, a uniform dark brown, the mottling being
D

18 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

absent in the primaries or reduced to a narrow outer edging. In the secondaries this
mottling of pale rufous brown occupies most of the outer web and the rim of the inner
one. Under wing-coverts uniform dark brown. The rectrices, away from the mottled
edges of the feathers, are of a similar uniform dark shade. On all the smaller, mottled
contour feathers a distinct purplish sheen or gloss is visible when viewed very obliquely,
the tint being the same whether observed from the anterior or posterior point of view

Mandibles black, sometimes with tips and bases dull reddish. Cere and gape
yellow-carmine, pale salmon in winter. Iris, hazel brown. Legs and toes, intense
carmine, paler in winter. Claws, dark horn at base, shading into black.

Length, 394-420 (407); wing, 179-197 (188); tail, 140-154 (147); bill from nostril,
Q-I1 (10); tarsus, 56-70 (63); middle toe and claw, 54~57 (56) mm.

Weight, 12 oz. to 1 Ib. 1 oz.

Over half of the females show no signs of spurs; 20 per cent. more have a single
blunt nodule on each leg, while others show o + 2, 0+ 1, and 1+ 2. Very rarely
they are fully developed into sharp functional spurs.

COLOUR VARIATION.—The female shows more hints of the adult masculine hue
and pattern than are at first apparent. Seldom is the crimson colour altogether lacking,
either as decidedly crimson feathers or as a strong rosy wash of the feathers of chin,
throat, and face and more rarely on the breast. Instead of an exceptional case,
suggesting, as Ogilvie-Grant thinks, the masculization of plumage in a barren female,
such coloration is rather the rule in western individuals. In the hens with the largest
amount of crimson, there is a correlated brightening of the cinnamon of the crown,
face and throat. Nepalese specimens show distinct traces of red on the rectrices and
under tail-coverts. |

The area of the grey nuchal patch is inconstant and in the variability both of the
dark mottling and of the grey colour, individual crwentus females approach closely to
the hens of geoffroyi and sinensis. The plate in Gould’s “ Birds of Asia” shows an
extreme of the former variation.

In the clear pectoral area, the pattern of the male is indicated by the pale shaft-
stripes and in many feathers by a decided concentration of black pigment on each side
of this central stripe.

”" EARLY PLUMAGES OF /JTHAGENES

The Blood Partridges are almost the only genus of birds lying within the limits
of my research which have not been extensively kept or bred in captivity, so that the
changes of plumage have heretofore never been observed, nor even described.

NataL Down.—Chick about a week old. General colour scheme; head and neck
grey and black, body rufous.

Loral and malar streak, circle around eye, large infra-auricular spot and line
extending backward around the nape, centre of crown and wide nuchal band brownish--
black. Remainder of head, throat and neck pale grizzled grey. Beginning abruptly
at the lower neck all round, and backward over entire body, the down is dull rufous”

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE Ig

with slender black tips, except on under parts, where the rufous is paler and purer.
Seven primaries, eight secondaries and several greater wing-coverts even at this early
age are well in evidence, the former having pushed out about 18 mm. beyond their
sheaths, the wing measuring 45 mm. The down clinging to the tips of the growing
flight feathers is rarely in a single distal cluster, more commonly with the separated
down filaments supported on the extremities of ,several distal barbs. The sprouting
wing feathers are of unusual breadth, dark brown, mottled irregularly with buff, and
tipped with pale buff. Bill from nostril, 6; tarsus 23 mm.

JUVENILE PLuMaAGE.—Bird about five weeks old. The dorsal plumage is
uniformly of a dull mottled buff and black, each feather with a very conspicuous,
terminal, triangular spot of pale buff. The ventral pattern is a wide, buffy-white
shaft-stripe bordered irregularly with darker brown, with the margin of the feather
pale buff.

As the head and neck are the last to lose the nestling down, so their first contour
covering is correspondingly more advanced in colour and pattern than the mesoptile
body feathers and hints strongly of the adult plumage. The facial area is but scantily
covered with featherlets, the anterior crown is buffy, while the nape and neck show
traces of the blue colour and white shafts of the adult. The latter is the first certain
evidence of the male sex. |

The full-grown juvenile tail-feathers are fourteen in number, and measure but
84 mm. in length as compared with 170 mm. in the adult. In shape they are slender,
rather pointed and falcate, curving slightly outward and noticeably downward. In
colour they are rufous-buff barred with dark brown.

The delayed 7th-1oth primaries do not finish their growth until the body-moult
into adult plumage is well on toward completion.

HaLF-GROwN Mate or Two Montus.—At this age the moult into the first
winter or adult plumage is well marked. It starts at the neck and passes backward
over the dorsal aspect of the body, changing the appearance of almost the entire upper
surface before any of the lower plumage is affected. Much of the dorsal plumage is
now of the fully adult or teleoptile type, both in colour and form, with the exception of
the crest feathers, which are much shorter than they are destined to be in succeeding
moults. Although the crimson colour is undoubtedly an extreme specialization, yet,
curiously enough, this hue is always produced during the early growth of the buffy
cephalic feathers, giving them crimson tips. The first teleoptile chin and throat
plumage of the male is pure buff with but little admixture of crimson.

The rectrices are juvenile and full grown. The wing, however, at this age is in
active moult. The mesoptile flights, which have served the young bird so well, have
reached their limit of usefulness. The moult has begun in the centre of the wing and
is proceeding both outward and inward. The innermost primary is new and has reached
almost full length, No. 2 is an inch shorter, while No. 3 is not half grown. The
remaining primaries are juvenile. The new feathers are darker, with little or no buff
mottling, but the most conspicuous mark of distinction is the glistening white rhachis,
contrasting strongly with the dull brown shafts of the early flights.

20 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

The outermost secondary, No. 1, as usual in this family of birds, is very short,
hardly half the length of the adjoining primary and succeeding secondary, and, with
No. 2, has not yet been shed. The moult of the secondaries has commenced with
No. 3, and is proceeding inward. No. 3 is practically full grown, the sheath dying
away from the umbilicus. Nos. 4, 5 and 6 are in active growth, measuring respectively
beyond their blood-sheaths 106, 66 and 28 mm. From the 7th inward all are mesoptile.

The new median coverts are strikingly unlike their predecessors, replacing the
dull, mottled buff and brown hues with the characteristic ventral pattern of a broad,
greenish-white shaft-stripe, bordered with black, with blue-grey marginal halves of the
webs.

Of considerable interest are the adventitious feathers which are found on birds
of this age, appearing here and there, replacing those which have been accidentally
tweaked out during some unusual stress in the life of a young bird. They are full
grown and often somewhat worn, and are intermediate between juvenile and adult
plumage. Pectoral ones show distinct traces of green, while an isolated upper tail-
covert may be strongly tinged with crimson. A bird of this age measures in the
wing, 159; bill from nostril, 8; tarsus, 41 mm.

THREE-QUARTERS GROWN Mare.—In a bird of about ten weeks we find the most
striking transition plumage. It has, indeed, a coat of many colours, especially as regards
the ventral surface. While the change from the brown juvenile to the blue-grey adult
dorsal plumage is comparatively quiet and harmonious, the acquisition of the adult
lower plumage institutes the most. striking contrasts of colour. In violent contrast to
the pale, faded buff and black mottled juvenile feathers, there comes into view the
green and crimson of the splendid adult Blood Partridge.

Simultaneously with the moult of the ventral surface occurs the assumption of the
adult wing and tail feathers. The little narrow sickle flights and rudders of the nestling
have served their turn well, and, although they have been used only a few weeks, show
considerable wear. As regards the tail, the moult begins with the central pair of
feathers, and proceeds very regularly and evenly outward: pair after pair falling out,
each delaying its moult until the second preceding pair has reached almost a third of its
full length. The rapidity of the moult diminishes when the second outer pair is reached,
and the two remaining outer pairs of rectrices are retained for a considerable time.
Even after the bird as a whole is clad in adult plumage these outer pairs often persist as
short, brown, curved, covert-like feathers. The contrast between the old and new tail
feathers is very striking, the former narrow, curved, mottled; the latter broad, blunt and
clouded.

NEARLY GROWN Matce.—At first glance a bird of about three months or fourteen
weeks appears fully adult, and, indeed, it is full grown as far as the plumage of the dorsal
parts are concerned—crest, head, neck and body. The chin and throat have, however,
only just begun to change, the warm buff of the juvenile being flecked here and there
with rich crimson growing feathers. The ventral plumage is still growing, but shows
no remaining juvenile feathers. In a bird of this age the wing moult is practically
complete, the 7th primary, perhaps, still with its blood sheath, while the delayed 8-10th

PHOTOGRAVURE 2

SUMMER HOME OF THE SIKHIM HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

THREE miles above the sea in the Himalayas the air is rarified, the sunlight is brilliant, the flowers
masses of intense colour. The frost splits the rocks and the storms beat upon them with hail and scatter
them piecemeal. In the alpine meadows only those low growths find foothold which are pliable and
willing to bow before the blasts.

Tussocks of coarse tundra grass, slender lily stems, creeping juniper holding with knotted fingers to
every crevice—these give the touch of life. And to this desolate zone come the Blood Partridges in spring,
and here they nest among the shrubs in sheltered gullies, and search among the tussocks for seeds and

insect life, or dust themselves in the rock débris on the leeward sunny side of the great jagged ridges.

SUMMI!

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THE SIKHIM BLOOD PA

zen

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PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 2

HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 21

primaries are at last full grown. The tail is clean moulted with the exception of the
outermost pair, which clings so tenaciously to its follicles. The upper tail-coverts often
show much immature patterning, indicative of their extremely early appearance in the
moult. A typical young bird of this age shot in September or October, has the legs
and feet pale vermilion ; claws brown; iris dark brown; bill black, with the tip, edges,
skin and nostrils and the orbital skin light red. Its measurements average: length, 415;
wing, 190; tail, 127; bill from nostril, g; tarsus, 64 mm. The small figures are due
to the short growing feathers.

First YEAR PLumMaGcE.—As I have said before, the amount and intensity of the
ventral crimson has nothing to do with age, and the young bird acquiring its first adult
plumage in the autumn of the first year may have an abundance or show a complete
lack of this colour on the under surface, according to whether it is in Nepal or southern
Sikhim. When this moult is complete the male shows usually an excess of dark
pigment, noticeable not only in the general darkening of the green, but also in the
rectrices, which are in some cases almost wholly dark brown, with rather short crimson
fringe.

The only certain way, however, of detecting a male bird of the year after its autumn
moult is by the two or three outer primaries, which, appearing long after their fellows,
are not moulted, and may be recognized by their dark or pale brown shaft instead of
the white shining rhachis of the other flights. Another character is found in the spurs.
These begin to be noticeable from August to November of the first year, during or after
the autumn moult, appearing as rounded nodules, much as in the adult female. The
total number of spurs make their appearance simultaneously during the first autumn
and winter, whether this will prove to be two on each leg, as is usually the case, or,
as rarely happens, the extreme of one on one leg and five on the other.

There is no seasonal change save what is due to wear. One finds traces of the
regular autumn moult beginning in adult birdsas early as late July, and in August and
September it is in full swing, varying, of course, according to the haunt and
temperature. In October the last tail and flight feathers attain their full size, and the
thick, soft plumage is ready for the stress of the oncoming Himalayan winter.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE FEMALE.—The change from the juvenile to the adult
plumage in the case of the female is, of course, much less striking than the corresponding
change in the male. The first year’s teleoptile plumage of the female is characterized
by somewhat coarser mottling of the feathers and a greater admixture of buff. I have
examined a precocious individual which moulted very early, in which the juvenile broad
shaft-stripe and mottling of the ventral plumage was retained, set off by the warm buff
colour of the adult. The outer primaries are retained throughout the first winter and the
following summer as in the male, but the absence of the white rhachis in the teleoptile
plumage makes the fact more difficult of observation. Careful examination, however,
shows very evident signs of increased wear, and a much duller gloss than in the
other primaries.

PaRASITES.—Blood Partridges seem never to suffer from an excess of Mallophaga.

22 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

These are always present, however, and their eggs are sometimes very abundant,
attached to the basal down of the lower throat feathers. From a male bird secured on
the eastern boundary of Nepal I took two species of Mallophaga: Gontocotes
chrysocephalus Giebel, and Gontodes dissimilis Nitzsch. The known galliformine hosts
of these two species are as follows—

Gontodes disstmilts Gontocotes chrysocephalus
Ithagenes cruentus Ithagenes cruentus
Syrmaticus soemerringt scintillans Gennaeus albicristatus
Phastanus principals Gennaeus nycthemerus
Phastanus torquatus Gennaeus andersont
Gallus gallus Lophura diardi
Gallus domesticus Lophura ignita
Gallus sonneratt Phasianus colchicus

Syrmaticus soemerringt scintillans
Chrysolophus pictus
Argusianus argus

ITHAGENES CRUENTUS

Up to the present time we know: of no specimen of Himalayan Blood Partridge
east of extreme western Bhutan, save the single male ¢zbetanus from Tawang, just east of
Bhutan, which may prove to be of only subspecific rank. The next nearest forms to
the eastward are /thagenes geoffroyt in south-eastern Tibet and £userd in the Mishmi
Hills. It has been remarked more than once that the eastern or south-eastern
specimens of cvuentus differ appreciably from those ranging more to the west, chiefly
in the larger amount of crimson streaking on the breast of the western or Nepal birds,
this colour being usually absent or only faintly indicated on birds from southern
Sikhim. This is well represented in the plates of Gould in his “ Birds of Asia,” and
Elliot in his ‘Monograph of the Phasianidae.” These differ more from one another
than from the distinct species geoffroy. Gould’s bird is an extreme cruentus ; that
of Elliot being more nearly of the affinis type. About seventy per cent. of all
Blood Partridges in museum collections are labelled either with no locality or with
such uselessly vague terms as “India,” the ‘‘ Himalayas,” or ‘“ Darjeeling.” This
species has never existed in the vicinity of Darjeeling, nor even in the Darjeeling
district, and a number of the latter-named birds were doubtless collected far north
on the Nepal slopes of the Singaleela Range, and so are typically highly coloured
cruentus. Ignoring all such doubtful specimens, and after extended comparison of
the specimens in many museums of India, Europe and America, I have admitted
the following two forms—

NEPAL HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Ithagenes cruentus cruentus (Hardwicke)

TyPEes.—In the British Museum. Localities: g Nepal Hills; Q Valley of Nepal. Major-General
Hardwicke.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—Nepal, southern boundary of Tibet, northern native Sikhim.

SUBSPECIFIC CHARACTERS.—Male: Pectoral crimson abundant and strong in tone, starting well up on
the lower throat, and extending posteriorly as spots over more or less of the ventral plumage, sometimes even to
the flanks. All the rectrices, save the single outer pair, tinged and fringed with crimson. Averages slightly smaller
than afinzs. Female: Warmer in tone than afinzs. Some of the rectrices always tinged with crimson. Nepalese
birds have a distinct crimson or deep rosy wash in the form of a band around the facial area, anda noticeable wash
of the same colour on the chin and throat.

EARLY HISTORY

In 1822 Major-General T. Hardwicke, in the ‘Transactions of the Linnean
Society of London,” described the first known male specimen of the Himalayan Blood
Partridge under the name of Phaszanus cruentus. This bird is the typically, heavily
crimsoned western form. Five years later, he gave the name P. gardueri to the female,
under the impression that it was a wholly different species. Both specimens were
obtained in Nepal, and of the female, the describer says that it came from ‘the snowy
mountains north of the Valley of Nepaul.” Hardwicke tells us that it was procured
“through the zealous exertions of my friend Dr. Nathaniel Wallich, aided by the
influence of the English Resident at Katmandoo (The Honourable Edward Gardner),
without which no single article, of however little value, is obtainable by strangers
from that jealous people the Nepaulese.” It is remarkable that to-day, ninety
years after this was written, conditions in Nepal remain quite the same.

The types of both male and female are now in the British Museum.

I[thagenes cruentus cruentus

Phasianus cruentus Hardwicke, Trans. Linn. Soc., XIII. 1822, p. 237.

Sanguine Pheasant Latham, Gen. Hist., VIII. 1823, p. 205.

Perdix cruenta Temminck, Pl. Col., V. 1825, pl. 31, no. 332; Lessing, Traité d’Orn., 1831, p. 504.

Phastanus gardnert Hardwicke, Trans. Linn. Soc., XV. 1827, p. 167.

Lophophorus gardnert Lessing, Man, d’Orn., II. 1828, p. 180.

Phastanus cruentatus Gray, in Griff. ed. Cuv., III. 1829, p. 47.

Perdix gardneri Gray, in Griff. ed. Cuv., III, 1829, p. 47.
. Ithagints cruentus Wagler, Isis, 1832, p. 1228; Gray, List of Birds, pt. III. 1844, Gall. p. 31; id. Gen,
Birds, III. 1846, p. 504; Blyth, Cat. Mus. As. Soc., 1849, p. 241; Reichenbach, Handb. Speci. Orn., 1851,
tab. XXVII; Gould, Birds of Asia, VII. 1851, p. 43 (partim), plate; Jerdon, Birds of India, III. 1863, p. 522
(partim) ; Gray, List Gallinae Brit. Mus, 1867, p. 46; id. Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 264; Elliot, Mon.
Phas., II. 1872, text (partzm), plate; Hume & Marshall, Game Birds of India, I. 1878, p. 155, pl. (partcn);
Scully, Stray Feathers, VIII. 1879, p. 343; Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zoo. l’Acad. Imp. Sci. St. Petersb., t.
VIII. 1903, p. 1; Bianchi, translation of above, Journ. fiir Orn., LII. 1904, p. 70 (partim); Beebe, Zoologica,
I. 1914, p. 266.

Perdix cruentatus Jardine, Nat. Lib. Orn., IV. 1834, p. 112.

23

A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS |

-

Wags cruentatus Hodgson, in ene Zool. Misc, 1844, ‘Pp. 85; Gray, Cat. Hodgs, ed. I. 1846, p. 126,

_Ithagints cruentata Elwes, P.Z.S., 1673, p. 050.

Ithagenes cruentus Ogilvie- Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XI 1893, p. 268 (parti) ; Osiviecea
Hand- book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 215 (partim); Blanford, Faun: Brit. Ind. Birds, IV. 1898, p. 103 (partim);
_ Evans, Camb. Nat. Hist., IX. Birds, 1899, p. 217 (partim); Dresser, Man. Palaearctic Birds, II. 1903, p. 675 ©
—— parti) ; Waddell, Lhasa and its Mysteries, 1906, p. 487; Walton, Ibis, (8), VI. 1906, p. 247. (partim) ;
Brehm, Tierleben, Vogel, II. 1911, p. 84, pl. (partim); Seth-Smith, Avic. Mag., (3), II. 1911, ‘p. 303; Baker,

Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, ST, 1913, p. 83; Baker, Ibis, 1915, P. 122; Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc, XXIV.

= 1916, p. 389 (partim) —
- Ithaginis cruentus cruentus Beebe, Zoologica, I, 1912, p. I9I.

=e Se cruentus Kellog & Paine, Records of Indian Museum, x 19 4 P. 229.

SIKHIM HIMALAYAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

I[thagenes cruentus affinis Beebe

My attention was focussed on the lack of pectoral crimson and other distinctions
characterizing the Blood Partridges of British Sikhim when examining scores of speci-
mens in various museums, and I found that I could usually separate the two forms
at a glance. Looking at a large series of skins from Nepal and northern native Sikhim,
the eye at once notes three distinct zones of crimson on the ventral surface; chin,
midbreast and under tail-coverts. In a second series of birds collected in British
Sikhim the central zone is almost or wholly absent.

TYPE LOCALITY.—Near Nathang, 12,000 feet elevation.
GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—The higher ridges of British Sikhim.

SUBSPECIFIC CHARACTERS.—Male: Pectoral crimson absent from visible portions of feathers or represented
by a few rusty stains or at most several scattered spots. The two outer pairs of rectrices always without a tinge
of crimson. Averaging slightly larger than cruentus. Female: Greyer in general tone than the western form,
especially on the lesser wing-coverts and tertials where the lighter markings are decidedly whitish instead of
warm buff. Only ten per cent. or less of Sikhim birds (and these doubtfully labelled specimens) show even the
faintest trace of a crimson tinge around the facial area or on chin, throat and rectrices.

EARLY HISTORY

On August 17, 1912, I published the diagnosis of afinzs in “ Zoologica,” designating
as types, male, No. 387, and female, No. 450 in the Kuser-Beebe Collection. Both were
secured at 12,000 feet elevation near Nathang, British Sikhim. These types have been
presented to the American Museum, New York City.

lthagenes cruentus cruentus

Perdix cruentatus Jardine, Nat. Lib., Orn., IV. 1834, pl. VII.

Lthaginis cruentus Gould, Birds, Asia, VII. 1851, p. 43 (pgartzm); Jerdon, Birds, India, III. 1863, p. 522
(artim); Elliot, Mon. Phas. II. 1872, text (fartim), plate; Hume, Game-birds, India, I. 1878, p. 155,
pl. (gartem) ; Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zoo. lAcad. Imp. Sci. St. Petersb, VIII. 1903 (partim); Bianchi,
translation of above, Jour. fiir Orn., LII. 1904, p. 70 (partzm).

Ithagenes cruentus Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds. Brit. Mus, XXII. 1893, p. 268 (partim); Ogilvie-Grant,
Handbook Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 215 (partim); Blanford, Faun. Brit. Ind. Birds, IV. 1898, p. 103 (partim) ;
Evans, Camb. Nat. Hist., IX. Birds, 1899, p. 217 (partim); Dresser, Man. Palaearctic Birds, II. 1903, p. 675
(partim); Walton, Ibis, (8), VI. 1906, p. 247 (gartim); Brehm, Tierleben, Vogel, II. 1911, p. 84, pl. (partem) ;
Bailey, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His, Soc., XXI. 1911, p. 178; Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 389
(partim).

Ithagints cruentus affinis Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 10, 1912, p. 191; Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 265.

Ithagenes cruentus affines Baker, Ibis, 1915, p. 122.

TIBETAN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

L[thagenes tibetanus Baker

NAME.—Specific : ¢zbetanus, from the locality of the type specimen.

Type,— The Sela Range, above Tawang, south-east Tibet,” Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XXXV. 1914,
p. 18. The type is in the Museum of the Bombay Natural History Society.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Tuts Blood Partridge is known from only a single male specimen collected by
Captain Molesworth, who reports that he saw a number of others. It was secured at
a high elevation in Tibetan territory just east of Bhutan. How far it ranges westward
toward the Himalayan species, or eastward toward the haunts of Kuser’s Blood
Partridge we do not know. We are also ignorant of its status, whether it is in reality
a good species or whether it grades into any other form.

The Tibetan bird is described by Mr. Baker as differing from cruentus in having
the lores and superciliaries crimson instead of black and in having no black line under
the eye; the posterior ear-coverts are grey and white, and not black and white. There
is much more crimson on the breast than in the birds to the west, and the flanks
and lower breast are almost wholly grey, the green being reduced to narrow stripes.
There is also less green on the wings. The crimson hue of the feathers of the throat
extends quite to the base, and is not, as in crvuentus, confined to the visible portions
of the web.

From Kuser’s Blood Partridge the Tibetan bird differs in the paleness of the
ventral plumage, the crimson being confined to the breast and not extending to the
throat and fore-neck. The lores are crimson instead of black, and the superciliary
streak is wholly crimson and not partly black. The black gorget instead, as in Ausev7,
of extending from the top of the ear-coverts completely around the throat, is present
only to the extent of a few dark grey markings on the throat. In size this bird agrees
with both cruentus and kusert.

Ithagenes tibetanus Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XX XV. 1914, p. 18; Baker, Ibis, 1915, p. 122; Baker, Jour.
Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 390.

26

PHOTOGRAVURE 3

HOME OF THE NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Aw alpine feeding ground of Blood Partridges in the autumn. When the snow melts on the Nanshan
Mountains in north central China a dense growth of plants springs up, and in midsummer these meadows
are ablaze with colour. The Blood Partridges nest among the blossoms and pluck the buds and scratch
up the shallow-rooted plants for grubs. As autumn approaches, the petals fall and the meadows become
covered with a myriad seed cases, hard-seeded berries, and fluffy-topped everlastings. Then the Partridges
pass back and forth with their broods, brushing off the filmy seeds, restless and ever ready at the first

blackening frost to retreat to lower levels.

HOME OF KUSERS BLOOD PARTRIDGE

In northern Yunnan, the winds from the snows find their way over the passes along narrow paths.
On either hand, rugged oaks and pines are able to keep a roothold, but in the sweep of the icy blast nothing
can grow but low, stunted bamboos and coarse grass. The Blood Partridges live at these altitudes, roost

among the trees, but find their food in the flower-dotted expanses of the close-cropped upland meadows.

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PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 3

KUSER'S ‘BLOOD PARTRIDGE
Ithagenes kusert Beebe

NAME.—Specific: kuserz after Col. Anthony R. Kuser of Bernardsville, New Jersey.

TypPE.—‘ Vicinity of Tsekon, Yunnan,” Beebe, Zoologica, I. 1912,p. 190. The type is in the Musée Nationale
d’ Histoire Naturelle in Paris.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—North-western finger of Yunnan, and westward to the Mishmi Hills,

GENERAL ACCOUNT

OnE day, in December 1g10, in north-western Yunnan, I noticed a Chinaman
passing along the trail driving a number of forlorn horses with some heavy merchandise.
Under the thongs which fastened one of these loads was tucked a bedraggled mass
of feathers. A glint of scarlet caught my eye, and I stopped the man and examined the
plumage. I saw at once that it was the remains of a Blood Pheasant, and consisted
of a large patch of breast feathers almost wholly scarlet and black, and two detached
wings with the typically long, loose, bright green coverts of geoffroyz. I secured the
plumage and learned that the man had obtained it from a native farther to the north.
He could not say certainly whether all the plumage came from a single individual, and
although I realized its great interest, it was impossible to put any exact interpretation
upon it at the time.

A year and a half later, while studying the specimens of pheasants in the museum
of the /avdin des Plantes in Paris, I came across two mounted specimens which cleared
up the matter and showed that the Blood Partridge from the extreme north-west finger
of Yunnan is a very well-marked form, by far the most beautiful and brilliantly coloured
of its genus. Lacking any data as to intermediate specimens I afforded it full specific
rank.

Confirmation of this decision and an extension of the range of Kuser’s Blood
Partridge was made possible by Captain F. W. Bailey, who found the species far to the
westward of my locality in the Mishmi Hills, between eight and twelve thousand feet
elevation. Altogether ten additional specimens have been secured, seven males and
three females. All of these sustain the validity of the characters upon which I
based the species. Three eggs have also been obtained, quite similar to those of
geoffroyt. Vhey were found at twelve thousand feet in early May, laid on the bare
ground under a clump of bamboo, with snow close by.

I have taken great pleasure in naming this beautiful Blood Partridge in honour of
Colonel Anthony R. Kuser, whose interest and generosity have made possible these
researches.

DETAILED DeEscripTion.—Male: entire forehead, chin, throat and sides of the

head crimson. A narrow collar of black feathers with crimson fringes crosses the
27

28 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

upper breast, merging at the sides with the blue-grey of the mantle. Posteriorly
the breast, upper belly and corresponding sides of the body are intense crimson, marked
only with very narrow shaft-lines of pale green. Behind this area the lower belly and
sides down to the thigh, are brilliant, clear apple green.

The whole head is chiefly black, with no white or cream colour except a trace on the
nape. The upper body plumage is uniform blue-grey, with conspicuous shaft-stripes,
white without any tinge of green. The wing-coverts are bright, clear green throughout,
and the middle and greater coverts are very long, with recurved, decomposed barbs,
Black is wholly lacking on the visible portion of these coverts, the only character being
the slightly paler green shaft-stripe. The concealed bases show a rufous-brown tinge,
while still more basally the feather becomes blue-grey with the narrow black lines
bordering the shaft. The covert and tail fringes of crimson are well developed and the
under tail-coverts are brilliant crimson.

The description is of the specimen designated as the type and is a fully adult male
bird, No. 179A in the mounted collection of the Musée Nationale d'Histoire Naturelle.
It is marked ‘Yunnan. Prince H. d’Orleans, 1896.”

Measurements of this specimen are: culmen, 12; wing, 215; tail, 132; tarsus, 64;
middle toe and claw, 53 mm. There are two spurs on the right leg and a single one
on the left, each about half an inch in length. The specimen is considerably moth-eaten
and in a bad state of preservation.

A second specimen of /thagenes kuseri is No. 179B in the same collection. Itisa
young bird in its first year, the spurs being mere flat nodules. It corresponds in all
respects with the type, except that there is an even greater infusion of black throughout
the plumage. The tail, which is more perfect than in the other bird, is somewhat longer.
Its label gives “Tsékon, Yunnan. R. P. Soulie, 1897.” This locality is in the north-
western finger of Yunnan, on the Mekong River, in latitude 28° north and longitude
about 99° east, thus giving a definite location for the species.

Since naming this species Mr. Eagle Clarke has been kind enough to send me a
rather young male /thagenes in full moult, which bore the locality ‘‘ Yunnan” on the
label. Upon careful examination I came to the conclusion that it was undoubtedly
Rusert, but an abnormal individual. In no species of this genus is there normally an
increase in pectoral scarlet after the first post-juvenile moult, but in two or three
individuals I have found an abnormal condition of pigmentation in young birds, and this
_ seems another ; the degenerate rusty-buff pigment stains on the pectoral plumage being
replaced by crimson in the feathers of the succeeding moult.

This bird is a male in exceedingly worn plumage undergoing the autumn moult
of the second year. The throat and breast are a mixture of buff and blue-grey, with
numerous half-concealed spots of crimson on the new growing feathers. Half the
primaries have been shed, while the tail shows some mutilation, only two right rectrices
remaining. Through ill nourishment or some other cause, the bird entered its post-
juvenile moult with very impure coloration and is apparently partly regaining the
normal colours in the present moult. Two young male birds from Nepal which I have
examined show the same thing, an excess of buff in place of the crimson.

Kuser’s Blood Partridge combines some of the characters of cvwentus with the
brilliant green patch of geoffroy, but it differs in many ways from both. From

KUSER’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE 29

Himalayan birds it at once stands apart as almost lacking the white or cream colour on
the anterior part of the body, in the solid black gorget on face and neck, in the
remarkable amount of crimson, and in the geoffroy type of wing.

The female of Kuser’s Blood Partridge differs from that of cvwentus in being of a
general darker colour. The rufous in the western bird is replaced by brown, and the
breast, instead of being plain rusty-brown or rufous, is vermiculated with brown and buff.
The slate colour of the head and nape is much darker, almost black, and the chestnut of
the forehead and sides of the head is much richer and deeper.

Captain Bailey has gathered a number of notes on the habits of this species,
published both by himself and by Mr. Baker, from which I excerpt the following.
These birds are most extraordinarily common in certain parts of the country we visited,
keeping close to the snowline, and apparently moving up and down between eight
thousand and fourteen thousand feet as the snow increased or receded. They are often
found in deep snow. Once when I was snowed up for several days, these birds came
round my tent. They go about in flocks of from ten to twenty, and they fly very un-
willingly, and when forced to take wing, settle again almost immediately and take to
their legs. They are never found in the open but always in fairly deep forest.

The Mishmis trap them by building a light fence made of twigs about eighteen
inches in height, usually along a contour of the hill in the forest. In this, gates are
kept open just wide enough to admit a bird, and in these openings a noose is placed,
made of fine roots and fixed to a bent, springy bamboo. The birds, when feeding,
wander down to the fence and do not hop or fly over, but follow it until they reach one
of the gates, and the first bird to pass is usually caught.

Another writer says that while Kuser’s Blood Partridge is usually found in bamboo
jungle close to the snowline, in early morning and late evenings they come out into the
open. When there was snow on the ground they were very conspicuous. They would
make no attempt to move until fired at, and even then would often settle almost within
gunshot. While usually in flocks of about a dozen, they would sometimes be seen
in parties of as many as forty. They fed on seeds and vegetable matter mixed with
insects.

Ithaginis kuseri Beebe, Zoologica, I. 1912, p. 190.

Ithagenes cruentus kusert Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XX XIII. 1913, p. 83.

Lthagenes kusert Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XX XV. 1914, p. 18 ; Baker, Ibis, 1915, p. 122; Baker, Jour.
Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 395.

GEOFFROY’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE
lthagenes geoffroyt Verreaux |

NAMES.—Specific: geoffroyi, named after M. Alfred Geoffroy St.-Hilaire, the eminent French zoologist.
English: Geoffroy’s or Grey-necked Blood Partridge. French: Francolin Geoffroy. German: Chinesischer
Blutfasan. Vernacular: Semo, Tsiri (Tibetan); Tsong-ky (bush-hen, Chinese); Sung Chi-i (spruce-hen,
Chinese).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Bluish-grey above, with white shaft-streaks, edged with black; wing-coverts
intense green ; green below, with grey chin, throat and chest, crimson under tail-coverts, Female: Greyish-brown
above and below, mottled below with blackish-brown ; forehead, face, chin and throat brownish.

TyPE.—Both male and female are from the mountains of Moupin, western Szechuan, China. Verreaux, Bull.
Soc, d’Acclim., (2), IV. 1867, p. 706. Both types are in the British Museum.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

THE knowledge which we have of the range of this species shows that it inhabits
the higher altitudes of the eastern Himalayas of south-eastern Tibet, as well as northern
Aborland, western Szechuan, and extreme northern Yunnan. All the record localities
may be included in a rather long rectangle between the points 92° and 102° east
longitude, and 29° and 31° north latitude. Much of this area is “ forbidden land,” and not
until the fierce tribes dwelling therein have been subjugated can we hope to learn more
concerning the exact distribution of this bird. Somewhere in eastern Bhutan, or in the
still unexplored Aborland to the eastward, geoffroy? and tibetanus probably meet.

Although, geographically, the eastern half of the haunts of Geoffroy’s Blood
Partridge is in Chinese territory, yet the character of the fauna and flora is essentially
south Tibetan and Himalayan. The general character of the country at various
altitudes, which I observed in northern Yunnan, holds good, according to Ward and
others, over much of the western Szechuan region. Here among this maze of
mountains, breaking the fall from the Tibetan tableland to the plains of east and south
China, a number of great rivers flow almost parallel to one another. They draw their
headwaters from that great mountain range of mystery the Kokonor itself, and have cut
for themselves deep, wild gorges and canyons through the highlands. The lammer-
geier which soars ever so little above the mountain tops, sees, directly beneath, waters
which will flow a thousand miles to the east, and in an adjoining valley those which
will find their way sixteen hundred miles to the south, into the same warm sea which
washes the tropical coasts of Borneo. On the mountains between these rivers lives this
Blood Partridge. Here it ranges from about ten to sixteen thousand feet, and, owing to
the more broken, irregular character of the country, its haunts are infinitely varied,
especially as to flora.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

The altitudinal movements of Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge are the result of a

search for food, and while on exposed slopes this may necessitate their ascending or
30

PLATE V

GEOPEROY'S BLOOD PARTRIDGE

lthagenes geoffroyt Verreaux

STILL dominated by the majesty of Kinchinjunga, although from a wholly new angle, we find this
species of Blood Partridge among the snowy uplands of Eastern Tibet. In pairs, or usually in small-sized
flocks, they glean a livelihood among the cold-stunted vegetation of the alpine meadows. The nine birds
which I saw together had their pleasing grey and emerald plumage set off by a mass of blossoms which
only the brief summers of these altitudes can bring forth—white anemones, yellow saxifrage, and blue

gentians that matched the sky above the distant snow peaks.

PLATE V

A0CIYLdYVd GOO 1d S:AOYAAOND

GEOFFROY’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE 31

descending many thousand feet annually, on a more sheltered range they will remain
the entire year with much less of seasonal movement.

The gorgeousness of the cold-temperate and semi-alpine flora of the eastern
Himalayas is fully equalled in Szechuan—splendid forests overhead, shrubs giving
forth the sweetest of scents, and banks of flowers carpeting the mossy ground.

The favourite altitude of these partridges, from twelve to fifteen thousand feet,
includes, as in the Himalayas, the firs and larches and oaks, these giving place to
rhododendrons, trees at first, but higher up dwarfing to shrubs, and passing into
the alpine meadows and grasses at a height of about three miles above the sea.
At the higher levels of the Blood Partridge’s home we find wonderfully brilliant
alpine flowers—primroses, both crimson and blue—sometimes so numerous as to form
almost a mosaic of solid colour; yellow saxifrage, white, nodding anemones and
gentians as blue as the snow-contrasted sky overhead.

The brief glimpse I had of these birds—nine altogether—told me nothing of their
habits, but from the accounts of David, Davies, and from manuscript notes given me
by French missionaries and sportsmen, we may be certain that their habits are identical
with those of the Himalayan birds.

They have the same sociable traits and, at other than the breeding season, unite
in coveys or flocks of from ten to thirty individuals, and, indeed, large troops of the
birds are occasionally to be seen. Even before the young are full grown these coveys
are formed, and I have known of three adult birds and six only half-grown young to
be shot from a flock of not less than thirty-five. The birds thus appear to find that
there is safety in such association, and the families probably begin to drift together
soon after the young are able to fly up to perches. It is certainly true that most of the
“hunted” mammals of these high, rugged regions spend much of their lives in flocks
or herds, such as the wild sheep, the markhor, tahr, goral, and other goats. The dhole,
or wild dog, is the only one of the “hunters” which appears to go in packs. There is
a distinct parallel between the pheasants and herbivorous mammals of these high
altitudes and those of the tropical jungles, where both deer and pheasants keep to
single families and where parents and young soon separate.

In country where bamboo is abundant the birds seem to show a partiality
for its shelter, roosting, however, by preference in trees—firs or rhododendrons.
When living and feeding among spruces the birds are said to be almost
inedible.

They have the typically Ithagenine habit of disinclination to flight, combined
with considerable running power. It would seem as if they had learned to fear danger
in the air far more than pursuit on the ground. It is likely, indeed, that, on the whole,
the sudden swoop of an eagle or spring of a leopard or fox is more disastrous than
the long-continued pursuit of any four-footed enemies. Hence swift, dodging speed,
around boulders and tussocks, would be the safest escape to the shelter of the dense
rhododendrons or bamboos. When alarmed into flight the covey fans out at once,
the birds scaling for some distance and alighting in various directions, then later
reassembling by call. A dog will always send the birds into trees, from which they
pay little attention to an approaching human being.

The call of this bird, which I did not myself hear, is described as a single long-

32 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

drawn-out, wheezy whistle, followed by several sharper notes. Another correspondent
gives it as a loud, long-continued squealing.

I found the birds scratching among dwarf bamboo, probably both for insects and
seeds. David gives buds, leaves, and grains as their diet, while the crops of three
birds shot in April in the snow contained nothing but moss.

A single nest of Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge has been found a short distance to the
west of Tachienlu in west-central Szechuan (30° north latitude and 102° west longitude).
This was on the ground, under brushwood in the forest, at thirteen thousand five hundred
feet elevation, and contained seven beautifully marked eggs. These are of a narrow,
elongated oval shape, smooth and almost glossy, with a ground colour of pale reddish-
buff, blotched irregularly, but over the entire surface, with several shades, the darkest
being a deep reddish-brown. In shape and pigmentation these eggs are far more
Charadriiform or Lariform than like any of the eggs of true pheasants. Of Galliformine
birds they resemble most closely the eggs of ptarmigan or black grouse. These eggs
measure from 47°! to 52°2 mm. in length, and from 31°8 to 331 mm. in breadth.

The Tibetans seldom trap these birds, but the Chinese have of recent years created
a demand for them along with all other birds of an edible nature, and with their
continued migration into this western region, the bird will doubtless soon become
even more rare than it is at present. The extremely isolated character of many of the
steep slopes and almost impassable nature of much of this wild country will, however,
give it a good chance for existence for many years to come.

The only record of Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge in captivity is a bird received
at the London Zoological Gardens on July 19, 1875, which lived over a year, until
September 19, 1876—a record lease of life in captivity for birds of this genus.

DETAILED DescripTion.—Adult male: forehead and feathers around bare facial
area black. Very long and loose green feathers blue-grey. Ear-coverts elongated,
narrow and loosely webbed; black with distinct white shaft-streak. From the nape
backward to the tail-coverts, blue-grey. What on the nape is at first only a whitened
rhachis, widens posteriorly into a broad shaft-streak, becoming broadly bordered with
black on the back. Lesser wing-coverts like back. Middle and greater coverts intense
apple green, elongated and loosely webbed, with shaft-streak of paler green. Inner
secondaries greenish, the succeeding few blue-grey and the remainder, together with
the primaries, brown with glistening white shafts.

Rectrices uniform pale, ashy-blue, all but the outer pair, together with the upper
and under coverts with a long, lateral, crimson fringe of disintegrated barbs. On the
under coverts the crimson frequently occupies almost the entire feather.

The chin is blackish, rapidly paling into the uniform blue-grey of the throat and
breast. Beginning in a straight transverse line across the lower breast, a patch of
brilliant apple green covers the sides and mid-belly, giving place posteriorly to the
dense, blue-grey, wholly disintegrated belly and vent plumage. A few specimens show
buffy stains on the margins of some of the breast feathers. The average number of
spurs is two on each leg; this holding good for six out of seven specimens. The
remainder have a single spur on either the right or left leg. The iris is hazel, bill black,
with the base, nostrils and bare orbital skin red, feet and spurs coral red, claws brown.

GEOFFROY’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE 33

Measurements: bill from nostril, 11; wing, 208-223 (215); tail, 165-190 (177); tarsus,
64; middle toe and claw, 56 mm.

Adult female: forehead, sides of the head, chin and throat buffy brown, many
of the feathers, except on the last two regions, bordered with darker. Long, loose crest
clear blue-grey as in the male. Ear-coverts elongated and darkish-brown with pale
shafts. Nape, neck all around, the upper mantle clear blue-grey.

The body plumage, above and below, shows a uniform vermiculation of cold grey
and dark brown, equal in amount above, while below, the slight predominance of the
grey gives a somewhat paler tone. This is still more true of the upper tail-coverts,
which are distinctly ashy. The wing-coverts like the back. Scapulars and rectrices are
rather more coarsely vermiculated. Primaries dull brown, paler on the outer web.
The majority of individuals show a distinct crimsoning of the lateral margins of the
rectrices. Measurements: bill from nostril, 10 ; wing, 210; tail, 162; tarsus, 61; middle
toe and claw, 56 mm.

NaTAL Down.—Similar to /. cruentus, except that the plumage is somewhat colder
in general tone, and the dark hues are chocolate rather than rufous. The chin, throat
and superciliaries which extend to the hind neck as two broad nuchal bands, are greyish-
white or ashy.

JUVENILE PLuMAGE.—The under parts are dull mottled brown with broad, noded,
pale buff shaft-stripes especially conspicuous on the breast. The upper plumage is still
darker brown, vermiculated with buff. All the feathers are triangularly tipped with buff,
and the secondaries have in addition four or five broken transverse bands of the same
colour most distinctly developed on the outer webs. The juvenile rectrices show con-
siderable white mottling. A bird of three weeks measures: bill from nostril, 5; wing,
93; tail, 46; tarsus, 32; middle toe and claw, 28 mm.

HaLF-GROWN MAtzE.—In a bird of about two months, the first autumn moult is
in full swing, the new adult plumage showing on the dorsal surface of the head, neck,
shoulders, mantle and inner wing feathers. In all of this area there is considerable
infusion of dark pigment, with corresponding reduction of the blue-grey. Except for
a few inner, middle wing-coverts the wings externally are wholly juvenile. The delayed
outer primaries are in full growth, the 9th measuring 46, and the roth primary 23 mm.
beyond their sheaths. Their white rhachis shows conspicuously compared with the
brown juvenile shafts. The juvenile primaries are much worn. Nos. 1 and 2 are of
the new plumage, measuring 31 and 5 mm. respectively. The tail is more advanced
than the wings, and has reached the period of temporary rest when all the feathers have
been shed save the two outer pairs of juveniles. These are of the usual curved and
pointed shape, dark brown, mottled irregularly with pale buff, especially on the outer
web, and with warmer buff at the tip. The new feathers, while nicely graduated from
within outward, show the rapidity of their moult by the fact that even the crested ones
are still shorter than the outer juveniles. They are greyish white, clouded with white
at the tip, those of most recent growth (the 4th and 5th pairs) showing clearer webs.
The inner ones have well-marked, pale crimson fringes. The male under discussion

F

34 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

measures: bill from nostril, 7; wing, 116; tail, 66; tarsus, 40; middle toe and claw,
30 mm.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

The first specimens, both male and female, ever obtained of this species were
procured by a French missionary, Pére Chauveau, in the mountains near Tatsienlu,
Szechuan, and sent to Paris in the year 1866 by M. Dabry, French Consul at Hankow.
These were included in a remarkable collection of birds, containing not only four males
and a female of this new Blood Partridge, but a pair of the equally unknown L’Huys
Impeyan, and the first living Temminck’s Tragopans which ever reached the continent
of Europe. The Blood Partridges were sent to the Société Nationale d’Acclimatation
de France, where M. Jules P. Verreaux named them in honour of M. Albert Geoffroy
St.-Hilaire.

SYNONYMY

Ithaginis geoffroyt Verreaux, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., (2), IV. 1867, p. 706; Gray, Hand-list, II. 1870, p. 264;
Sclater, Ibis, (2), VI. 1870, p. 297; David, N. Arch. Mus. d’hist. nat., VII. 1871, p. 11, No. 358; Swinhoe, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 400; Sclater, Ibis, (3), IV. 1874, p. 169; David & Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p. 401, pl. 1i33
Oustalet, Naturaliste, 1886, p. 276; Seebohm, Ibis, (6), III. 1891, p. 381; Oustalet, Ann. Sci. Nat. Zool., (are Sk &
1892, p. 313; Seebohm, in Bower’s Diary of Jour. across Tibet, 1894, p. 297; Oustalet, Nouv. Arch. Mus. Paris,
(3), VI. 1894, p. 77; Beddard, Struct. and Class. Birds, 1898, p. 293; Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zoo. |’Acad.
Imp. Sci. St. Petersb., t. VIII. 1903, p. 1; Bianchi, trans. of above, Jour. fiir. Orn., LII. 1904, p. 70; Beebe,
Zoologica, I. 1914, p. 265.

Ithaginis geoffroyii Gould, Birds Asia, VII. 1872, pl. 42; Elliot, Mon. Phas., 1]. 1872, pl. 31.

Ithaginis geoffroit Garrod, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 359.

Ithagenes geoffroyt Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds, Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 269; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book,
Game-Birds, I. 1895, p. 218; Sharpe, Hand-List Birds, I. 1899, p. 33; Davies, Ibis, (8), I.-1901, p. 408; Oates,
Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 50; Dresser, Man. Pale. Birds, II. 1903, p. 676; Wilson, A Naturalist in Western
China, II. 1914, p. 118; Baker, Ibis, 1915, p. 122; Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 400.

*“WILSON’S BLOOD PARTRIDGE
[thagenes wilsont Thayer and Bangs

NAMES.—Specific: welsonz, after E. H. Wilson, connected with the expedition on which this species was
discovered ; English: Wilson’s Blood Partridge.

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Similar to Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge, but about one-third smaller. Female
unknown.

TyPE.—“ Washan Mountain, Western Szechuan,” Thayer and Bangs, Mem. Mus. Comp. Zool. Harvard,
XL. 1912, p. 139. In Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard.

RANGE.—Mount Wa, in south-central Szechuan.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

THIS species is based upon two adult male birds, which were collected in November
1908, by an expedition sent out by Harvard University. They were secured at an
elevation of nine thousand feet, in the range of mountains known as Washan.

This is more properly an irregular mountainous elevation culminating in one peak,
Mount Wa. This peculiarly shaped mountain has been described by Mr. Baker.
“The upper storey of this most imposing mountain is a series of twelve or fourteen
precipices rising one above another, each not much less than two hundred feet high,
and receding very slightly on all four sides from the one next below it. Every
individual precipice is regularly continued all around the four sides. Or it may be
considered as a flight of thirteen steps, each one hundred and eighty feet high and
thirty feet broad. Or, again, it may be described as thirteen layers of square, or
slightly oblong, limestone slabs, one hundred and eighty feet thick and about a mile on
each side, piled with careful regularity and exact leveling upon a base eight thousand
feet high. Or perhaps it may be compared to a cubic crystal stuck amid a row of
irregular gems. Or perhaps it is beyond compare.”

The mountain is heavily forested, and in many places covered with short, scrubby
bamboo. It is said to be quite isolated, and is situated in a bend of the Tung River,
which, some distance higher up, swings to the northward and passes to the east of
Tatsienlu, the most easterly record for Geoffroy’s Blood Partridge. In view of the fact
that most of the peculiar mammals and birds secured on this same expedition came
from the Washan, it seems reasonable to assume that these two dwarf, adult male
Blood Partridges actually represent an isolated species. That they are adult is attested
by the size of the spurs, of which both individuals have two on each leg, of full adult
length. ‘The cere and eye-ring are noted as deep orange red, and the tarsi as coral red.

When compared with a large series of geoffroy7, there are no colour characters which
separate the two forms, but the following measurements show the very considerable
difference in size—

35

A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Culmen from : : Middle toe
nostril. = Wing. | Tail. Tarsus. and claw.

‘Ithagenes wilsont S21 = 170-136 +56 49 mm.
Se Sige aS ee ee eee

=——%

“While admitting wilsont as a valid species in the light of our present knowledge,
it is important to record the fact that the geoff/roye from the western part of their range
are cee larger i in size than those from Tatsienlu == its vicinity: 7 |

iin ila Fee sad Bangs, Mem. | Museum Comp. ‘Zoo. Harvard, XL “1912, p. I 395 Wilson,
=a Naturalist i in Western China, II. 1914, p. 119. 7
ee wilsone es Is I. 1914, P. goes

PLATE VI

NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Lthagenes sinensis David

Five hundred miles north of the Himalayas, on the alpine slopes of the Nanshan ranges, lives the
Northern Blood Partridge. The Chinese call it Song-hoa-ky, the flower bird of the firs; and its soft
pastel crimson, emerald russet and grey merit well the name. They spend their life among low firs, among
thickets of stunted willows and mountain ash. Few white men have seen them, but the Chinese hunters
find their coveys easy to approach, for they know little of mankind and fear only the eagles and foxes

and leopards which are ever on the lookout for them.

PLATE vt

NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE.

NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

lthagenes sinensis David

David's Northern Blood Partridge . . Ithagenes sinensis sinensis David.
- Michael’s Northern Blood Partridge ; ; ‘ fr * michaélts Bianchi.
Berezowsky’s Northern Blood Partridge . : 5; - ra berezowskit Bianchi.

THIS species has been separated into three subspecies, but the habits of these, so
far as we know, are so similar, that I shall treat of them under the species-heading,
except as to synonymy and subspecific description.

NAMES.—Specific: s¢wensts, of China; mzchaélis, for the collector, Michael Efimovitsch Grum-Grzimailo ;

berezowskit, for the Russian zoologist, M. M. Berezowsky; Vernacular: Hoa-ky (flower-bird); Song-hoa-ky
(flower-bird of the firs, Chinese) ; Sermun (Mongol).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Bluish-grey above, with white or greenish-white shaft-streaks ; wing-coverts
golden or cinnamon; crest ashy-grey; throat and breast buff; lower breast and sides apple green; under tail-
coverts crimson. Female: Head ashy ; upper parts greyish buff; under parts brownish buff.

RANGE.—Higher regions of Kansu, Shensi and northern Szechuan.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION OF THE SPECIES

The Northern Blood Partridge inhabits the subalpine slopes of the mountains of
central China, the eastern Nanshan Mountains in Kansu, and eastward along the
highlands of the Hoang-ho River, through central and southern Shensi in the Tsing-
ling Range, and on into eastern Honan. Southward we find it in north central
Szechuan. Future thorough exploration will reveal much more of the range of this
partridge, but at present we may roughly indicate its distribution by a triangle, with
the points respectively at 102° E. 38° N. in the north; 111° E. 34° N. in the east, and
103° E. 31° N. in the south.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Judging from the accounts of the collectors and explorers who have seen this bird,
it is nowhere common, and its habits in general differ in no respects from those of
the Himalayan species.

In the spring of the year the Northern Blood Partridges keep to the edges of the
subalpine forests and shrubs. The centre of the range of this species is at least five
hundred miles north of the Himalayas, and consequently the alpine zone is at a lower
altitude. The average height at which these birds live is therefore less than in the
more southern species. The character of the vegetation is also changed, and in Kansu,
while they are found among firs, they also haunt low, stunted growths of sarbus,
willows, mountain ash and cornus. In Shensi we read of their being found in
bamboo.

In winter they form into coveys and descend lower on the mountains, where

eee

38 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

they find food throughout the cold months, and roost at night close together in
the trees.

Przewalski describes the note of this bird as a long whistle—clear, but not very
loud.

Eggs of the Northern Blood Partridge from Szechuan (derezowskit) are creamy-
white, the surface covered with blackish spots and blotches.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLT Mare.—Forehead, lores and entire facial area shining black. Posterior
edge of forehead, chin and lower malar area, back as far as or beyond line of the eye
tinged with bright crimson. This occasionally extends as a rosy wash over the entire
throat. Crown feathers elongated into a crest, ashy grey with white shaft-stripes.
The elongated ear-coverts and lateral feathers of the crown also enter into the formation
of the crest, the latter being brownish black, while the former have a conspicuous white
shaft-stripe, which often terminates in an isolated, expanded streak.

Passing backward from the head, the ashy grey changes gradually into the greyish
blue so characteristic of all the species of /thagenes. From the scapulars to the tail-
coverts the chief changes are a widening and slight greening of the shaft-stripe and
an increase in the lateral black stripes.

The lesser and many of the median wing-coverts are identical with the dorsal
plumage, then very abruptly, the individual feathers become particoloured in various
patterns, the black and white stripes narrow and vanish, the latter greening before they
disappear, while the blue area and almost immediately the entire feather changes to
a golden buff, identical with the colour of the throat of the female crwenfus. The rhachis
remains ivory white and expands into a small but conspicuous terminal spot of greenish
white. Ina few feathers the golden buff is absolutely pure, but usually it shows strong
crimson stains along the shaft or on the lateral margins. The inner secondaries are
predominantly of the golden colour, which becomes fainter and narrower, limited to the
outer margin on the outer secondaries.

The flight feathers are plain dull brown, with shining white shafts.

The longer tail-coverts, while retaining the two dark bands of the dorsal plumage,
have a well-developed lateral crimson fringe. The rectrices, varying in colour from dark
brown, through various mottlings to almost immaculate white, show the crimson fringe
in a highly developed state.

The rose-tinged ash of the chin gives place to a warmer but paler buff which
extends uniformly over the throat and breast. There is considerable variation in the
latter area, some birds having it almost clear white. On the lower breast the feathers
change abruptly to a clear apple green bordered with black, this colouring giving way
in turn to mouse grey, down-like in texture, which covers much of the lower sides,
flanks and belly. In very fully developed specimens one finds the green extending
back to the flanks, giving the impression that the entire under surface from the lower
breast is of this colour. In by far the greater number, however, the green occupies a
more or less sharply defined mid-ventral zone, widest along the sides below the wings
and barely reaching the mid line of the belly. Frequently the posterior part of the

NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE 39

ventral green area is stained with buff or even crimson. The under tail-coverts are
brilliant crimson tipped with white.

I have never seen this species in life, and so have to trust to published articles
and labels for data as to the colour of flesh and eyes. The need for more accurate
observation is well instanced by the labels on the skins of sézensis, on which we read
that the eyes are “yellow,” “red brown,” “white yellow,” and “gelbgriin” ! As to
length we may take our choice, in birds of equal age, of 16:2 inches, 17, 18 and 20
inches! Of the other measurements of adult males I can furnish more reliable data,
taken at first hand, as follows: bill from nostril, 11; wing, 206; tail, 178; tarsus, 65 ;
middle toe and claw, 61 mm. Almost fifty per cent. of the males have two spurs on
each leg; the remainder having a less number in various combinations.

ADULT FEMALE.—The female Northern Blood Partridge possesses a number of
characters intermediate between cvuentus and geoffroyi, with a strong tendency toward
the former. The head all around is decidedly ashy grey, becoming bluish on the crest,
and with the elongated feathers of the rear crown dull black. These become more and
more mottled with ashy as we pass downward on the side of the head, until the side,
neck and throat show only a cold monochrome hue.

The upper parts are greyish buff, quite intermediate between the cold tint of
veoffroyt and the warm buff of cruentus. The scapulars are very finely vermiculated
with dark brown, this pattern changing into a coarser mottling as we pass backward.
The tail-coverts merge insensibly into the pattern of the rectrices, gradually losing all
trace of buff, the latter feathers being coarsely mottled with brown and whitish. Some
of the rectrices have, as a constant character, a decided rose or even crimson tinge along
the margins. The wing-coverts are like the back, with the mottling becoming more and
more coarse on the secondaries and all but disappearing on the primaries. All these
feathers, however, retain the buff hue. The under parts are pale sandy, and, like
cruentus, lack vermiculation on the breast.

A certain proportion of females possess the interesting character of faint but
distinct crimson markings on the breast feathers. These, in situation and pattern,
correspond perfectly with the pectoral spots of male cruentus cruentus, consisting of
two roundish spots, one on each side of the shaft about midway on the visible portion
of the feather.

While such characters as these are not found in every specimen and are not
necessary in a general summing up of the species, they are well worthy of record
as showing how impossible it is to define exactly a species. They show how a
character, dominant in the male birds of a Nepalese species, is to be found in the
females of a supposedly entirely distinct species inhabiting central China. The
females average: bill from nostril, 10; wing, 189; tail, 155; tarsus, 61; middle toe
and claw, 58 mm.

NatTaL Down.—The chick in down is very distinct from cruentus. The head
and neck, with the cold grey, almost whitish and black markings, are similar, but the
down of the entire body, above and below, is very much colder and greyer. Instead

40 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

of warm rufous-buff above there is only a trace of this on the mantle down. The
central black stripe is grizzled greyish-brown and the lateral stripes are pale creamy-
buff. The breast has a tinge of buff, but this hue is very faint on the rest of the
ventral surface, the chin, throat and belly being white. The pattern of the sprouting
wings is similar to cyuentus, but the rufous-buff markings and tips are here replaced
by pale buffy-white. Measurements: bill from nostril, 3; wing, 41; tarsus, 24; middle
toe and claw, 22; length, 89 mm.

JuvENILE PLumMacEe.—This, too, is quite unlike the corresponding plumage of
cruentus. The forehead and crown are not buff, but greyish brown, banded with
black and buff on the occiput and nape. The colour of the upper surface is distinctly
greyer, the terminal pale buff spots thus standing out much more clearly. The
black bars on the wing-coverts are also very distinct. The chin and throat is still
in the white down. The ventral surface differs much from cvuentus. There is little
hint of the pale buff shaft-stripe, the loose-webbed feathers being of a rather uniform
brownish buff, indistinctly marked with darker and terminated, as on the upper
surface, with a pale buff shaft-spot. This is especially marked on the breast and
upper belly, the posterior plumage becoming even more loosely webbed and losing
all distinguishing characters in a clouded brownish buff. The eight primaries are
well grown. No. 9 is yet a mere unbroken sheath of 12 mm., and No. 10 is barely
discernible above the skin. The measurements at this age are: bill from nostril, 5;
wing, 102; tail, 48; tarsus, 36; middle toe and claw, 30 mm.

THREE-QUARTERS GROWN Mate.—A bird of about ten weeks is in active first
autumn moult, nearly completed on the dorsal surface. The rosy feathers are detect-
able on the forehead, and the crown feathers are of good length, the black facial
feathers are appearing and the black side, crown and ear-coverts show beyond the
juvenile plumage. The featherlets of the bare facial area are all juvenile and are
white with black tips, except in the subocular area where they are pure white.

On the dorsal body plumage the blue teleoptile feathers are in the ascendant,
there being only a scattering of mesoptile plumage. These latter are dull and
mottled, but in the distinct white shaft-stripe and lateral black bands they show a
closer approach to the adult pattern than do the mesoptile feathers of cruentus.

The primaries show an unusual condition in that the inner eight are all actively
growing, the bases showing a solid row of blood sheaths in each wing. All have
white shafts. The wing-coverts are in full growth and the golden buff bids fair to
be equal to that of any fully adult bird.

The rectrices are all new except the outer pair, which is juvenile. The next two
inner pairs still show growth. The juvenile rectrices differ from the corresponding
feathers of cruentus in being mottled with a cold grey rather than with buff, and
having a white shaft. They measure 73 mm.

The new rectrices are clouded grey with very broad crimson fringes, well
developed even on the 2nd from the outer pair.

The under surface, as in cruentus, is lagging behind in the progress of the

I from 1 nostril, a :

DAVID’S NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

I[thagenes sinensis sinensis David

TypE.—“ Chensi,” Pére David, Ann. Sc. Nat., (5), XVIII. 1873, p. 1.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—Highlands of the Yellow River region. Southerly slopes of the eastern
Nanshan Mountains in Kansu (near the temple of Tschortentan on the Tetung-gol River). Northerly slopes
of the Tsuiling Mountains in Shensi; the Laoling Mountains and from here eastward along the same slopes as
far as Honan (David, Styan).

SUBSPECIFIC CHARACTERS.—Male: Wing-coverts golden-yellow (not cinnamon or chestnut) tinged more
or less with greenish, The shaft-stripes of the mantle and back clear white; traces of green appear on those
of the posterior rump, this colour becoming still more distinct on the upper tail-coverts. General size medium,
the wing measuring 205-213 mm.

Female: Sides of the neck grey (not cinnamon). The hind neck and feathers of the occipital crest uniform
grey ; ventral surface chocolate (not chestnut or cinnamon) brown. Ill the colours of the plumage are darker and
more intense, Slight traces of crimson on the margins of the tail feathers. Size medium, wing measurement
190-199 mm.

Ithagenes sinensis sinensis David

“ On Ithaginis” David, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1873, p. 555.

Ithaginis sinensis David, Ann. Sc, Nat., (5), XVIII. 1873, art. 5, p. 1; David, Ann, Sc, Nat., (5), XIX. 1874,
art. 9, p. 1; David, Jour., III, Roy. Explor. Emp. Chinois, I. 1875, p. 174; David & Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p.
402, pl, 114; Styan, Ibis, (7), V. 1899, pp. 292, 208.

Ithaginis geoffroyt (nec Verr.) Przewalski, Mongolia i Strana Tangut, II. 1876, Aves., p. 122; Przewalski,
in Rowley’s Orn. Miscell., II. 1877, p. 471; Przewalski, Trrtje puteschestv., V. 1883, Central Asia, p. 114; Deditius,
Jour. fiir Orn., 1886, pp. 538, 540.

lthagenes sinensis Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 270 (partim) ; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-
book of Game Birds, I. 1895, p. 219 (partim); Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 675 (partém); Baker, Ibis,
1915, p. 126 ( partim); Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. IQ16, p. 401 (partzm)

Ithaginis sinensis sinénsis Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zoo. l’Acad. Imp. Sc. St. Petersb., t. VIII. 1903,
pp. I-10; Bianchi, trans. of above, Jour. fiir Orn., LII. 1904, p. 73.

42

MICHAEL’S NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Ithagenes sinensis michaélis Bianchi

TyPE.—* River Chycho, Northern Nanshan Mountains,” Bianchi, Ann. Mus. Zool. l’Acad. St. Petersb., VIII.
1903, p. 1. Type is in the Petrograd Museum.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—Northern slope of the Nanshan Mountains. (It has been found on the
Baboche River, a branch of the Edzingol, and by Grum-Grzimailo on the Chycho.)

SUBSPECIFIC CHARACTERS.—Male: Wing-coverts pale golden-yellow (not cinnamon or chestnut) with
decided mingling of green. The same hue appears well developed on the light shaft-stripes of the lower
interscapular region, while it is the dominant colour of the entire stripe on the shoulders, back, rump and upper
tail-coverts. General tone of coloration very plain. Size large, the wing measuring 226 mm.

Female: Sides of the neck grey (not cinnamon); hind neck and occipital crest uniform grey; plumage of
under parts pale chocolate (not chestnut or cinnamon) brown. Coloration in general paler. No traces of crimson
on tail feathers. Largest of the three forms, the wing measuring 203-210 mm.

A SINGLE male bird was collected by the Grum-Grzimailo brothers north of the
principal Nanshan mountain range. This individual is larger and paler than the Blood
Partridge from the southern slopes and shows so much greenish on the plumage of
the mantle and lower back that this hue is quite distinguishable in the living birds
when seen from above. This bird was named by Dr. V. Bianchi after one of the
collectors.

Ithaginis sinensis michaélis Bianchi

Ithaginis sinensis Pleske, Bull. Acad. St. Petersb., XIII. 1892, p. 297.

Ithagenes sinensis Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds, Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 270 (partim); Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-
book of Game Birds, I. 1895, p. 219 ( partim); Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 675 ( partzm); Baker, Ibis,
IQI5, p. 126 ( partzm); Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc, XXIV. 1916, p. 401 (partzm).

Ithaginis sinensis michaelis Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zool. Acad. Imp. Sci. St. Petersb., t. VIII. 1903,
p. I-10; Bianchi, trans. of above, Jour. fiir Orn., LI]. 1904, p. 73.

43

BEREZOWSKY’S NORTHERN BLOOD PARTRIDGE

Ithagenes stnensts berezowski Bianchi

TyPE.—“ Satani on the Sigu River,” Bianchi, Ann. Mus. Zool. Acad. St. Petersb., VIII. 1903, p. 1. The
types are in the Petrograd Museum.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION.—Highlands of the Blue River region. Southerly part of Kansu Province
(in the vicinity of the villages Dzjujuan and Sdatani on the Sigu River in the district of the same name). North-
western part of Szechuan (Choazigon Valley in the vicinity of Lungganfu, Sungpan, Tungpei and Yanglinpan),
Southern slopes of the Tsinling in the southern part of Shensi (Hing kogu near Han tschungfu).

SUBSPECIFIC CHARACTERS.—Male: The wing-coverts are cinnamon or chestnut (not golden yellow),
entirely free from green pigment, but with abundant carmine red. On the dorsal shaft-stripes the green appears
only on the posterior rump and upper tail-coverts. The crimson colour on the margins of the rectrices is very
strongly developed. The general tone of the plumage is dark. This is the smallest form, the wing measuring
187-209 mm.

Female : Sides of the neck brownish (not cinnamon or clear grey) ; hind neck brown, concolorous with the
interscapular region ; feathers of the occipital crest quite a distinct grey ; prevailing colour of the lower surface
obscure cinnamon. No crimson on tail-feathers. Smallest form, wing measuring 178-195 mm.

THE first specimens of this form were obtained by G. N. Potanius on an
expedition to Kansu. Later, when others were obtained from northern Szechuan,
and it was found that there was a decided difference between these individuals and
those from adjoining regions, Dr. Bianchi separated them. The most important
character is the cinnamon or chestnut wing patch, instead of the golden-yellow of the
other szwenszs forms.

lthagenes sinensis berezowskit Bianchi

Ithaginis sinensis Berezowski et Bianchi, Aves. expedit. Potanini, 1891, p. 15 (partim) ; ‘Styan, Ibis, (7), V,.

1899, p. 298 ; Dresser, Ibis, 1905, p. 152.

Lthagenes sinensis Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds, Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 270 (partim) ; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-
book Game Birds, I. 1895, p. 219 (partim) ; Deditius, Jour. fiir Orn., 1897, p. 62 (partim); Ogilvie-Grant, Ibis,
(7), VI. 1900, p. 606; Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 675 (partim) ; Baker, Ibis, 1915, p. 126 ( partim);
Baker, Jour. Bomb, Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, Pp. 401 (partzm).

Lthagints sinensis berezowskid Bianchi, Annuaire du Mus. Zoo. l’Acad. Imp. Sc. St. Petersb., t. VIII. 1903
pp. I-10; Bianchi, trans. of above, Jour. fiir Orn., LII. 1904, p. 74.

44

MAP I.

ise)
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=
of
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Q fs

BA Y Rangpon
OF gy
oo ee, Bang

ARABIAN SEA

80° East of Greenwich 100° | lets 120°

Witherby & C2, Publishers. _ Stanford's Geograph! Estab?.

MAP SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE TRAGOPANS.

Region 1. Tragopan melanocephalus. Region 3b. Tragopan blythi molesworthi.
2. » Satyra. ee 4, 7 temmincki.
ra 5: ea I blythi blythi. be 5. “a eaboti.

TRAGOPAN
HORNED TRAGOPANS

FAMILY PHASIANIDAE
Subfamily PERDICINAE

Genus TRAGOPAN

THE Horned Tragopans or Satyr Pheasants form a compact genus of five distinct
species. They are large, heavily built birds, and the sexes are very unlike in colour.
Both are extremely beautiful, the females of various shades of brown with harmonious
mottlings of black and buff, while in the males the predominating hues are red, brown,
and black, extensively spotted with white or grey. The cocks have short crests, two
fleshy horns, and a large, brilliantly coloured, bib-like throat wattle or lappet. These
dermal ornaments reach their greatest development at the breeding season. The cheeks
-and throat of the males are bare or covered only thinly with feathers.

The bill is short and stout. In the rounded wing, the Ist primary is shorter than
the roth, and much shorter than the 2nd; the 4th or 5th is slightly the longest. The
tail of eighteen feathers is quite long and wedge-shaped, the outer pair of rectrices
being about two-thirds the length of the central ones. The tail is a trifle over six-
sevenths the length of the wing. Its moult takes place from the centre outward. The
tarsus is about equal to the middle toe and claw, and in the male is armed with a short,
stout spur.

This genus extends from Kashmir on the west, along the Himalayan Range into
central China, where we find it on the higher mountains within the area bounded by
Shensi on the north, Fokien on the east; and Kwangsi and Yunnan to the south.

To the single species of Tragopan which: was known to Linnaeus in 1766, he
applied the generic term of Meleagris, and M. Lesson, over sixty years later, was
scarcely less happy in the choice of Satyra. For, while eminently appropriate
etymologically, the term had long been used by entomologists, thus rendering it
unavailable as a generic name. Cuvier, one year later, in 1829, in the first volume of
his classic Régne Animale, made use of the word 7vagofan, and any one who has seen
these birds in the act of courtship, or listened to their weird cries among their mountain

haunts, will appreciate its unusual aptness ; they are indeed veritable ‘‘ goats of the good
47

48 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

god Pan,” horns, pipe and all! The Greeks and Romans gave this name to a fabulous
bird, of which Pliny writes (10. 136): ‘‘Equidem et tragopana fabulosum reor, de qua
plures adfirmant, maiorem aquila, cornua in temporibus curvata habentem, ferruginei
coloris, tantum capite phoeniceo.”

Swainson in 1837 substituted Cevzornis, which has since been used by many
writers. But, although Swainson considers that the term Tragopan ‘“‘is in every way
objectionable,” it has the profound merit of priority, and, hoping it may make toward
the long-desired goal of stability in nomenclature, I have chosen to adopt it. “ What's
in a name?” Let us pass from discussion of the artificial handle applied by man
during the last few years of the Tragopans’ existence, to the really vital study of the
birds themselves.

TRAGOPAN
Type.
Satyra Less (nec Meig. Dipt., 1803), Dict. Sci. Nat., LIX. 1828, p. 196. - Jd. satyra.
Tragopan Cuv. (nec Mohr. Av., 1752), Reg. Anim., éd. 2, I. 1829, p. 479. z "
Certornis Swains., Class. Birds, II. 1837, p. 341 . . . »
Ceratornis Cab., in Ersch. u. Grub. Encycl., sec. 3, XXIL. 1846, is I 50 ; 5 i
Five full species and one subspecies of Tragopans are recognized—
Satyr Tragopan ; : : : ; . Tragopan satyra (Linnaeus).
Western Tragopan . ; 2 . : : _ melanocephalus (J. E. Gray).
Blyth’s Tragopan . as < ‘ ; $5 blytht blyth¢ (Jerdon).
Tibetan Tragopan . ; : : : - = blythi moleswortht Baker,
Temminck’s Tragopan . : ate 5 temminckt (J. EF, Gray).
Cabot’s Tragopan . : : : = cabot (Gould).
KEY TO TRAGOPAN
I. Head carmine and black (males).
a Under surface spotted.
a’ White spots on carmine . ; : : ; : , : . satyra.
6’ White spots on black : : 3 ; . melanocephalus. f
c’ Large pearl-grey spots. : ; : : : : : . temminckt,
b Under surface not spotted.
ad’ Breast crimson.
a” Crimson extending well over breast : : . blythd blythi.
6” Crimson confined to a narrow Pe on neck and pope: Fee 3 . blytht molesworthi.
e’ Breast buff : ; ; ; 5 : ‘ ; . cabott.
II. Head not carmine and black Gemales
a Upper plumage streaked with white.
a’ Dominant ventral colour grey . ; : ; : : 5 . melanocephalus.
6’ Dominant ventral colour white or buff ; : ; ; . cabot.
b Upper plumage not streaked with white.
c’ Bend of wing rich orange-carmine.
a” General tone olive; black ocelli dominant on upper plumage _.. . blythi blythe.
6” General tone buff; black ocelli not dominant on upper plumage . . satyra,
@ Bend of wing not orange-carmine _. : : : : ; . lemmincki,

PLATE VII

THE SATYR TRAGOPAN

Tragopan satyra (Linnaeus)

_ THE place is Sikhim in the Eastern Himalayas, looking toward Kabru and Kinchinjunga; the time
is early May at ten thousand feet, when spring is at its height. The Satyr Tragopans have finished their
courtship and paired, and in a few days will begin to nest. From some mossy perch the booming crescendo :
challenge of the cock rings out every morning. Around him the rhododendron trees are masses of colour ; = :
scarlet, salmon, cerise, pink and rose, and beneath, the ground is lavendered with alpine primroses. Words z

can never describe the beauty of this magnificent bird in its Himalayan home.

PLATE Vit

THE SATYR TRAGOPAN.

SATYR TRAGOPAN

Tragopan satyra (Linnaeus)

NAMES.—Generic : Zragopan, from the Greek tedyoc¢ goat, and J/ay the name of the god; literally goat-
Pan. Specific: satyra, Greek cdrupos ; a satyr was a semi-deity, inhabiting forests, with the horns and hind limbs of
a goat. Both names from the fleshy, erectile horns on the heads of these birds, suggestive of a satyr or goat-like
creature, suggestive of the old Greek god, Pan. English: Satyr or Crimson Tragopan; Sikhim Horned Pheasant ;
Indian Tragopan. French: Tragopan de Nepaul. German: Satyrhuhn. Vernacular: Lungi (Garhwalese) ;
Monal (Nepal) ; Omo, Boop (Bhutian); Tar-rhyak (Lepcha); See-a-géa (Chinese Tibetan).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Most of the head and terminal half of tail black ; mantle and under parts
orange-carmine ; rest of upper plumage olive-brown; above and below (except on upper mantle) thickly spotted
with white. Female: Above blackish mottled with buff, pale rufous and sandy; below lighter, a central whitish
area on the feathers predominating over the buff and blackish mottling; tail irregularly barred with rufous and
black.

TyPE.— Meleagris satyra Linnaeus, “ Habitat in Benghala,” Sys. Nat., I. 1766, p. 269.

RANGE.—The higher, wooded slopes of the central and eastern Himalayas.

THE SATYR. FERAGOPAN UN" TS. ELAINE

Tue dawn of a new day had broken in the eastern Himalayas, gilding first the
pinnacle of Everest, for so through all the long centuries had the greatest source of
light paid homage to the highest point of earth. Instantly all the lesser snow-peaks
were aflame, reflecting the glow downward to where I was still deep in shadow. ‘The
trail at this hour was saturated with the dews of night; below me, like a sea of
tumbled snow and ice, lay the clouds—solid, compact, opaque—filling every valley and
gorge. So quietly floated this vapour, that one’s knees were dimmed by its chill
blueness, while the face was still in the clear transparent air above.

I tramped softly over the mossy trail, the distant sleepy croak of a raven coming
to my ears, or the chirp of some just-awakened titmouse from the bushes at the trail
side. A rhododendron branch, heavy with its gummy, unopened buds, swept across
my clothing, drenching me with a myriad dewdrops. I was on a high ridge, and the
slope on each side dropped almost sheer into the blue-grey mystery of the cloud. The
scores of square miles which I overlooked consisted of an archipelago of mountain tops,
clad in dark green, rising from the sea of cloud and crowned with the gleaming snows.
In all this land the only visible life was the slowly soaring form of a griffon vulture,
showing dark against the fog, pale against the forest. With outstretched head, the
bird rose higher and higher, at last catching the direct gleam of the sun and changing
to molten bronze, a glorious majestic form, the first life of day to greet the sun—‘‘thus
may splendour come to the low caste.”

That subtle hesitancy which is a characteristic of early dawn was now about to
cease. A rustle of bamboo leaves and a downpour of drops presaged the morning
breeze, and the surface of the cloud slowly heaved and billowed. A sudden turn in the

H 49

50 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

trail brought me downward toward a dense growth of ringal bamboo, whence the way
led over a narrow saddle, the sides dropping steeply on either hand. Hardly had I
stepped into the cloud level when I was startled by a sudden, deep whirr of wings at
my very feet—the loud, reverberating roll of strongly beating pinions. A second of
silence and there burst from out of the fog, fifty feet away, a splendid bird, glowing, as it
veered sideways, with richest carmine and besprinkled with a myriad white stars as of
shining dewdrops. I gazed in rapt admiration at the great cock Tragopan, as on set
wings it scaled swiftly away in a long, graceful curve, which at last immersed it again in
the billowy waves of blue-grey- vapour.

For days I had been studying this wary bird, but never had I been so struck with
its glorious beauty as when, like the flying fishes in the far distant ocean, it had so
unexpectedly burst for a moment through the surface of cloud into the clear upper air.

A few minutes after the Tragopan had vanished, the forces of the mountains began
to make themselves felt. A rushing wind came down from the face of the snows, and
by some physical alchemy the cloud siphoned across the low saddle of the ridge. In
seething cascades of vapour it poured from one valley into the other—cold, steamy,
drenching, like the exhaust from some hidden titanic engine. I could hardly breathe,
and was relieved to climb out of the river of steam again into the sunshine of the
heights.

A white-browed bush-robin began its simple, sweet phrases, and the buzz of a wild
bee announced the beginning of a new day’s toil for the lesser mountain-folk. Then a
long-drawn-out wail, a voice apparently of lost hope, came from far down in the cloud-
ridden valley. It was the mating call of some wandering, furry cat-bear—or else the
challenge of a Satyr Tragopan—indistinguishable at this distance to our coarse hearing.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

The Satyr Tragopan is confined to the higher wooded mountains of the central and
eastern Himalayas. Its life-zone extends from a height of twelve thousand feet down
to seven and six thousand, but either extreme is reached but seldom.

The Satyr Tragopan may be given third place in an altitudinal classification of
Himalayan pheasants. It does not, as a rule, ascend as high as the monal, and only
occasionally enters the zone of the blood partridge.

In dense forests of eight to ten thousand feet elevation this splendid bird may be
found from Kumaon eastward through Nepal and Sikhim, and in Bhutan at least as
far as the Tongsa Chu. Its range in the west seems to end rather abruptly. Hume,
writing in 1872, gives the Alaknanda Valley as the last area inhabited by the Satyr
Tragopan, with a single male shot three valleys west, in the Kattar. I heard of two more
shot in the latter valley. Its north and south distribution is controlled by the limits
of suitable forests. It never descends to the hot plains, nor does it reach the Tibetan
tableland north of the hill forests.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Compared with blood partridges, Tragopans are most solitary birds, and although
they wander about considerably, yet it is unlikely that they have any wide individual

SATYR TRAGOPAN 51

range. In the spring one may flush a Tragopan cock and see it scale across a deep,
wide valley to the opposite forest slope, but if undisturbed for a few days, a bird—and
very probably the same one—may be found in the same patch of forest. Once only was
I able to verify this, when on two occasions, some three days apart, a bird, marked by a
gap in the tail feathers where one or two had been lost, was flushed by a native’s dog
and flew a long way, from one ridge to the next. The birds found on any one range
undoubtedly spend their life there, unless driven away by persecution.

I have never observed the Tragopans on any ridge or slope where the adjacent
valleys were dry, and when one hears or sees them far up the mountain side, a tumbling
little rivulet is almost certain to be found in the nearest gully.

The only way to study these birds, or to catch more than a glimpse of them, is by
hours of patient watching in their haunts. One may stalk blood partridges or kaleege
pheasants with some hope of success, but Tragopans, owing to their wariness and the
nature of their favourite slopes, can only be waylaid in ambush: unless, of course, one is
shooting, when with dogs one can beat them out of the thick cover. But a Tragopan
fluttering upward through columns of bamboos, or fleeing for safety to a branch ahead of
a hunting dog, presents little of interest except to the eye along the gun barrel.

In Sikhim and eastern Nepal, where in spring I have studied Satyr Tragopans,
I found that narrow side gorges, etched out of the slopes by tiny uncharted stream-
lets, were the best places for finding the birds. Here, in the early spring, when the
melted snows swelled the rivulet to a rushing torrent, the carpet of crackling bamboo
and rhododendron leaves was swept away, leaving the clean, outjutting rocks and an
overarched tangle of broken bamboo stems. In early May, when the torrent again sub-
sided, one could make one’s way silently down the dripping mossy boulders, from far
up the mountain slope to the very bottom of the valley. A single step into the jungle
on either hand would have sent forth a crackle of leaves, arousing and alarming
every living creature in the gorge.

The Tragopans of this region—of at least six widely separated ravines south of
the Kong La Pass—roosted low down in the valleys. I could never discover the
birds when they went to roost or left their perches. Once, however, in early morning,
I heard a cock utter his mating call from his roost. I flushed him at once after he
called, and: from sign knew he had spent the night there. The tree was a magnolia
of moderate size, and, climbing to a branch directly overhead, I found the moss
pressed tight where his toes and breast had been. This was twelve feet from the
ground and only a few yards from a spring which gushed up from the heart of a
ledge of mossy rocks.

Although the birds invariably roosted far down the valley, they fed both morning
and evening well up the slopes. These slopes which the Tragopans love to frequent
at this time of year are altogether delightful to the lover of the wild beauties of this
Himalayan wilderness. All one’s senses are charmed—sight, scent and hearing. We
leave our camp under the lee of the mountain ridge and make our way to the nearest
ravine. The sun gives a welcome warmth and the last of the night’s cloud mantle
drifts past in torn shreds and whiffs of vapour. Before we turn down into the
ravine, a last look around shows range after range of splendid mountains, the nearest
green and sombre, the others becoming more vague and purple as they pass into

52 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

distance, until, like a lodestone, the eye is drawn up to the crown of. mighty snow-peaks,
glowing pink and white. Here and there on the slope before us gleam the white
stars of magnolia blossoms, and to our left a slash of scarlet and another of pale
salmon show where forests of rhododendrons are in full blossom. We step down
and in rubber-shod footgear silently clamber from ledge to boulder, each moss-clad
and lichen-painted. For a while we hear no sound save the tinkle of drops in the plash
of some diminutive waterfall. Then comes a subdued murmur, chirps and twitters,
and, peering over a great mass of rock, we see a rhododendron tree loaded with
blossoms of an intense cerise, all a-quiver with the forms of a hundred little birds.
There are scores of flower-peckers clad in delicate hues of grey, vinous and orange-
buff, and still smaller flycatching-warblers in liveries of yellow and olive-green. A
perfect medley of metallic notes arises, and far off to the left another tree in bloom
is traceable by ear from a similar dainty tumult.

Every now and then the breeze coming down the ravine is heavy with the
strong, sweet perfume of the daphne or paper lilac, and the pink flowerlets are
floating on every quiet pool. Where an earthen bank shows clear of bamboo stems,
it is starred with blossoms, primroses, violets, strawberries and forget-me-nots. Every-
where the ravine is sweet with perfume and glowing with colour.

Down and down we clamber, the bamboos in some places growing close to the
narrow torrent bed in serried ranks of mottled green and brown. Under a projecting
bank of earth a pair of orange-gorgeted flycatchers are working on their half-finished
nest, and show no fear of us as we stand within arm’s reach. Not a note of annoyance
do they utter, but only watch us with dark, liquid, reproachful eyes until we dis-
appear around the next turn. Here we find a deep, boulder-framed, half-cavern and
crouch down within its cool shadow.

We hear some small creature making its way through the bamboo close at hand,
and now and then a sudden crackle of leaves shows that it is a bird scratching
among the litter. Several minutes after it passes we look out and see a Tragopan
hen twenty feet above, drinking from a pool. A sudden guak! guak! from down
the ravine draws our startled glance to a cock Tragopan just disappearing over the
feathery bamboo tops, and when we again look upward the hen has vanished and
our Tragopan study is over for that morning. Such is a glimpse of the haunts of
these glorious birds.

As in the case of other birds inhabiting these lofty regions, Tragopans work
gradually downward at the approach of the cold and snow of winter. Even at this
season, however, there seems to be little or no gregariousness on the part of the
birds, although, from the reports of English sportsmen and natives, one or two young
birds and the mother keep together for the greater part of the winter. At this season
of the year the birds are silent, unless the hen still communicates with her nearly
grown young by means of the same low, clucking call which is used when they are
chicks. Only when in dire fright or distress, as when suddenly flushed by a dog,
do the birds—both cocks and hens—give utterance to a series of loud, raucous notes:
guak! quak! quak! guak! ‘This is language whose meaning is clearly understood
by all feathered creatures within hearing, and after the echoes of the alarm have died
away, they will often be taken up by the croaks of a pair of inquisitive ravens, or

PHOTOGRAVURE 4

HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE SATYR TRAGOPAN

In early morning the swish of a lammergeier’s wings is heard through the close-lying clouds, and
the croak of a Himalayan raven comes faintly, Then a Satyr Tragopan calls and the mist sweeps from
the valley. The snows are still hidden, but we see the slopes covered with a dense forest of rhododendrons
and magnolias. Through the day these birds feed among the underbrush, and if they escape the eye of
eagle and cat, and avoid the snares of the Nepalese shepherds, they will roost at night in some safe

perch, high above the dangers of the earth.

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 4

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HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE SATYR TVRAGOPAN

SATYR TRAGOPAN 53

the calls of nutcrackers. Every bird for many yards around knows that something is
wrong, and will be uneasy and on its guard for a time.

When the birds perceive approaching danger some distance off, they utter no
sound whatever, but silently slip away. Even when surprised, they sometimes fly
off silently, with beak open in fear, but only the sound of their wings to mark their
aerial path.

The call note of the Satyr Tragopan is very distinct from its cry of alarm.
I have heard it a number of times given by wild birds, and in captivity it is a very
characteristic utterance. It differs in the two sexes. The male utters it as a herald
of his nuptial display—a high, rather quavering ddd/ badd! bdd! béa! Where this is
heard the hen is usually near by, and, unless something occurs to alarm the birds, a
display is almost sure to follow. The hen utters a call comparable to this when
separated from her nearly grown young, the call in this instance being given singly
and in a slightly higher, shriller tone.

The challenge of the adult cock Satyr isa most remarkable sound, to which
I have already alluded. It has a wonderful carrying power, and I have heard a
bird call from the same point about every ten minutes for a full hour as I climbed
away from it, coming fainter but as distinctly at a half mile distance and eleva-
tion as at first. When heard fifty yards away its. deep, half-booming, half-bleating
character is very evident, a weird, full-throated cry, which seems peculiarly fitted
to the heart of this rugged wilderness. At this distance one can fit no written words
to it, but further away, when more softened, it may be indicated wak/ waah/ oo-ah!
oo-aaaaah/ the last tone sometimes drawn out into a heartrending crescendo wail.
These syllables usually run together so as to sound like a single utterance, and
indeed they are the result of one exhalation. The panda, or cat-bear, another in-
habitant of these Himalayas, utters, as I have said, a sound not unlike the Satyr
Tragopan, but when heard close at hand the nasal, feline character of tone of
this brightly coloured, raccoon-like animal is apparent. The Lepchas call it Wah
from this cry.

As stated by C. P. Smith, Tragopan cocks in captivity utter this call during only
a few days of the breeding season, but this is doubtless because the combative phase of
courtship is soon at an end—anticipated, perhaps, by the absence of rivals and close
association with the hen. In wild birds the challenging is kept up for at least two
weeks and probably longer. At this time the cocks select some favourite perch or beat
and call from it day after day, especially in early morning. In regions where the birds
have been persecuted they may be made to boom by a sudden loud shout, the discharge
of a gun, or by a rock rolled down some steep bit of jungle slope. I have heard these
birds burst into cry after such a stimulus, late in the morning. However, they usually
call but once under such conditions.

Native hunters are adepts at answering the birds and thus luring them within
gunshot, and I have myself been able on several occasions to get the birds to answer
five or six times. But as the Tragopan approaches it becomes more wary and always
something seemed to give it warning of my perfidy. This answer and advance proves
that the call is a challenge to rival cocks, and not a summons to the hen, as the latter
never utters the booming note. Pheasants, when in the forest or jungle, seem seldom

54 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

to look for danger from above, and one may watch them from a low branch for minutes
at a time, when it would be impossible to remain concealed on the ground; their sharp
eyes ferreting out the cleverest blind. Soin the case of Tragopan calling as with the
other pheasants, I have always had the best luck when concealed in a low tree. On
one such occasion my Tibetan called a Tragopan until it appeared from the neighbouring
rhododendron scrub, and walked swiftly out and around the very tree in which we
were perched. Its feathers were pressed close to the body, its head held high, and all
the usual heavy, rather hen-like appearance was gone. It was altogether a game-cock,
imbued for the time with that strange, instinctive hatred for its fellows which has come
down through all the ages and which annually brings about temporary civil warfare
among so many creatures—doves as well as lions. Now and then it gave a quick
impatient flirt to its wings, showing how keenly on edge was every nerve and muscle.
Then it stopped and, inhaling deeply, partly raised its beak and with an effort sent its
deep call booming out across the valley. My man dared not answer, and fora full minute
the bird waited and listened, then passed quickly on into the forest. I was fortunate
to have had such a glimpse of a calling pheasant and not to have alarmed it. Only one
who has tried to watch a wild Tragopan will know how tense and breathless I sat while
the bird remained in sight.

It seems as if the full booming call was developed only at the breeding season, as
one never hears it except during April and May. I have twice known a young cock
in captivity to essay the challenge, but to fail pitifully, a short wheezy waf/ being the
best it could do. 7

Tragopans are omnivorous feeders, but leaves and buds seem to form the principal
articles of their diet. Hume states that they feed on insects, the young green shoots
of bamboo and on onion-like bulbs; Hodgson adds wild fruits, the seeds of rhodo-
dendrons, and aromatic leaves such as daphne and bastard cinnamon. The crops of
three birds which I examined were well filled; two held many torn leaves and flowers
of the sweet-scented paper laurel, and one of these had also eaten a number of insects—
several small earwigs, black ants and a good-sized cockchafer, as well as a few spiders
and a small white centipede. The third bird, curiously enough, had packed its crop
with the bruised scarlet petals of rhododendron blossoms, mixed with a few laurel
leaves.

Satyr Tragopans, like the majority of forest and low-country pheasants, confine
much of their activities to the early morning and late afternoons, but on dull, cloudy
days the birds may be found feeding at more irregular intervals. They feed on the
open edge of the forest, or scratch deep amid its undergrowth. And, too, they not
uncommonly feed in low trees and bushes, where they obtain petals, buds and berries.
With powerful glasses I have watched a cock Tragopan in full sunshine one hundred
yards away, climbing about the bare branches of a magnolia, picking here and there at
the long moss.

The Tragopans seemed to feed on the upper slopes for only about two hours in
early morning, when they apparently descended again, as none could be found the rest
of the morning except in the lower valley.

Occasionally a bird would make its way upward five hundred feet or more to the
crest of the ridge, and here I found they were scratching and feeding along the old

SATYR TRAGOPAN 55

sheep trail. When I have examined the work of a bird scratching in the jungle, I have
found single, fairly deep holes here and there, perhaps a yard or more apart, as if the
Tragopan had concentrated its efforts in some likely spot instead of scratching vaguely
and superficially over a wide area as the kaleege pheasants are wont to do.

The feral enemies of the Satyr Tragopan assuredly are of less account than its
present danger from mankind, but from the natural wariness of the bird we must infer
that they are bad enough. And here we must mention the remarkably arboreal
character of this and other Tragopans, as probably indicating unusual dangers to be
feared on the ground. Eagles, leopards, foxes, and especially the jungle cat and the
larger species of civets are probably most to be dreaded. Mr. Ray Ellis, in Calcutta,
told me that he once shot a leopard which had just dropped a still warm, dead Tragopan.
The locality was fir forest with occasional clumps of thick rhododendron bushes.

When approached by a man, the bird will almost invariably run swiftly away,
head low, threading rapidly the bamboo stems, but when suddenly surprised or when
rushed by a dog, the bird flies at once, rising with a loud whirr. In the latter case,
the birds, as Hume tells us, will often fly straight upward into a tree, where they will
crane their necks down at the dog, uttering subdued alarm notes, and influenced
apparently as much by curiosity as by fear. Even where they have been but little
hunted, they leave their perch at once on the appearance of man—sahib or native.
Without hesitation, a Tragopan will interpret and act on the notes of warning or
alarm uttered by ravens or laughing thrushes, and although the pheasant may have
had no direct hint of danger, it slips instantly away when it hears the angry croaks
or the cachinnations of the other birds. |

RELATION TO MAN

The Nepalese shepherds have learned that these birds ascend and descend the
slopes of the valleys to feed, and they take advantage of this by erecting a low, wattled
cross fence which extends across the usual route taken by the birds. In this are left
several openings, and here nooses are strung or scattered about on the ground, and
the poor bird has slight chance of evading this entanglement. Occasionally these
natives will have a drive, when by forming a line and slowly advancing they can force
several birds toward and through the openings, the birds, when not frightened, choosing
to escape by running rather than by flight. I once purchased from a Nepalese a bundle
of about two hundred yak-hair nooses. He told the interpreter that there were four
“monal” in his valley; two he had already caught and eaten, and the others he
would soon have.

Captain Beavan, who has written of this method of snaring Tragopans, notes that
four or five times as many cocks are caught as hens. I think this is due to the fact
that the hens rely much more on their mottled colouring and will sometimes not move
until almost stepped on, and thus many are liable to be passed by the line of beaters,
while the more nervous, suspicious cocks flush more readily, and run on to avoid
discovery.

In shooting this bird, sportsmen count on a sudden surprise in early morning when
the Tragopans are out feeding, or else by a systematic beating with dogs, although if

56 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

the bird once realizes the full danger and retreats into the depth of some dense bamboo
jungle there is no hope of getting at it. I have seen such growths which no man or
dog could penetrate, the stems sometimes almost touching each other at their base,
so that one’s shoe would slip down and become locked between them a foot or more
from the ground, making progress impossible.

CAPTIVITY

Satyr Tragopans were bred in captivity as long ago as 1863, and in the London
Zoo alone they have been reared at least a dozen times. To-day, however, over half a
century later, we must admit that they have not become established anywhere, be it
in zoological garden or private aviary. The birds pair readily, the hen lays and is
a faithful sitter, and with moderate care the chicks grow to maturity and even breed
in turn. But in the long run their viability in captivity is poor. Mlitchell’s figures
show that, of twenty-one individuals of this species, the average length of life is
only a year and seven months, while the maximum length of life recorded of a
captive bird is four years and ten months. There seems to be no disease to which
these birds are especially susceptible, but owing to the radical changes to which
our low altitudes and wide range of summer and winter temperature subject
them, their resisting power is lowered, and they succumb often to some secondary
affliction.

Next to Temminck’s tragopan the Satyr is most commonly seen in captivity, but
many more birds find their way to England and Germany than to America. Dealers
in New York charge from fifty to one hundred and twenty-five dollars a pair, according
to the demand at the time.

As regards egg-laying, Satyr Tragopans in captivity vary from mid April to late
in June, and I have known a single egg to be deposited in August. In this case it
is of interest to note that there was considerable excess of pigmentation—the reddish
spots being of such size that they were almost confluent.

The time of incubation has been reported at from twenty-four to twenty-eight days.
My single personal record is of a chick which began to chip the shell on the twenty-
sixth day, and had it not died would have emerged early on the twenty-seventh day.
The majority of the dates of hatching in captivity extend from May 28th to July 24th,
and in all probability represent the normal seasonal average of wild birds. The eggs
are deposited two days apart.

As in all birds, individuality is strongly marked in the hens, and while one will sit
faithfully, another bird will neglect either its eggs or young. There is no difficulty,
however, about hatching the chicks under common hens. There appears to be no
account of the nesting of this species. Eggs laid in captivity measure from 61 to
67 mm. in length and 4o to 42 in breadth; an average of 64 x 41 mm. The back-
ground is dull white or buffy, variously marked with pale lilac, reddish ochre or dark
brown. They may be evenly speckled all over, or blotched irregularly around the
centre or the larger end. I have seen one or two eggs in which the markings were
almost confluent.

We have some interesting data in regard to the importation of living Satyr

PHOTOGRAVURE 5

BREEDING BAUNTS OF THE SATYR 7RAGOPAN

Wuen the Tragopan makes its nest it leaves the more open forested slopes and descends some steep,
cool ravine. Here the bamboo grows on either hand in ranks so dense that a man cannot force his way
through. The heart of the ravine is clear, the rushing torrents in early spring having swept every growth
away save moss and rock-clinging patches of grass. Here a trickle of icy water tinkles its way downward
to the river far below, and within sound of its drops the Satyr hen lays her eggs. They are well hidden,
in the heart of the friendly bamboo and rhododendron scrub. The silicious stems rise in serried rows in
all directions, presenting a sheaf of spear-tips to the soaring eagle, and the crackling of the dried fallen
leaves reveals the approach of every marauder. Only occasional Tibetans straggle along the distant trails
and the dull-hued hen sits safely and finally leads forth her brood for their first drink in the depths of the

rocky ravine.

ead

retinal

5

PLATE

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PHOTOGRAV Ut

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iy

AES
Pas

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NVdGODVaAL SALVS HHL SO SINNOVH DNIGHHae

SATYR TRAGOPAN | 57

Tragopans from Asia to Europe. Between the years 1864 and 1882, Mr Jamrach
imported two thousand three hundred and forty-three impeyans and Satyr Tragopans,
about one-third being of the latter species. Of these, one thousand one hundred
and eighty-five, or about fifty per cent., died en route. The most interesting thing,
however, is the gradual change in mortality, decreasing from year to year as better
methods of transportation and feeding were discovered. Beginning with 1865 and
ending with 1879, we have the following percentages of birds living to reach their
destination: o per cent.; 0, 3°7, 0, 40, 89, 13°3, 10, 15, 77°5, 87°5, 80, 100, 95 and
100 per cent.

As Temminck’s is the tragopan with which I am most familiar, I shall give
a more detailed account of the courtship and the captivity of that species.

I have seen the Satyr Tragopan in only partial display and gladly quote the
following account given by Mr. Barnby Smith: “ The lateral display of a cock
Tragopan in good plumage is interesting; that is, he presents one side of the head,
body, and tail to the hen, and lowers one wing and raises the other until he almost looks
like the mere skin of a bird stretched flat on a wall. This pose is constantly assumed
during the breeding season (from February onwards), the cock taking up a position
about a yard distant from the hen and repeatedly assuming a new position if she
moves off.

“This lateral display, however, is as nothing compared to the frontal display, which
I usually notice some three or four times each season. In this case the cock faces
the hen (about two or three yards distant) and commences by crouching down slightly,
ruffling his feathers and spreading his wings, which are slowly flapped on the ground.
The head is nodded repeatedly with increasing speed and the brilliant light blue horns
gradually become inflated and extend forward from the black feathers of the head, whilst
the bib (or gular wattle), which is also blue with pink side stripes, is gradually let down
to its full length. Whilst this is being done the shivering and rustling of the feathers
have increased to an alarming extent, the body of the bird has been lowered quite near
the ground, the wings are extended sometimes almost to their full width, and the whole
business is preceded and accompanied (particularly in the early stages) by a curious noise
like the ‘clacking’ of two bones together, but how this noise is made I have never
found out, though I should much like to know. When the bib has been extended
to full length for a few moments the bird gathers himself together, moves forward
about a yard, draws himself up to his full height (and it is surprising how high he can
reach), keeps the bib fully extended in front of the hen for one moment, and then, within
half-a-minute, horns and bib have entirely vanished and the cock is strolling about
pecking grass, as if nothing unusual had happened.

“T am afraid anything I can say will quite fail to give an adequate idea of the
extraordinary aspect of the bird whilst the display is at its height—indeed, I think
any one coming suddenly upon the spectacle would scarcely believe they were looking
at a bird, the spectacle is so demoniacal.

“Sg much for the conduct of the cock; but, I think, if carefully considered,
the conduct of the hen is even more curious, or perhaps I should say more
inexplicable, for she seems absolutely lacking in interest as to the display of the

cock.”
I

58 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

TEXT IDENTIFICATIONS
PAGE. LINE.
49 9 Himalayan Raven, Corvus corax tibetanus Hodgson.
49 16 Himalayan Griffon Vulture, Gyps fulvus himalayensis Temminck.
50 20 White-browed Bush-Robin, /anthza zndica (Vieillot.)
52 3 Magnolia, Magnolia Campbelliz and other sp.
52 15 Paper Lilac, Daphne sp.
52 17 Primroses, Primula petiolaris Wall.
52 21 Orange-gorgeted Flycatchers, Szphia strophiata Hodgson.
55 9 Jungle Cat, Fels chaus Gildenstadt.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLtT Ma.e.—Head, from anterior edge of nostrils back to the neck, jet black,
broken only by two lines of orange feathers beginning just over the eyes and converging
on the nape, and an irregular post-auricular patch of the same colour. Both the orange
and the black feathers of the hind crown and occiput unite in forming a short, incon-
spicuous crest. Facial area covered rather thickly with short, black, velvety feathers.
Chin, gular throat lappet and throat posterior to this, sparsely covered with longish,
disintegrated feathers. Hind neck and entire mantle, bend of the wing and plumage
of under parts orange-carmine. Remainder of upper surface chiefly dark olive-brown.
The entire body plumage is characterized by a conspicuous terminal white ocellus
bordered with black. The hind neck is free from these ocelli, which appear abruptly
on the mantle as small but very distinct dots of silvery-white, shining against the
crimson background. Even these crimson feathers show an abundance of black and
buff barring on the basal portions of the feathers, and this rapidly increases as we
proceed backward, pushing up the shaft toward the ocellus, until the crimson is
restricted to two lateral subterminal patches. On the back and rump even this dis-
appears, and we find a generalized pattern, strongly suggestive of that of the female
and early plumages. On the back the central terminal shining white ocelli are small,
only 2 to 3 mm. in diameter, but become larger and more diffuse on the rump and upper
tail-coverts. All the dorsal plumage shows two large lateral olive ocelli bordered with
black, which occupy about half of the visible portion of the feather. The background
and narrow margin of the feather is a pale olive-buff, with a number of irregular black
crossbars posterior to the ocelli.

The bend of the wing and anterior edge is plain carmine, but the wing-coverts are
like the lower mantle, with the white ocelli rather diffuse and the lateral ocelli chiefly
carmine. The tertiaries and inner secondaries show no carmine, but very large, well-
marked olive ocelli, which in the outer secondaries fuse at the tip, replacing the white
ocellus. The secondaries are dark olive-brown, irregularly barred with pale buff,
changing to black on the primaries with about a dozen irregular buff bars.

The enlargement of the olive ocelli reaches an extreme on the upper tail-coverts,
where, with the exception of very narrow marginal lines of buff and black, they occupy
the entire visible area. The tail-feathers are brownish black, with the basal halves of
the feathers mottled and barred irregularly with buff.

The ventral plumage is of the specialized mantle pattern, carmine with glistening
white ocelli set in black. On the lower sides, belly, flanks, and under tail-coverts the

PLATE VIII

TRAGOPAN PLUMAGES
T ragopan satyra (Linnaeus)

Tracopans, unlike Blood Partridges, do not acquire the adult plumage in the first year of their life.

Figure 1. The chick in the down plumage has a rich rufous head, the body being dark rufous above
and pale yellow buff below. The wing feathers are well developed and the chick is able to fly a day
or two after it leaves the egg.

Figure 2. A bird six weeks old has assumed full juvenile plumage, typical in pattern; a warm buffy
background mottled and barred with black, with a conspicuous terminal, paddle-shaped shaft-stripe.

Figure 3. Birds in the first year plumage are quite uniform as to body, but if the moult has been
late the head and neck will correspondingly be more adult in colour and pattern, as in the bird figured.
Even a few days will make considerable difference in the pigment deposited, so that cocks of this age

show a remarkable amount of variation.

PLATE VIII

"

}

bid gad

TRAGOPAN PLUMAGES.

i

ws

SATYR TRAGOPAN 59

white ocellus expands over much of the terminal portion of the feather and becomes
diluted to a pale silvery-grey. On none of the feathers, however, does the buff-and-
black basal barring become visible.

Mandibles black, horn-coloured toward the tips; irides dark hazel-brown ; legs and
toes pale fleshy, becoming dull crimson at the breeding season and paling to a fleshy
grey during the autumn and winter; claws brownish horn; the chin, upper throat and
orbital area (even on the densely feathered portion) purplish blue. The gular wattle
or lappet varies from a mere wrinkle to a length of 90 or 100 mm. during the breeding
season. It is orange or salmon with transverse blue bars extending laterally inward
from the margins. When retracted the blue predominates, the lighter colours being
hidden in the wrinkles. The fleshy horns, invisible except during the periods of
courtship, are brilliantly blue. Out of season they are about 25 mm. in length, lying
inconspicuously among the crown feathers; when erected they may reach a length of
75 or 80 mm. The spurs, averaging 8 or 10 mm., are stout and blunt. The weight
of adult males varies from 3 lb. 8 oz. to 4 Ib. 10 oz.

Length, 671-722 (696); expanse, 811-881 (846); bill from nostril, 15-17 (16); wing,
253-266 (259); tail, 253-344 (298); tarsus, 82-95 (88); middle toe and claw, 72-79
(75) mm.

ApuL_t FemMaLe.—Forehead and crown feathers light-centred, dark-margined, and
with the tips more rufous as we proceed backward to the hind nape and neck, which are
distinctly rufous. |

From here, posteriorly over the upper plumage, we find a complex mottling with
only two characters common to all portions; a pale buff or whitish central shaft-streak
or patch, and a tendency to the formation of two black lateral ocelli near the terminal
portion of the feather. Basally, almost all the feathers show a tendency to banding,
black and pale rufous wavy crossbars succeeding one another. This pattern obtains
on the flight feathers, continues strongly marked and of a warm rufous on the second-
aries, but degenerates into mottling on the inner webs of the primaries. The lesser
coverts near the bend of the wing are so rich in hue that they become almost crimson.

On the tail-coverts, while the ocelli are distinct, the shaft-patch has become con-
centrated into a very white, very small terminal streak. The rectrices show a number
of shaded crossbars of various tones of rufous and warm buff.

The face, chin and throat are almost uniform yellowish white. The throat and
upper breast resemble the dorsal plumage, but posteriorly the white centre increases
rapidly in size, and presents the appearance of large, whitish, elongated spots framed in
pale yellowish buff. The females show considerable variation among themselves, some ~
darker, some more grey. When the latter colour appears, it is invariably upon the upper
back that it is most conspicuous. The iris is brown; mandibles dusky horn; feet and
legs greyish. Weight about 2 lb. 7 0z. The measurements are: length, 573; expanse,
741; bill from nostril, 13; wing, 233; tail, 193; tarsus, 66; middle toe and claw,
63 mm.

NataL Down.—The chick may be described in brief as having a rich rufous head,
the body very dark rufous above and pale yellow buff below.

60 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

The forehead is warm orange rufous, the hind crown somewhat darker, shading
into a rich mahogany on the wing-coverts, back and the very long tuft of caudal down.
The nape is indistinctly mottled with paler buff. The head is remarkably uniform in
colour, the face and a superciliary line being pale yellow buff like the throat. The under
parts are uniformly buff, the chin and throat quite cream-coloured and the remainder
more grey in tone. |

The wing feathers are extremely well developed at birth, and function in flight
within a day or two after the chick emerges from the egg. They cover the entire back
and project even beyond the caudal tuft of down which represents the tail at this period.
The 1st to 7th primaries inclusive, of a three-day-old chick give the wing a total length
of 71 mm. (the 7th having grown 43 beyond its sheath), whereas the bird itself is only
120 mm.in length. The 8th primary is still encased in its sheath, while there is no
trace of the 9th and 1oth. Eight secondaries are well to the fore, and one or two others
of shorter length give a very adult and finished appearance to the tiny closed wing.
All the flight feathers are dull dark brown, coarsely mottled on the outer webs with
reddish buff, the pattern giving to the wing the appearance of four or five more or less
distinct transverse bands.

The culmen is high and arched, quite like the adult, and the cere is feathered to
the anterior edge of the nostrils. The culmen measures 6 mm. The other measure-
ments of the chick are: tarsus, 23; middle toe and claw, 22 mm.

It is interesting that from the first there is a remarkable absence of down from the
flights and coverts. The early precocious use of the wings soon strips away every
shred except upon the more protected lesser coverts.

Except for general increase in size there is little change in the next week or two,
except for the appearance of the scapulars, in two conspicuous lateral patches of feathers,
mottled irregularly for much of the basal and central areas, but with the terminal third
(the visible portion) showing a large central whitish stripe flanked by two more or less
rounded black spots. Shortly after these, similarly patterned breast feathers appear
through the down, and the juvenile plumage soon eclipses the body down. At the stage
where the wing measures about 94 mm. we find that the 8th primary has gained
tremendously upon its fellows, projecting from its sheath about 25 mm., while its next
inner neighbour is only twice as long. No. 9 is only just visible as a tiny projecting
point above the skin.

At this age the culmen measures 7 and the tarsus and middle toe 28 mm.
each.

ONE-THIRD GROowN Mace.—A July bird of about six weeks is in complete juvenile
plumage, except for the face, chin and throat, which still retain the nestling down.
Although the entire dorsal surface seems to be completely clothed with mesoptile
feathers, the plumage lifted anywhere shows active moult. The forehead and crown are
moulted clean, but a sharp line extends along the side of the head, below which the
immature down is unaffected. This downy section includes the lores, broad super-
ciliary band of rufous down, the sparsely feathered face, the chin and the throat. The
ear-coverts show a conspicuous patch of mesoptile feathers encroaching upon the down
of the face.

SATYR TRAGOPAN 61

On the crown and nape the feathers are wholly brownish black, with only a narrow
terminal shaft-wedge of warm buff. From the neck backward, including the scapulars,
back, rump, wing-coverts, tertiaries and innermost secondaries, fore neck, breast and
sides we find an interesting pattern, changing in lesser details and hue, but keeping
remarkably true to a single type, and characteristic, as we shall see, of the teleoptile
plumage as well. This consists of a warm buffy background, mottled with black, with
a conspicuous terminal paddle-shaped shaft-stripe of clear pale buff, flanked on each side
with a rounded black ocellus. On the nape these ocelli first detach themselves from
the solid black of the basal portion of the feathers ; on the breast there are in addition
two or even three pairs of spots forming rough transverse bands; while on the second-
aries an ocellus is present only on the outer web. They reach their highest development
on the tertiaries, where the neatly round black ocelli are accentuated by a surrounding
ring of light buff. On the lower breast and belly the mesoptile pattern becomes rather
obscured by a general paling and decrease of dark marking. The primaries and tail
feathers only are free from this interesting mesoptile pattern, the former being dark
brown with a notched band of rich rufous mottling on the outer webs, while the tail
feathers show as many as eleven distinct, shaded, transverse bands, black and pale buff
on a dark brownish buff background.

The bird at this stage has increased considerably in size, its measurements now
being: length, 304; wing, 152; tail, 97; culmen, 10; tarsus, 41; middle toe and claw,
43 mm. The gth and roth primaries have at last shot out to a distance of 91 and 63
respectively, but the 8th has not quite completed its growth. The final autumn moult
of the primaries is well under way. The ist is almost full length; the 2nd only 68
out of the sheath, while No. 3 has just broken its sheath; 4, 5, 6, and 7 stand patiently
waiting their turn. Although faded, they do not show unusual signs of wear, while
the secondaries which still remain are in a sad state, frayed and torn as if they bore
some special stress in the flight or other activities of the young bird. The renewal of
these feathers is progressing as usual from without inward, three pairs being in various
stages of simultaneous growth.

The tail shows no signs of renewal as yet, the innermost pairs being mesoptile
and still firmly in place.

First YEAR PLumaGE.—Shortly after the attainment of the complete juvenile
plumage, the general autumn moult begins, and although, unlike the blood partridge,
this plumage resembles rather closely that which it replaces, yet it is as complete as
though it reflected all the gorgeous tints of the fully adult males.

A bird shot in September shows almost the complete first winter plumage, except
that the bird appears small, due to the fact that most of the feathers of the body, wings
and tail are not full grown. In general the appearance of the male is now much more
like the adult female than is the juvenile plumage. If we consider the two chief modes
of variation of the adult females as excess of dark colour and of rufous, the young males
will lie fairly between these extremes. In place of the clear, conspicuous shaft-streaks
of the dorsal juvenile feathers we find a more confused mottling of the central area.
The old feathers show decided fading, the warm buff having turned whitish grey, while
the new incoming feathers restore the warmer tone. In the new plumage the two black,

62 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

subterminal, round ocelli are as well marked as before, but the irregular mottling and
vermiculation of the rest of the feather obscures all patterning and gives to the upper
plumage a confused mingling of grey, warm buff and dark tones, the solid black being
the only definite markings. On the middle and greater coverts the buff shaft-patch
clears up and forms a fairly well-marked character. The new wing and tail feathers
are similar to the body plumage in being more mottled and less definitely patterned
than the previous plumage.

The moult of the primaries at this age is nearing its close. All the inner ones have
been renewed and are full grown. No. 6 has almost reached its full length; No. 7 still
lacks 25 mm.; No. 8 is sheathbound throughout its total length of 63 mm.; while
Nos. 9 and to are the full-grown, clean juvenile feathers, which because of their delay
are to have the honour of remaining unshed throughout the coming year. The rectrices
are all in active growth, the outer ones having been last renewed.

The facial area, skin and throat are now covered with a dense growth of short,
dirty-white feathers, those of the former area edged broadly with dark, while those of the
chin and throat are plain. On the breast we find the same confusion of pigment and
pattern, but on the belly a new pattern appears, the ventral ocelli, like those of the adult
female, presaging the pearly ornaments of the adult cock bird. These are roundish
central areas of white, showing conspicuously against the surrounding faintly vermicu-
lated buff. In the young male the white is bounded distally by an irregular dark band,
the remnants of the two dark ocelli of the rest of the plumage. In some individuals the
spurs are quite precocious, and in September or October birds they may be considerably
elevated above the surrounding tarsal scales. The September bird under consideration
measures: bill from nostril, 12; wing, 241; tail, 157; tarsus, 68; middle toe and claw,
68 mm.

The two areas of delayed growth in the first winter moult of Tragopans are
primaries 9 and to, and the head and neck. As we have seen, the former are not
distinguishable from their newly grown companions, and show no character of the juvenile
flights. The effect of the delay of the latter region is to produce conspicuous results.
If an individual bird grows rapidly and moults early and clean, we find in the first
winter's cock a bird much like the female. But if for any reason the moult be delayed,
and the internal maturing processes have a chance to begin their alchemy of pigment-
synthesis which will result in the gorgeous and specialized colours of the adult cock bird,
the incoming feathers of the head and neck are very different from those of the
remaining, earlier-formed first winter's plumage. Thus is explained the great variation
in birds of the first year. One finds all sorts of conditions existing in the region of the
head and neck. Invariably the body, wings and tail are of the more primitive, female-
like type, but joined to these the majority of first year males show heads of more or less
dark hue, flanked by collars which range from a faint crimson stain to a brilliant scarlet
ruff. Indeed, the stains, and faint, imperfect hints of the adult ornaments may some-
times be found over the entire plumage. In a large series of young birds scattered
throughout many museums, the individuals are about evenly divided between those
which have acquired the strictly conventional first year dress of their mothers, and those
which are anteriorly precocious, showing a particoloured garb which is not pleasing, at
least to our eyes. Thus is explained why birds of this group are so often shot in

PLATE IX

WATTEES OF COCK TRAGOPANS

THESE wonderful structures come to their full development at the breeding season. At this, as at
all other times, they are usually quite invisible, being drawn up to an inconspicuous fold of skin beneath
the chin, hidden by feathers. At the climax of courtship the great apron of skin becomes distended and

its remarkable pigments and patterns are momentarily displayed to their full expanse before the hen.

Figure 1. Wattle of Western Tragopan (Zvragopan melanocephalus).
Figure 2. Wattle of Cabot’s Tragopan (Zvragopan cabotz).

Figure 3. Wattle of Temminck’s Tragopan (Zvagopan temmuinckt).
Figure 4. Wattle of Blyth’s Tragopan (Zvagopan blythi blythr).
Figure 5. Wattle of Satyr Tragopan (Z7vagopan satyra).

PLATE 1%

WATTLES OF COCK TRAGOPANS.

SATYR TRAGOPAN 63

December or May, apparently in full moult and yet with every feather full grown, and
not a blood sheath upon the body.

Occasionally upon typically first winter breast plumage we may find several
scattered crimson feathers with the pearl-grey spot of the adult. This results from the
accidental loss of a feather near the time of final moult.

When we consider the tremendous difference in the various altitudes covered by
Tragopans, and that by some trivial fright or other cause a single flight may carry them
thousands of feet downward, we can see good cause for the great variation in the time
of moult, with its attendant consequence of retardation or advance in pigment formation.

Reviewing the plumages as a whole, we find an interesting sequence in the male
bird: (a) a down plumage of definite regional patterns; (6) a juvenile plumage of
definitely patterned feathers; (¢) a first winter's plumage of very generalized, confused,
female-like coloration ; (@) an adult plumage of specialized regional and feather colour
and pattern.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

Long before the magic year of 1758, whence date our first binominal scientific
names, the Satyr Tragopan was known and written about. In 1750 George Edwards
gives us a very quaint, and perhaps the first, account of the Horned Indian Pheasant, as
he calls it, which he knew only from a head preserved in spirits and a coloured ‘‘ draught
sent from Bengal.” This latter seemed to him so truthfully to represent the appear-
ance that he copied and published it in his ‘‘ Natural History of Birds.” We gain an
excellent idea of his conscientious mode of work from a few lines in regard to this
Indian sketch: “ The tail appeared, in the original draught, a little bushy at the end, as
if broken off by being kept in a cage or coop; it was in length of the proportion I have
here given it; but I imagine this most rare and curious bird, in its perfection, has the
tail something if not a great deal longer; so that I have left it doubtful by casting it
behind a tree. I believe this capital bird has not been described by any author... . .
The original drawing is underwrit the Napaul Pheasant.”

Edwards gave it no scientific name, but Brisson gave it three, and in his elaborate
parallel French and Latin calls it Phasianus bengalensis cornutus. In 1766, in his 12th
edition of “Systema Naturae,” Linnaeus calls it Weleagris satyra, the latter name being
the one by which it is known to-day.

Lragopan satyra

florned Indian Pheasant Edwards, Nat. Hist. Birds, III. 1750, pl. 116.

Phastanus bengalensis cornutus Brisson, Orn., VI. 1760, App. p. 14.

Meleagris satyra Linnaeus, S. N., 1. 1766, p. 269; Latham, Ind. Orn., II. 1790, p. 619; Griffith, ed. Cuv.,
III. 1829, pl.

Le Napaul ou Faisan cornu Buffon, Hist. Nat. Ois., II. 1771, p. 362.

Phasianus cornutus Miller, Suppl. Linn. S. N., 1776, p. 125 ; Stephen, in Shaw’s Gen. Zool., XI. 18109,
p- 239.

Horned Turkey Latham, Gen. Syn., II. Pt. II. 1783, p. 680; id. Suppl., I. 1787, p. 203.

Penelope satyra Gmelin, S. N., I. Pt. I]. 1788, p. 733; Bonnat, Tabl. Encycl. Méth., I. 1791, p. 170, pl. 84,
ero a

Phastanus satyrus Temminck, Pig. et. Gall., II. 1813, p. 349; III. 1815, p. 672; Vieillot, N. Dict. d’Hist,

Nat., XI. 1817, p. 39; id. Gal. Ois., I]. 1825, p. 23, pl. 206.

Florned Pheasant Latham, Gen. Hist., VIII. 1823, p. 208.

64 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Tragopan satyrus Cuvier, Rég. Anim., I. 1829, p. 479; Gray in Griff. ed. Cuv., III. 1829, p. 31 ; Gould, Cent.
B. Himal., 1832, pl. 62; Jardine, Nat. Lib. Orn., ITI. 1834, p. 222, pl. XXIV.; Temminck, Pl]. Col., V. 1834, pls. 13,
14 [Nos. 543, 544]; Guérin, Icon. Reg. Anim., Ois., 1829-38, p. 26, pl. 43, fig. 4; Hodgson, in Gray’s Zool. Misc.
1844, p. 85.

Satyra satyra Lesson, Dict. Sci. Nat., LIX. 1829, p. 196; id. Traitée d’Orn., 1831, p. 493.

? Phasianus nepaulensts Gray, in Griff. ed. Cuv., III. 1829, p. 29.

Satyra pennanti Gray, Ill. Ind. Zool., I. 1830-32, pl. 49.

Satyra lathami Gray, Ill. Ind. Zool., I. 1830-32, pl. 51; Gray, List of Birds, Pt. II1. Gall., 1844, p. 28.

Phastanus melanocephalus Gray, Il). Ind. Zool., I. 1830-32, pl. 47.

Satyrus cornutus Schinz, Nat. Abbild. Vog., 1833, p. 252, pl. 98.

Satyra nepaulensis Gray, Il. Ind. Zool., IT. 1834, pl. 4o.

Tragopan melanocephalus Jardine, Nat. Lib. Orn., IV., 1834, p. 226, pl. XXVII.

Certornts macrolophus Swainson, Class. Birds, II. 1837, p. 341.

Satyra cornuta Gray, List of Gen. Birds, 1841, p. 78.

Ceriornis lathamz Gray, Gen. Birds, III. 1845, p. 499.

Certornis satyra Gray, Cat. Hodgs., ed. I. 1846, p. 125; Blyth, Cat. Mus. As. Soc., 1849, p. 240; Sclater&
Wolf, Zool. Sket., 2, 1861, pl. 39 ; Jerdon, Birds Ind., III. 1863, p. 516; Sclater, List of Phas., Proc. Zool. Soc.
1863, p. 122; Gray, List Gallinae brit. Mus., 1867, p. 40; Irby, Ibis, 1868, p. 234; Beavan, Ibis, 1868, p. 379 ; Gould,
Birds As., VII. 1868, pl. 49; Bulger, Ibis, 1869, p. 169; Gray, Hand-List Birds, II. 1870, p. 262 ; Sclater, Proc. Zool.,
Soc., 1870, p. 164; Elliot, Mon. Phas., I. 1872, pl. 22 ; Murie, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1872, p. 730, pls. LX., LXI.; Hume, N.
& E. Ind. Birds, 1873, p. 521; Marshall, B. Nest. Ind., 1877, p. §9 ; Hume & Marshall, Game B. Ind., I. 1878, p. 137 ;
Scully, Stray Feathers, VIII. 1879, p. 343; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 117, pl. VIII. fig. 4; Oates, ed.
Hume's Nests and Eggs, III. 1890, p. 409 ; Smith, Avic. Mag., (3), III. 1912, p. 153 ; Jamrach, Avic. Mag., (3), VI.
IQ15, pp. 126, 159.

Tragopax satyra Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 271; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book
Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 220; Blanford, Fauna Brit. India, Birds, IV. 1898, p. 99; Oates, Game-birds, I. 1898,
p. 241; Nehrkorn, Katalog der Eiersammlung, 1899, p. 192; Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 33; Oates, Cat.
Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 50; Ghigi, Mem. R.. Acc. Sci. Inst. Bologna, (5), X. 1903, pp. 394, 404, 406; Walton,
Ibis, 1906, p. 247 ; Smith, Avic. Mag., (3), I. 1910, p. 225; Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 28; Beebe,
Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914 p. 269.

WESTERN TRAGOPAN
Lragopan melanocephalus (Gray)

NAMES.—Specific : melanocephalus, from the Greek pédag black, and xegads head, having a black head.
English: Western or Black-headed Tragopan, Simla Horned Pheasant, Hasting’s Pheasant, Argus, Jewar.
French: Tragopan a téte noire. German: Jewar. Vernacular: Jewar (Garhwal); Jaghi (Bussahir); Sing-
Moonal (Hindustani, W. Himalayas) ; Jeejurana [male], Bodal [female] (Kullu, Mandi, Sukeyt) ; Fulgoor (Pahari
Hindi, Chamba).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Head and lower crest black; nape and side neck deep red; upper breast
bright orange; upper parts black, mottled with pale buff; lower parts chiefly d/ack ; above and below (except on
head, nape, breast, primaries and tail feathers) conspicuously spotted with white.

Female: Above dark ashy grey, vermiculated and spotted with black, with narrow white shaft-stripes on
crown and back. Mantle rufous buff. Below cold, grizzled, pale, ashy grey, each feather with a conspicuous
white shaft-stripe, bordered with black.

TypPE.—From Almorah, described by Gray in Griffith’s edition of Cuvier, in the year 1829. The type is
now in the British Museum.

RANGE.—North-western Himalayas, from Garhwal to Kashmir and Laddakh.

THE WESTERN TRAGOPAN IN ITS HAUNTS

LyincG at full length on a mossy shelf projecting from a long mountain slope, I
could see through a wind-break in the forest of oaks and birches, the glistening,
uneven edge of snow which lay between Garhwal and Tibet. Behind me the steeply
rising slope shut off all view; only beneath and to the right was there a free field of
vision. I had lain under my green cloth blind for two hours and had seen much of
interesting wild life. As the afternoon drew on, the dark line of shadow crept slowly
from the valley far below, up, up the mountain side to my right. The slope was steep
and rocky, and the vegetation which clung to its face dwarfed and scanty. Idly
scanning the cliffs with my glasses, I saw a distant spot detach itself from the shadows
of the rugged cliff and move slowly along. A quick turn of the focusing screw
brought a splendid serow into the field. Steadied on a bit of rock, the glasses showed
even the elongated pupils in his glassy, yellow eyes. He walked where a man would
have perished at a step; nay, more, he nibbled now and then from some succulent tuft
of herbage, and once, balanced on what seemed a hand’s breadth of crag, he stretched
his neck and scratched his ear with a hind hoof! Then he performed a miracle.
Without hint or crouch, he dropped stiff-legged for what seemed at least twenty feet
sheer down the face of the cliff, landing lightly on the narrowest of ledges, where he fed
for a few minutes. It was the sort of thing a bird might have done, but I never
realized that any four-footed creature could so juggle with gravitation and live. Then
he dropped again, this time not more than twice his height, perhaps eight feet, and
passed around an angle of rock out of sight.

A pair of swifts which apparently had a nest in a lightning-scarred hollow trunk
K 05

66 ? A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

near by, were joined by a third about this time, whereupon a terrific battle ensued, the
combatants falling almost at my elbow in their fury. And thus, one after another, came
the actors on this splendid stage, while the unsuspected audience of one, attended with
breathless attention and interest, but forbore to applaud.

Over the little patch of forest grass in front, shadows now and then passed,
revealing lammergeiers or vultures, and once a nutcracker came and preened his
plumage for five minutes in a tree down the slope, close to the level of my eyes.

Then a whirr of wings came from behind, and a wonderful cock Tragopan, the
Western bird, flew straight overhead into the nutcracker’s oak. For a moment after
alighting he stood motionless, his keen eyes scanning every detail within view.
Fortunately I had been watching the nutcracker, so the imperceptible shift of the
glasses to the left was unobserved by the newcomer, who was facing directly away
from me. My heart thumped wildly against the mossy rocks, and in my excitement
it seemed as if my pulse must be audible even to the bird.

For at least ten minutes I watched this glorious creature, so close that not a
feather or a spot was lost. When satisfied all was well, he began to preen plumage,
wings and tail, balancing sometimes in most awkward positions on the branch, but
constantly coming back to ‘‘attention” for a fraction of a second, before again burying
his head within his feathers. A final ruffling and thorough shake of the whole body
settled his plumage to his satisfaction. It also loosened a large body feather, which
fell out and eddied slowly to the ground.

Then the Tragopan began to search the crevices of the bark and the strands of
moss near by, now and then tearing off an entire skein and dropping it again. All this
time he kept up a contented conversation with himself through closed bill—a low,
murmuring, running chuckle, brimming with good nature. I have never heard
anything like it fromi a captive bird, and considering it as a vocal utterance of a
certain mental state, I can compare it best to the soxg of a domestic hen—that drowsy
waaa-waaaaaaaak |! waaaak! waaaak! which she utters when leisurely searching for
food. It seemed the epitome of wild Tragopan contentment : another day had passed,
food had been found, dangers avoided, a safe roost attained. The bird settled at last on
a higher branch, not far from the trunk, where he was partly concealed from my view
and here, as the shadows deepened, he squatted down. I did not wish to disturb him,
so tried the experiment of first attracting his attention by slow movements. These
made him crouch only the flatter, and I crawled off backward on all fours, enfolded by
my green observation tent-cloth, with glasses swung round my neck. My last view
of the bird silhouetted against the distant yellow sky, was of a head and neck drawn
out to their longest, while keen eyes lost not a movement. Some dead branch crashed
to the ground in the forest far below, and the bird’s head turned in that direction.
I slipped away behind the nearest trunks and left the Tragopan to the solitude of its
lofty oaken perch, watching the day slowly die and the valley fill with*the thick gloom
of night; the cold, breathless summer night of the Garhwalese Himalayas.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

This species makes its appearance only a few miles beyond the western limit of
the satyr tragopan’s range, in native Garhwal. In fact, it is said that the ridge between

PLATE X

WESTERN TRAGOPAN

LTragopan melanocephalus (Gray)

In the mountain forests of the Western Himalayas lives this great bird, its black and crimson plumage

covered with a shower of silvery stars. Its cry echoes through the gorges of Kashmir and the tumbled

A dozen are sometimes found together, and throughout the winter they
keep within calling distance of one another.

masses of mountainous Garhwal.

They are fond of the buds of trees, and thus can find
sustenance even when the ground is covered deep with snow.

i"

pn

WESTERN TRAGOPAN.

PLATE X

WESTERN TRAGOPAN 67

the Kattor and Bhilling Rivers marks its oriental limit. From here it is found along
most of the middle wooded ranges of the Himalayas to the north-west, well into
Kashmir. The great sweep which the Indus River makes in this border state marks
the eastern boundary of this Tragopan, as far as we know at present. Within this
fluviatile curve it has been recorded from Hazara on the east and from Laddakh in the
north. It lives at about the same altitudes as the satyr tragopan. It has recently
become very rare in most parts of Kashmir, but occurs in Poonch and Kistwar.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Several score of years ago Mr. Wilson published an account of the habits of the
Western Tragopan, or ‘‘ Jewar,” as he called it, a more intimate and complete history
than any later record. In fact, in the intervening years but little has been added to our
knowledge of the life history of this bird. I shall give his account and follow it with
the observations I was able to make.

“Except where an isolated village is situated high up in a densely wooded locality
and surrounded by thick forest, the Jewar is seldom or never found near the habitations
of man, but frequents the darkest and most solitary parts of the woods, where it is not
often subject to disturbance; and keeps so still and secluded in their shady recesses,
that not one in twenty of the inhabitants of the nearest villages ever sees one, except
when caught or killed by a shikari.

‘In autumn and winter its haunts are in the thickest parts of the forests of oak,
chestnut and morenda pine, where the box tree is abundant, and where, under the forest
trees, a luxuriant growth of ‘ringal,’ or hill bamboo, forms an underwood in some places
almost impenetrable.

“They keep in companies of from two or three to ten or a dozen, not in compact
flocks, but scattered widely over a considerable space of forest, so that many at times
get quite separated, and are found alone.

“In places where seldom disturbed, the whole lot are sometimes found within a
compass of twenty or thirty yards, while, where often subject to intrusion, they get
scattered and keep in ones and twos in different quarters of the forest, but if left
undisturbed for a week or two, they will again collect together. They seldom forsake
entirely a regular resort, however much disturbed, but get so shy and wary that it is
very difficult to find, and almost impossible to shoot them. Here they pass the winter
months, seldom wandering away from the particular quarter they have chosen for a
resort, to which they return year after year; and while there located, if not disturbed,
never leave it to any distance, though many other parts of the wood are exactly of the
same character.

“If several lots are in the forest, each lot appears to have its own favourite quarter,
and never intermingles with the others.

“The trees furnishing them with a sufficiency of food, though the ground be
covered with snow many feet in depth, the severest storms do not, speaking of the
species generally, cause them to change their locality. After a severe fall of snow,
a few occasionally leave for a time their usual haunts, if in a very bleak quarter, or at
any considerable elevation, and are found in places widely differing, as small patches of

68 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

forest on a bare, exposed hill side, narrow wooded ravines, patches of low brushwood
and jungle, and anywhere where the ground is sheltered from the sun by trees and
bushes. Sometimes one is found in a similar situation in fine weather, probably driven
out of its retreat by an Eagle or Falcon; but these are rare exceptions, and they soon
again return to their regular resorts.

‘““At this season, except its note of alarm when disturbed, the /ewar is altogether
mute, and is never heard of its own accord to utter a note or call of any kind, unlike
the rest of our Pheasants, all of which occasionally crow or call at all seasons. When
alarmed, it utters a succession of wailing cries not unlike those of a young lamb or kid,
like the syllables ‘waa, waa, waa,’ each syllable uttered slowly and distinctly at first, and
more rapidly as the bird is hard pressed or about to take wing.

“Where not repeatedly disturbed, it is not particularly shy, and seldom takes
alarm till a person is in its immediate vicinity, when it creeps slowly through the
underwood, or flies up into a tree, in the former case continuing its call until it is again
stationary, and in the latter, till it has concealed itself in the branches. If several are
together, all begin to call at once, and run off in different directions, some mounting
into the trees, others running along the ground.

“When first put up, they often alight in one of the nearest trees, but if again
flushed, the second flight is generally to some distance, and almost always down hill.
Their flight is rapid, the whirr peculiar, and, even when the bird is not seen, may be
distinguished by the sound from that of any other.

“Where their haunts are often visited, either by the sportsmen or the villagers,
they are more wary; and if such visits are of regular occurrence, and continued for any
length of time, they become so in a very high degree, so much so that it is impossible
to conceive of a forest bird more shy or cunning. They then, as soon as aware of the
presence of any one in the forest, after calling once or twice, or without doing so at all,
fly up into the trees (which, near their haunts, are almost all evergreens of the densest
foliage), and conceal themselves so artfully in the tangled leaves and branches that unless
one has been seen to fly into a particular tree, and it has been well marked down, it is
almost impossible to find any of them.

‘In spring, as the snow begins to melt on the higher parts of the hill, they leave
their winter resorts, and gradually separate and spread themselves through the more
remote and distant woods, up to the region of birch and white rhododendron, and almost
up to the extreme limits of forest.

‘Karly in April they begin to pair; and the males are then more generally met
with than at any other period; they seem to wander about a great deal, are almost
always found alone, and often call at intervals all day long. When thus calling, the
bird is generally perched on the thick branch of a tree, or the trunk of one which has
fallen to the ground, or on a large stone. The call is similar to the one they utter when
disturbed, but is much louder, and only one single note at a time, a loud energetic
‘waa, not unlike the bleating of a lost goat, and may be heard for upwards of a mile.
It is uttered at various intervals, sometimes at every five or ten minutes for hours
together, and sometimes not more than two or three times during the day, and most
probably to invite the females to the spot.

‘When the business of incubation is over, each brood, with the parent birds, keeps

ll
'

WESTERN TRAGOPAN 69

collected together about one spot, and they descend towards their winter resorts as the
season advances; but the forests are so densely crowded with long weeds and grass,
that they are seldom seen till about November, when it has partially decayed, and
admits of a view through the wood.

‘They feed chiefly on the leaves of trees and shrubs; of the former, the box and
oak are the principal ones; of the latter, ringal and a shrub something like privet.
They also eat roots, flowers, grubs and insects, acorns and seeds, and berries of various
kinds, but in a small proportion compared with leaves. In confinement they will eat
almost any kind of grain.

‘Though the most solitary of our Pheasants, and in their native forests perhaps
the shyest, they are the most easily reconciled to confinement; even when caught old
they soon lose their timidity, eating readily out of the hand; and little difficulty ts
experienced in rearing them.

“The sportsman desirous of getting the Jewar should endeavour to learn from the
shikaris and people of the place whether any are to be found in the neighbourhood
before he commences what may otherwise prove a toilsome and unsuccessful search.
You may hunt over very likely forests without finding a single bird, and without
previous information there is nothing for it but to work through every part of the wood.
In autumn and winter, having learnt that the birds ave about, he should proceed to
some well-wooded locality, and after taking a survey of the general aspect of the forest,
direct his way to some well-wooded ravine or hollow, where the tapering summits of
the morenda pine may be seen towering above the rest of the forest trees, and the dense
and closely wooded character of the forest shuts out from a distance all view of the
ground.

‘Dogs are not necessary, but can do no harm if properly under control.

‘Should he pass near a spot where any of the birds are, he will soon be made
aware of their vicinity by their peculiar call, which they will invariably utter on his
approach.

“Tf they begin calling while he is at a distance, or the underwood prevents their
being seen, though near, he should press on them as quickly as possible, and endeavour
to force them to rise, or try and get a shot while one is passing over some exposed spot,
before they conceal themselves, in which they have few equals. If they fly into the
trees, the particular tree into which one has flown must be well marked down, and, if
possible, the particular part, or it will be difficult to find it. rom the thick and tangled
character of the woods where they generally resort, crowded and entangled with multi-
tudinous trunks and branches of trees, and dense clusters of tall ringal, it is seldom
that a fair shot can be got at them on the wing, and the only alternative is to shoot them
in what some will perhaps deem an unsportsman-like way, on the ground, or in the
trees.

‘A lot once found in any part of the forest, they may, to a certainty, be found again
daily at the same spot, or in its immediate vicinity, but each day they will become more
shy and wary, and it is useless to hunt for them on the same ground many days
successively, as, after being disturbed once or twice, it will be next to impossible to get
a shot, though many birds may be found. They will be scattered singly in widely
distant places; some will keep in the trees altogether, one now and then flying off close

70 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

above the sportsman’s head, but so suddenly and rapidly as to leave little chance of his
getting a shot at it; and many, as soon as aware of the sportsman’s presence in the
wood, will, without waiting for his approach, conceal themselves so artfully as to leave
only a bare possibility of his ever finding them. |

“Even if the particular tree into which one has been seen to fly is immediately
approached, one may stand for an hour under it, and examine almost every leaf and
branch without being able to discover the bird, and should one even succeed in doing
this, one is still often disappointed in getting a shot, as they seem to keep their eye
fixed on your movements, and to become aware of the very moment they are discovered,
darting off before the gun can be put to the shoulder.

“In spring, which is the season most generally chosen by the sportsman for
excursions in the interior, he will have a better chance of finding them than in autumn,
as then they are not so restricted in their resorts, but are distributed all over the forests,
and the males do not so much covet concealment. They should now be sought for in
the higher parts of the forest, where the birch tree begins to make its appearance, and
it is advisable to sit and listen at intervals for their call. On hearing it, the sportsman
should proceed as quickly and as noiselessly as possible to the quarter from whence the
sound proceeded, listening at times for a repetition of the call to guide him to the exact
spot. The bird will generally be found on some exposed spot where a nice pot shot
may be had. Great caution must be taken, particularly when getting near, as, if once
disturbed, there is little chance of finding the bird again that day.

‘The Jewar roosts in trees, and in winter, perhaps for warmth, seems to prefer the
low evergreens, with closely interwoven leaves and branches, to the larger trees which
overshadow them.”

On the whole I think that Wilson’s account is reliable, but drawn in part from
native hunters. I hardly see how he could know that the same birds return year after
year to exactly the same locality, and while it is probable that they do, one can hardly
accept it as a proven fact. From talks which I had with many sportsmen and natives
I think that the Western Tragopan is much more of a solitary bird than Wilson gives
us to understand. All which I saw were alone, and as it is true that when a flushed
bird calls, all within hearing distance answer, I could tell with some degree of certainty
the proximity of the nearest bird, which was usually a considerable distance away.
This and some other discrepancies, however, may be partly the result of the bird’s
distribution over a large, broken territory, so the habits of the individuals on one range
may well differ slightly from those of others at a distance.

I found these Tragopans feeding on newly sprouted leaves, and from the accounts
of several sportsmen, I believe that such vegetable matter forms their principal diet.

This species resembles the satyr so closely in its general habits, and is so nearly
related to that tragopan, that it is very probable the category of vocal utterances is
similar. The waa which Wilson thinks is an invitation to the females, doubtless
corresponds to the challenge call of the satyr, while the mating call of the Western
Tragopan, which is probably much lower, has not yet been recorded.

Wilson unquestionably errs when he states that, although the most solitary and
shy, these birds are of all Tragopans the most easily reconciled to captivity, and that

WESTERN TRAGOPAN 71

they may be reared with little difficulty. Like the statements of so many early writers,
this statement has been widely copied, but never authenticated. In India I was told by
four different people who had tried to keep these Tragopans alive, that while it was true
that the wild-caught individuals soon became tame, yet none showed an inclination to
breed, and all died within a short time. No living Western Tragopan has thus far
reached America, and though a few have been kept from time to time in various
continental aviaries, the London Zoological Gardens has had only two birds, received
in 1882, both of which lived a little more than two years. Jamrach records that of the
total of forty birds which he imported, all reached Europe alive.

As far as I know there is no account of the courtship display of the Western Tragopan,
but as it possesses the typical fleshy horns and lappet we may be certain that this does
not materially differ from the display of Temminck’s.

One nest with eggs has been recorded from the province of Hazara (civca N. Lat.
34°; E. Long. 73°) by Captain Lantour. The nest of the “Argus,” as he calls it, using
one of the colloquial misnomers of sportsmen, was found on May 25, 1869, and con-
tained six eggs, four of which are now in the British Museum. Captain Lantour was
shooting on a range of hills of from eight to eleven thousand feet altitude, covered with
pine forest. The “Argus” or Western Tragopans were plentiful about three-quarters
up toward the hill-tops in the vicinity of snowy nullas and rocky landslips, where there
was a considerable undergrowth.

When he came across the nest, he was on sie lookout for pheasants, but on the
steep slope had given his gun to his shikari, when a bird flew up almost at his feet.
This was in a pine forest, at a place where an old landslide had swept away all the pine
trees, their place being taken by small bushes and hazel-like shrubs. The nest was on
the ground, and was carelessly built, very roughly formed of grass, small sticks, and a
few feathers.

A very careful description of these eggs is given by Hume, who says that they
“are more or less elongated ovals, considerably compressed towards the small end.
They are, as a whole, of very much the same length, but a good deal slenderer than the
eggs of the Moonal. The shell is fine, but almost absolutely devoid of gloss. Looked
at from a little distance, they appear to be of a uniform colour and devoid of markings,
and seem to vary from a pale café au lait to a dull reddish buff; looked at closely they
are seen to have a somewhat lighter ground colour, excessively finely and minutely
freckled and spotted with a somewhat darker shade. They are the least glossy of all
the true game bird’s eggs that I know, and in shape and texture, though not in tint,
remind one not a little of those of the King Curlew and White Ibis, and other birds of
that family. In length they vary from 61 to 65 mm., and in breadth from 42°5 to
43°5 mm. ; but the average of the six eggs is 64 by 43 mm.” A set of these eggs which
I examined in Calcutta, collected June 4th in the Pir Pangal, Kashmir, averaged smaller
in size. ‘Iwo of these were of a dull, pale ochre, muddied by a very faint, even mottling
of a slightly darker shade. One egg shows a smear of dark ochre in one place,
terminating a lighter area.

Now, this nest is of especial interest for two reasons: first from the fact that it is a
nest at all, since without exception the Galliformes of the Old World make no nest,
but merely deposit their eggs upon the ground. If this be among dead leaves and

72 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

other debris, a hollow may be scraped out, or is soon moulded by the pressure of the
eggs and sitting bird. The Tragopans, of all the groups of pheasants, are most arboreal,
and hence parallel the curassows and guans of the Neotropical region. As I shall
show, in the case of the Cabot’s and Temminck’s tragopans, their nesting habits
in captivity strongly suggest that birds of this genus build nests of their own in trees,
or at least off the ground.

No concrete proof of this has been forthcoming, however, until I was fortunate
enough to stumble upon circumstantial evidence of so positive a nature that I include
it in detail without hesitation. In this, as in my account of the roosting bird, the
Tragopan entered upon the scene wholly unexpectedly.

How often it is that Nature will suddenly exhibit to us a hint of some long-desired
mystery when we least expect it, when perhaps we are wholly absorbed in something
else—an unexpected gleam into the tail of our eye—and yet for day after day hold
herself aloof and sphinx-like, when we make our most concentrated attempts to force
her secrets.

In western native Garhwal I had set up my observation tent on a sloping hillside
of pine. In this case, I had placed it under and within the dense sweeping branches of
a young deodar, so that it made a formless mound of green, indistinguishable from the
mass of dark needle foliage about it. Here I left it for three days, and then entered it
one morning with the intention of observing more closely some cheer pheasants, which
were accustomed to pass over this slope twice a day. An hour after I had begun my
vigil, I cut a new observation slit in the rear, for the purpose of finding the author
of a sweet, silvery thread of warbling notes. A moment before, they had been uttered
within a foot of the tent, and now I found the bird had flown to the short, depressed
branches of a silver spruce, forty feet up, and not far away. ‘The activity of the little
bird, whatever it was, prevented my identifying it; but, in searching for it, I discovered
a rough mass of sticks, lodged close against the trunk, and partly overhung and
concealed by several of the silvery-green needle-fans of this splendid conifer. I marked
it down as an object for examination when I should leave the tent, and, after the usual
few minutes of exercise and massage within my little green mound, by which alone I
could compel my aching limbs to endure the hours of cramped posture, I returned to my
survey of the hillside.

Passing Over many unimportant but interesting bits of forest life which I observed
on this memorable day, I at last caught a low, pheasant-like chuckle, which made every
nerve tingle like an electric shock. It came from behind, and, as I had been thus
outflanked more than once by pheasants, I peered out, but could see no sign of life.
Then the chuckle again and a quiver of needles, and on the branch below the stick nest
I saw a large bird. Even then, Tragopans were so far from my mind that I stared in
unrecognizing bewilderment. Once more the low gurgling chuckle came, and the bird
walked unsteadily to the trunk and leaped up to the nest itself. Then I realized that
I was looking at a Western Tragopan hen, and a few days later I was to hear the
self-same low chuckle given, as I have already related, as the vesper song of a
cock bird.

The Tragopan, in her dull, mottled garb, was almost invisible as she stood
motionless beside the nest in the shadow of the spruce foliage. Soon she began to

PHOTOGRAVURE 6

HAUNTS OF THE WESTERN TRAGOPAN

STEEP mountain sides of rugged, outjutting rocks, where only turf and saxifrage can find roothold ;
more gentle slopes covered with sombre forests of deodars and silver firs; park-like vistas of emerald
lawns starred with hosts of strawberry blossoms; such is the home of the Western Tragopan. In the warm
sunshine the chicks spread wide their plumage, and lying on their sides lazily kick the dust over their little
feathers. With the cool onrush of cloud shadow they shake themselves and hastily preen their disarranged
plumage. When the storm from the Tibetan upland breaks, the little Tragopans scuttle for shelter beneath

the ample wings of the gentle grey mother.

ie
4)

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7

Hl

me

Pavr seek

aL

N TRAGOPAN IN GARHWAL

PHOTOGRAVUR

T

PLAT

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WESTERN TRAGOPAN 53

crane her head and neck about, and, bending low down, busied herself in some way
invisible from where I watched. At last she jumped down to the branch below, then to
the next, and so on, making a complete circuit of the trunk as she descended, and
finally, when out of my sight, flew with but a low rustle of wings to the ground. For
forty minutes I saw or heard nothing more, and then the crackle of a twig set me on the
gut vive, and I soon saw her near the nest. A rough spruce twig had caught in her
breast plumage and snapped off, tweaking out a feather or two, as I discovered when
later I climbed the tree. Again she wrought silently at the nest, and again descended
her resinous stairway. Once more she returned, this time with a beakful of leaves,
which I could distinctly see, as they were so unlike the needles through which she
ascended; She soon went away as before, and I never saw her again, although I waited
until late afternoon, when my abused body would allow no further insult, and for very
agony I had to leave my shelter and roll about upon the turf outside. Once, having
thrown caution to the winds, I climbed the tree with some difficulty, for the needle-
armoured, stiff-twigged maze made anything but pleasant going. Knowing that the
wary bird would easily detect my clumsy trail of sap-bleeding footprints, I tied together
the entire nest, brought it down, and made a careful analysis of the structure. A glance
showed that it was not the work of the pheasant, but an old nest of some other bird;
this disappointing fact being only too evident from the weather-worn character of the
well-woven substructure of sticks and bleached grass. The lining was as obviously of
very recent date; indeed, the green leaves of oak and some unknown weeds were still
almost fresh and unwilted, while the twigs—a dozen or more with a strong aromatic
scent, were still sappy at the ends, for all had been freshly broken off, and none were
dead or dried. All had been plucked within forty-eight hours, as I satisfied myself by
actual comparison with leaves and twigs which I gathered one day and examined on
the following. This was the work of the Tragopan which I had been watching,
although she could not have brought all the twigs and leaves on the three trips when
under my observation. She must have begun work on the previous day.

I now turned my attention to the nest proper. I found that the twigs and grass
were not nearly so bleached as the old dried stems about me on the ground, and traces
of green near the nodes of the grasses’ seemed to make certain that it was this year’s
nest. Two small fragments of shell, which had sifted down into the matted lining,
might have been parts of the egg of a raven or crow, or of many another species; it
was impossible to make certain. The general character of the nest was corvine—no
more could be said.

One's thought goes back instantly to Captain Lantour’s nest—a true zes?, but on
the ground, and on the slender basis of these two nests we may theorize as to whether
Tragopans are acquiring or losing the trait of arboreal nidification. Notes on other
species in captivity show that the birds are pronouncedly arboreal, and will either refuse
altogether to lay, or will lay irregularly, or often an unusual number, unless they can
deposit their eggs in some elevated box or nest.

One can readily see how many terrestrial dangers would be avoided by birds of
this size nesting in trees; but, on the other hand, if they are in the habit of utilizing the
large stick nests built and already used by other birds, they are running considerably

more risk than if they built a nest themselves. The nest of which I have written was
L

74. A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

remarkably well concealed. If I had not been close to the ground, and slightly down
along the slope, I should never have discovered it. It was invisible when at last I
stood up and looked toward it. But most used nests are much more in view.
Constant approach of the parent birds breaks or wears away the adjacent leaves and
twigs, and by the time the brood of the rightful owners is ready to leave, the nest is
far from well concealed. Again, one hardly knows what nests could serve. In this
instance the nest was doubtfully corvine, but such fearless, pugnacious birds usually
build in plain view, a site which would give a hen Tragopan but short shrift. The
greatest danger attendant on arboreal nesting would be the Himalayan langur monkeys,
and the betrayal to eagles by inquisitive crows and jays. That the monkeys are at
times a very real danger to pheasant nests I shall show in the case of the impeyan.

Be this as it may, it is certain that the Western Tragopan occasionally does utilize
the tree nest of some other species of bird; and, after all, it is quite idle for a mere
ornithologist to argue pro and con anent the advisability of tree or ground nesting!
The keen eyes of my hen Tragopan had ferreted out an ideal nesting spot, and had it
not been that her secret was one of the reasons for my having travelled so many
thousand miles to her home, I should assuredly have left her undisturbed, with the full
knowledge that her age-old instincts were far better guides for her safety and that of
her brood than any logic of man—however carefully formulated—could ever be.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ADULT Mare.—Lores, forehead and entire crown glossy black, the feathers of
the occiput changing suddenly to Indian red and forming a long, backward pointing
crest. Ear-coverts and a narrow band entirely surrounding the gular lappet black.
Nape, hind and side neck deep Indian red. Face, chin and throat lappet almost bare
of feathers. |

On the lower neck the red ends abruptly, giving place to an entirely different
pattern and colouring, characteristic of the whole upper plumage. The mantle, wing-
coverts, back and rump are uniform, having a background of pale greyish buff, thickly
mottled and irregularly barred with black, while at the tip of each feather is a good-
sized, round, black area, with a very sharply outlined spot of pure white in the centre.
The only exception is a V-shaped patch of deep Indian red just below the bend of the
wing, one arm of which extends obliquely across the wing, and the other along the
anterior border.

Only on the scapulars, longer wing-coverts and tertiaries is there distinct evidence
of the lateral olive ocelli, which form so prominent a character of satyva. These ocelli
are often strongly tinged with ochraceous. The secondaries are dull brownish-black,
barred with pale greyish-buff, which assumes a warmer buffy tone on the primaries.
On the upper tail-coverts, the white ocellus expands to many times its usual size, and is
bordered by a wide shaded area of rusty or rufous. The tail-feathers are black at the
tips, mottled and banded basally with greyish-buff.

On the anterior lower throat and upper breast is a most remarkable patch of pale,
glistening, orange-yellow feathers, deepest at the tips and paling to a lemon-white. The
feathers composing this patch are extremely specialized, harsh to the touch, and stiff and

WESTERN TRAGOPAN 75

disintegrated in appearance. The basal, downy portion of the feathers is normal, but
distally the barbs become thickened, stiff and spine-like, with no trace of barbules. At
the posterior edge of this area, the transition into the ocellated, normal ventral plumage
is very gradual, the first hint of the latter being a tiny spot of black pigment with a
speck of.a white ocellus at the tip of the yellow, spiny barbs. The remainder of the
ventral surface has almost all the visible portion of the feathers dull black, with a good-
sized, subterminal round white spot. Just basal to the black area is a large zone of
Indian red, usually broken at the shaft, but reaching to the margin on both sides.
Even when the feathers are in perfect position, a portion of this colour protrudes, and
thus the whole of the under parts shows an irregular scattering of red, varying in
amount in every region. This ventral colouring extends anteriorly to the side neck
between the orange breast and greyish dorsal plumage. The red is wholly absent from
the belly, flanks and under tail-coverts, the white spot increasing in area and becoming
more diffuse as we proceed posteriorly.

The weight of an adult male varies from 3 lb. 10 oz. to 4 lb. 8 0z. Mandibles
black, pale toward the tip; irides hazel; facial area bright red; fleshy horns pale
blue; gular lappet purplish blue down the centre, with the margin and deep lateral
indentations salmon pink; feet and legs deep pink in the breeding season, pale fleshy
at other times of the year. Spurs short and stout. Length, 684-735 (709); expanse,
937; bill from nostril, 15; wing, 285; tail, 275; tarsus, 76; middle toe and claw,
27 mm. 7

The feathering of the gular lappet of an adult male is of considerable interest.
Stretching the lappet to a length of about roo mm. we see that the upper surface has a
very sparse sprinkling of feathers. Those on the anterior half, nearest the chin, are very
degenerate, showing only the bare rhachis together with an equally bare after-shaft about
one-third as long. Posteriorly we find a sprinkling of adventitious feathers with several
terminal barbs. The highest development of the featherlets of this surface of the lappet
occurs along the margins. Here several long barbs spring from the basal quarter of
the shaft, each quite densely clothed with barbules. All these featherlets originate in
the central dark zone, the wide, irregular marginal area being wholly bare.

On the under surface of the lappet we find a very different condition. Here are
well-developed feathers scattered over the whole surface, about 10 or 12 mm. apart.
An interesting fact is that the feathers which sprout from the dark zone are black, while
those arising from the pink marginal area are red. The terminal (normally exposed)
area of these feathers is well developed, but the downy basal portion which, in the body
plumage, is long, fluffy and concealed, is here very short, in many cases a mere ragged
fringe of barbs along the rhachis.

ADULT FEMALE.—Forehead plain sooty brown; crown dark with white shaft-
streaks. Nape and hind neck with a decided tinge of warm orange buff, mottled with
black. The mantle and entire upper parts are a grizzled and mottled grey. Most of
the feathers show narrow whitish shaft-stripes, and lateral subterminal black ocelli.
These are round and most perfect on the mantle and back, while on the coverts and
inner secondaries they are reduced to conspicuous black marginal patches. The flights
show the usual pale buff bar-mottlings on the outer webs. The rectrices show little

76 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

trace of barring, the central pair of feathers being evenly vermiculated grey and black,
the outer ones successively with more and more clear black, the grey being confined
to the base. All have a pale ashy terminal band of mottling.

The feathers of the face, chin and throat are white, broadly margined all round with
black. The upper breast shows a faint rufous tinge, but the under parts as a whole
are a grizzled grey, a cold ashy hue, with no black patches or ocelli, and hence much
paler grey than the upper parts. Each feather shows an elongated, subterminal, paddle-
shaped shaft-streak of white, bordered, especially toward the extremity, with black.
These increase gradually in size from the breast to the flanks. Iris dark hazel; legs
and feet greyish.: The measurements are: length, 608; expanse, 810; bill from nostril,
13; wing, 240; tail, 193; tarsus, 63; middle toe and claw, 63 mm.

First YEAR PLuMAGE, MaLe.—The body plumage of this age is much like that
of the female, but the head and neck present the greatest variability, the crown usually
being blackish, while a collar of dark maroon completely encircles the neck. Many
authors speak of these birds as gradually acquiring the adult plumage, but this apparent
slowness of moult is wholly superficial and optical, based on colour alone, and due to |
a greater or lesser delay in individual moult. In wild shot birds I have found that
the second autumn moult brings the complete adult plumage in all its perfection and
brilliance. In captivity a bird of the third year will often still show signs of immaturity
due to abnormal growth or imperfect nutrition.

In a wild bird shot in April there is absolutely no sign of moult, but a large patch
of half-grown feathers on the left breast are fully adult. The preceding grey and white-
shafted ones have been accidentally pulled out in some way, and even thus early in the
year the adult pigment is waiting to be poured forth into the plumage whenever an
opportunity offers.

The great variability of this plumage makes any single description difficult. The
forehead and crown is dark brown or blackish, with occasionally narrow white shaft-
streaks. The dark colour of the feathers of the rear crown and nape is broken by
numerous crossbars of pale buff, which change on the neck to dark orange-red, while
the black becomes a faint mottling or a narrow terminal fringe. This is continued
around the throat as a band or collar enclosing the dull brown, buff-shafted feathers of
the chin and throat.

The upper plumage is a rather uniform vermiculation of black and cold grey, the
coverts and flights showing a warmer, more buffy tone. Invariably on the upper mantle,
and occasionally scattered sparsely on the back and wing-coverts are small white ocelli,
a single, subterminal one on each feather set in a small black area. Both primaries and
secondaries are dark brown, with about six or eight irregular crossbar mottlings of pale
whitish buff on the outer web.

The rectrices show about a dozen shaded, very irregular crossbars of grey, dark
brown and whitish buff. The central pair resembles the secondaries in hue, while the
others are clearer dark brown or black, with the crossbars white and fewer in number.
All the markings are exceedingly irregular and variable in different individuals.

Beneath, the entire ground colour is like the mantle, an even vermiculation of black
or dark brown on cold grey, but each feather shows an elongated white shaft-streak

WESTERN TRAGOPAN 77

ending in a subterminal bubble or drop—a separate round ocellus framed in black.
The general effect is most remarkable, as if scores of drops of white paint were flowing
down the bréast, coursing in concentric, regular lines, but each droplet separate, and
leaving a tiny trail behind it. On the flanks these become much larger, irregular, and
there is no shaft-streak. Birds of this age show the following average of measurements:
bill from nostril,.14; wing, 266; tail, 205; tarsus, 74; middle toe and claw, 74 mm.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

This bird, under the name of Phasianus melanocephalus, or the Black-headed
Pheasant, was described in 1829 by Gray, in Edward Griffith’s edition of Cuvier, from a
specimen said to have come from Almorah. A year or two later the bird was figured
in Illustrations of Indian Zoology as a rather weird creature with two horns curving
high above the head like those of a serow, yellow eyes and lappets. Another plate,
representing a young male, was supposed to be the female.

Except that M. Vigors, in the very first volume of the London Zoological Society's
“ Proceedings,” re-described the bird as Tvagopan Hastingsi, this species has not been
troubled with useless specific synonymy.

SynonymMy—7vagopan melanocephalus

Phastanus melanocephalus Gray, in Griff. ed. Cuvier, III. 1829, p. 29.

Satyra melanocephala J. E. Gray, III. Indian Zool., I. 1830-32, pls. 46, 48; G. R. Gray, List of Birds, Pt. III.
Gall., 1844, p. 28. .

Tragopan hastingsi Vigors, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1830, p. 8; Gould, Cent. Birds Himal., 1832, pls. 63, 64, 65 [text] ;
Jardine, Nat. Lib., Orn., IV. 1834, p. 224, pls. XXV, XXVI; Hutton, Jour. Asiatic Soc. Bengal, XVII. Pt. 2, 1848,
p. 695; Schinz, Nat. Vog., 1853, p. 147, pl. 70; Fitz, Atl. Nat. Vog., 1864, fig. 232.

Ceriornis melanocephala Gray, Genera Birds, III. 1845, p. 499; id. Cat. Hodgs., ed. I. 1846, p. 125; Blyth,
Cat. Mus. As. Soc., 1849, p. 240; Gould, Birds Asia, VII. 1855, pl. 45 ; Adams, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 498 ; id.
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1859, p. 185; Jerdon, B. Ind., III. 1863, p. 517; Sclater, List of Phas., 1863, p. 10, pl. 10; Gray,
List Gallinae Brit. Mus., 1867, p. 41; v. Pelzeln, Ibis, 1868, p. 320 ; Beavan, Ibis, 1868, p. 380; Sclater, Proc. Zool.
Soc., 1870, p. 164; Gray, Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 262; Elliot, Mon. Phas., I. 1872, pl. 23; Hume, N. and E.
Ind. Birds, 1873, p. 522; Brooks, Stray Feathers, III. 1875, p. 256; Marshall, B. Nest. Ind., 1877, p. 59; Hume &
Marshall, Game B. Ind., I. 1878, p. 144, pl. ; Marshall, Ibis, 1884, p. 422; Oates, ed. Hume’s Nests and Eggs, III.
1890, p. 410.

Cereornis melanocephala Ornithognomon, The Field, XX VII. 1866, p. 295.

Tragopan melanocephalus Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 273 ; Blanford, Fauna Brit.
Ind. Birds, IV. 1898, p. 100; Oates, Game-birds India, I. 1898, p. 245 ; Nehrkorn, Katalog der Eiersammlung,
1899, p. 192; Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 33; Oates, Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 51; Ghigi, Mem. R.
Acc. Sci. Inst. Bologna, (5), X. 1903, p. 404, tav. II; Ward, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XVII. 1906, p. 944.

Lragopan melanocephalum Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 224.

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN
Lragopan blythi blyth« (Jerdon)

A single male Tragopan, captured forty miles north of Assam, has recently been
described as a subspecies of d/y¢hz.

NAMES.—Specific: dlythz, named for Edward Blyth, an English naturalist, for many years curator of the
Calcutta Museum, English: Blyth’s Horned Pheasant, Grey-bellied Tragopan. French: Tragopan de Blyth.
German: Blasses Satyrhuhn. Vernacular: Hurr-hurrea (Assamese); Sunsuria (Golden-bird, Bengali); Gnu
(Angami Naga) ; Chingtho (Kuki).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Neck and chest, most of the head and bend of wing orange-red ; upper parts
sides and flanks black mottled with buff and each feather with a subterminal white spot flanked by two large
dark-red patches; flights and tail mottled, without white spots; breast and belly smoky grey. Female: Above,
dark grizzled olive brown, each feather with two lateral black ocelli; chin and throat white; below much paler
than the upper surface, a central white ocellus on the feathers of the mid-belly.

TypE.—Described from a captive male bird in “Sadiya, Upper Assam,” by Jerdon, Proc. Asiatic Soc.
Bengal, 1870, p. 60. Now in the collection of the British Museum.

RANGE.—North-eastern Assam.

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN IN ITS HAUNTS

Tus was the only species of the five splendid birds of this group which I was
unable to observe in a wild state. The eastern Himalayas proper and the Burmese-
Yunnanese region contain so many interesting types of Phasianidae that I neglected to
visit Assam, thereby missing the chance of studying the one species which is confined to
that region. :

One of the best field ornithologists of India, Mr. E. C. Stuart Baker, has, however,
had the good fortune to meet with this bird several times, and it is through his courtesy
that I am able to present this picture of the wild bird.

“Although common in parts of the Naga Hill Ranges at elevations over six
thousand feet, Blyth’s Tragopan is but a rare straggler into the adjoining ranges of
North Cachar, and it was, therefore, some years after I was posted in that district before
I came across it in a wild state. |

“When at last I did see it, the meeting was most unexpected, for at that time I had
no idea that this magnificent pheasant ever wandered so low as six thousand feet, the
elevation at which I was then camping.

“The country surrounding my camp was of a very rugged and broken character ;
the main range of Hills, known as the Barail Range, running almost due north-east and
north-west, and having on either side two rapidly flowing Hill streams—to the west the
Jennam, and to the east the Jiri. These streams, though full of Mahseer, and mag-
nificent from an Isaac Waltonian point of view, were too small except in their lower

reaches, during the cold season, even for the use of dugouts. In the rains, on the other
78

PLATE XI

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN
Tragopan blythi blytht (Jerdon)

Tue deep, hot valleys of Assam and the hundreds of miles of lowland plains are populated by many
A mapped diagram of the haunts of this bird would appear

birds, but never a Tragopan is found there.
Here the oak forests

like a cobweb tracing of all the crests and upper slopes of the higher mountains.

are moss-hung and scented with orchids and jasmine. The ice-cold rivulets are beloved of these birds,

and they come out from the bamboo to the mossy boulders to quench their thirst and to send forth their

musical clanging cry—a challenge to battle or a summons to a mate, as the case may be.

i}

Pia st

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN.

a

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN 79

hand, they formed mad torrents of muddy water, hurling themselves from rock to rock
in a blinding spray of yellow foam; or pouring themselves in a headlong tumult over
broken rapids or actual waterfalls. Far above these streams—which in the distance
looked like silver ribbons, towered the crests of Mahadeo, Hengmai, Hungrum, and
other mountain peaks, narrow spurs jutting from their sides and running down into the
valley beneath. At the feet of these mountains the vegetation was most luxurious and
massive ; magnificent forest trees reared their heads a hundred feet above the scrub
and jungle which grew below them, but, as one ascended above four thousand feet
the vegetation began to be more scanty, and from five thousand upward, stunted oaks,
seldom more than thirty feet high, formed the principal part of the forest. ven here,
however, the jungle was most lovely, for every tree trunk and every swaying bough was
wreathed with masses of moss, amongst which nestled orchids of all colours and kinds.
That beautiful scented orchid, the white snowdrop-like Ce/ogyne, filled the air with its
odour, and on every side the Dendvobia chrysotoxicum and densifiorum showed their
masses of yellow blossom against the vivid green moss. Nor was the undergrowth
unworthy of the rest of the forest. Here and there jasmine flowered and clambered in
wild profusion ; here and there were banks of bracken, looking as if imported from some
Welsh mountain side, and everywhere were glades of various bigonias, with their multi-
coloured foliage and flowers, and ferns of all kinds, from the most delicate trailing
maidenhair to palm ferns as tall as the oaks around them.

“ High up near the crests of one of these mountains ran a tiny rill, tinkling and
trickling amongst the pebbles of soil laid bare during heavy rains, until with many
others of its merry brethren it lost its identity in the rivers below.

“At the edge of this little streamlet I lay down amongst the moss and ferns
prepared to watch whatsoever animal life might decide to show itself.

“Birds of all kinds were numerous and bold, taking little notice of the dull-clad
human. A bevy of yellow-throated minivets flew from tree to tree; the orange and
grey males constantly uttering their musical notes, as they flitted along in their follow-
my-leader style from one fine field of insect game to another. A pair of scaly-breasted
wrens bustled about over a fallen log, rather shy at first and resenting my presence
with shrill cries, but soon becoming reconciled, and once more busy collecting material
for their nest, hanging amongst the moss on a tree near by. Then a flash of transparent
pink, yellow and grey, gliding from one tree-trunk to another, told me of the flight of
one of the tiny flying lizards and almost urged me to rise and catch it—if I could—but
laziness triumphed and I remained on my mossy bed. I had lain there about an hour
and was almost dozing, lulled by the soft breeze and the hum of cicadas and grass-
hoppers, when a chuckling call and a scratching amongst the undergrowth across the
stream recalled me to my senses. At first I credited this call to a Horsfield’s kaleege
pheasant, though these are rare at this elevation, but presently a richly coloured brown
bird made its way into the open space. This bird, I saw at a glance, was no hen
kaleege, for even at the distance it then was I could see, without using my glasses, that
the feathers were marked with broad striae or bands of colour darker than the rest. I
had, however, never seen a hen Tragopan, and could not recognize what it was until she
was followed by her mate, and a magnificent male specimen of Blyth’s Tragopan,
resplendent in his crimson glory, burst upon my view.

8o A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

“For a few minutes the two birds, male and female, scratched about the hill just
like a pair of barndoor fowls, now and then picking up an insect disturbed from under
the pebbles, or seizing a grasshopper from the scraps of herbage scattered about over
the bare ground. But presently, ceasing to take any interest in the abundant food all
about him, the cock bird began to attempt to attract the attention of the hen by all sorts
of antics and displays. At first he merely came up to her and bowed and scraped with
his wings slightly raised, and his purple-blue horns fully dilated and projecting forward.
Then, seeing that she took no notice, he depressed his wings and walked slowly around
her, nodding violently as he walked and swelling out his throat and breast, the feathers
of which were ruffled and standing almost on end. After a short time of this ineffectual
display he once more stopped in front of the hen, and standing still, leaned forward
until his breast almost, or quite, rested on the ground; he then extended both his wings,
so that their upper portions faced the same way as his head, and stood thus for some
seconds—a blaze of deep crimson, with his weirdly shaped horns quivering with
excitement, and his wattles displayed to the fullest possible extent. Then suddenly
his feathers collapsed, his horns nearly disappeared; he held himself erect, and once
more quietly commenced to scratch and feed until he and his mate shortly disappeared
into the adjoining forest. 7

‘As far as I could see, the hen bird took little or no interest in the display of the
male, and continued serenely feeding all the time it was going on, but this was perhaps
only a ladylike way of inducing him to exert himself to the uttermost. Both birds
constantly uttered a soft, chuckling note, and now and then the cock bird gave a
rather loud guawk.

“T have had a great many of these birds in confinement and found them—once
they had settled down—very easy to keep. They were almost omnivorous in their diet,
and would eat any sort of grain; many kinds of green food, and any insects or small
reptiles, etc., which I could procure for them. The males were rather quarrelsome, more
especially during the breeding season, but they seldom did one another much harm,
the weaker bird promptly apologizing and retiring to a distant part of the aviary, whilst
the stronger was quite content to strut around, and proclaim in loud guawks what he
would have done had it ever come to a fight.

“The cocks had a magnificent loud clanging—almost trumpet-like call, which they
uttered only at daybreak during the breeding season; it was rather like a mild and
musical call of a peafowl, but shorter and not nearly so harsh.

“ Blyth’s, like all other Tragopans, is essentially an arboreal bird, roosting, resting,
and building its nest on trees. My birds laid eggs in captivity, but would never lay
them in nests or sit upon those they had laid. The first eggs laid were broken because
I did not know of the nest-building proclivities of the birds. The hen insisted on
trying to lay them on a tiny shelf in the corner of the aviary, and, of course, they fell
off and were demolished. After two eggs had been broken in this way I took away
the shelf and fixed up a comfortable box filled with straw, but, refusing the box as
a nest, she laid two more eggs upon the ground.

“I have never seen a nest of this bird, but the Nagas inform me that they are
always built by the Tragopans themselves of good-sized sticks, with a rough lining of
smaller twigs and sometimes grass and weed stems. Also, the Nagas assert, they are

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN SI

always placed in trees, stumps or small bushes, and never on the ground, and that asa
rule, they are not more than six or seven feet from the ground and never more than
twenty feet. The favourite place is said to be amongst masses of creepers growing over
some dead tree, where the ‘hen can sit hidden from the gaze of enemies of all kinds, but
sometimes the nest may be found in the fork of a leafless sapling, its great bulk visible
at a distance all round. My informants say that it lays two to five eggs, generally three
or four, and this agrees with what I have observed in my captive birds.

“The male does not attain its full plumage for at least two years; for a year it
closely resembles the female, but at its first moult acquires a certain amount of the adult
male plumage, sometimes more, sometimes less, but never the complete dress. This
may be attained at the second moult, but more often its full splendour is not put on until
the third moult.

“The Nagas—especially the Angamis—are adepts at catching these Tragopans in
nooses, and on one occasion I had no less than thirty of these beautiful birds brought
in to me. A few were seen by the members of the Mishmi Expedition of 1900, but
none were procured. Colonel Chatterton of the 6th Goorkhas told me that the wild
birds were comparatively tame, and would feed and scratch about quite close to him, but
they were such skulkers when on the ground, and so clever at hiding, that though close
enough, it was very difficult to get a sight or shot at the birds.”

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

Blyth’s Tragopan inhabits north-eastern Assam, its range on the whole being rather
restricted, about the same in extent as 7vagopan melanocephalus. We shall be allotting
to it a generous distributional estimate if we outline it as thus: northern boundary, the
Brahmapootra River; southern, N. Lat. 23°; E. Long. 96°, together with the Chinwin
River; western, E. Long. g2°. It will be probably found that the bird extends slightly
further to the north-east, perhaps over another degree of longitude, to 97° E. It extends
through Manipur into the Lushai Hills and the mountains of northern Burma, and
along the Brahmapootra, at least as far as Debrughur.

We may complete its area of life upon the earth by the third plane of space—the
species lives from one mile to about one and three-quarter miles above the sea. This
altitudinal distribution is somewhat more limited than that of the other species of
Tragopan, owing in part to the character of its environment. About nine thousand feet
is the highest to which any of the Naga hills attain, and Blyth’s Tragopan reaches at
times the very summits. It has been recorded from just above five thousand feet, which
is probably an abnormally low altitude for the bird.

HABITS IN GENERAL

Less has been recorded of this bird than almost any other species of Tragopan,
-and the few facts which we have, all show that it differs in no radical way from its
congeners.

During the cold or dry season it descends to somewhat lower altitudes, influenced
not so much by climatic or temperature changes as by the drying up of the springs
high up in the mountains. Like all the Tragopans, it is seldom found far from flowing

M

82 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

water, and when the coming of the rains again fills the beds of the mountain streams,
it ascends and nests near the upper limits of its life zone.

In the Chin Hills, near Fort White, it is said to be often seen, and to show so
little fear of man that it has been knocked over by a stone, while feeding in the road.

Like the natives of Nepal, the Nagas catch these and other birds by means of a
long line of snares, set across a ravine, into which the birds are driven slowly by a
line of beaters. It is said that snares are also set in the paths which the birds are
accustomed to take, which would show that, like the satyr tragopan, these also cover
a more or less limited area in the daily ascent and descent in search of food.

It is said to nest about April, and to deposit three or four eggs, but no
definite information concerning its nidification has yet been recorded by white men.
Mr. Stuart Baker’s observation of the courtship of the cock remains unique. The
male possesses the typical tragopan fleshy horns and lappet brilliantly coloured and
developed to their full extent only during the breeding season.

There should be ample opportunity of obtaining additional data concerning the
life history of Blyth’s Tragopan before it becomes extinct, owing to the dense, almost
impenetrable nature of the forests it inhabits, especially during the rains when the
birds are breeding. It seems little short of suicide to attempt to penetrate many parts
of the Assam region during the terrific downpours of water at the rainy season.
Immune to fever and such dangers though they must be, these birds, of all the Tragopans,
would seem to have most use for arboreal nests—thus avoiding not only the terrestrial
enemies of the dense forest, but the floods which in places are said fairly to inundate any
level tract, and sweep clean much of the slopes.

As I have mentioned in the introduction to the synonymy, the second known
specimen was brought alive to the London Zoo on March 12th, 1870. This bird lived
six months. Since that time four other specimens have been placed on exhibition in
the same institution. The average duration of the life in captivity of these five birds,
four of which were males, was a little over three years, while one of them established a
record: for the entire genus with a duration of life of eleven years and one month. The
average life is also considerably superior to that attained by any other species in
captivity. This is doubtless directly attributable to the greater similarity which is
presented by the English climate to the humid atmosphere of Assam, unlike that
of the higher Himalayas and the ranges of central China.

Birds kept in captivity in Assam have thriven on a diet of berries, worms, and
unhulled rice.

In the collection of the British Museum is the skin of an immature male, said to
have been bred in captivity. An egg in that museum, labelled as from Sadiya, resembles
the eggs of Temminck’s tragopan, being of a rufous-buff colour, thickly speckled with
dull rufous-brown. It measures 61 x 44 mm.

TEXT IDENTIFICATIONS
PaGE. LINE.

78 19 Mahseer, Barbus tor.

79 27. + Yellow-throated Minivet, Pericrocotus solaris Blyth.
79 29 Scaly-breasted Wren, Puoepyga squamata (Gould).
79 34 Flying Lizards, Draco sp.

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN 83

DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS

ADULT Matr.—Lores, forehead, face, crown, ear-coverts, and a broad band around
the throat lappet and the nape jet black. Face, chin and lappet almost bare. Entire
mid-crown from above eye back over occiput deep orange red. The long black fore-
crown feathers extend over the centre of this area, dividing it superficially into super-
ciliary lines. The same orange-red colour is found around the entire neck, on the breast,
and on the bend, and part of the anterior edge of the wing. Above, the red of the neck
gives place abruptly to the dorsal pattern. This is rather complex as, unlike Zemminchi,
the distal specialized area of the feathers is too slightly developed to conceal the basal,
generalized buff and black portions. On the other hand, the pigmentation of the ends
of the feathers shows a decided advance over that of satyva. Taking a feather from the
lower mantle as typical, we find that the basal three-fourths of the integrated part of
the vane is dark brownish-black, mottled and irregularly barred with pale buff. The
terminal fourth is occupied chiefly by two large lateral ocelli of warm Indian red, which
coalesce at their anterior inner portions across the tip of the shaft. In the centre of
latter area is a round white ocellus of pigment, with its outline well marked, but
diffusing a dim haze of pearly white over the terminal barbs between it and the tip of
the feather. This diffusion becomes very marked on the longer wing and tail-coverts.
As about half of the definite portion of each feather is visible, the dorsal pattern and
colour are equally divided between the specialized and generalized areas. The flight
feathers are black with conspicuous crossbars, pale buff on the secondaries, warm buff
on the primaries. So extreme is the diffusion of the white ocellus on the longer tail-
coverts, that almost the entire visible area is creamy white, with a margin of rufous.
The tail feathers are black with considerable basal mottling.

The under surface, starting abruptly at the transverse margin of red on the breast,
is smoky grey, with faint indications of the subterminal white ocellus, in the form of a
diffuse whitish area. The flanks show a patch of feathers coloured as on the dorsal
surface, with the white ocellus reduced to a narrow line, and much of the red ocelli
obscured with smoky grey.

The flesh colours, as in all the Tragopans, vary considerably according to the
season of the year. Orbital skin orange, cephalic horns azure blue, lappet yellowish
orange, set off by intense bluish green. Mandibles dull horny, pale at tips; irides dark
hazel; legs and feet brownish yellow, changing to a strong pink or even reddish in the
breeding season; claws darker. Spurs short and stout; bill from nostril, 16; wing,
261 ; tail, 200; tarsus, 80; middle toe and claw, 76 mm.

ADULT FEMALE.—Of all the female Tragopans this species shows the highest
development of the lateral black ocelli. On the forehead, crown and nape the feathers
are black with little more than a greyish buffy tip. Posteriorly we find the buff pushing
down the feather, outlining the two lateral, subterminal, black ocelli, and covering all
the remainder with a mottling of grey-buff and dark brown. The ocelli are further
emphasized by a narrow frame of warm rufous-buff. Here and there pale centres are
developed, but they become nowhere a prominent feature except on the outer middle
wing-coverts, where they are pale buff, and, to a less extent, as white spots on the longer,

34 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

upper tail-coverts. The flight feathers are all banded on the outer web with warm
buff, and the rectrices are crossed by warm, mottled bands of black, pale buff
and rufous.

The breast is like the mantle, becoming paler posteriorly, but showing little or no
development of central white until the mid-belly is reached, where it is clouded and
rather ill defined, surrounded by a confused vermiculation of pale buff and brown. The
white centre or ocellus is very strongly developed on the under tail-coverts, where,
upon a dark background of mottled yellow buff and black, it stands out as a clear
oval, subterminal ocellus of white. Iris brown; legs and feet brownish flesh. The
measurements of an adult female are: bill from nostril, 16; wing, 233; tail, 172;
tarsus, 71; middle toe and claw, 66 mm.

First YEAR PLumMacE, MaLe.—The young males at their first autumn moult
show as great variation as any of the other species of this genus, and it was a very
typical individual in this mixed garb which, after an error in sexing, was described and
figured as the female of this species. In addition to the head and neck, the longer
upper tail-coverts seem almost invariably to acquire about half of the fully adult colour
and pattern at this moult. I have never seen more than one or two clean, evenly
coloured birds in first year plumage. In these rare individuals the resemblance to the
female is considerably closer than in other tragopans. The crown, nape, mantle and
breast, however, are banded with equal amounts of black and buff. The chin and
throat are white. The upper parts show an evenly grizzled vermiculation of pale buff
and black, with conspicuous lateral black ocelli, which, however, lack the buff frame
in which they are set on the female’s plumage. The rather cloudy, but large white
centres or ocelli of the ventral plumage are bordered by dull brown, and framed in
pale yellowish buff.

In the place of such a well-balanced plumage, however, we almost invariably find
the head and neck well advanced, showing more or less clearly the black and crimson
markings of the old birds. Although the crimson of the upper throat is almost always
present in a state of more or less purity, the chin and throat usually retain their white
feathering, and show little thinning on the gular lappet until the succeeding moult.
Variously scattered over the back are the twin chestnut ocelli, while here and there
the pearly spots appear on the breast. Birds of this age, compared with individual
Temminck’s tragopans equally immature, reveal strikingly how little real difference
exists between the two. At first sight they appear totally unlike in hue and pattern,
and yet merely the elimination of the crimson from the feather tips of ‘emmincki results
in the exact patterns and colours of dlythz.

The flight feathers of these young cocks are more abundantly and irregularly
mottled and barred with rufous than they will be after the coming moult into adult
dress, and the tail feathers will lose their rather regular crossbarring of dark brown,
rufous and buff, and become more uniformly black.

Not only in colour and in pattern do the feathers of this moult vary exceedingly, but
in size. For example: of two young males, one, with a more rufous barred tail, showed
the measurement of this organ to be 163; while in another the tail, which was less
marked, and blacker in general tone, was 178 mm. long. Thus nicely balanced are all

BLYTH’S TRAGOPAN «BS

the slowly maturing characters which are gradually synthetically forming in the hidden
stream of blood.

The iris is dark brown, legs dull reddish, gular skin showing through the skin dull
orange; skin around the eyes livid. Measurements of first year males.are: bill from
nostril, 16; wing, 241; tail, 163 mm.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

The first specimen of this species of Tragopan of which we have any record was a
male in captivity in Upper Assam. After the death of the bird, Dr. Jerdon obtained the
skin, thinking it was a Temminck’s tragopan, and late in 1869 wrote to that effect to
the editor of ‘The Ibis.” Dr. Jerdon soon realized, however, that the bird represented
an entirely new species, and in the ‘‘ Journal of the Asiatic Society,” in 1870, he described
and named it Ceriornis blythi. The discovery of this Tragopan was associated, as
was the first specimen of Geoffroy’s blood partridge, with a new species of monal, the
bird in this case being Chalcophasts sclatert.

A few months later, Dr. Jerdon obtained from Major Montagu a second live
Blyth’s Tragopan, which he sent to the London Zoo, where it lived for six months.
But though these first two individuals were both captive birds, the species, in the
succeeding forty-odd years, has been very rarely seen alive in aviary or zoological
garden. |

The male type specimen at present in the British Museum is a well-made skin, but

‘the ventral plumage has faded from the normal cold grey to a decided brown. The end
of the tail is much abraded.

SynonyMy—TZvagopan blythi blytht

Ceriornis temmincki Jerdon (nec Gray), Ibis, 1870, p. 117 [Upper Assam]; Newton, Ibis, 1870, p. 520.

Ceriornis blythi Jerdon, Proc. Asiatic Soc. Bengal, 1870, p. 60; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1870, pp. 163, 219.
pl. 15; id. Ibis, 1870, p. 520; Gray, Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 262; Gould, Birds Asia, VII. 1872, pl. 47;
Elliot, Mon. Phas. I. 1872, pl. 26; Godwin-Austin, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1872, p. 496 [Naga Hills]; Hume, Stray
Feathers, VII. 1878, p. 472 [Q described]; Hume & Marshall, Game Birds India, I. 1878, p. 152, pl.;
Godwin-Austin, Ibis, 1878, p. 206 [Mozemah]; id. Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 457, pl. XXXIX; Sclater, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1884, p. 477; Hume, Stray Feathers, XI. 1888, p. 301 [N.E. Manipur].

Tragopan blythi Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 276; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book
Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 228; Blanford, Fauna Brit. India, Birds, IV. 1898, p. 102; Oates, Game-birds India, I.
1898, p. 254; Baker, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XII. 1899, p. 487 [North Cachar, des. female and juv. male];
Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 33 ; Oates, Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 51, pl. V. fig. 5; Ghigi, Mem. R,
Acc. Sci. Inst. Bologna, (5), X. 1903, p. 404 [Physiology of horns and lappet]; Ghigi, Arch. Zool., I. 1903, p. 297 ;
Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 30; Venning, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XXI, 1912, p. 632; Beebe,
Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 270.

Trogopan blythi blytht Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XX XV. 1914, p. 18.

TIBETAN TRAGOPAN
Tvagopan blytht moleswortht Baker

A single male Tragopan was collected by Captain Molesworth during a recent
expedition to the Mishmi Hills. It came from Dengan La, near Tawang, at eight
thousand feet elevation, a state under Tibetan rule, but only forty miles north of the
Assam border. In the ‘ Bulletin of the British Ornithologists’ Club,” vol. xxxv. 1914,
p. 18, Mr. Baker describes this specimen as follows—

ADULT MALE: Differs from Tragopan blythi blythi in having the whole upper parts much darker in general
tint, the rufous spots much browner, and the buff vermiculations narrower and less distinct ; the white spots are
smaller though equally numerous. Below, the red of the breast is confined to a comparatively narrow gorget,
descending only a short way below the neck on to the breast, and the whole of the rest of the lower parts are much
paler than in 7vagopan blythi blythz, the pale centres scarcely showing at all in contrast to the surrounding parts of
the feather. Both legs show powerful but short blunt spurs about 10 mm. in length.

Total length about 530 mm.: bill, from front, 19; wing, 250; tail, 195; tarsus, 76; middle toe and
claw, 76 mm.

HABITAT: Tibet.

TYPE: Male in the Museum of the Bombay Natural History Society. Dengan La, 8000 feet, Tibet,
March 30, I9I4.
Capt. Molesworth, collector.

OBSERVATION: This bird has been named in honour of the collector, Captain Molesworth.

86

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN
Tvragopan temmincki (J. E. Gray)

NAMES.—Specific : temmincki, for Coenraad Jacob Temminck, the noted Dutch ornithologist. English:
Temminck’s Horned Pheasant, Chinese Crimson Tragopan. French: Tragopan de Temminck. German:
Hornhuhn. Vernacular: Oua-oua-ky (Waa-fowl); Ko-ky, Kiao-ky (Horned Fowl); Sin-tsiou-ky (Starred Fowl);
T’so-che (Chinese for longevity, referring to the lappet pattern, which resembles this character).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Forepart of head, band around neck and throat, black; long crest, nape and
breast orange red; above and below dark Indian red, each feather on the upper parts with a black-rimmed, pearl-
grey spot, which on the lower plumage is expanded into a large grey patch, with red edge. Female: Above
mottled dark and buff, set off by light central areas and round black patches on most of the feathers; crown
streaked ; chin and throat buffy; feathers of lower parts with large, oval, white, central ocelli, set in a border of
yellowish buff.

TypE.—* China,” J. E. Gray, Illustrations of Indian Zoology, I. 1830-32, plate L. Now in the collection
of the British Museum.

RANGE.—Central China, including southern Shensi, western Hupeh, almost all of Szechuan, and northern
Yunnan and Burma.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

TEMMINCK’S Tragopan is the most widely distributed of all its congeners. Although
many scores of these birds have been exported alive from China, almost all have been
snared by natives, and we have very few authentic records of exact localities. Pére David
gives as its range south-west China to, and including, central Shensi. Several explorers
have obtained it in the vicinity of Tatienlu, Szechuan, and live birds were brought by
Mr. Medhurst from the mountains north of Hankow. Other records extend its haunts
eastward to the Mishmi and Abu Hills and close to Sadiya in extreme northern Assam.
Swinging round northern Burma we find it on the Yunnan frontier as far south as
Sadon, near which, in Burmese territory, three Tragopans have been shot. Though
I searched this region carefully, in December 1910, I did not see a single Temminck’s
Tragopan until later, when I entered Yunnan. My southernmost record was a little
south of 258 north latitude, about twenty miles north of the Bhamo-Tengyitieh trail,
at an elevation of some seven thousand feet.

With these scattered records, together with a general knowledge of the altitudinal
distribution of the bird, we may safely plot this Tragopan’s wild home as lying within
an elongated rectangle, extending north-east and south-west, the upper two corners
respectively in south-central Shensi and central Hupeh, the lower corners at Sadiya in
Assam, and Sadon, Burma. The lower long side will extend north-eastward across
the north-west corner of Yunnan and across Szechuan, some distance north of the
Yangtze River. .

GENERAL ACCOUNT

To show the meagreness of our knowledge concerning the wild life of Temminck’s

Tragopan I shall quote every fact which I have been able to unearth in the literature

of this species.
87

88 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Pere David tells us that nowhere is it a common bird. ‘It lives alone on wooded
mountains, and rarely leaves the underbush, where it feeds on seeds, fruits and leaves.
Its very loud cry is most easily rendered by the syllable owa, twice repeated; it is from
this that it receives its name of Oua-oua-ky. It is a very fine game bird, the more so
because it is rare and not easily captured by snares or wires.”

“Call: a single high note, not unlike a cat’s mew.”—Scott.

“A ground species, hiding in the jungle under the pine trees. It is not known to
occur under 10,000 feet above the sea.’”—Seebohm. 3

The late W. R. Tappey found the bird in the mountains of Szechuan between three
and nine thousand feet elevation, in heavy hardwood forest with a dense undergrowth of
scrub bamboo. In winter they feed on frozen fruits and berries. While feeding they
often utter a low clucking sound. Wilson, writing of the same general region, gives
the following notes: ‘This strikingly handsome bird is fairly common in parts of
western Hupeh and western Szechuan between 4000 and gooo feet altitude, frequenting
woods and shrub-clad country. It prefers steep mountain-slopes, covered with
arborescent vegetation, and in summer, when the foliage is on the trees, is most
difficult to find. In winter it may occasionally be surprised, early in the morning and
evening, near the margins of cultivation and close to thick cover. Like all the woodland
pheasants these birds will only take wing when hard pressed and usually afford only a
chance snapshot. A heavy bird, the Tragopan flies at almost the speed of an ordinary
pheasant, and always makes straight for dense brush or timber. The Chinese entrap
them alive in the same way as they do the Golden and Amherst Pheasants. They are
esteemed highly as pets and they sell for 3 to 5 ounces of silver each—a high price in
these regions. The markings on the wattle are supposed to resemble the Chinese
character for longevity, hence the common name, ‘T’so-che.’ They are regarded as
birds of good omen, bringing good-luck and long life to their fortunate owners. Every
year numbers are brought down to Ichang for sale, where they find ready purchasers.
In the mountains they apparently adapt themselves to captivity, but in the Yangtze
Valley proper the climate is too hot for them.

“The short tail and heavy body make the birds appear heavy in flight, and shooting
them would be moderately easy did one but get fair chances. The Tragopan is a good
table bird, but to shoot them for this purpose alone would be gross vandalism. They
feed on grain and berries, and are especially fond of the fruits of Cotoneaster and allied
shrubs and of maize. South of Ichang this bird is much rarer than in the mountains
north-west of this town and in western Szechuan.”

Although I saw two, or possibly three, live cock Tragopans in Yunnan (see under
General Distribution, page 87), I can add little of interest concerning them. Two of the
birds I watched for a full minute at some distance, one perched upon a low, dead limb,
the other preening its feathers close by on the ground. I tried to stalk them, but when
I had crept carefully some distance up a narrow gully, only one was to be seen. The
vegetation was sparse, and I could see for ten or fifteen yards in all directions, so the
bird must have gone clear away during my approach. From my vantage point behind
a boulder at the rim of the gully I watched the perching bird and saw it stand up full
height and leisurely stretch each wing and leg, pushing the toes straight out through
the extended outer primaries in the familiar gallinaceous manner. It gave two quick,

PLATE XII

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN

Tragopan temminckt (J. E. Gray)

AttHouGcH the most widely distributed, yet this is the least known of its group. Its home is in the
great heart of China, far from the beaten trails which all travellers follow, and among the oaks and
rhododendrons of high altitudes. This Tragopan spends much of its time among their gnarly branches,
feeds on their buds and fashions its nest in the dense foliage. Few white men have seen it wild, but the
Chinese frequently trap it. They have spread out the great curious throat wattle and have found a
resemblance in its pattern to one of their written characters; so to them the Tragopan is 7”’so-che, the bird

of longevity.

PLATE XII

NCK’S TRAGOPAN.

|

TEMM

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN 89

noiseless flaps, and, with a vigorous shake, ruffled up and then settled its plumage. At
last the bird leaped to the ground, and after watching it peck among the dead leaves
for a time, I shot it.

It was in full plumage and entirely through its moult. The horns and lappet were
very inconspicuous, shrivelled up, indeed in the lowest condition of annual development.
They were pale blue, the lappet varied with dusky reddish-brown. Mr. Scott’s birds,
shot at the end of March near the Sadon frontier, many miles to.the north and east, had
the horns of a light peacock blue, and the lappet of the same colour, mottled with reddish-
yellow spots a quarter of an inch in diameter. There seems to be considerable variation
in the ornamentation of the lappet, for I have seen a bird with a flesh-coloured wattle
barred with nine transverse blue bars. In this specimen the fleshy horns were violet-
blue, and the lores very pale blue.

The crop of the bird which I shot was filled with a comminuted mass of leaves, and
an almost equally macerated number of insects. These were unrecognizable, except for
two small spiders (Bowis sp. and Avaneus beebed Petrunkevitch) which apparently had
just been swallowed.

The country was most uninteresting at this place—steep mountain sides covered
with stunted rhododendrons and bamboo stubble, while the constantly overcast skies and
cold, bleak wind kept most birds and insects hidden. I could give but one more day to
this locality, and caught only a glimpse of another Tragopan, or perhaps it was the same
bird that I saw on the preceding day. The native Chinese and Kachins of this locality
did not seem to recognize the bird and had no name for it, other than the general one
for large bird. I have found that in all this country the knowledge of the people is
a thoroughly reliable guide as to the general occurrence of any species of pheasant, for so
thoroughly do the numerous lines of snares and traps carry out their intended purpose
that few species of these birds fail to fall victims, at one time or another. I believe that
in the winter time these Tragopans wander about much more than their Himalayan
representatives, and that at this season they gradually work farther to the south than
their normal summer breeding range.

On my former trip, although, as I say, I saw no Tragopans on the Burmese side of
Sansi Gorge, yet on the Yunnan side, beyond Tabu-pum, I found, on December 8th,
1910, many feathers of this species in an old Kachin deadfall. rom the abundance of
these, both wing and tail as well as contour feathers, I judged that some wild animal,
and not the Kachin, had benefited from the capture. The trap had not been reset, and
if the human owner had found the bird he would have taken it away before plucking it.

CAPTIVITY

Our lamentable lack of knowledge of the habits of the bird in its Asiatic haunts is
somewhat balanced by the fact that Temminck’s Tragopan is perhaps the most well-
known in captivity of all its genus. This is doubtless due to the love of pets which is
so deeply implanted a trait in the Chinese, and which impels them successfully not only
to trap, but also to rear wild birds and animals, and consequently to sell a certain
number to foreigners. As I have elsewhere said, these people made use of the bird in

decorative work many years before it became known to Europeans, and soon after Mr.
N

go A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Reeves had sent skins to England he succeeded in obtaining living birds from the
Chinese menagerie at Macao, near Hong-Kong. For France, M. Dabry was the first to
obtain and successfully send living Tragopans of this species to Europe. The first one
recorded at the London Zoological Gardens was in 1864, and since then Temminck’s
Tragopans have been more or less constant inmates of all the larger zoological gardens,
and of many private ones, both in Europe and America. In London they have bred
more than a dozen times, and altogether there is more than a score of records of their
nesting in captivity.

Thirty-seven captive Temminck’s Tragopans show an average life of about two-and-
a-half years, with a single record of ten years and three months. One cock bird in
Holland is said to have lived for fourteen years. This is a considerably stronger
viability than is exhibited by the Himalayan forms, and Temminck’s Tragopan, being
distributed over a greater extent of country, and subject to more extreme changes of
climate in its wild state than the others, may be slightly more adaptive.

In 1869 the first Temminck’s Tragopans were hatched and reared in England,
although eleven were reared in Antwerp three years earlier. Owing to the successful
breeding of the next few years, we read everywhere in the ornithological literature of that
day of the great hopes entertained of its establishment as a game bird, along the lines of
the ring-necked pheasant. But we can now look back at the efforts of the last two score
years and realize that such an undertaking is impossible. Nothing could be more
encouraging than the immediate acceptance of nesting facilities which these birds often
exhibit ; but from one ailment or another the birds, both old and young, drop off, until
a new stock must be procured, and the last of the earlier birds will be found dead. Of
four places in China where these birds were being kept in captivity—two being under
ideal conditions—I found the result was identical: immediate success; ultimate failure
to establish permanently the species. Some of our American aviculturists find diffi-
culty in keeping Tragopans alive more than six or eight months. In the New York
Zoological Park, however, we have living Temminck’s Tragopans which have been in
the collection for more than five years.

As this is the commonest species in captivity, so its mode of courtship is most
familiar, and so closely does it approximate that of the other Tragopans, that it may
confidently be considered as representative of all.

In this species, as in all the Tragopans, the males are distinguished from the females
by a number of secondary sexual characters, not only a pair of spurs, a crest and an
increased brilliancy of colour of the entire plumage, but also by three dermal cephalic
appendages, a pair of fleshy horns and a median transverse throat lappet or wattle. I
shall treat of these more particularly under the detailed description of this species.

We are all familiar with the fleshy appendages with which the cocks of pheasants
and fowls are decorated, but in the case of the Tragopans the wattle and horns on the
head are comparable more directly with the excrescences on the head of the turkey cock.
For, while the comb and wattles of the domestic rooster remain much the same through-
out the year, the Tragopan’s ornaments not only gain in size and colour as the breeding
season approaches, but actually swell and dilate at the moment of supreme display.
Thus they play as active and direct a part in the courtship as the voluntary spreading of
the golden pheasant’s ruff or the peacock’s train.

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN gi

The two little horns, which ordinarily are concealed beneath the feathers of the head,
are at the moment of display raised, elongated and slightly distended, appearing well
above the head plumage. The wattle, which usually hangs limp and shrivelled, partly
concealed within the concavity of the throat, at the supreme moment of courtship is
distended with great rapidity, so that it forms a brilliant, particoloured apron or shield
over the front of the bird. The Chinese are able to make a solitary cock bird display
quite frequently by placing a mirror in front of the cage.

A few weeks before the breeding season, the cock Tragopan, with the brightening of
its fleshy hues, begins to pay more attention to the hen. In the wild state we must
remember that the male, in all probability, has spent the winter and early spring in
solitary state, and only later, as we have shown in the case of the satyr tragopan, does
he take up a conspicuous place and send out his challenge and love notes. In captivity,
if confined at a distance from the hen, the two will call to each other at intervals during
the day. When together in the same enclosure, I have never heard the female utter any
unusual note at this season.

As the breeding season approaches, and the loud challenge cries have remained
unanswered, the cock commences actual display. Various authors have divided the
courtship actions into several categories, but those appear to have no value as indications
of actually complete, separate performances, but rather represent gradual approaches,
varying in intensity, to the final elaborate exsemd/e. The principal preliminary overtures
may be described as follows—

1. A slow, stately walk about the female, the wing toward her lowered and partly
spread, the shoulder on the farther side raised, the body being thus flattened, with much
of the upper plumage in view.

2. A sudden rush with partly spread wings, with or without the erecting of the
horns, or the wattle, or both.

3. In the fout-ensemble of the climax, the bird suddenly ceases its stately gait, the
plumage of most of the lower parts is fluffed out; the half-spread, drooping wings move
slowly, with wrist edges well out from the body and tips pressed inward and downward ;
the head and neck vibrating spasmodically until the horns and wattle flash out to their
utmost. This last trick gives to the Tragopan an indescribable appearance: from
beautiful it becomes gaudy; from an excited, half-crouching bird, it changes to a
grotesque, painted creature, and before one knows whether to admire or merely marvel,
the moment has passed, the horns and wattle contract, the feathers settle, and after a
moment the Tragopan walks off, or it may at once begin to pick up food. Any move-
ment on the part of the hen at once attracts its attention, and soon the stately walk and
slanting display may be renewed.

The culmination of this extreme display is unquestionably more or less involuntary
or impulsive—that is, the bird is goa wrought up to an ecstatic state comparable to
the sfe/ of the capercaillie.

A French pheasant fancier describes the courtship of this Tragopan as taking place
morning and evening. The bird appears as if taken with convulsions, erecting the
horns and the crest; while the blue and red lappet seems to shoot out from the throat,
following the abrupt movements of the head. It swells up all over, erecting itself
quickly, and appearing covered with a magnificent breastplate, reaching almost to the

92 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

ground. Then the appendages are retracted by the same jerking movements of the
head, only to be spread and displayed again a moment later.

I have seen a bird give its full performance eight times in an hour, and most of the
remaining time keep up the slow walk. Several times the bird may start on its final
display and be disturbed or for some reason stop midway. It may be merely a
coincidence, but I have never seen the hens pay any attention to the most persevering
suitor, except at the flash of the wattle, when they will almost always stop for a moment,
whether feeding or drinking. Indeed, the flashing of such a heliograph of azure and
scarlet could scarcely be ignored. Twice I have seen Tragopan cocks display to
ordinary hens. Once the hen was feeding with her back turned, and of course was
unaffected ; the second time the surprised bird leaped up with a single squawk of alarm
and craned its neck in all directions for several seconds after the Tragopan had walked
away.

Although I have seen a cock Tragopan follow the female into cedar trees and from
branch to branch until she leaped to the ground again, I have never seen any arboreal
display. Ghigi has apparently been more fortunate, as he says: ‘“‘mentre gli altri
Jagiant st mantengono al suolo per fare la ruota,t Tragopan inseguono le loro femmine
anche suglt albert.”

Captive birds begin to lay early in April, and this and the first part of the following
month constitute their normal breeding season, June and July eggs being the unseason-
able results of earlier failures, either from sterility or from having been disturbed while
sitting. The question of the number of eggs is one of unusual interest. The single
ground nest of a wild bird thus far discovered contained six eggs, but in captivity the
number is extremely variable. A fact of considerable importance is that when the birds
are not provided with any means of arboreal nesting, or even a shelf on which to deposit
their eggs, they usually lay a greater number of eggs than when an elevated nesting box
or a nest such as that of a crow is available. I have had this happen in my own
experience no less than four times, and have records of three additional instances.
These are as follows—

ELEVATED NESTING FACILITY— NOT PRESENT PRESENT
Female No. 1 4 eggs 2 eggs
” » I 5 eggs 2 eggs
9 » 2 4 eggs rege
% ee as: ; : : : : . Oeggs 2 eggs
= Goad ; : . : . 4 eggs 2 eggs
; eee : 3 : ‘ . 3 eggs 2 eggs
” oS 3 &ggs 2 eges

In England Mr. St. Quintin records six sets of Temminck’s Tragopan eggs
averaging two each, all laid in elevated situations, the exact numbers being 2, 2, 1, 3,
2,2. In fourteen instances of the breeding of this species in the London Zoo we find
the general average to be about three, although in-the undetailed list at hand the eggs
of two birds may in some cases have been lumped under one figure. A note from the
Amsterdam Zoo records that three female Temminck’s Tragopans laid eighteen eggs,
from which eleven young birds (five males and six females) were hatched. In the case
of neither of these zoological garden records do we know whether the birds had the
opportunity of using an elevated nesting place. In a note on some of the first

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN 93

Tragopans bred in the London Zoo, however, we read that while the nesting facility was
an open box fixed above the ground, yet the usual complement was seven or eight eggs.
Inaccuracies in other respects in the same account make us rather doubtful of the
exactness of the above statements. Ghigi is likewise vague, saying that the birds lay
from nine to fifteen eggs, beginning late in March and continuing until May.

I have dissected two females which died during the breeding season. One had
been sitting for a week on two eggs, and in its ovary three other eggs were well
developed, far ahead of the general mass. In the other bird, which, earlier in the
season, had deposited and vainly incubated two unfertile eggs, five ovarian yolks were
largely developed, of which, in turn, ¢wo were almost fully formed, and would have been
deposited within a few days.

While one can only theorize, yet all these facts—clear and indisputable (except in
regard to the set numbers of those laid in the London and Antwerp Zoological Gardens)
—seem to suggest that these birds are in an unstable transition state as regards nesting
site, and it would appear at least that the number of eggs is adaptive to the condition
of this nesting site. |

One cannot think of these birds in a wild state as utilizing other nests than those
of such birds as crows and ravens, and the eggs of the Tragopan would be considerably
larger than the eggs of the original owners of the nests, so that more than two would be
unsafe, if not impossible to incubate. But if, as would seem to be the case, these
Tragopans nest at times on the ground, there we can see the advantage of a larger
number of eggs—four to six being none too numerous for the parent to incubate and
to meet the added dangers of terrestrial nidification. When we know how such birds
as our flicker or yellow-shafted woodpecker can be made to increase a normal setting
of about seven eggs to a consecutive depositing of six or even ten times this number,
the stimulus being merely the daily removal of each egg as it is laid, we can readily
appreciate the physical possibility of such adaptation as I have suggested in the case of
the Tragopan. Certainly the first female which I dissected had begun incubation, with
two well-advanced eggs still undeposited.

In my experience with the Temminck’s Tragopan in captivity I have never seen
the hen do more than pick up bits of twigs, as well as leaves and straw, and fly up
to the half box in which she arranged them in the form of a rough nest, a structure
without cohesion, so that, if lifted up, it would have fallen to pieces at once. Mr. W. P.
Ryder tells me that a hen in his possession once built a very fair nest in a cedar, five
feet from the ground, without extraneous foundation, one which held together for
five days of incubation upon a single egg, the hen then deserting and failing to lay
again. Incomplete though this is, it is worthy of note as showing that the nest-building
instinct, in the case of some Tragopans, has advanced somewhat beyond the parasitical
adoption of another bird’s nest.

The eggs of this Tragopan are of a rather rounded oval and have very little gloss.
The set of six collected by A. E. Pratt in China are of a pinkish cream-colour, closely
speckled over the entire surface with dark reddish-brown. Several laid in captivity
have a ground colour of rufous-buff, thickly speckled with dull rufous-brown. In length
they vary from 51 to 57 mm., and in breadth from 37 to 42 mm.

The period of incubation is variously given as twenty-six to twenty-seven days, and

94 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

twenty-eight days. I have timed two settings as exactly twenty-seven days. Several
years ago I compiled a table correlating the duration of incubation both with the
development of the chick at the time of hatching and its wild habits, and since then this
interesting phenomenon has been observed and recorded by others. While I shall take
this up more in detail elsewhere, it is pertinent to mention it here. The shortest
duration of embryonic life in the group of Pheasants (some twenty-one days) is found
among the junglefowl (Ga//us) and such birds as the golden and amherst pheasants
(Chrysolophus). In the firebacks (Lofhura) it rises to twenty-three days; the chicks of
silver pheasants (Gezuaeus) spend at least twenty-five within the shell, while tragopans
(Tvagopan), as we have seen, vary from twenty-six to twenty-eight days. Peachicks
(Pavo) sometimes take a full month to hatch. In the newly hatched junglefowl chicks
we find the flight feathers only slightly developed, extending beyond their sheaths only
a very short percentage of their ultimate length. On ascending the scale of increased
embryonic duration, the large wing feathers become more and more developed and
functional at the time of hatching, until in the tragopans, impeyans, and peafowl the
chicks can flutter some distance upward to a perch on the very first day of their life.
There can be no doubt of the abnormal condition of the Temminck’s Tragopan chicks, of
which an early keeper writes: ‘‘ The young birds are not so strong as the young argus,
and they are not able to fly until they are four or five weeks old.” St. Quintin truly
records that Tragopan chicks only a few weeks old can flutter from perch to perch like
young thrushes or robins. A Tragopan chick has the primaries so greatly developed at
the time of hatching, that the weight of these, dragging down the wing at first, makes
them fairly cover the entire back and body, extending to the very caudal down.

We may carry this scheme of gradation farther and find it well demonstrated in
the comparative size of the hens and the eggs. A red junglefowl hen, for instance,
compared with the hen of a Tragopan, gives the following significant figures—

Weight. Body Length. Cubic Size of Egg.
Tragopan hen ; ‘ e urad I I
Red Junglefowl hen , . §

dol=

Thus we find that the junglefowl hen, while averaging three-quarters of the weight
and size of the Tragopan, yet lays an egg of only about one-half the cubic contents.

We can safely assume that this gradation has its cause; probably the more need
for the jungle pheasants to crouch and hide for the first few days of their life, and the
larger, more conspicuous species, or open-haunting birds to escape by flight. Or,
perhaps, the vital point at issue may be the roosting place. The tendency of the
Tragopan to nest in trees is of necessity associated with an early development of flight
in the chicks.

Whatever the exact cause, the evolved present-day result is of intense interest, and
gives us a hint of the terrible complexity of the equations which Nature—amunerbittlichst
der Lehvers—ever sets her earthly creatures—

Will small egg + short incubation + early flight + hiding ability = life or death ?
Does moderate size of body + large egg + long incubation + early flight = success
or defeat ?

PHOTOGRAVURE 7

YUNNAN HOME OF TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN

A cock Temminck’s Tragopan was perched on the dead stub in the right-hand foreground ten minutes
before the picture was taken. It leaped down and I secured it among the everlastings and bamboo stubble
of the lower photograph. This was a typical Chinese wilderness devoid of trails or evidence of mankind,
while the vegetation was gnarled and seared by the blasts which ever swept down from the snows. It was
autumn and the leaves and trunks were as colourless as the overcast sky. Against this background the

magnificent bird showed like a glowing coal.

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 7

-

PAN

YUNNAN HOME OF TEMMINCKS TRAGO

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN 95

How many untold myriads of little downy chicks both in the hot, steamy depths of
Malayan jungles and amid the cool, dark foliage of lofty Himalayan spruces have,
through the ages, all unconsciously sought the solution of these problems! Let us at
least give a single thought to the vast hosts which have failed, and then to the scattered
remnants which have succeeded. And no problem is ever simple or detached. Each
factor reaches out and touches some phase of hundreds of others, each of which, more or
less directly, has its influence, perhaps an influence dimly hidden in the ancestral line,
or developed a few minutes after the little chick hatches, or coming suddenly, for well or
ill, from some far-off happening. Thus must we look askance at theories of evolution
put forward as explanation of even the apparently simple fact, which do not humbly,
but frankly, acknowledge the tremendous import of the wuzknown factors.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ADULT Marte.—Hind crown and occiput orange-red, the feathers elongated into
a crest. All the rest of the feathered portions of the head black, including a wide
band around the gular lappet and a nuchal collar. Facial area, chin and throat very
sparsely covered with hair-like feathers. Visible portion of all the dorsal plumage
Indian red, each feather tipped with a small pearl-grey ocellus set in black. Even
on the mantle feathers there is a large black basal area, with pale buff bands or
mottling, and as we proceed backward this expands and sends up a shaft-streak
which joins the distal black area. When the feathers are in position, however,
there is no visible trace of this generalized pattern and colour, so long are the
lateral red barbs, and the effect is of a thick sprinkling of pearl-grey ocelli on
a background of Indian red. On the least lateral disturbance of the feathers
the sombre black, grey and buff appears and spoils the beautiful symmetry of the
external pattern. Nature is, indeed, often chary of her specialized pigments, and
allows no more than is actually necessary for superficial effect. The wing-coverts
are similar to the back, the pearl-grey ocelli becoming larger and diffused on the
longer coverts. The red and the ocellus disappear on the inner secondaries and
the flights are black with numerous mottled bars throughout their length, grey
on the secondaries and buff on the primaries. The longest upper tail-coverts are
almost monochrome, the red diluted to dull brown, covering all the exposed part
of the feather with the merest hint of a faint pearl tinge near the tip. The
margins of these feathers retain something of the original strength of colour of
the Indian red. The tail feathers are black at the tip, with the basal four-fifths
mottled and banded as on the flights.

The under parts are of a clear, deep Indian red, the upper breast unmarked.
Here, however, begins abruptly a zone of large, paddle-shaped, pearl-grey, subterminal
spots which characterize every remaining feather of the under surface, becoming
larger, but not diffused posteriorly, until on the under tail-coverts there remains
little more than a narrow margin of the red. Basally on the concealed portion
of the feather the red persists for some distance, then changes gradually to a
warm orange buff, the pearl-grey spot being continued down the shaft into a
basal dusky zone. There is no buff mottling as on the dorsal plumage.

96 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Mandibles black, pale toward the tips; fleshy horns and facial area blue;
gular lappet deep purplish blue, with margins and indentations deep salmon; legs
and feet pink or reddish, deeper in colour at the breeding season. Length, 639;
bill from nostril, 15; wing, 251; tail, 215; tarsus, 76; middle toe and claw, 66 mm.

ADULT FEemALe.—In the large number of females of this species which I have
examined, I have found considerable variation, more, however, in tone than in pattern.
The general hue of the bird may vary from a cold grey, almost as in melanocephalus,
to a warm rufous throughout like the female of satyra. Most of this variation
in hue is due to wear. A recently moulted bird is warmly rufous, a bird during
or just after the breeding season is correspondingly bleached and grey. The
crown of the head is black, with conspicuous—either grey or buff—paddle-shaped
shaft-stripes. The nape in all specimens is decidedly tinged with rufous. The
upper parts present a mingling of vermiculation, of buff or grey and_ black,
accented by central whitish patches, and, especially in the rufous birds, with fre-
quent masses of black. There are two subterminal ocelli, which are very well
developed on the upper mantle and the wing-coverts. They form very marked
elongated patches on the outer web of the tertiaries. The flights are quite fully
marked with irregular bars on the outer, and mottling on the inner webs. The
tail is irregularly barred with mottlings of grey or rufous as the case may be.

The chin and throat are nearly uniform ashy white or buff. On the sides
of the face and neck each feather is outlined with black, while on the throat a
central whitish area appears, accompanied by the invariable two black ocelli. The
white centre is the chief characteristic of the ventral plumage, expanding rapidly
posteriorly into a large oval patch or ocellus, the black having disappeared. The
white area is surrounded by a faintly vermiculated broad buff or grey border.
Iris brown; legs and feet greyish flesh. Bill from nostril, 14; wing, 223; tail,
175; tarsus, 69; middle toe and claw, 58 mm.

NataL Down.—A day-or-two-old chick of Temminck’s Tragopan differs from
that of the satyr chiefly in the darker colour of the down. The head and hind
neck are more chocolate rufous than orange, while the back and the tail tuft are
very dark mahogany. The chin and under parts are pale buffy white with no
warm yellow tone, although the throat is more lemon, less cold buffy-white than
the belly. The: breast is tinged with brownish. The well-grown flights are dark
brown, tipped with pale buff, and have several bands of black and pale buff across
the outer webs. The sprouting scapulars show as very pale buff, broadly margined
with black. There are no distinct facial markings. A chick measures: bill from
nostril, 5; wing, 57; tarsus, 25; middle toe and claw, 23 mm.

First YEAR PLumMAGE, Mare.—The young males after the first autumn moult
are, as usual, almost indescribable from the extreme variation, due to the condition,
either retarded or advanced, of the adult pigment synthesis in the blood. Very
rarely do we find an individual clad in the full, dull, female-like plumage, but
almost always the head and neck (last to moult the down and the juvenile dress)

TEMMINCK’S TRAGOPAN 97

are far ahead of the body plumage. When this full immature garb is attained,
we find the head and neck to be clad in dull brown feathers, those of the crown
with few or no markings, while the chin and throat are streaked with white. By
far the more usual plumage of the first year male is a black crown, more or less
tinged with brown and dull red. Around the neck, as in melanocephalus, we find
a bright collar, dull orange-crimson at the back, and usually orange-yellow across
the throat. From here posteriorly the typical first year plumage is a cold grey,
mottled and irregularly banded with black above, while below, from the breast
backward, a central lighter area appears, increasing in size until on the belly it
dominates the faint buff and grey mottling. Only on the tertiaries and inner
secondaries do we find well defined the black lateral ocelli, which are so characteristic
of this plumage in some other Tragopans. They are scarcely traceable on the
scapulars and back. The secondaries are dark brown, coarsely barred with
sandy buff, while the barring and mottling on the primaries is much more
rufous.

The tail, too, is exceedingly variable, the coarse mottlings being more rufous if an
earlier moult has taken place, or greyer and darker if the plumage as a whole is more
adult. Whatever curious pattern and haphazard half-and-half plumage is acquired at
this moult, is retained in all its particoloured bizarreness until the succeeding annual
shedding of the feathers. There is no “gradual assumption” of adult colour in any
sense other than the accidental individual bodily condition at the time of renewing
the plumage.

In individuals which acquire somewhat more than usual of the adult colouring
at this first autumn moult, the transitional condition of the breast spots is most
interesting. The pearl grey appears as a pigment, and one finds the remains of the
white immature spots in all degrees of obliteration, sometimes only as a trace on
a few barbs. Likewise the rufous edging appears here and there as a faint reddish
tinge. First year males have the bill from the nostril about 15; wings, 223; tail,
178; tarsus, 76; middle toe and claw, 66 mm.

At the time of this moult we find the spurs little more than flat nodules. In
the majority of individuals there is little or no thinning of the throat feathers
during the first year, the streaked dark and white feathering being as dense as
in the hens.

SECOND AuTUMN MouLt, MaLz.—Just as we have seen that, during the first
year, young males are almost invariably clad in a particoloured garb, with their heads
and necks precociously hued and patterned, like a boy in knickerbockers wearing a
high hat, so at the succeeding moult, if we are fortunate enough to get a bird
at exactly the right period, we find the opposite condition existing. Here, again,
the moult of the entire body precedes that of the head and neck by an appreciable
time, and I have seen a September bird, apparently fully adult as regards body
plumage, with the head and neck of a most unkempt mingling of youthful and
pseudo-adult plumage. The rapid and irregular shedding of the feathers of the
throat adds to the disreputable appearance; a bird clad in deep crimson, dotted
with pearls, with a head and neck which look as if the owner had passed through

some terrible calamity, caught, perhaps, in a snare, and escaping only after much
O

98 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

tugging and disruption of plumage! At this stage the primaries have nearly completed
their moult.

The very blunt spurs are now 6 mm. in length and the wing and tail measure
respectively 233 and 178 mm. One of the changes occurring at this moult is a
slight lengthening in the wing and tail feathers and a darkening of both. This
brings us to the fully adult male.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

Long before any member of the white race had set eyes upon this bird, it
had become familiar through coloured pictures drawn on Chinese rice paper. For
many years these were thought, dragon-like, to be bizarre figments of the fertile
Mongolian brain; but when the first bird was discovered it was found that some
of these pictures were exceedingly true to life both in colour and pattern.

The first appearance in scientific literature appears to be the rather unhappy
delineation in “Illustrations of Indian Zoology,” to which Mr. J. E. Gray gave
the name of Chinese Horned Pheasant, or Satyra temminckiz. Considered on its
merits as art, it is actually much inferior to some of the above-mentioned early
Chinese paintings, while the black face and yellow marked lappets are wholly
imaginary.

The male type which is in the British Museum is a most unhappy looking
specimen with half of the tail cut off.

SYNONYMy—/vagopan temmincki

Satyra temmincku J. E. Gray, Ill. Indian Zool., I. 1830-32, pl. 50; G. R. Gray, List of Birds, Pt. III. 1844
Gall., p. 28.

Tragopan temminckii Bennr., Proc. Zool. Soc., 1834, p. 33.

Ceriomis temmincki Gray, Genera of Birds, III. 1845, p. 499; Blyth, Cat. Mus. Asiatic Soc., 1849, iP. 2405
Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863, p. 307; Sclater, List of Phas., 1863, p. 11, pl. rr [China]; Gray, List of Gallinae,
Brit. Mus., 1867, p. 41; Gould, Birds of Asia, VII. 1869, pl. 46; Gray, Hand-List of Birds, II. 1870, p. 262;
Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1870, p. 164 [N. & E. Szechuen to C. China]; Jerdon, Ibis, 1870, p. 147 [Upper,
Assam]; David, N. Arch. Mus. Bull., VII. 1871, p. 11 [Szechuen] ; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 399; Elliot,
Mon. Phas., I. 1872, pl. 24; David and Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p. 118, pl. 112 [S. W. China to S. Shensi] ;
Hume, Stray Feathers, VIII. 1879, p. 201 [Mishmi Hills]; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879; p. 117, pl. VIII.
fig. 3; Seebohm, Ibis, 1891, p. 379 [W. Szechuen]; Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1911, p. 522 [longevity].

Lvagopan temminckt Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds, Brit. Mus, XXII. 1893, p. 275; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-
book of Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 227; Oates, Game-birds of India, I. 1898, p. 251; Nehrkorn, Katalog der
Eiersammlung, 1899, p. 192 [des. of eggs]; Sharp, Hand-list of Birds, I. 1899, p. 33; Oates, Cat. Eggs, Brit.
Mus., I. rgo1, p. 51 [egg]; Ghigi, Mem. R. Acc. Sci. Ist. Bologna, (5), X. 1903, pp. 394, 404, 406, tav. I, II.
[physiology of horns and lappets]; Baker, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XVIII. 1908, p. 753 [Burmese record,
Panseng Pass]; Oates, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIX. 1909, p. 260 [first Burmese record, Sadon]; Finn.
Game-birds of India & Asia, 1911, p. 31; Wilson, A Naturalist in Western China, II. 1914, p. 120 [general
account]; Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 270.

Lemminck’s Tragopan St. Quintin, Avic. Mag., (1), 1903, p. 96 [breeding in captivity].

CABOT’S TRAGOPAN
Tvragopan cabott Gould

NAMES.—Specific : cabotz, for Dr. Cabot of Boston. English: Cabot’s or Yellow-bellied Tragopan. German :
Gelbduchige Hornhuhn. Vernacular: T’u-shou-chi (Chinese, Hong-kong),

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Head and neck black, except for a pale orange-red crest and a darker patch
of the same colour on side of neck; feathers of upper parts with a large terminal buff spot, flanked with red and
black; under parts plain buff. Female: General tone, dark russet-brown above, brownish-grey below. Considering
the ground colour as black, the feathers are mottled and irregularly barred with pale rufous and buff, with a white
triangular or linear subterminal white spot, very conspicuous on lower plumage; wing and tail feathers black,
banded with pale rufous mottling.

TypE.—China, purchased at Macao, near Hong-Kong. Now in the collection of the Museum of Comparative
Zoology, Harvard University.

RANGE.—South-east China.
GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

WHEN, far to the south, the rugged mountains of Yunnan have freed themselves
from the erosion of the numerous parallel rivers, they swing to the east, forming, south
of the Yangtze, a more or less unbroken range, the backbone of southern China. This
mountain range skirts the lowlands of the Lung and West Rivers, shunting the rains
to the north and to the south into the Laing, Yuen and North Rivers, and dying out
only when its outlying foot-hills are bathed by the waters of the Pacific.

We know but little of this intervening country than that it forms a highway for
many creatures of the earth, along which many have slowly found their way from the
central Himalayan highlands. Among these is the splendid Cabot’s Tragopan, notably
distinct from its fellows, which has made its home here, almost fifteen hundred miles
from the region where we found the satyr tragopan. How far to the west its range
extends we do not know. I havea bird shot by Leland Smyth in the extreme south of
Hunan (cerca Lat. 26° N., Long. 112° E.), and a number of observers have found the
bird to be numerous in north-western Fokien, while I have observed it somewhat south
of that point. So we shall be generous in our estimate of its range if we demarcate
it roughly as a scalene triangle with the bases at 26° N., 110° E., and 26° N., 117° E.,
and its apex at 28° N., 118° E.

GENERAL HABITS

The first mention of the Cabot Tragopan in a wild state is that of Abbé David, who
says that, in 1877, he found it very common on the mountain chain which Separates
Fokien from Kiangsi. It was known to the natives by the same name as the Temminck
tragopan, and its flesh was equally good eating. As during the months of October and
November no males were observed in the plumage of the female, he believed that the
Cabot Tragopan presented the unique peculiarity of assuming a complete adult plumage
in the first year. |

O98

100 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

During the succeeding thirty-five years the few meagre facts recorded of this
tragopan almost without exception have been drawn from the immediate neighbourhood
of David's observations. By far the most important insight into the life history of
the bird is the finding of four eggs, deposited and being incubated in an old nest of
a squirrel, thirty feet from the ground. This nest was found by a native Chinese
hunter near Kuatun, a small village in the extreme north-western part of Fokien.
The facts of this discovery, as related by La Touche, are as follows: ‘Only four
specimens were obtained by us during our stay at Kuatun; an adult male which
had been trapped in March; a young male assuming adult plumage, trapped on the
30th of March; and two females, shot by our hunters in the forests on the 13th of
April and the 17th of May. The latter bird was sitting on her nest when shot.
The hunter who secured her, happening to look up into a large tree, saw a bird looking
down at him, and, taking it for a Barbet (!), fired a charge of dust-shot, which, to his
astonishment, brought down a fine hen Tragopan. He at once climbed the tree
and found, on an old squirrel’s nest of the year before, four eggs. According to
the man’s statement, the nest was about thirty feet from the ground. These are
the first eggs of cavotz obtained at Kuatun. The natives, having never taken the
nest before, were much astonished at finding it so high up in a tree, as until then
they had met with Pheasants’ nests only on the ground.

“Of the four eggs brought to me, two were nearly ready to hatch, and two
were addled, one of the latter being quite rotten. The remains of the young birds
extracted from the fertile eggs have been deposited in the British Museum. The
wings of the young birds have quills over an inch long. One of the eggs, now
in Mr. Rickett’s collection, measures 49 x 41 mm. The other three measure 61 x 41,
49 x 39, and 48x 41 mm. The colour of these eggs is buff, thickly freckled with
pale brown, the freckling coalescing in places. The texture is chalky. The shape
is a short, broad, ovate in two eggs, and ovate in a third.”

The fact that four eggs were found in this tree nest would seem to be an
exception to the more general rule of two which I have demonstrated elsewhere,
but the condition of these four eggs supports, rather than negatives, this assumption.
It would seem probable that two of the eggs were laid, and although fertile (as
evidenced by their addled condition) did not for some reason develop. The other
two were apparently a second clutch which had been incubated until nearly hatched.
In any event, even if all four eggs had been deposited at one time, there would seem
to be some physiological difference dividing them into the two groups of two each.
This recalls at once the condition of the ovary in the incubating Temminck’s tragopan
which I have mentioned.

But, aside from this point of view, I wish to re-emphasize this intensely interesting
additional proof that the tragopans are breaking away from all normal phasianine
standards of nidification, and paralleling the curassows and guans of South America.
There seems little doubt but that the nest-building instinct is being acquired, and
the first stage in the process is the adoption of the ready-made nests of other birds
and of arboreal mammals, with the addition, as I have shown, of a slight lining of
leaves and twigs.

In the several collections of birds made at Kuatun eighteen specimens of the Cabot

“_—
at

PLATE XIII

CABOT'S TRAGOPAN

Tragopan cabott Gould

Hunpreps of bird-lovers have this Tragopan living in their aviaries; probably less than a half dozen
white men have seen it wild. In houseboat and sampan one can penetrate to their haunts in Fokien, but
except for a quick shot at sight, one must have the patience and facility of a real wilderness creature to watch
these wary birds undiscovered. They are surrounded everywhere in the valleys by Chinese, who plant their
rice or bury their dead on every available spot. But the birds still hold their own in the face of a race which,

while it has deforested the whole country, yet prefers rice and fish to a diet of game.

PEATE esti

‘NVdOOVYL

SekOd yO

CABOT'S TRAGOPAN Io!

Tragopans are definitely listed: an adult male, three young males in transition plumage,
and fourteen females. One of the males was shot on the 30th of March, while the
other two were secured in the autumn. Unfortunately, no intensive study was made
of any of these specimens, and we are wholly in the dark as to the details of weight,
moult, feather wear, parasites, and the hundred and one other important facts, many
of which only a freshly killed bird can supply.

My own experience with the Cabot Tragopan in China is soon told. One
day in mid-March I was climbing a steep hill in west central Fokien. I had had
good luck with other pheasants, but hitherto tragopans, for me, did not exist in
eastern China. The going was difficult, through dense undergrowth dripping with
moisture, and although it was not raining, the heavy clouds were driving past,
sweeping the very mountain side and shutting out all distant view. Azalea-like
blossoms made great splashes of cerise in the underbush. The muddy ground was
slippery, and an occasional bare slope almost impossible to surmount. Finally I
found myself on the summit of a ridge, on the farther side of which began the
forest, the tops of the nearest trees down the slope being on a level with my eye.
I rested here, panting in the saturated atmosphere and shivering in the dank, chilly
mist. Babblers and hill-tits whirred, wet-winged, from bush to bush, or gazed
curiously at me. My vision was limited by the fog to a radius of some thirty feet,
and for a half-hour I contented myself by noting the birds which entered this
area. 7

I was wholly unprepared, however, for the sudden emergence of a pair of
tragopans—a hen in full flight, with a cock bird in close pursuit. For the space
of perhaps five seconds they zigzagged in and out, threading the low brush, and
then vanished into the forest silently as they had come. The first bird was un-
questionably a hen, the second was certainly not in full plumage, but as certainly
a cock Cabot Tragopan. My gun leaned by my side untouched, and for several
minutes I gazed stupidly at the place where the birds had disappeared, and then at
their trail; the vision had come so unexpectedly, had passed so quickly, it seemed
a blur of the imagination. All further search during my brief stay proved fruitless,
and I had to content myself with a specimen shot and brought to me by a
Chinaman. It was a fully adult male, and I have elsewhere recorded the details
concerning it.

The only knowledge we have of the food of these birds is that the crop of
an immature male contained young leaves, while in an adult female the stomach con-
tained acorns. The crop of my male bird was crammed with laurel-like leaves,
giving as strong an aromatic odour as the favourite food-leaves of the Himalayan
tragopans. Two small land mollusks were the only other objects in the bird’s crop,
while the gizzard contained only a little comminuted vegetable matter.

The elevation at which I saw these birds was certainly not more than two
thousand eight hundred feet, although close to mountains of considerably greater
height. The tragopans collected at Kuatun came doubtless from three thousand
five hundred to four thousand five hundred feet elevation, the birds thus living at
a lower altitude than any other species of the genus.

102 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

CAPTIVITY

Cabot’s Tragopans are to-day not uncommon in captivity; perhaps, next to the
Temminck’s, they are most frequently offered for sale by dealers. These birds have
been bred a number of times in captivity, but, like all the members of their genus,
their constitution is not strong, and there seems no hope of establishing the species
in captivity after it has been exterminated in its wild haunts. The first living male
bird reached the London Zoological Gardens in 1882, and a year later a hen was
obtained. Since that date a half-dozen or more have been exhibited. The length of
life of these individuals has averaged about two and a half years, while one bird
attained the record age of six years. The dozen old Cabot Tragopans we have had
in the New York Zoological Park have withstood our more severe extremes of climate
not as well as the London birds, and their terms of life have been considerably shorter.

Mr. W. H, St. Quintin has given the following detailed account of the breeding
in captivity of Cabot’s Tragopan: “As owing to their shy nature and to the dense
jungle inhabited by the tragopans or horned pheasants, little opportunity presents
itself of studying the ways of these birds while at liberty, or of investigating their
breeding habits, the following notes upon three species which I have at the present
time may be of some interest. In an enclosure of about five acres, including lawn,
shrubbery, and a small meadow, where the grass is left to grow until haymaking
time, well watered by a small shallow stream which runs through it, I have representa-
tives of the Satyr, Temminck’s and Cabot’s Tragopans, pinioned and confined by a
fox-proof fence of wire-netting.

“JT have been much struck by the arboreal habits of all three species, and
with the cleverness with which they walk along the boughs and thread their way
amongst the dense branches of the shrubs and trees within their enclosure. It is
necessary to be careful that no boughs extend to the fences, for they are always
ready to take the least chance of escape. My Cabot’s Tragopans, in particular, seem
to spend a great part of their time in the trees, descending to feed, and afterwards
hurrying back again, so that, except when feeding or dusting, they may generally be
found perched, often in some shady yew, but, as a rule, not in the one in which
they pass the night. Last year (1900), in the spring, I had no adult male of this
species, but a hen bird laid two eggs in an old woodpigeon’s nest, about ten
feet from the ground. This year there was a fine adult male running in the
enclosure, but the first clutch of three eggs laid in another pigeon’s nest, which I
removed and put under a hen, proved unfertile, perhaps from having been touched
by frost. Early in May, she again laid in the same woodpigeon'’s nest, some
14 feet from the ground. This was in a yew, and, as in each of the previous
cases, the nest was slightly lined with a few green shoots of the tree. I transferred
these eggs to an incubator, substituting some guinea-fowl’s eggs, which she took to
at once. Of the Tragopan’s eggs one was unfertile, but two chicks were hatched
clothed with coarse, shaggy down of a chestnut colour, and with the primaries so
far developed that on the first day they could flutter up and perch on the side
of the yard of the foster-mother, to which I had transferred them. I had
considerable difficulty in getting the chicks to feed. At last some small green cater-

CABOT’S TRAGOPAN 103

pillars, from a maple, tempted them; then they began to take small garden worms
chopped small, and ants’ eggs. At the end of a week, when I had got them
on to custard and fresh lettuce, in addition to the other things, I began to
think that they would live. But they were much slower than chickens of the
same age in taking to the foster-mother, and, until they learnt to return to the
warm compartment, I had to shut them in at dusk, after their last meal, letting
them out for another feed at 4am. the next morning, and again confining them
till I was about for the day. But during the daytime I kept them in the open
air as much as the weather would permit. The cleverness in perching and climb-
ing, so noticeable in the adult, was soon exhibited by the chicks. They would fly
backwards and forwards between branches, which I fixed in their wire run, quite as
neatly as any young passerine bird; and, if left a little later than usual at roosting
time, I always found them sleeping side by side on a perch. I should imagine that
in the wild state, the young would soon follow the hen bird and perch at night.
As they grew they began to take a little hemp seed and wheat as well as a little
custard, also earthworm, and little a fruit, of both of which last they were very
fond. One of the two, the smaller bird, was attacked by a weasel, and killed
before help arrived, but the other, evidently a young male, is alive and well,
and already (Dec. 3, 1901) shows a good deal of bright colour in the plumage of
the head and upper portion of the neck. Judging from specimens of these three
species imported in the winter or spring, I feel sure that no further progress in
the assumption of the male plumage is made until the full moult in the second
year.

“In his Handbook to the Game Birds, Mr. Ogilvie-Grant refers to the Abbé
David’s opinion that this species of horned pheasant, of which a coloured plate is
given, differs from the other members of the genus in getting the adult plumage in
the first autumn. But this is clearly not so, and the young male Cabot’s Tragopan,
though differing slightly from the immature female in the pattern of the feathers, is
equally sombre in colour, with the slight exception referred to above, until in the
autumn of the second year the beautiful colouring of the male is assumed.

“The eggs are without gloss and of a buff colour, freckled with a rusty red.

“It is not, of course, safe to generalize too freely from a particular instance;
but from the persistent behaviour of my bird during two seasons, it would appear
that the female of this Tragopan is inclined to seek a nesting place off the ground.”

In 1902 Mr. St. Quintin records that a second Cabot hen laid “her two eggs
in a pigeon’s nest about eight feet up in a spruce tree. She was watched lining
the nest with dead twigs which she broke off the neighbouring branches, adding
considerably to the original structure.”

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApDULT MaLe.—Head black, save for the central and rear elongated crest feathers
which are orange, paler, at base. The black extends backward well down on the
neck and borders the bare facial skin and the throat lappet. On the side neck,

104 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

commencing below the ear-coverts, is a large patch of Indian red, extending on the
sides down to the body pattern and in front as a second complete throat band,
beneath the black.

On the hind neck we find a sudden transition from the black to the typical
pattern of the upper parts—a conspicuous rounded spot of buff and two lateral spots
of Indian red, all framed in black. This forms the specialized, visible part of the
upper plumage, giving the bird the general appearance of being thickly spotted with
buff on a black and red background. When the plumage is in exact alignment the
pattern is of alternate longitudinal stripes of buff, black, red, and black.

Radiating outward from the mid-back to the limit of the pattern on the sides,
flank, wing-coverts, and tail-coverts, we find a regularly successive diminution of
black and increase of buff, until the entire visible half of the feather is buff with a
narrow lateral frame of red. ;

On the slightest disturbance of the plumage, however, the generalized median
and basal patterns become visible, showing as spots and bars of pure white, orange
and buff. A feather from the lower hind neck shows, in addition to the typical
terminal markings, four short, transverse bars of white, and a fifth spot at the edge
of the disintegrated basal area, while a semicircular band of buff continues the
third white bar. This portion of the feather is clearly the unchanged, more ancient,
pattern, typical of the female and young male. The warm orange of the small
coverts near the bend of the wing is like the crest in hue.

On the breast we find as abrupt a transition as on the upper parts, but even
more extreme, from the uniform deep Indian red of the throat band to a plain pale
buff which extends over the entire breast and belly. At the base of the feathers are
distinct traces of diluted orange pigment, reminiscent of the red, but on the whole
the feathers may be said to be monochrome. This is the most specialized colour of all
this genus, exceeding in this respect even the ventral plumage of Blyth’s tragopan.
Approaching the flanks, thighs and under tail-coverts, the orange increases as a
marginal stain and ultimately merges into the typical dorsal pattern.

The most generalized feathers are, as usual, those of the wings and tail. A hint of
the buff and red pattern extends even on to the inner secondaries, but the flight feathers
as a whole are similar to those of the female, except that they are whiter, showing less
rufous brown. Most of the outer webs of the alulae are clear buffy-orange.

The tail loses the buffy markings and mottlings at the tip, a broad terminal black
band being thus produced.

The bare facial area, broad band over the eye, and the chin and throat are clear
bright orange, only a shade lighter than the crest feathers. A conspicuous fold of skin
forms a median wattle down the centre of the chin and throat. If the breeding season
is near there is a thick roll or fold of wrinkled skin along the lower end of the throat
wattle—the courtship lappet—which is cobalt blue, changing to green where it touches
the black feather band across the upper breast. Both colours show a silvery sheen.

In a bird in full breeding condition the face, chin and median throat wattle are
brilliant orange. The horns are 50 mm. in length and pale blue. The eyelid is violet
purple. The throat wattle opens out on the lower throat and forms the whole centre of
the lappet or shield. When this organ is extended the orange separates into a reticu-

PHOTOGRAVURE 8

CHINESE HOME OF CABOT’S TRAGOPAN

Tue distant Min River flows through Tragopan country, whose mountain slopes are studded with
pine saplings and spots of gorgeous azaleas. The second-growth and tangled turf and dwarf bamboos

make rapid progress impossible for anything larger than a pheasant.

Into this cleared space there dashed, without warning, a cock and hen Tragopan; they zigzagged back
and forth, encircled the berry-covered tree and vanished into the scrub. The foliage dripped, the fog
soon shut tightly down, and to my ears came only the occasional whirring of the moisture-laden wings of

some passing small bird.

PHOTOGRAVURE BIATE 8

’

CABOTS., -TRAGO PAN

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CHINESE

CABOTS TRAGOPAN 105

lated pattern, a connected network of roundish orange masses enclosing separated spots
of purple. Radiating out on each side to the periphery of the shield are fingers or bands
of pale blue, darker near the neck and paling to a cerulean blue tinged with green.
There are nine of these bands on each side, with wider interspaces of buffy grey. They
are connected at their base by a wide longitudinal band of blue, and along the margin
most of them touch and merge with a narrow band of the same colour.

The lappet is 150 mm. (six inches) long and half as wide. A few elongated, hair-
like feathers are scattered about, one in the centre of each purple interspace in the
central orange area. The lappet is distinctly bilobed at the end.

Iris hazel brown; feet and legs pinkish-red. Length, 610; bill from nostril, 15;
wing, 235; tail, 213; tarsus, 71; middle toe and claw, 65 mm. Average length of spurs,
10; height above hind toe, 21 mm. Two fully adult male birds in my possession each
possess a spur on only one leg, the right in one case and the left in the other, the
missing spur being represented by a flat nodule similar to that of the hen.

ADULT FEMALE.—Forehead and crown black with a broad pale buff shaft-stripe
and tipped with chestnut, this colour being strongest on the feathers of the occiput.
Even on the crown feathers some individuals show spots, or other markings of buff,
half way to the base, already hinting at the delimitation of the terminal black ocelli.
On the nape and neck these markings become more abundant, and the mantle feathers
show the ocelli clear and distinct. We find these on almost all the dorsal feathers, but
of less conspicuous character than the white streaking. This is especially true of the
mantle, back and wing-coverts, on which a central white area is well developed, very
pure and conspicuous, usually narrow and streak-like, but occasionally wider and
pointed. The general tone of the upper plumage is dark brown, grizzled with buffy-
grey in some individuals, while others are of a much warmer, more rufous tone. The
secondaries are black, with a series of very regular, triangular, buffy indentations on the
outer web broken by mottling, but simulating six or more crossbars in the closed wing.
The primaries are dark brown with very slight buffy mottling on the outer margins.
The rectrices vary in general tone with the individual, but always show transverse
mottled bars of rufous, pale buff and black.

The feathers of the face, chin and throat are either white with black margins, or of
a creamy whitoue tlined in pale buff. The under parts in correspondingly variable
individuals may present a cold grey tone or be suffused with a warm buffy hue. The
dominant character, however, is the very large, conspicuous, white central spots, which
extend from the upper breast to the largest under tail-coverts, and, in the aggregate,
equal or exceed the marginal mottlings. The striped throat gives way at once to grey
or buff mottled feathers, presenting the central white area and the lateral black ocelli
well developed, and the change posteriorly is chiefly in the increase in size of the white.

The upper mandible is pinkish horn colour, with the tip and the lower mandible
lighter; the iris hazel-brown; the eyelids and cheeks reddish-orange and, what has
escaped the attention of all observers, the entire chin and throat, as far back as a line
drawn between the quadrates, is even brighter orange, the skin being much wrinkled
and creased, corresponding to the lappet of the male Tragopan. The legs, toes and

claws are dark pinkish horn colour, the latter paler at the tip.
Ve

106 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Length, 505; wing, 214; tail, 165; bill from nostril, 14; tarsus, 63 ; middle toe and
claw, 57 mm. Weight about 2 pounds. The spurs are represented by flat nodules,
about 16 mm. above the hind toe.

JUVENILE PLUMAGE.—The head and neck of a five or six weeks’ bird show abundant
remains of orange-rufous down, while the body is clad in complete juvenile plumage.
Crown feathers sprouting, black, with conspicuous narrow, pale buff, shaft-streaks. On
the nape and posteriorly this pale buff area increases until it occupies the entire visible
portion of the feather, save for two large, lateral, rather square-cornered black ocelli.
The extreme of the light colour is reached on the mantle, back and median coverts.
Posteriorly, while the black ocelli remain strongly developed, the buffy white diminishes
to a narrow terminal shaft-streak, the rest of the-feather being mottled rufous-buff and
black.

The flights are dark brown, mottled only along the margin of the outer web with
pale rufous. On the longest tail-coverts the buffy-white area becomes prominent again.
The rectrices are narrow and pointed, pale rufous, mottled and irregularly banded
with black.

The gular flap is well demarcated and but. scantily covered with white down, the
chin and throat down being of this colour. The breast is like the mantle, with a strong
tinge of rufous. The rest of the lower parts are dominantly buffy white, sparsely and
irregularly mottled along the margin with dark brown.

The primaries show active change. Nos. 1, 2 and 3 are feathers of the first year
plumage; No. 1 three-quarters grown (66 mm. out of its sheath), No. 2 hardly a third
of its ultimate length (28), while No. 3 is as yet a mere papilla sheath 5 mm. long.
Nos. 4, 5, 6 and 7 are full-grown juvenile flights, awaiting their turn. The delayed
outer three primaries are in full active growth. A bird of this age measures: bill from
nostril, 10; wing, 138; tail, 91; tarsus, 42; middle toe and claw, 38 mm.

Frrst YEAR PLuMAGE, MaLre.—One of the most conservatively coloured young
males in this plumage is one shot in Fokien in October, having just about finished
shedding the juvenile plumage. The head is, as a matter of course, particoloured,
although less so than in most individuals of this age. The head, nape and neck, with
their precocious colours and patterns disregarded, are feathered much as in the juvenile
plumage, the feathers being black with conspicuous white narrow shaft-streaks. They
become grizzled and vermiculated from the neck backward, and the white centre dis-
appears at once, giving place to a dark grey mottled area, with the two black ocelli
prominent as far back as the rump and the inner secondaries. The secondaries are dull
brown, the outer web with a number of the usual broken, triangular, pale buffy indenta-
tions or pseudo-bars. The primaries have only a trace of marginal mottling. The
central rectrices are indistinctly barred with black, buff and cream colour, the others
becoming successively blacker and clearer as we proceed outward. Every one of the
eighteen tail feathers are in full growth, the gradation being, as usual, from within
outward. The chin and throat are well feathered with dirty white feathers tipped with
buff. The breast shows irregular rufous mottling and a narrow oval shaft-streak of
white, which increases on the lower breast and belly until it fairly dominates the

CABOTS TRAGOPAN | 107

marginal mottled area. The lower belly and vent are pure white, the under tail-coverts
reverting to the mid-belly pattern.

The more usual type of colouring of a young cock of this age shows a blackish
crown, with strong crimson markings on the nape and upper breast, a scattering of
imperfect buff ocelli over the mantle and a strong buffy tinge to the ventral plumage.
In some individuals we find the delayed outer primaries still far from their full length
at the end of October. In other birds these are full grown at this time. A bird of this
age measures: bill from nostril, 15; wing, 210; tail, 183; tarsus, 71; middle toe and
claw, 64 mm.

As with the descriptions of other species of tragopans, so with Cabot’s, various
authors have expressed surprise at finding young males in “transition” and ‘“ changing
plumage” both in the autumn and at the end of March. The particoloured garb attained
at the first autumn moult explains all this, and does away with the need of invoking
unseasonable and unheard-of moults.

First YEAR PLUMAGE, FEMALE.—Four females shot at the same time and place
(Kuatun, Fokien) as the immature male described, show an interesting difference. The
primary moult is about equal in the two sexes, the 8th of the new moult just finishing
its growth, thus completing the series for this year. But while the rectrices of the male
have all been shed within a short space of time, none of the tails of the females show
signs of growth, although one or two of the feathers fall out at a touch, showing they
were just about to be shed. .

The female of this age still shows the dull buffy facial, chin and throat feathers of
the juvenile plumage, while, as to the rest of the lower parts, there is considerably less
white, the white ocelli being smaller, more buffy and the whole ventral plumage with
a more rufous cast. The upper plumage shows little or no difference from that of the
adult. The tail, however, is, of course, radically unlike that of the old birds, being
narrow, pointed and with transverse bars of successive rufous, pale buff and dark
brown, the central rectrices having as many as a dozen of these bars. The central
rectrices of the adult have only seven or eight very irregular crossbars with wide
intervals of black.

There is somewhat more of the buff mottling on the flight feathers than in the fully
adult female.

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

The early history of this species reveals nothing of especial interest. Even
nomenclaturists have contributed nothing exciting ; almost without exception, when they
had cause to mention the bird, adopting the title first applied to it. When on a visit to
the United States, in the summer of 1857, for the purpose of studying hummingbirds,
John Gould examined the collection of birds belonging to Dr. Cabot of Boston.
Among them was a specimen of tragopan which Gould borrowed, took to England and
described in the same year, naming it, in honour of its owner, Cevdornis caboti. It was
then returned, and still remains in the city in which Dr. Cabot lived.

Of the previous history of this specimen we know only that it came from China,
and was said to have been obtained at Macao, near Hong-Kong.

108 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Nothing more was heard of Cabot’s Tragopan until Robert Swinhoe, six years later,
purchased a young live bird from a dealer in Hong-Kong, which he shipped to Calcutta,
but the bird died on the way. The first live bird reached England in 1882.

By recent search I unearthed the type of Cabot’s Tragopan, a badly mounted bird
which, until I inquired for it, had been hidden away in the storage collection of the
Boston Society of Natural History. I have been able to study the bird carefully and
compare it with other specimens. The small label bears the inscription, ‘‘ 5673 Ceriornis
caboti, Gould. 7 ye." This individual, as we have seen, was the subject of the plate
in volume vii of Gould’s “ Birds of Asia.”

The type is in general adult plumage, and there seems no excuse for the errors in

the plumage of the head which the artist made, as the specimen shows no black beneath
the lateral neck patch, while the rufous breast-band is well developed. ‘The chin, too,
shows the typical scanty growth of degenerate feathers, and nothing like the thick black
chin plumage with lateral wattles as depicted on the plate. On the other hand, there is
small wonder that the artist continued the mottling and barring of the tail to the very
tip of the feathers, as one-quarter of the entire length of this organ has been neatly
snipped away with scissors, thus removing the black band which is so marked a
character of the adult male. On the outer tail feathers there is, indeed, a trace of the
solid colour, but so slight that with but this one known specimen no one would have
portrayed it. The imagination of the artist is clearly seen in the much too extreme
attenuation of the missing feather tips. They are in reality much more rounded. Gould
makes no mention of this imperfection, and we cannot help recalling the more com-
mendable method of George Edwards, who, more than a century before Gould, removed
all chance of error as to the length of the frayed tail of his Satyr Tragopan by “casting
it behind a tree.” The type specimen is now in the Museum of Comparative Zoology,
Harvard University.

SynonyMy—7vagopan caboti (Gould)

Certornis cabott Gould, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1857, p. 161 (original description, China), Birds of Asia, VII. 1858,
pl. 48; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863, p. 307 [? southern China]; Sclater, List of Phasianidae, 1863, p. II
[? China] ; Swinhoe, Ibis, 1865, p. 350 [Juv.; Hills of Kwangsi?]; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc, 1870, p. 164; Gray,
Hand-List of Birds, II. 1870, p. 262; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 399 [south-west China]; Salvadori, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 695; Elliot, Monograph Phasianidae, I. 1872, pl. 25 ; David and Oustalet, Oiseaux Chine, 1877,
p. 419, pl. 111 [mountains between Fokien and Kiangsi] ; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1882, p. 421 [first male in
captivity]; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1883, p. 388 [first female in captivity]; La Touche, Ibis, 1892, p. 494 [Fokien] ;
Rickett and La Touche, Ibis, 1898, p. 333 [Kuatun, north-west Fokien]; La Touche, Ibis, 1900, p. 49 [Kuatun ;
nest and egg ; colour of soft parts]; Rickett, Ibis, 1900 p. 59 [Yanakan, north central Fokien] ; Salvadori, Ibis,
1902, p. 253; La Touche and Rickett, Ibis, 1905, p. 58 [central Fokien]; Goodchild, Bird Notes, 1905, p. 63;
Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1911, p. 522 [longevity].

Ceriornis modestus David MS., David and Oustalet, Oiseaux de la Chine, 1877, p. 419.

Tragopan cabott Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 277; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-
birds, I. 1895, p. 229, pl. XVIII; St. Quintin (quoted), Avicultural Magazine, 1902, VIII. 4, p. 73 [nesting in
captivity]; Ghigi, Mem. R. Acc. Sci. Ist. Bologna, (5), X. 1903, pp. 394, 404, 406; tav. IJ, II. [physiology of horns
and lappet ; habits; description of 9]; Ghigi, Arch. Zool., I. 1903, p. 297 [origin of the ocelli] ; Martens, Jour.
fiir Ornith., 1910, p. 448 [distinction between 9 and juv. $]; Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, IOTL, p. 343 Beebe,
Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 270.

Cabot's Tragopan St. Quintin, The Field, XLVIII, No. 2556, Dec. 21, 1901, p. 979 [nesting habits in
captivity ; moult]; St. Quintin, Avicultural Magazine, 3, 1903, p. 95 [breeding habits in captivity].

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MAP SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE IMPEYANS.

Region 1. Lophophorus impeyanus.
; 2 ra lhuysii.
» 8. 3 sclateri.

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LOPHOPHORUS
IMPEYAN PHEASANTS

Family PHASIANIDAE
Subfamily PHASIANINAE

Genus LOPHOPHORUS

THE Impeyan Pheasants or Monauls are among the most brilliantly iridescent
birds in the world. Three species are known, two of which are rather closely related,
while the third (sclafevz) is somewhat aberrant. In build they are even heavier bodied
than the tragopans, their short thick legs giving them an exceedingly ungraceful
carriage and an awkward gait. But the marvellous metallic sheen on the upper plumage
of the males, running the gamut of bronze, green, blue and violet, eclipses all short-
comings. The lower plumage in this sex is usually dull black, while the hens are
entirely unlike their mates, being chiefly dark brown, lined and mottled with buff. Both
sexes of all three species have crests of sorts, racket-shaped, recurved or of normal
feathers. The orbital region is more or less bare. The moult of the tail is truly
Phasianine—from the outside inward.

The bill is remarkably stout and strong, and the upper mandible overlaps the lower,
both at the sides and the tip, functioning as a fossorial organ. The wing is rounded,
the primary formula from the longest running 5-6-4-3-7-8-2-9-10-1. The tail of eighteen
feathers is of moderate length, and only slightly rounded, the outer pair of rectrices
being fully six-sevenths the length of the inner pair. The tail is four-fifths as long as
the wing. The tarsus is considerably shorter than the middle toe and claw, and is
armed with a short, stout spur in the male.

The genus of Impeyan Pheasants is essentially of mountainous distribution,
extending from the eastern part of Afghanistan throughout the Himalayan range to
the central Chinese mountains where the birds range from north-eastern Yunnan, north
to Kokonor.

As we shall see elsewhere, most unfortunate nomenclatural errors have arisen in
regard to the specific name of the best-known species of Monaul or Impeyan Pheasant,
but with the exception of a few unimportant synonyms the generic name Lophophorus
has remained unchallenged. It was first used by Temminck about a hundred years ago

in his ‘‘ Histoire Naturelle Generale des Pigeons et des Gallinaces.”
Ill

112 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

LOPHOPHORUS

Type
Lophophorus, Temminck, Pigeons et Gallinaces, II. ee P3555 — . Lophophorus releens.
Monaulus, Vieillot, Analyse (1816), p. 51 ; : : 55 3
Lophofera, Fleming, Philos. Zool., II. (1822), p. 230 : : ; : 53 ‘5
Impeyanus, Lessing, te one (1831), p. 488 . 5 ; : 3 .
Chalcophasis, Elliot, Monogr. Phas., I. (1871), pl. xx. or pt.iv. . . . 5 sclatert.

Three full species of Impeyan are known—

Himalayan Impeyan . ; : ; . Lophophorus impeyanus (Latham).
Chinese Impeyan , : : : i = lhuysit Verreaux and Geoffroy St.-Hilaire
Sclater’s Impeyan : ‘ : ; : = sclatert Jerdon.

KEY TO LOPHOPHORUS

I. Upper plumage metallic (males).

a Tailentirely chestnut. ‘ : ; : . : : j : . wmpeyanus.
b Tail bluish green . ; ; j ; : : 5 . thuysit.
c Tail chestnut with a white tenniiacl ‘band ; : A ; ; . sclatert.

If. Upper plumage not metallic (females).
a Lower back not pure white.
a’ Crested; tail barred with rufous . 5 ; i ; ; - . tmpeyanus.
6’ Nocrest; tail barred with white. : : 7 : ; : : . sclatert.
b_ Lower back pure white . ; ; : ; : : : : ; . thuysi,

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT

Lophophorus wmpeyanus (Latham)

NAMES.—Generic: Lophophorus, from the Greek dogoc crest, and -pdeo¢ a form of the stem to bear, hence
crest-bearing. Specific: zmpeyanus after Lady Impey, wife of the first Governor of Bengal. English: Monaul,
Moonal or Monal, central Himalayan vernacular; Impeyan Pheasant. French: Lophophore resplendissant.
German: K6nigs-Glanzsfasan. Vernacular: Lout [male], Ham [female], Nil-mor, Jungle-mor (Kashmir); Manal,
Neel [male], Kururi, Karari [female], (Kullu); Moonal [male], Moonalee [female], Gharmonal, Rattia Cowan,
Ratual (central Himalayas); Datiya (Kumaon and Garhwal); Dafia, Dangan (Nepal); Chamdong (Bhotia) ;
Phodong (Sikhim); Chadang (Tibetan).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Head, throat and long racket-shaped crest feathers metallic green; nape and
side neck reddish copper; mantle shining golden green; wings chiefly purplish-blue; lower back pure white;
under parts dull black; tail rufous-chestnut. Female: Upper parts dull brown with a buff shaft-stripe on crest and
longitudinal buff stripes and mottlings on other feathers, becoming regularly concentric brown and buff bare on
lower back; lower parts paler, with conspicuous whitish shaft-stripes; throat and half-collar white; tail dark
brown barred with rufous.

Typr.—‘ Habitat, in India,” Latham, Index Ornithologicus, II. 1790, p. 632.

RANGE.—The Himalayas, from Afghanistan to Bhutan.

THE IMPEYAN PHEASANT IN ITS HAUNTS

THE sight of a wild Impeyan Pheasant amid the lofty forests of its Himalayan
home is vouchsafed to but few lovers of birds. Once seen it is never forgotten. Many
times had I read over that graphic paragraph: ‘“‘ There are few sights more striking,
where birds are concerned, than that of a grand old cock shooting out horizontally from
the hill-side just below one, glittering and flashing in the golden sunlight, a gigantic
rainbow-tinted gem, and then dropping stone-like, with closed wings, into the abyss
below.” Or again, in different words but to the same effect: ‘‘ Looking at a stuffed
cock bird in a shop window, or even alive in captivity, is very different from seeing him
in his native mountains as he sails away over the blue depths of some wild, rocky gorge,
where his loud, whistling cry is echoed and re-echoed among the neighbouring crags and
precipices. Then is the time to see his splendid plumage to its best advantage, as the
sun glints on the brilliant metallic hues of his neck and the dark purplish blue of his
outstretched wings—colours so strangely contrasting with the snow-white patch on
his back and the deep orange of his fan-shaped tail, which he always outspreads when
in flight.”

I had the good fortune to find Impeyans both in the eastern and the western
Himalayas ; in the former region, in early spring, the birds were just entering upon the
season of courtship; in the west, a month or two later, they were already sitting upon
their eggs.

My first view of an Impeyan or Monaul Pheasant formed a perfect antithesis to the

vivid picture given above, but it was significant of an ever-present motif in the life of
Q II3

114 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

these and all birds, and served as a foil to enhance my later more cheerful studies
of this pheasant.

On a windy, bleak morning in April, I toiled slowly up the steep slope of a rugged
mountain in eastern Nepal. Scattered around me were splendid black silver firs,
gnarled and twisted into the most fantastic shapes, and as I looked back, their knotty
elbows ever arranged themselves in picturesque frames about the wonderful snows of
Everest and Kinchinjunga. Earlier in the morning every needle had been frosted with
the frozen mists of the night clouds, but these soon evaporated under the fitful glimpses
of the sun, which now and then shone out. All day the great bunches of moss on
trunks and branches oozed drops of icy water, which fell softly to the ground.

Now and then a dark cloud would surge up and over me and send down a shower
of hail and sleet or a flurry of snow, the flakes finding me crouched and shivering,
clinging close to the shelter of some century-beaten trunk. It was a day of extremes,
measured both by space and time; from the shelter of a huge, outjutting mass of mossy
cliff I could see summer far below me, and upon the lofty snow slopes, eternal winter ;
within a few minutes the icy blasts would give place to the full warm glow of spring.

The dark cloud passed, and the sunshine flooded me with its full strength. I saw
the mosses under my hand full fruited, at my feet blue patches of forget-me-nots, while
the buds of the nearest fir branch were bursting their winter scales. A flock of small
birds worked down the mountain slope, one after another, searching rhododendron and
conifer for food; a half-dozen Sikhim cole and brown tits, the latter ever harping on
their simple s¢ée-e-e-e. With them were two rufous pied woodpeckers, hammering,
and calling loud attention to themselves.

An alpine meadow-glade sloped steeply before me among the hills, carpeted with
coarse grass and stunted bamboo, the latter forming curious masses of balled foliage
strung on low stems. From this harsh, arctic turf came sundry low squeaks and
rustlings; the life sounds of little furry voles. At the lower end of this uptilted
meadow, two compact flocks of black-throated thrushes vibrated between their feeding
ground among the grass and watch stations on the tall firs. From a dead tree farther
down the slope a white-collared thrush called loudly.

I started again on my laborious upward climb, but scarcely had I ascended a hundred
feet when the cold, clammy hand of the blue mist was laid again upon me, the birds
swirled away, the sun blotted from view, and I shivered in the bitter dampness.
I rested, panting from my exertions in the rarefied air. A black, shapeless shadow lay
among the stunted bamboo above me, and when I reached it I found a cock Impeyan
Pheasant, lying breast upward, dead, among the firs and rhododendron slopes which
had been his home. The dreariness of the surroundings seemed enhanced ; the great
mountains seemed cruel; the cold winds more biting than before.

I examined the bird and found several great talon marks where some great bird of
prey had struck and then, for unknown reasons, relinquished its victim. I slung the
bird over my shoulder—a cuirass of burnished metallic hues. The next surprise waited
for the scene to be shifted over a ridge, five minutes later, when the sun had broken
through again, and far below me a spotted dove was cooing out its soul for very joy of
life. Between two titanic halves of a split rock came a sudden rustle of great wings, and
swiftly there flapped away on labouring pinions a golden eagle, and vanished beyond

PLATE XIV

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT

Lophophorus impeyanus (Latham)

From Afghanistan to Bhutan, along the whole range of the Himalayas, the Impeyan makes its home.
Only the Blood Partridges live at a greater altitude. From one to three miles above the sea, the Impeyan
feeds and sleeps and nests. There is beauty to be found in both the cock and the hen, but the colouring
of the hen is the umber of dead leaves and the smooth brown of lichens, while the cock is a living mirror
of iridescence. Yet life is possible to both amid the same surroundings ; they face the same problems, make
the same fight for existence in the face of dangers which threaten from the mountain slopes and from the
clouds above them. And each year they rear their broods, which marks the success of their long battle
against great odds. In this, they are but repeating the life of the generations before them ; for the Impeyan
chain is a long one. It reaches back unnumbered years to that mysterious time before the first men
appeared—and the first links were formed long, long before human beings were present to watch the progress

of this slow but courageous evolution.

PLATE XIV

IMPEYAN PHEASANT.

HIMALAYAN

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 115

the sky lacery of fir needles. I went directly to the spot from which he had risen, and
there found another tragedy—a cat-bear, whose fur of richest foxy-red was blowing
thistle-like over the moss. The great bird of prey had made two kills in quick
succession. Of one I robbed him, but the other I left as I found it. In the bewildering
turns of the wheel of life, one’s sympathy knows not where to abide; should I be
sorry for the splendid cock pheasant cut down in the full spring-time, or for the
harmless little cat-bear, upon which death swooped so suddenly while it was innocently
grubbing for roots? or why not be glad for the appeased hunger of the helpless eaglets
in their distant eyrie? Thus passed my first day in the home of the splendid Impeyan
Pheasant.
GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

The Himalayan Impeyan may be said to occupy the entire Himalayan range of
mountains. It has been found in eastern Afghanistan, and thence eastward through
the north-west frontier provinces, Kashmir, Garhwal, Nepal, Sikhim, and for some
distance in western Bhutan, as far, indeed, as any reliable records have been obtained.

If, however, we were to plot exactly the haunts of the Impeyan, we should find that
it would become restricted to more or less narrow, long and sinuous fingers reaching
here and there throughout the great chain of mountains, reflecting perfectly the high
altitudes. The average life zone of the Impeyan lies between six and thirteen thousand
feet. Stragglers have been shot after severe weather at four thousand five hundred, and
an old cock bird has been seen sunning himself on a lofty, outjutting point of rock at
nearly fifteen thousand feet elevation. With the snow cocks, blood partridges and
tragopans it shares these lofty mountains, these birds being the only members of their
family which exist at such altitudes.

Not only does the Impeyan require an elevation of from one to three miles above
the sea, but it is typically an inmate of forests, more especially an open growth of
conifers. These necessities sharply delimit its distribution, shutting it off equally from
the low, hot Indian plains and the high, cold, but treeless Tibetan steppes. Within
these limits, however, it is widely distributed and may be flushed after the first foot-
hills have been passed, up to where, in the very innermost heart of the mountains, the
firs and rhododendrons have shrunk to shrubs before the all-pervading cold blasts.

GENERAL HABITS

Like almost all the feathered inhabitants of these high regions, the Impeyan is
decidedly migratory, in a purely altitudinal sense. In a word, the cold and snow force
him downward ; warmth and summer send him upward again au cze/.

They are hardy birds, however, and no false alarm of winter frightens them. The
early snows may fall, and right thickly, without causing the Impeyans to shift their
autumn feeding grounds, but when a constant depth interferes with their grubbing
among the dead leaves, they wander slowly downward. At the lower elevations they
enter the zones of oaks, chestnuts and magnolias, and in such surroundings spend most
of the winter months. Occasionally a sheltered southerly slope will keep comparatively
free of snow throughout the cold season, and in such locations Impeyans may sometimes
be found at a considerably higher elevation than their usual winter haunts. Or again, a

116 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

number of birds may delay their descent for a month or more by taking advantage of
the comparatively bare ground in the dark coverts of dense rhododendron scrub.

Unusually severe winters drive the birds to seek food in the vicinity of the lofty
Nepalese and other native hamlets, where the birds may occasionally be seen digging in
the deserted fields. Impeyans probably suffer but little from snow and cold, for they
are hardy and seem able to withstand very low, protracted falls of temperature provided
they have an abundance of food. In their native haunts, instead of a journey of
hundreds of miles as in the case of latitudinal migrants, a single leap into the air and a
long, scaling flight often will carry them a full mile downward, where the snow has
turned to warm rain, and in place of the frozen, dead turf, is fresh sprouting vegetation
and abundant insect life.

Impeyan Pheasants seem to a large extent gregarious, but the ties between the
members of a flock are extremely lax. In the autumn and winter considerable numbers
will be found in close association, but the sociability seems dependent more upon
available food than any innate covey instinct. This is shown by the irregular
distribution of the birds on any favourite slope. If the food, such as grubs and certain
edible tubers, is rather scarce and local, one may find from a dozen to thirty birds
all within the limits of a few rods, busily feeding, while with an abundant and more
generally distributed food supply, the birds will spend the colder months singly, at
considerable distances from their fellows. This being the case, it will readily be seen
that the same lot of birds working gradually down some great mountain slope, may
seem extremely gregarious at a certain elevation, and not at all elsewhere. Another
fact, aside from any actual covey instinct, which makes for the gathering of Impeyans
into loose flocks in the winter-time, is the constriction of the actual livable areas as the ©
upper regions are rendered uninhabitable by arctic conditions.

It is certainly true, however, that there is a distinct segregation of the sexes. In
the autumn, the females, with their similarly coloured young of both sexes, wander
downward earlier, and ultimately reach a lower elevation than the full-plumaged cocks.
“On the lower part or exposed side of the hill, scores of females and young birds may
be met with, without a single old male; while higher up, or on the sheltered side, none
but males may be found.” ‘This more or less complete isolation of cocks and hens holds
good until spring. Continued persecution for many years, on the part of natives, of the
full-plumaged cocks for their feathers, has helped to bring about a slight or, in some
places, well-marked distinction in the sex of Impeyans observed near villages. While
this was recorded over sixty years ago, it is more true now than ever, and when
Impeyans are driven down by heavy snowfalls it is seldom that any but females or
young birds are ever to be seen in the fields within sight of the habitations
of man.

No matter how loose are the ties between individual Impeyans, any hint of danger
affects all simultaneously. ‘In winter, when one or two birds have been flushed, all
within hearing soon get alarmed; if they are collected together, they get up in rapid
succession ; if distantly scattered, bird after bird slowly gets up, the shrill call of each
as it rises alarming others still farther off, till all in the immediate neighbourhood have
risen. In the chestnut forests, where they often collect in large flocks, and where there
is little underwood, and the trees, thinly dispersed and entirely stripped of their leaves,

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 117

allow of an extensive view through the woods,” Wilson writes that he has “ often
stood still till twenty or thirty have got up and alighted in the surrounding trees.”

In the spring, before the flights of early migrants begin to swing northward through
the passes toward Tibet and Siberia, the Impeyans begin leisurely to ascend. They
have only a foot of ground to cover for every mile of the other feathered migrants, but
their goal is the same—the cool zone where they were born and where their parents’
parents had nested before them. Asa rule, the Impeyans carry on their migrations on
the southern slopes, but in many of the hanging valleys birds from two wholly separate
ridges intermingle in winter. As courtship does not take place at the lower elevations
there is probably little physical intermingling, however, and, judging from all analogous
cases, the birds from each separate slope or ridge return unerringly to their natal forest
or heath, the young—or what are left of them—to some adjacent area.

As spring advances, all the Impeyans become wilder, and every hint of flock spirit
vanishes. At this season, when one bird is flushed or alarmed by man or beast, the
alarm does not spread, as earlier in the season, but each bird shows a tendency to delay
its retreat until individually menaced. The first flight is almost invariably to a tree,
especially if the assailant be a dog, but when again disturbed the bird puts a good
distance between himself and the danger, settling this time upon the ground.

The season of the year is said to be all important in influencing the tameness or
wariness of Impeyans. ‘In spring, when the snow has melted in almost every part of
the forest, and they have little difficulty in procuring an abundance of food, they appear
careless about being driven from any particular spot, and often fly a long way; but
in winter, when a sufficiency of food is not easily obtained, they cling to particular
localities, seem more intent on satisfying their hunger, and do not so much heed the
appearance of man.” The females, probably because their modest garb renders them
more immune against attack both from sharp-sighted carnivora and the millinery
hunter, seem always tamer than the cocks.

There seems little doubt but that the Impeyan has proved an unusually successful
competitor in the life struggle which, century upon century, has been waged among the
great heights and depths of the Himalayas. Although it is difficult to believe the
statement of a professional millinery hunter that ‘hundreds may be put up in a day’s
walk,” yet formerly the birds were unquestionably abundant in many parts of these
great mountains. Especially was this the case in winter when the spreading downward
of snow and frost concentrated the numbers of Impeyans at lower elevations. I shall
elsewhere take up more particularly the relation of these pheasants and mankind, and
shall here remark only that from end to end of the Himalayas, from the Simla or
Kashmir sportsman to the hunter who makes his way northward from Darjeeling, one
hears to-day only expressions of regret at the decimated numbers of these wonderful
birds; birds which have wholly refuted all early hopes of semi-domestication.

The Impeyan is as inferior to the tragopan in its vocal utterances as in the dermal
elaboration of its courtship display. The common call note is a shrill, loud whistle,
with but little cheeriness. The only love call at the height of the courtship season
which I have heard is this small call, louder and less lacking in the mournful, plaintive
quality which characterizes it at other times. This brighter tone is due, however, solely
to the greater vim put into the sound; the call in the main is the same. I have never

118 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

heard the call note uttered by males when feeding in a loose flock in early spring, nor
even when separating to roost for the night, but it is the common family signal used
by the female and her young. The call of the latter, both males and females, even
when in full first winter plumage, is appreciably shriller and higher than that of their
mother, and when parent and offspring are calling alternately, it is always possible to
distinguish between them. I have verified this more than once in the case of captive
birds. ‘The call note may be described as a high, reverberating whistle, bringing to
mind the beat of a dove’s wings in flight.

The hen Impeyan makes use of the call when anxious about Her nest, or when
separated from the chicks, and although I could never distinguish the slightest difference
between the alarm note which was uttered while I was considered a dangerous intruder
with the young somewhere near by, and the ultimate call notes, in which the young
joined, as the family came gradually together again, there must have been some deep
and important distinction clearly obvious to the young birds.

An Impeyan is feeding busily, flicking the dirt and leaves with strong picks of his
great beak, when some sound near by, not made by the wind, reaches his sharp ears.
He stiffens, stands upright and listens intently. The sound is repeated, but so muffled
and subdued that he cannot tell from which direction it comes. But his deepest
suspicions are not aroused, and he voices his nervousness in a deep cluk ! cluk ! much
like the suspicion or alarm note of the American robin. ‘This utterance is very unlike
the other notes of the Impeyan, and is called forth under exactly such circumstances as
I have narrated. I have heard it from both wild and captive birds.

When, however, a cock Impeyan is suddenly alarmed, so that it leaps into the
air and whirrs away, it pours forth from wide-open beak a rapid succession of shrill,
screeching, whistling notes which can be heard at a surprisingly great distance. These
can be considered only as multiplied, intensified, terror-induced modifications of the
common call note: weeeep! weeeep! weeeep! weececep !

I was once hidden among the lower branches of an oak with my glasses fixed upon
a distant cheer pheasant when I heard the sudden outburst of notes of fear. So full of |
potent agony were they, that I remember I started and thrilled with sudden sympathy.
When one spends weeks and months of constant watching and concentrated interest,
striving to fit together the glimpses of pheasants or some fortunate hour of observation
into its proper place in their life histories, one comes unconsciously to view one’s
surroundings somewhat through the eyes of these splendid birds. When I found that
the very best way to watch them was from a perch in a tree, or as I spent hour after
hour of cramped agony in my tiny observation tent, I felt that the mortification of the
flesh was perhaps compensated by the pheasant’s-eye view of life I obtained-while in such
situations ; in the first, I saw what the roosting pheasant sees, in the second instance
I was compelled to exercise some of the patience which the tireless mother bird exhibits
when giving up a full month of life to warm her eggs into dynamic vitality. And thus
when the sudden cry, drawn from the bird unconsciously, through sheer terror, came to
me, I too shuddered and breathed ‘the quicker. My pulses did not lessen as I saw the
bird itself coming full tilt toward me diagonally across a narrow gorge. Head on it
came, wings bowed and vibrating, but with now and then a downward flirt of one wing
as it ducked beneath a branch or swerved around a trunk. From the first glimpse of it

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 119

far off through the spruces to the moment it alighted below me, seemed but a fraction
of asecond. Its alarm notes had died out long before it reached me, but the instant it
alighted it began a breathless, half-articulated call note, and for two or three minutes it
remained motionless, half crouched, with bill partly open, uttering at intervals its loud,
plaintive call. Then it walked slowly away, and I saw no more of it nor did I ever
learn the cause of its fright. This secondary utterance of the call notes seems to have
no distinct purpose. I was told that the same thing occurs when a cock bird is thus
suddenly alarmed in winter, when it can have no family or young to summon or warn.
It would seem to be a mere reflex of the sudden nervous strain, and the bird is probably
as unconscious of calling at such a time as is a person of his exclamations at a sudden
fright.

The mother note of the Impeyan is low and subdued, a crooning, nasal, untrans-
latable sound, while the chicks have a whistling chirp that merges, with but little change
except of depth and volume, into the call of the adult Impeyans.

The early morning calling is rather inexplicable. I have known of four birds, old
and young, roosting at a certain place night after night, and yet, early in the morning,
all four would regularly go through a period of repeated calling. The calling was less
noticeable and of shorter duration when the dawn was lowering and cloudy than when
the sun came over the mountains bright and clear. It seems probable that it can only
be a mere concomitant of the nervous excitement of awaking and preparing for another
day. When the birds begin to feed, the call notes cease at once, and during the day
they are seldom given, unless the birds are forcibly separated by attack or, as we have
seen, unexpectedly alarmed.

The Impeyan appears at his best when standing still, although even then the
stoutness and thickness of his legs and feet give him a far from graceful figure. But,
however much we admire his marvellous colouring, of his gait we can say little of praise.
It seems to get him over the ground, and throughout his short life he doubtless covers
many, many miles of stiff hill climbing, but to our eyes his waddling, plodding gait
seems to savour of effort—something seeming decidedly wrong in the general proportions
of bodily weight or balance and the lower limbs. But we may be certain that there is
good cause for this, and I have sometimes wondered whether the gait of this bird,
awkward as it appears on level ground as in an aviary, was not some direct adaptation
for hillside clambering. The wide apart position of the legs would certainly be an
advantage in clambering over coarse, uneven turf, and in such locations there would be
little use for the swift, direct speed of other pheasants. The Impeyan apparently
has need in life of just such strong, sturdy legs to enable it to climb about all day.

The food of Impeyan Pheasants is rather specialized, and yet varies considerably
during the course of the year. Many writers have given the impression that it feeds
to a large extent on some special form of large grub, and also on a particular edible
tuber, but none enter further into details than this, and it is very improbable that there
is any species of larval beetle or other insect which is so abundant and widespread
throughout the Himalayas as to form a very dominant item in the diet of this pheasant.
However, terrestrial insects and tubers do certainly form its chief food, but in every
locality in which I have studied Impeyans, these differ widely. Whenever snow does
not cover the ground, or the forest debris is unfrozen, Impeyans spend much of the day

120 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

in digging among the moss and fallen leaves. It is in this work that their excessively
heavy, overlapping upper mandible serves them well, and from the constant use of this
organ it seems very reasonable that the connection between fossorial effort and its
ponderous size is very close; it may, in fact, be considered a fossorial adaptation.
The importance of this is more evident when we consider that the Impeyan very seldom
makes use of its stout feet and claws for the purpose of scratching—the habit which is
so nearly universal among gallinaceous birds. I have seen both sexes scratch the
ground, but it was a half-hearted, awkward movement and effected little.

In the high forests of Garhwal and Kashmir I have watched the Impeyans at their
communal feeding places and found every movement full of interest. At about ten
thousand feet, in the still quiet of midday, I once came across a level shelf of long
grass shut in by low spruces and deodars. The little glade was some dozen yards
across, and part of it appeared to have been recently ploughed. Closer inspection
showed abundant recent sign and some stray Impeyan feathers. The birds had
evidently been working here for some time, and I prepared a blind a little distance
away in a tree, from which I could see almost all the glade. The following morning
a heavy downpour held steadily until daylight, but the succeeding night was clear,
and before early dawn, lighted only by the faint greenish glow from the great mass
of Halley’s comet, I made my way from camp along the summit of the ridge to
my station. Here I shivered and shook with cold for an hour or more until the
first few sprinklings of morning songs had grown into a well-filled chorus, with an
accompaniment of the two-phrased, reiterated song of a tiny green warbler. A
koklass called far down the valley, and ten minutes later my first Impeyan appeared,
stepping quietly out from the low trees and going at once to the edge of the glade,
where he appeared to be picking at the long blades of grass. I had mounted my
seven-and-a-half-power stereo-glasses with an elastic band on a small branch, and
like a Gatling gun I could, with the slightest touch, swing it so as to cover the entire
glade. A gentle push and the Impeyan came into the field, his metallic hues deadened
by moisture and the early dawn, but the clear brown eyes flashing here and there as he
plucked the heads of tiny flowers from among the grass and swallowed them.

For fifteen minutes nothing more happened, and then, for the space of an hour,
Impeyans began to appear singly or in pairs, and once three together. Three other
times I had been grievously disappointed while in hiding, and now it seemed as if
I was to succeed in my concealment. Fourteen birds, every one a cock in full adult
plumage, were now in sight. Most of the birds went at once to the diggings, and,
stepping down into the hollows, began industriously to pick the earth away with
strong, sweeping flicks of their great shovel mandibles. Not once during this
observation did I see a bird use its feet in scratching. Some of the birds were
in holes a foot deep, and, when working, only their brilliant backs were in view.
They seldom worked more than three or four seconds without raising the head and
giving a swift glance around and especially upward into the sky, and I imagine
that the source of most of their troubles lies in soaring eagles. There was no fighting,
but now and then an undignified scramble for some tuber or other edible morsel. One
or two birds spent much of the time walking slowly about on the outskirts of the glade,
but there was no systematic watch or sentinel duty, such as is well known among some

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT [2

species of birds. They were remarkably silent, only now and then a subdued guttural
chuckle or a protesting whistle as one was crowded. Instead of scattering promiscuously
over the whole of the glade, they were concentrated along the edges of the dug-over
area, this being due probably to a zone of more abundant food. When a large tuft of
grass or bamboo was encountered, the birds dug around it and under it until it was
left supported by,its bare roots, or in one case until it actually toppled over. The sight
of more than a dozen Impeyans thus engaged was most remarkable, and when the sun
rose upon them the colour effect was indescribable, fourteen heaving masses of blue,
green, violet, purple, and now and then a flash of white, set among the green of the turf
and the black of the newly disturbed loam. It was surprising how seldom one caught
a glimpse of the white lower back. Only when some unusually violent effort made
the bird extend a wing to keep its balance did the white gleam forth.

The most interesting phase of the whole performance was the absence of females
and the fact that the _Impeyans came apparently from different directions. Although
I could not see the birds until they actually stepped out of the trees into the glade,
I heard several times the loud beating of wings as if they had flown from some
distant point. Certain it was that the Impeyans were nesting at this time, and I
am equally certain that on the adjacent slopes were but two nests of these birds.
We can only conjecture the cause of the segregation of the males at this season—
a segregation which in other birds would result from combative reasons, but in these
marvellous feathered rainbows was inspired solely by gastronomic desires. I was
spying upon a veritable café du Lophophore pour les hommes seulement. 1 never
succeeded in finding a corresponding gathering of females; never more than two or,
at most, three, and these were feeding in quite thick woods.

After the Impeyan cocks had been feeding for a half-hour there arose a sudden
excitement; several disappeared among the surrounding deodars, and all stopped
feeding and stood listening and watching for several minutes. Then feeding began
again, but in a desultory way, and one by one the birds left the glade until only
two were left. I stretched my cramped limbs and in so doing slightly shook a branch,
when both birds gave a single glance in my direction and launched out over the valley,
uttering their screams of terror as they went. Thus ended my never-to-be-forgotten
séance with the Impeyans at breakfast in their native mountains.

As regards the specific nature of the Impeyan’s food, we find but little in literature.
One author states that ‘in autumn the Impeyan feeds on a grub or maggot which it
finds under the decayed leaves; at other times on roots, leaves, and young shoots of
various shrubs and grasses, acorns, and other seeds and berries. In winter it often
feeds in the wheat and barley fields, but does not touch the grain; roots and maggots
seem to be its sole inducement for digging amongst it.” West of native Garhwal,
Impeyans have been observed feeding on edible mushrooms. and round truffles, as large
as the egg of a goose, which are known as mavewah. Other records include wild
strawberries and currants, the roots of ferns, and acorns. The few birds which I have
examined were mostly shot in the early morning before they had had a chance to fill
their crops. One had eaten several good-sized fragments of an elongated, very hard
tuber ; indeed, the edges of the upper mandible must perform an important function in

cutting and splitting vegetable tissues of such firm consistency. Close to a digging
=

122 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

ground of Impeyan Pheasants I once found a number of the hard elytra of a large
species of beetle, indicating that the birds had devoured the bodies of these insects.
When we consider the hundreds of these birds shot every year by sportsmen it
seems a pity that no one has ever taken the trouble to examine the crops and so
add to our exact knowledge of this splendid pheasant.

In winter, when the snow lies upon the ground, or when the Impeyans are low
down among the oak forests, or, again, when their summer haunts lie within the fir
zone, the birds roost at night up among the branches. Some dense clump of old
trees may form a favourite perch, to which a number of birds will repair night
after night. When such a place is known it is not difficult to hide and observe
their approach, and more than once, just at dusk, I have stolen up beneath a chestnut
and discovered the big round forms upon the branches overhead. All which I could
see distinctly were cocks, but were roosting alone, each bird by itself, the social spirit
being too lax to exact closer intimacy. Young birds perch, presumably, with their
mother, as they are closely associated throughout the early stages of life, and may
remain together until autumn or even early spring.

One observer told me of seven birds, all in female plumage, which in the autumn
roosted regularly in a clump of rhododendrons, in three groups of two, two and three
respectively, doubtless three hens and the young birds of the year.

When, however, the Impeyans make their summer home, as many do, at shrub line
or even among the alpine meadows, many of their more usual habits become modified
in accordance with their surroundings. The only note I can find on their sleeping
habits in such places is that they “will often roost on the ground in some steep, rocky
spot.” Although I have searched very carefully I have never found Impeyans roosting
thus, but there is no reason why they should not do so, as both blood partridge and
snow cocks have a similar habit. Whenever I have studied Impeyans in open rocky
country, both in Nepal and Garhwal, I have found that they invariably choose the
protected—south or south-east—side of some steep cliff or outjutting mass of rugged
boulders, and there roost in the niches well up on the precipitous face.

One such location I shall never forget. From the foot of the rock a meadow of
coarse grass and dead lily stalks stretched steeply downward to a jumping-off place
where a fault in the geological formation had cut a deep gash in the ground. Beyond
this, the first valley stretched blue and mistily far down and across to the opposite
mountain covered with dark and dense forest. Beyond lay three more mountain chains,
their rolling curves intersecting, becoming more purple and ethereal as they stretched
on into the distance. From the face of the cliff behind grew straggling graceful tufts
of alpine grass, diminutive rhododendrons gnarled and rugged as the uppermost pine-
lets on Fuji. By climbing from crevice to crevice a few yards upward, a narrow shelf of
rock not more than a foot wide, but winding for twenty feet along the cliff, was reached.
It took but a glance to show that several birds had for some time made this their
roosting place, and a number of feathers of a female or immature cock left no doubt
as to the species.

But I wanted more proof, and so I began my afternoon watch on the flat top of
a distant boulder—a huge, jagged affair as big as a dak bungalow, wonderfully lichened
and mossed, and eaten by frost and rain into a marvel of frescoing and deeper etching.

PHOTOGRAVURE 9

EASTERN HIMALAYAN HAUNT OF THE IMPEYAN

Ar the climax of three mountain ranges in eastern Nepal, a mighty boulder juts out from the steep
slope. It is painted with lichens, encrusted with moss, and in a narrow shelf on its sheltered side a trio
of Impeyans roosted. This roosting place, at an altitude above the limit of trees, was an isolated haven
of safety, out of the reach of martens, foxes and wild dogs. The birds were crowded close together on the
thick, soft cushion formed by the alpine moss, and above them there were the leaves of a tiny rhododendron
which had found a foothold in a little crevice. Early in the morning, before the full sunlight would expose
them to a passing eagle, the three would leap outward and scale down for their morning drink at a

snow-fed torrent.

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 9

IMPEYAN

iis

OF

U

leg

AYAN

IMA

Jt

e)
AN

EAST

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 123

My battery of binoculars was soon mounted and I settled myself for a long vigil. A
pair of lammergeiers came down to investigate, but sheered off after a keen scrutiny
of their supposed prey. My only other visitor was a little creeper which hitched
up and over the rock and mounted one of my hunting-boots before he realized that
I was some fearful creature, not a part of the boulder, and dropped from view in
voiceless terror over the rim of the precipice near by. My attention wandered from
my main object, and when I again looked through my glasses I saw an Impeyan—a
cock not yet in full plumage—squatted on the shelf. Soon two other apparently full-
plumaged cocks flew up from the meadow, reaching the shelf with a single, direct,
almost vertical flight from the ground. These birds moved scarcely a feather after they
reached the shelf, squatting at once but with eyes wide open, and, until] dusk obscured
their forms, they showed no signs of sleep nor yet of movement. I slipped down from
my perch and went back to camp. On the following night none came to the roost—
at least until darkness put a stop to my watching, and on the succeeding evening the
two cocks were alone. This was my last opportunity, and I was unable to learn whether
the young bird would be seen again or not. I was especially sorry for this, as the next
day a Nepalese shepherd passed me with a dead immature cock Impeyan which he had
snared two valleys away. At this meeting he was suspicious of me, and I could not
persuade him to sell me the bird. It seems hardly likely that this bird would have
wandered a full five miles from its roosting place, so I have no doubt the birds were
really two individuals.

The chief point of interest to me in this roost was the fact of the sound sense
showed in choosing such a location. Beech martens and grey foxes were abundant
and wild dogs were about, while doubtless other terrestrial carnivores of which we
knew nothing were in the vicinity—all potentially impeyanivorous. But here, sheltered
from all the worst storms, these birds had found a truly impregnable sleeping place.
The darkness of night made all safe from soaring eagles, and the scant ten or fifteen
feet of vertical rock between the ledge and the turf was a barrier which no four-footed
foe might scale. But here again, most careful search failed to reveal the roosting place
of any female Impeyans. Nesting was just about to commence.

Although Impeyans seem to tolerate one another’s presence more or less throughout
the year, I have never seen or heard of their associating closely with any other species
of bird. They have often been found feeding in company with some of the Himalayan
ungulates, and in certain places, especially in the western Himalayas, they prove a source
of annoyance to sportsmen who are after tahr or goral. If the keen eyes of an old cock
Impeyan once spy out the stalking hunter, the loud whistle of alarm is almost certain
to arouse the suspicions of every tahr within earshot, and to make them restless and
uneasy and almost impossible to approach. From the very first of my pheasant
researches I had in my mind many possible inter-relations of interest—both friendly
and inimical—which might exist between these birds and their neighbours, and in a
number of species I found abundant reward in this particular respect for my many hours
of observation, but with the Impeyans I failed to find any reciprocal associations such
as that between certain kalij pheasants and small mammals.

As to the enemies of Impeyans we have more exact information. From the time
when first womankind looked on the marvellous plumage of this bird and pronounced

124 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

it superlatively necessary for the adornment of her apparel, man has outclassed all other
enemies in the life of this pheasant. But just here we are concerned only with the
natural foes of the species: creatures which have preyed upon it or from which it has
escaped through all the centuries when mankind, far from thinking of personal orna-
ment, was only too thankful to be able to preserve his own life from the wild beasts about
him. So, ignoring for the moment the very recent arrival of the featherless biped—
whose presence is so puny a phenomenon among the grandeur of the Himalayas, and yet
whose tiny shiny weapon spells ultimate death and extermination for all these splendid
creatures of the wilderness—let us picture the foes which, if they do not silence the
downy chick striving to hide among the jungle, or if, indeed, they have not already
crushed the life still within the egg, will surely cut short the proud magnificence of the
overbold cock in his prime, or, certain as fate itself, take instant advantage of the first
carelessness or weakness of old age.

My first experience with the Impeyan, as I have related, showed the golden eagle
as one of these foes, and now that my study of the pheasant is completed, I return to
eagles as perhaps the worst foes of this species. The love of the open shown by
Impeyans, both old and young, gives these great wolves of the air many a chance, and
too often the quivering balance of fate swings to their side. The Impeyans, both cocks
and hens, are birds which, like the peafowl, choose to depend on their own eyesight for
detection of danger, and when it is once perceived they seek safety by instant action and
not by trusting to escape observation. I have never known, either in my own experi-
ence, or through that of hunters, of an adult Impeyan squatting for safety. The young
will do this until strong on the wing. One glance dictates the course of action: a four-
footed assailant sends the bird straight up into a tree; from a winged foe it bursts like
a bomb from the ground and hurtles with incredible speed into the nearest cover.
Whenever possible the aid of gravity is invoked, and the bird shoots down into the
valley at as sharp an angle as the ground will permit.

Besides the golden eagle there are two others, Bonelli’s and the spotted hawk-
eagle, which unquestionably attack and kill Impeyans, while it is certain that the
goshawk accounts for many a pheasant, both old and young.

As regards protective colouring in this species, the female, of course, is under all
conditions less conspicuous than her consort. And it is most significant that she is not
nearly as ready to take to wing as he, being on the whole much less wary, more willing
to take a second glance at danger before flying; the chances of life have allowed her
a wider margin of safety. The theory of counter shading receives a sad blow from the
colouring of the cock Impeyan, he being jet black beneath, although living much in the
open, and his white dorsal patch would seem for the express benefit of birds of prey,
showing them just where to take the most effective grip—the broad back and thighs
behind the beating wings. No, most decidedly, we cannot explain the Impeyan’s
armour by protection, and he seconds us in this opinion; he takes no chances by
skulking or crouching. When the sun was hidden from view I have found the cock
bird as inconspicuous at a distance as the hen, but when the first gleam broke forth it
seemed like a searchlight falling upon his wondrous metallic plumage; every movement
made of his body a living heliograph more potent than any scent or vocal utterance
could possibly be to attract the attention of all, whether friend or foe. In the steamy,

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 125

hot, dark jungles I many times admired the alert carriage and watchfulness of the
pheasants dwelling there, but for no other bird did I ever feel the enthusiasm which
the bravery, unconscious though it was, of the Impeyan aroused ; apparently conscious
of danger, clad in the most advertising of tints, and yet taking his chances in the open.

Lynx, leopards, foxes, wild dogs, beech martens, weasels, all doubtless look upon
the Impeyan, awake or asleep, as their lawful prey. The recently slain body of the
adult Impeyan of which I have written is the only tragedy of its kind within my
personal experience, but several Himalayan sportsmen have commented upon the fact
of finding, not uncommonly, a heap of scattered Impeyan feathers here and there on
the hillsides with no trace of body or bones. These feather-revealed tragedies have been
explained in an interesting way which certainly seems plausible for that period of the
year between March and October. ‘All the larger eagles pair in February and March
and begin building their nest very soon after, and from that time on till the young birds
are fully fledged and able to follow their parents, all the game is brought to the nest
daily, minus the feathers, which are plucked by the parent birds presumably where the
bird was caught. I had an opportunity of watching the actions of a pair of spotted
hawk-eagles only a short time ago, and finally sent up a man for the young one, which
had only just begun getting a few of its back feathers. In the nest was a whole dove,
with the exception of its feathers, a few, but very few feathers, of koklass and monaul,
but any number of bones of all sorts and sizes. The young bird leaves the nest in
August, but not to wander far from it, and does not accompany its parents till nearly
the middle of September, when it gets its first training and is initiated into the
mysteries of ‘striking.’ I have frequently seen the young birds getting a lesson. The
mother soars into the heavens with her offspring following close behind and with a
tender morsel in her talons. When sufficiently high to give the youngster a good
fly, she drops it and lets him stoop after it, keeping near enough herself to catch it
before it reaches the ground, in case the young one fails to get it. However, it is only
one or two of the largest eagles that dare resort to this style of amusement, as any of
the smaller ones attempting the experiment would soon have their breakfast snatched
from them. It is from October to March that the absence of bones is hard to account -
for. Of course, during these months not many sportsmen visit the haunts of monaul
and snow cock to notice, and even then, in the majority of cases, the eagles are usually
followed by crows, who bother the life out of them as soon as they (the eagles) leave
their perch. The keen eyes of the lammergeyer too are ever on the watch for scraps.
Then again there are pine martens and foxes, neither of which would despise even the
bones of a pheasant.” The enemies of eggs and young I shall discuss elsewhere.

From Sikhim to Kashmir the nesting season of the Impeyan is in Mayand June. All
the birds have now returned from lower levels, and at these high altitudes the spring
of the year is at its full. The courtship takes place late in April or early in May, and,
as in all the pheasants, consists in a display of the cock before the female, of such
character that his brilliant hues and striking patterns are exhibited to the utmost
advantage. ‘T'wice at a distance I observed Impeyans thus displaying, but in both cases
my woodcraft was not equal to that of the birds, and before I could reach a position for
careful watching they had taken alarm and disappeared. On the second occasion I
consumed almost an hour in creeping a hundred yards, and was certain that neither by

126 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

sight nor sound had I revealed my approach, but solace my pride as I might, the fact
remained that the birds had left. From observations on captive birds I am inclined to
think that the courtship is a rather more rapid affair than with many other pheasants.
A cock will walk up to a hen, show off for a few seconds, and walk away again
unconcernedly, in strong contrast to the ardour of a golden pheasant, who seems to
take little time from his circlings and posing even to feed. Very much the same thing
has been observed in a wild bird by Major Rodon, who, when shooting in Chamba
one early April morning, noticed, as he was seated behind a tree, a pair of Impeyan
Pheasants feeding a short distance away, on a flat terrace on the open hillside. He
says: ‘‘they were so close that I was able to see their every movement distinctly. After
being busily engaged some time in their usual digging operations, the hen bird stopped
work and uttered her call note several times, upon which the cock, who was at the time
some little distance away, ran up to her with his wings raised high above the back, tail
spread, and neck and body feathers distended. He then moved quickly to and fro for a
few seconds in front of the hen, who stood quietly looking on at his performance; he
then abruptly closed his wings and tail, turned about and ran back to his feeding
ground, while the hen went on with her breakfast. As the early morning sun was
shining on the birds, the sudden appearance of the cock in the above performance
was most splendid to look upon; the back and chestnut-coloured tail, spread like a fan
behind, shone out most gorgeously. But it is not for the mere pleasure given by the
exhibition that I write this note, but to direct attention to the unusual behaviour showed
by the hen. As, I believe, in all courting displays among birds of fine-coloured plumage,
the hen takes a most passive part, and does not in any way call the performance up;
but the male birds themselves of their own accord go through the ceremony of showing
off their fine feathers in front of their lady-loves. But in this case the lady-love, by her
calls, appeared to have directly invited or encouraged the display, as the lover was
digging out his breakfast until he heard the call sounded.” The fact that the two birds
were alone and apparently mated seems to me the principal point of interest, showing
an extension of the courtship phenomenon or instinct beyond its logical season. Its
incomplete performance doubtless reflected a dying-out of the wooing instinct.

Although I have several times watched a captive cock Impeyan displaying before
the hen, I have never seen so elaborate a performance as has been recorded of a bird
in England. In this case he ‘lowered both wings, stiffened the copper-red feathers on
his neck to look like a small ruff, drew his bill under his chin so as to display his crest
better, and then crept slowly round a grassy mound to look if the hen was observing
him.

“Finding this to be the case, he crouched low on the ground, dropped his wings
even further, and spread out his tail into a fan shape as far as it would go—which was a
long way. He then suddenly raised his tail upwards and bristled up all his feathers,
the head being lowered near the ground. He next lowered his tail, still keeping it
spread out fan-shape, and commenced such a loud rattling and rustling of all his feathers
(accompanied by a plaintive whistling) that I could scarcely believe it was the bird
making so much noise. He then closed his feathers, except the tail (which he still
spread to its utmost extent), and gave several froglike leaps forward in the direction of
the hen, stopped short, jerked himself suddenly right-about-face, gave a flourish of his

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 127

fan-tail in front of the hen, suddenly closed his tail, and then ran away.” In this
account the audible accompaniments, both instrumental and vocal, are of unusual
interest, and probably represent the most extreme vital moment of the courtship. The
effect of changed environment is shown by the fact that the exhibition took place on the
tenth of January. There seems to be more latitude or unconscious individuality, if I
may be permitted the term, among Impeyans in their display than in some others with
more mechanical courtships. By this I mean that a certain cock bird will often slur over
one detail and accentuate another, while on the whole following out the set scheme of
display of his species.

The performance of one bird which I observed many times never varied, the
invariable sequence being as follows. This cock approached the hen with long groping
steps, describing wide circles about her, always with the inner wing lowered to such an
extent that the feet and legs were completely hidden. The neck was extended and
arched, swanlike, the crest thus standing quite erect, the beak pointing down. As he
got nearer and more excited he pecked now and then at the ground, elaborately but
meaninglessly. Gradually a more and more frontal position was assumed, and the tail
began to be the most prominent feature, being raised to a vertical position and spread to
its widest extent. At last the cock faced head on, with head and beak to the ground,
wings spread, lifted forward and drooped, tail wide and erect, the bird bowing
rhythmically forward and back. Finally the bird collapsed suddenly, stood up, settled
his feathers, looked about for a moment as if he had awakened from sleep, and began
feeding.

The display is essentially frontal ; that is, while under the excitement of the season
of courtship the bird may spread its wings or tail, or ruffle up its plumage as it
approaches the hen, and especially on the side toward the demure disturber of his peace
of mind; yet it is not until he is directly facing the hen that the real display takes
place.

Summing up the courtship evolutions of the Impeyan, there seem to be several
definite objects to be attained, although it must always be remembered that the action is
wholly instinctive: The under parts and larger wing feathers are dull coloured and must
be concealed from view; all the upper parts must be displayed to their utmost, but the
copper and bronze-green of the neck and mantle are the fzéce de résistance and hold the
centre of display ; the brilliant head and waving crest and the white dorsal patch must
be in evidence, and, finally, the rich monochrome of the tail feathers forming the most
admirable background in the world must needs be raised and spread out to their utmost.
All this is achieved by the -bird inverting itself as much as may be; bending far
downward until its breast almost touches the ground, with the head and neck still
erect, the back reared upward, and the tail spread to the fullest extent. The position is
not unlike that of the peacock, and like that bird, but unlike the peacock pheasant, the
wings are never brought forward, but kept at the sides of the body, and often only
partially opened. The feathers of the back and wings are only slightly raised, but the
mantle and neck plumage fluff out into a radiating halo of most marvellous beauty,
encircling the head and vibrating crest. Words totally fail to convey the glory of an
Impeyan at this his supreme moment of life. cr this he wears his flaming armour
throughout the year, inviting constant attack and death. One cannot help getting

[28 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

thoroughly out of patience with the hens, who gaze at the efforts of their gorgeous suitor
with less enthusiasm than they manifest in searching for the next grub! We humans
stand transfixed by the beauty, longing for more real insight into the minds of
these little mountain folk; striving for some clue as to how it all came about and
exactly what it all means. How willingly would I seize upon the least hint of conscious
appreciation ; how ready I stand waiting to exaggerate anything which I could interpret
as akin to our human esthetic sense; but the most ardent lover of birds, if he is
perfectly frank with himself, must acknowledge that birds seem almost to lack this
faculty. I have seen an Impeyan which by accident had lost its tail, raise and spread
the coverts with as great éc/a¢ as though his splendid orange fan was perfect. I believe
if his plumage was dyed the most ugly colour in the world, the ardour of his courtship
would abate not one whit. There seems considerable reason to believe that such a
transformation would affect the hen, but that her zsthetic sensibilities would be hurt
I cannot believe | 7 :

The inconspicuous mottled cloak which Nature has wrapped about the female
Impeyan is essential for the month of incubation—that critical four weeks of her annual
life which must be lived in one spot. Think what a fearful handicap such a period
must be ; the bird, active and vigorous, able to watch for danger on tiptoe or from a tree,
to flee from it on foot or wing, suddenly becoming a static creature, voluntarily assuming
the rdle of a plant or stone, and even though she save her life at the very last gasp, her
eggs—as helpless as pebbles—lie ready for the maw of any passing foe. If within the
short period of my Stay in the Himalayas, with the dulled senses of a human being, I
was able to discover three nests, how much more fatal must be the daily wanderings and
nocturnal pryings of the keen-nosed creatures of the forest !

The sun shone warmly down upon me as I lay one day on the fallen needles of a
great coniferous forest in the western Himalayas. It was the middle of May, perhaps
the most delightful time of the whole year. I had passed from the furnace heat of the
Indian plains, up through the barren, euphorbia-dotted lower zones, and after many
days’ travel had reached these cool, upper forests over a mile and a half above the sea.
I sat at the edge of a narrow ravine, from which tall spruces and deodars rose straight
as plumb-lines high above the surrounding slopes. The sun shone fitfully; now the
full warm glow lighted up the varying shades of green, and every needle was still.
Crested tits called, brilliant minivets dashed about among the highest branches. Then
a cloud passed, and a chill wind swept down from the snows, soughing through the
needles like the sound of continuous heavy surf. The holly-leaved oaks bent and
swayed, each twig tipped with the warm maroon of the young leaves. With each gust
a shower of tiny, brown, tissue-paper scales fell around me, each the liberty-cap of a new
deodar shoot. The branches were dotted with myriads of the pale green, velvety
brushes of new-born needles, while as many more were still striving to be free from the
split, pointed sheath-caps. Little insects love these fresh growths, and delight to eat
into their hearts and blight the hopes of a new Himalayan twiglet. Thus in turn is
explained the eagerness of the exploring flocks of tits and warblers. All were not in
flocks, however, for one little crested black tit did not swallow the spiders and grubs,
but filled her beak with them and flew straight to a tiny hole in the great four-foot bole
of a mighty spruce. The heart of the splendid tree, which had braved the gales from

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 129

the distant snows for centuries, held safe her secret—a half-dozen caricatures of birds—
atoms of fluffy down—who waited so patiently in the darkness for the coming food, the
never-failing beakfuls of insects which would enable them soon to explore the great
forests for themselves. Many a withering brush of needles was freed from its insect
blight by these tiny foragers, and the thought came, if they and all their feathered
kindred should die or disappear, how soon would the ancient spruce and all its fellows
stand stark and bare—awaiting death; succumbing surely to the insect hordes, which
nothing but the tireless energy of the bird world keeps in abeyance!

Nutcrackers called and hammered loudly; black and yellow grosbeaks shrieked
their Che-che-ult/ and from a distant valley came the five-syllabled crow of a koklass
pheasant. But my eyes continued to follow the little tit as she made trip after trip to
the home in the spruce. Once she gleaned from the low shrubs, and was flitting about
near the ground when I heard her utter a sudden scolding note and pause in her search.
She concentrated her attention on a tangle of ivy, and had discovered, as I supposed, a
snake or other animal, which the little bird considered as worthy of her contempt. She
gave it but a second glance, however, and returned quietly to her caterpillar hunt. I
carefully focused my glasses on the spot, and almost at the first scrutiny made out the
head of some large bird through the interstices of the leaves.

The bright eye seemed to be fixed upon me, so I made no sudden movement, rising
quietly and walking slowly away, but down the slope, in order to get a better view.
Finding this impossible, I climbed some distance up a half-dead spruce, and had an
almost clear view of a female Impeyan sitting close to the base of a rotten stub, half
buried in a mass of Himalayan ivy and maidenhair fern. Her mottled plumage
merged insensibly into the dry leaves; her pale-blue eye-space might pass for some
lowly blossom. It was indeed a red-letter day! How I sat and looked, and looked
again! The whole landscape seemed changed; all was a mere setting for this
gem}; mere accessories to complete the picture. The forest itself became the dace
where the Impeyan nested. The little tit flew to and fro unheeded, unwatched. My
interest became concentrated on the floor of the forest—where she sat, and where
she must, somehow, mysteriously leave her treasure and search—how hungrily, and yet
begrudgingly—for food.

But even aside from this, to me, wonderful discovery, the forest carpet was a thing
of marvellous beauty and great interest. In more open parts, where oaks prevailed,
grew low jungles of roses and gracefully sweeping, pink-flowered raspberries ; or where
the deep shade of the deodars held sway were the flowers of the shadows, growing
singly or in friendly groups of several—lilies-of-the-valley, Solomon's seal, or so they
appeared to American eyes. Here too, in the very presence of the wonderful wilderness
home, were banks of delicate maidenhair fern, all in deep shadow, a filmy tracery
bending to breaths of air which I could not sense. And wherever the ferns failed, crept
the ivy, winding its dull-green trail over fallen trunks, or seeking to hide every stump
or half-dead tree.

In such a fairyland I found my first home of the _Impeyan; under such conditions
the little lives begin their growth. It was a new thought to imagine the wonderful
iridescent creatures of the high rocky meadows as starting life here amid the dim light

beneath the ferns.
S

130 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

The mother bird moved not a muscle—she seemed scarcely to wink—while I
watched her that day, and on the following she remained equally quiet, although once
I walked within twenty feet. The succeeding day, at nine in the morning, she was not
to be seen, and I hastened to take photographs of the two large, thickly speckled eggs,
and retreat before she returned. In the afternoon she had returned, but on the fourth
day came tragedy swift and final. As I came along the slope I heard the familiar crash
and roar of a troop of langur monkeys. I approached, and the noise lessened until the
forest was still, but as I came over the ridge a long-tailed grey form leaped from the
undergrowth up a bare, half-fallen tree trunk, and ran along it on three legs, holding
something clutched in one hand. I suspected something was wrong and ran headlong
at the great monkey, who promptly dropped the object and fled from tree to tree,
swearing roundly at me the while. A glance at the nest showed it to be empty, and
several minutes’ search beneath the dead tree revealed one of the eggs, with a great
gaping hole in one side, through which the yolk still dripped. The female was never
seen again, but the very same day another nest, identified by tell-tale feathers, was found
under the shelter of a small moss-covered boulder not more than two hundred feet away.
The second female was not observed either upon or near the nest.

As enemies of the Impeyan, the langurs at once assumed a new interest in my
eyes. The troop fled overhead into the thicker parts of the forest, making an almost
incredible racket. Tree after tree shook and bent as in a terrific gale of wind, branches
crashed and splintered, cones, needles and oak leaves rained to the ground as the band
swung and leaped past. Rarely they dropped to the ground, galloped for a few steps
and swung up again, but even among the narrow, cone-shaped firs it was seldom that
there was a break in their aerial path. Their pale buff bodies and black faces formed
a strange colour note among the conifers, and their low chatter merged with the great
noise of their passage. |

Strange to say, this not unusual uproar in the deodar forests does not unduly startle
the other lesser wild creatures, but the small birds and mammals hate them with a well-
deserved hatred. They well know the four-handed folk, their limitations and _ their
dangers. I saw langurs mobbed by nutcrackers and other birds more than once, and
a squirrel never lost a chance to tell the marauders what he thought of them. Doubt-
less many a score of pheasants and birds of lesser size are robbed of their eggs by these
keen-eyed animals. But they do not have it all their own way. One day my shikari
led me to some splintered bones and tufts of hair, which revealed where one of these
monkeys had fallen prey to some leopard or other carnivore. Sometimes the peace of
the sweet-scented mountain forests and the songs of the birds seemed but hollow
mockeries as I thought of tragedy moving swiftly, first here, then there, claiming—first
or last—every creature, insect, bird or mammal.

In connection with the two nests of Impeyans which I found in quite close
proximity, it is interesting to read that one observer has written, “in localities

where they are very numerous... several nests may be found within a circle
of a hundred yards, as if the females were, even at this season, more or less
gregarious.”

The two nests which I have recorded, and a third found later, were all alike
in that there was no nest in the usual sense of the word. The eggs were deposited

PHOTOGRAVURE 10

WESTERN HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE IMPEYAN

Two miles above the sea, in the coniferous forests of Garhwal.

Between a jagged bit of rock and a sturdy deodar, I crouched early in the morning, every needle
and leaf about me drenched with dew. Behind were six ranges of mountains, dropping away from the
fathomless valley at my feet, and yet rising ever higher and higher to the distant Tibetan snows.

Before me was a glade surrounded by small trees, and having the appearance of recent ploughing
or of thorough trampling by the hoofs of a great herd of cattle. This was a feeding ground of cock
Impeyans, and within an hour on this particular morning fourteen full-plumaged birds appeared. Wielding
their beaks like picks, they dug deep holes and overturned clumps of turf in their eager search for grubs
and succulent tubers. Probably each had a mate somewhere in the surrounding forests brooding her eggs,
but each morning these birds, too gaudy to dare to approach their nests, came here for a social meal, then

separated to feed alone during the remainder of the day.

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PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 1/0

IRN.- HIMALAYAN HOME OF THE IMPEYAN

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HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 131

in a depression that might have been made by the mere weight of the bird. The
dead leaves and flower stalks which lined this were only those which the “accident
of fate” had already deposited there, but in each were a half-dozen or more soft
breast feathers of the hen Impeyan. One nest was close to the foot of a decayed
stub, another fairly touching an overhanging boulder, and the third near a living
oak-tree. Two were at an elevation of eight, the third nearer nine thousand feet.
Other nests are described as being found under the shelter of an overhanging
rock, the massive root of a large tree, some thick tuft of fern or grass or near
a fallen trunk, the hollow being either bare or with a natural lining of dry
grass, leaves or moss.

The two eggs which I found were evidently a set, as the broken one showed
signs of about a week’s incubation. Natives tell of sets of a dozen eggs, and one
record states that nine were found, but it may have been that these were eggs
of the koklass. Eight is the largest perfectly authenticated number, and the usual
quota is unquestionably four or five. Sets of two are by no means unknown

The eggs of the Impeyan Pheasant resemble those of our American wild
turkey so closely that some specimens are almost indistinguishable. The most
persistent difference is that the eggs of the turkey are slightly broader and more
pointed. Comparison of the females of the two species and their eggs is of
interest, considering the various characters of the turkey as 1.

Body Body Size Number Period of
Measurements. Weight. of Egg. of Eggs. Incubation.
@ Turkey : : : I I I I I

DS I i I

oto

2 Impeyan

The eggs of the Impeyan have a firm and compact shell, with but slight
gloss, and in shape are broad, rather blunt ovals. The ground colour is creamy
or buffy white, the entire surface thickly freckled with dark reddish brown. These
markings show considerable variation; rarely almost absent; more frequently in
the form of minute pore-like specks, or most commonly with a large number of
spots about one-twentieth of an inch in diameter. Again, we find more rarely
large irregular blotchings. Sometimes the markings are more dense in the centre,
in other specimens at one or the other end.

One egg from the eastern Himalayas is of a pale white ground colour, glossy
and faintly pitted. It is much rubbed, but on the unrubbed portions the ground
surface is concealed by a fine, even freckling of dark sepia, with many larger
centres, irregularly scattered, but about 2 mm. apart. A second egg is slightly
darker, with darker, less abundant markings, which, however, are individually
larger, with more of a blotchy character, thickest about the small end.

A set of four from Garhwal is quite different. The ground colour is rich cream,
deeply pitted, and blotched with ochre. The larger blotches are glossed with very
evanescent translucent white, producing a peach-bloom effect which rubs off easily.
In two the blotches are confined to the middle third, another has them at the large
end, and the fourth shows them distributed evenly over the entire surface.

They measure from 43 to 48 mm. in breadth, and from 61 to 68°5 in length ;
averaging 45°5 by 65 mm.

132 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

As to the more intimate wild home life of the Impeyan, we can only piece together
the fragments of observation which are all we have. In captivity we know that
occasionally the cock will assist. materially with the care of the young birds. I know,
however, of no instance of his approaching the nest or eggs during incubation.
Doubtless, in a wild state, swift destruction would follow in the wake of his conspicuous
figure did he haunt the vicinity of his sitting mate. In spite of several vague assertions
and some little apparent evidence, I believe that the Impeyan is but seldom polygamous,
and that the birds usually pair off soon after the period of courtship. 7

We read that “it may be questioned whether they do pair or not in places where
they are at all numerous ; if they do, it would appear that the union is dissolved as soon
as the female begins to sit, for the male seems to pay no attention whatever to her
whilst sitting, or to the young brood when hatched, and is seldom found with them.”
The final rather ambiguous statement is cleared up, and the cock is freed from the
slander in the first line, by the fact that in many, and probably most cases, he does
rejoin his family when their safety from the dangers of nest and early chickhood is
assured. In summer and early fall the parents and young live and roost together,
remaining more in the shade of the forests than on the open hillsides.

The vicissitudes of chickhood are shown by the average number of two young
birds seen with the mother in the autumn and winter, often only a single one
remaining out of the average of five or six which must have been hatched a few
months before.

However numerous their enemies, it is difficult to believe that the lammergeier is
to be included among them. It has been stated that the bearded vulture destroys
the adult birds, but this vulture would hardly be found within the forest itself,
and we have no first-hand observation of its attacking pheasants, either old or
young.

We know that the Impeyan cocks are seen again and again with their partly grown
broods, but it is only in captivity that we can hope to gain such insight into their
admirable family qualities as is recorded of a pair of birds which reared their young
year after year in an enclosure some thirty yards square. The young birds began to
perch when three or four weeks old, and it was a charming sight to see them settling
down for the night, perched between the parents, both of which extended one wing over
the nearest chick, for the cock bird took his full share of night duty. One has only to
close one’s eyes and think of the forests of mighty deodars and firs, the air of the cool
Kashmir summer night, heavy with spicy resinous odours, to feel a mighty affection
for similar little families perched asleep among the branches—all too few left alive
to-day. |

Here we have a rather complex yearly cycle of life; the two sexes in loose flocks
ascending in spring to their breeding haunts; pairing and a brief association; the
segregation of the males in flocks during incubation, and in the summer a reuniting
of the families, the attraction this time being apparently pure family affection—a fact
which, if true, goes far to compensate for the dashing of our belief in their aesthetic
appreciation! ‘Then, finally in the fall; the bond loosens, and the male again drifts apart
from his mate and young, who soon begin to wander down the mountain slopes to their
winter haunts in the valleys.

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 133

RELATION TO MAN

A bird of so striking an appearance as the Impeyan Pheasant could not fail to
_ impress strongly the human inhabitants of its native haunts. The most pleasant phase
of all its relations with mankind is the legends and stories which have arisen in con-
nection with its habits or its wonderful plumage. One, which belies the apparent
stupidity of this bird, tells how the Kalchuniya and the Monal or Impeyan disputed for
many, many hundreds of years as to what time the sun rose. The Kalchuniya, who lived
in deep, dark valleys, said the sun appeared first upon the lower hills, while the Monal,
on the contrary, claimed that it shone first on the highest mountains. Now these two
birds were the earliest risers of all in this region, and they would entrust the settling
of the dispute to no one, so they agreed to keep watch on a certain night, and whoever
first saw the sun should inform the other and announce his victory. The Kalchuniya
flew off, and was soon lost among the dark foliage of the lower hills, where he perched
and began his long night’s vigil. The Monal, as was his custom, flew upward and
perched for the night upon a lofty summit, ruffled his plumage, placed his head between
his wings and slept. ‘The night passed, and at earliest dawn the first rays of the morn-
ing sun awakened the Monal, who at once flew far down into the valley which was still
wrapped in darkness, where he found his friend the Kalchuniya in deep slumber. ‘The
Monal awoke his rival, and won. It will be observed even to-day that the Kalchuniya
does not run like other birds, but hops as if it had lost its feet, showing that when the
Monal awoke it, hundreds of years ago, it received some injury. The moral of this tale
is as plain as it is uncommendable; the victory of the crafty sluggard over his zealous
but scatter-brained rival.

To the millinery hunter, what the egret is to America, and the bird of paradise
to New Guinea, the Impeyan Pheasant is to India—the most coveted of all plumages.
There is a great tendency to blame the native hunter for the decrease of this and other
pheasants, and from what I have personally seen in many parts of the Himalayas there
is no question but that the Garhwalese and Nepalese hillman has wrought havoc among
the birds, but he is by no means the sole cause. As long ago as 1879 we read that
“The great demand for the brilliant skins of the Moonal that has existed for many
years has led to their almost total extermination in some parts of the hills, as the
native shikaris shoot and snare for the pot as well as for skins, and kill as many
females as males. On the other hand, though for nearly thirty years my friend
Mr. Wilson has yearly sent home from 1,000 to 1,500 skins of this species and the
Tragopan, there are still in the woods whence they were obtained as many as, if not
more than, when he first entered them, simply because he has rigidly preserved females
and nests, and (as amongst English Pheasants) one cock suffices for several hens.”
Ignoring the uncertainty of the last statement, it is rather absurd to think of a single
man “ preserving” females and nests in the Himalayas in the years 1850 to 1880,
when the British Government, despite most efficient laws and worthy efforts, is
unable to protect the birds of these wild regions to-day. The statement that after
thirty to forty-five thousand cock Impeyans were shot or snared, as many or more
than the original quota remained could only emanate from the mind of a professional
feather hunter, and Hume should not be blamed for more than the mere repetition

134 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

of such figures. Let it be said to the credit of Wilson, the said slaughterer of
something under forty-five thousand Impeyans, that he was a careful observer of the
birds’ habits, and has given us an excellent account, somewhat coloured by natives,
but on the whole the best we have had in the past. But it is not pleasant to
read of his waiting until “twenty or thirty have got up and alighted in the surrounding
trees and have then walked up to the different trees and fired at those I wished
to procure without alarming the rest, only those very close to the one fired at being
disturbed at each report.”

Hume's personal opinion, that in 1879 there were scores of places where one
might secure from ten to eighteen birds in a day, is certainly not true to-day.
Indeed as early as 1858 we read that “This splendid bird, once so abundant on
the western Himalayas, is now far from being so, in consequence of the numbers
killed by sportsmen on account of its beauty; whole tracts of mountain forest
once frequented by the Monal are now almost without a single specimen.’ The
same author goes on naively to tell the reader that ‘Among the most pleasant
reminiscences of bygone days is a period of eleven days, spent by the author and
a friend on the Choor Mountain, near Simla, when among other trophies were
nnmbered sixty-eight Monal Pheasants,” etc.

_ For some unaccountable reason there is, or was for many years, a very prevalent
idea that the enormous number of skins which have poured into the London market
were from birds bred in the vicinity of Calcutta. When we remember the intense
heat of that low-lying city and learn from the records of the Calcutta Zoological Garden
that Impeyans and tragopans are even shorter lived than in Europe, the absurdity
of the idea is apparent. In spite of numberless inquiries throughout India, I failed
to learn of a single young bird ever hatched even in the high, cool hill-stations.
The commercial value of an Impeyan skin varied from five dollars to twenty dollars,
according to the number received annually. In 1876 anestimate placed the monthly
average of Impeyans received in London at from two to eight hundred.

As regards the status of the Impeyan in later years, we read that at one feather
- sale in London, in 1904, six hundred and forty-eight Impeyan skins were sold, while
an Indian ornithologist makes the statement that, thanks to the action of the Govern-
ment, no Indian species except, possibly, the Monaul Pheasant seems in danger of
early extinction. But, however rare it is at present, complete extinction is not yet
to be feared, owing to its wide range and the inaccessibility of some of its varied
haunts.

As regards the flesh of the Impeyan we find many differing accounts. One
writer finds the birds in May not very good eating, nothing equal to the English
pheasant or cheer or koklass. Another says the flesh is bitter and inedible, a third
writes of the excellence of young birds, and a fourth that a cock was ‘‘as tough as
an old shoe.” My experience was that of the first mentioned. There seems no
doubt that the flesh varies with the season, influenced by the food—a change from
some ground tuber to acorns doubtless resulting in an entirely different flavour of
the flesh. Natives are of one opinion on the subject, judging by their readiness to
eat Impeyans of all ages and at any time of year.

The methods of trapping are chiefly two: first, the low bamboo fence with

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 135

frequent openings in which are suspended nooses, and the more primitive but often
even more effective plan of simply staking out scores of yak-hair nooses over the
digging grounds of these birds.

In regard to the enemies of the Impeyan in the western part of its range we
read that ‘last, but by no means least, comes the curse of the Himalayas, viz. the
‘pahary’ with his snares. One frequently finds four or five consecutive spurs lined
with nooses from top to bottom, chiefly set for musk deer, but birds by no means
come amiss and keep the men in food till a few unfortunate musk deer also fall
victims. I have taken the greatest delight, on several occasions, in cutting every
noose, and have gone up and down the spurs from end to end especially for the
purpose, thereby demolishing in one day what has taken two to four men a couple of
weeks’ hard work to put up.” This righteous fervour of anger against the native hunter
is somewhat discounted by the many inexcusably large bags taken by thoughtless,
selfish sportsmen, but the majority of British sportsmen in India are fortunately
deserving of their title, and, no matter what the temptation, take thought both of the
status of the wild creatures and of the next sportsman to come that way, and do
not limit their bag by the capacity of their cartridge pouches.

I never heard a native accuse the Impeyan of taking his wheat or barley, and I
believe the statement to be true that even when they were more abundant, their toll
from native fields in winter consisted almost altogether of insect food and not grain.

CAPTIVITY

The history of the Impeyan Pheasant in captivity is a closé parallel to that of
the tragopans. The praises of this species, on account of its incomparable metallic
plumage, and the glories of the ‘“‘Golden Bird,” of “le Lophophore resplendissant,”
were sung throughout Europe. ‘“ ... Ce magnifique oiseau que les Indiens, dans leur
admiration, ont surnomme /ovseau dor, quils auraient appelé plus justement l’oiseau
d’émeraude et de saphir. En effet, I’éclat de ces pierreries brille sur le plumage du
male, mélé a des tons pourpres lustrés, violets pourprés, bleus métalliques, noir cor-
beau, et font de cet admirable gallinacé une véritable merveille, ornée de toutes les
splendeurs que la main de Dieu a prodiguées aux oiseaux de |Himalaya. Sans nul
doute, il serait le roi des airs, si la royauté appartenait a l’éclat, 4 la magnificence
du plumage.” Then, when the first eggs were laid and chicks hatched, seemingly
strong and vigorous, prophets arose, and one reads how the copses of England, the
wilder of Germany and des foréts of France were to be made the home of this
splendid Pheasant of Pheasants. To-day, after years and decades of the most pains-
taking efforts, we must admit almost complete failure as regards any actual acclima-
tization. If given suitably roomy and secluded quarters a pair of Impeyans may
breed, and even rear their own young to maturity, but should any little factor go
wrong, should the temperature, humidity, food, vary ever so slightly from the re-
quirements of the young birds, they die at once. And after all these years of
experimenting we have not succeeded in finding out what the necessary factors are,
or at least they are so loosely defined that the successful rearing of these birds is
hazardous in the extreme. No more success has attended the efforts of enthusiastic

136 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

lovers of these birds in establishing them on estates where considerable stretches of
mountainous country somewhat reproduce their native Himalayas. It is hardly
possible that the Impeyan can long survive its feral extermination.

The very specimens from which the species was named and described were kept for
some time in captivity in India, but died on the voyage when Lady Impey attempted to
bring them to England.

The first mention of these birds laying and hatching in captivity is in the years
1854 and 1856, and from this period onward we find the two chief sources of experimen-
tation to be the London Zoological Gardens and the Jardin d’Acclimatation. Looking
back on the results of the subsequent fifty years, we find that remarkably painstaking
care was exercised to bring about success both by English and French aviculturists. It
is from the latter, however, that we learn by far the most, for while we read much about
Impeyans being “bred” in England, we find that this means in many instances only
hatched. Again, the Frenchmen give us many valuable details of their failures as well
as successes, while English failures are marked only by the absence of the bird’s name
from the indices of their publications.

The results of the first extended attempt at breeding by the London Zoological
Society may well excuse the high hopes aroused for future acclimatization. Of the
Impeyan and four other species of pheasants we read that “in 1858 the five species
above mentioned produced 184 eggs, from which no less than 120 birds were hatched,
and 111 reared. These were, for the most part, disposed of by sale to various members
of the Society having facilities for continuing the experiment.” Here we are told
definitely of the rearing, but nothing of the percentage of each species, whether eleven
or one hundred Imipeyans were brought to maturity.

Nothing appears to Itive been published by the purchasers of the above birds, and,
although between the years 1848 and 1868 there are recorded thirty-three instances of
the Impeyan “breeding” in the London Zoological Gardens, yet the collapse of this
pheasant’s ““boom” was almost complete. At the end of 1878 it is admitted that a
number of the Indian pheasants early imported in such numbers had become almost
extinct in Europe. ‘The Impeyan has not bred with us since 1871, and has, I believe,
likewise failed on the Continent.” In France we read of such experiences as when one
enthusiast purchased four Impeyans for seven hundred dollars, and in two years of most
careful endeavour obtained only five young birds, which died one after the other,
although one reached the adult stage, so we do not wonder that he is moved to add that
“Ces échecs me dégotitérent des Lophophores!”

I have taken up this phase of the Impeyan’s history in such detail with the
deliberate intention of emphasizing the importance of protecting the wild birds which
remain in all the regions where Caucasian laws carry weight.

In captivity Impeyans in general may begin to lay as early as the second or third
week in April, and the eggs are deposited three or four days apart. A careful reckoning
of several scores of individual layings shows the average number to be about the same
as among wild birds. There seems to be more or less individuality in regard to the
size of the set, as a hen which has deposited six eggs or eight eggs early in the season,
will occasionally again produce a similar number if the first are taken away. The
period of incubation is from twenty-six to twenty-eight days.

PHOTOGRAVURE It

NEST AND EGGS OF THE iMPEYVAN

Ar the base of an ancient, weather-beaten stub, half hidden in a mass of Himalayan ivy and maiden-
hair fern, a hen Impeyan had made her nest. She would never have been revealed had not a crested tit
discovered and scolded her. In the cool air of these high Garhwalese forests, I watched the bird day
after day. During her brief absence, | photographed the two great spotted eggs. The succeeding day
I surprised a group of bander-log—the great grey Langur monkeys—and one of them had stolen the spotted
eggs and was climbing up a slanting tree-trunk. The lives of the two young Impeyans were thus snuffed
out; the spring courtship, the battles of the cock, the care on the part of the patient mother, all had been

of no avail.

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE

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at

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TE
.

a

IES tS twee ie

AND

NST

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ia ot

ee

2

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 137

The nesting site is usually the ground under some shrub or tree, the hen sometimes
scratching a hollow, and sometimes collecting a scanty lining of straws or grass.
Occasionally the eggs are deposited on an elevated shelf or box, but I can find no
reason for the broad statement that the hens, like the tragopans, usually lay their
eggs in elevated boxes and artificial nests in shrubs.

As regards food for the chicks, one successful breeder advises ants’ eggs, bread-
crumbs, hard-boiled egg, wheat, buckwheat and millet, berries and soft insects.

A régime which I have found as satisfactory as any consists of a mash of hard-
boiled eggs, lettuce, bread-crumbs and crushed hemp seed, given fresh three or four
times a day, all traces of the previous meal being removed; several daily supplies of
ants’ eggs and meal-worms, as well as cut-up raw onions and apples, are given. Later,
maggots cleansed in bran are valuable. By far the most important items are worms and
insects, and especially when the young birds have the opportunity to dig these for them-
selves. The best results have been attained where the young have been allowed to roam
all day at will over a large uncut enclosure, or to dig with their beaks among the vege-
tables in a garden, the latter experiment resulting in plump, healthy young Impeyans,
but no vegetables! It must be remembered that these birds are fitted for a life of
digging, and if we consider the possible subterranean food supply, we will realize that
worms, grubs and other insects, raw vegetables, such as lettuce, onions, potatoes and
apples, will more closely approximate the food thus obtained in the Himalayas than
the ordinary grain diet upon which other groups of pheasants thrive. Wheat and
barley are the best grains for Impeyans; corn is the worst.

Stale food or uncleansed maggots will make short work of young Impeyans, and,
in some cases, a single meal of such improper food has been known to destroy an entire
brood of strong three-months-old birds.

If we may judge from his reports, H. Flocard of Rocroi, France, has had
remarkable success in breeding and rearing Impeyans, and I have translated the more
interesting parts of an account written recently by him.

The lophophore resplendissant does not suffer from our climate even in the
colder portions of France, where I have bred them for forty years (Rocroi, N.E. France,
circa 50° N. Lat.). The laying of eggs commences during the first part of April, or
sometimes on the last days of March. By using careful judgment one may, little by
little, accustom a cock to the care of two hens. The birds can live and reproduce up
to an age of twenty-five or even thirty years. This may appear to be an exaggeration,
but I have proved it. The food of the adult is much like that of the other pheasants :
corn, wheat, buckwheat, and much green stuff. In winter the green food may be replaced
by the roots of wild endives and dandelions, or carrots cut up into pieces.

From March 15th to June 15th stimulating food is required, and it is best to
feed twice daily bread-crumbs and hard-boiled eggs, a single egg to a pair of birds, or
two if there be an extra hen. A larger amount of this egg food will prove injurious,
and soon the birds will refuse even this small quantity. A conifer should be placed
in the aviary, a fir, arbor vitae or yew, at the base of which an excavation should be
made containing an artificial egg. Here the hens will lay.

The eggs should not be allowed to remain long in the nest for fear of injury.

They should be placed in an uncovered box, in a bed of wheat or other grain, in a
A

138 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

place rather damp than dry. The hen will lay about six eggs, at intervals of two, three,
four, or even five days. When the set is completed it will be noticed that she will
spend the night upon the nest. Both the artificial egg and any of the Impeyan which
may be in the nest should now be removed, and the nest hollow completely covered for
a period of about twelve days. Then by uncovering and replacing the artificial egg,
the second laying may be induced, and in a similar fashion even a third set of eggs.
By this procedure twelve to fifteen eggs can be obtained each year from each lophophore
hen. After June 15th no more eggs may be expected.

The eggs are to be placed under a brooding hen, the time of incubation being
twenty-seven days, and not thirty as many authors state. The hen should be shut up
with her chicks for several days and then liberated in the aviary. Hard-boiled eggs,
bread-crumbs and ants’ eggs should be provided for the young birds. It is well to
provide quantities of living larvae of ants and other insects. The drinking water
should be boiled until the birds are three months old.

TEXT IDENTIFICATIONS
PAGE LINE
113 3 Hume, Game-birds of India, I. p. 125.
113 7 Macintyre, Hindu-Koh, p. 83.
114 21 Sikhim Coal Tit, Lophophanes beavanz Blyth.
114 21 Himalayan Brown Tit, Lophophanes dichrous (Hodgson).
114 22 Rufous Pied Woodpeckers, Hypopicus hyperythrus (Vigors).
114 28 Black-throated Thrushes, IZerula atrigularis (Temminck).
114 30 White-collared Thrush, Werula albicincta (Royle).
114 43 Spotted Dove, Turtur suratensts (Gmelin).
114 45 Golden Eagle, Aguzla chrysaétus (Linnaeus).
T15 2 Cat-bear, Aelurus fulgens Cuvier.
115 19 Wardlaw-Ramsay, Ibis, 1880, p. 70.
115 20 Hume, Game-birds of India, I. p. 130.
115 21 Snow Cocks, Tetraogallus.
116 40 Wilson, in Hume’s Game-birds of India, I. p. 128.
121 40 Adams, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 500.
121 41 ‘Tyler, Ibis, 1868, p. 194.
123 3 Himalayan Creeper, Certhia discolor Blyth.
123. 23 Beech Marten, Mustela foina Erxleben.
123 23 Grey Fox, Vulpes alopex (Linnaeus).
123 24 Wild Dog, Cyon javanicus dukhumensis Sykes.
124 14 Golden Eagle, Aguzla chrysaétus (Linnaeus).
124 28 Bonelli’s Eagle, Hzeraétus fasciatus (Vieillot).
124 28 Spotted Hawk-Eagle, Spizaétus nepalensis (Hodgson).
124 30 Goshawk, Astur palumbarius (Linnaeus).
124 35 Thayer, Auk, 1896, p. 124.
125 10 Kkodon, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIII. p. 185.
125 12 Donald, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIV. p. 174.
126 10 KRodon, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc. XII. p. 573.
126 37 Smith, Avicultural Magazine, N.S. VII. p. 160.
128 43 Crested Black Tit, Periparus melanolophus (Vigors).
128 g Himalayan Nutcracker, Vucifraga hemispila Vigors.
128 9 Black and Yellow Grosbeaks, Pycnorhamphus tcteroides (Vigors).
130 7 Langur Monkeys, Semnopithecus entellus (Dufresne).
130 40 Hume, Game-birds of India, I. p. 131.
132 29 #8St. Quintin, Avicultural Magazine (3), III. p. 150.
133 29 Hume, Game-birds of India, I. p. 130.
134 11 Adams, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 500.
134 27 #Marienval, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1876, p. 800.
134 31 Dewar, Bird Notes, VIII. p. 225.

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 139

PAGE LINE
134 39 Macintyre, Hindu Koh, p. 83.
135 5 Donald, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIV. p. 174.
135 24 Pomme, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1868, p. 369.
136 7 Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 545.
136 30 ~=©Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 115.
136 31 Pomme, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1868, p. 360.
137. 26 Flocard, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1910, p. 98.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ADULT Mare.—Of the many scores of male Impeyans which I have examined no
two are alike. At the first intensive examination we realize that the metallic hues vary
even from feather to feather as well as in the zones of colour in various individuals. So
all detailed description is approximate only. Top and sides of the head and the face,
together with the elongated crest feathers, brilliant metallic green. The under surface
of the feathers is dead black, especially noticeable on the underside of the racket-shaped
tips of the crest. The greatly elongated shafts of these are not bare but fringed
narrowly with very short barbs expanding distally into the paddle or racket-shaped
extremities. These spring from the centre of the crown and exhibit considerable
variation both in number and degree of development. They vary from ten to twenty
or more. In the case of the smaller numbers, they are very distinct from all the
surrounding short, contour feathers, but where eighteen to twenty-two are present, there
are often in addition a number of imperfectly developed crest-like feathers, only half the
length of the typical crest, and with but slight development of the enlarged tip.

Back and sides of the neck changeable reddish copper; mantle golden green; chin
and throat black, more or less strongly glossed with bluish green. A patch of purplish
iridescence on the side throat in more highly glossed individuals extends as a narrow
collar across the lower throat. The remainder of the upper parts usually dull brownish
black. From the lower side neck a line of shining metallic green extends backward
from the mantle and breast, and when the wing is closed this zone of colour joins the
bend of the wing and outer coverts, which are of the same hue. The scapulars, inter-
scapular region, inner wing-coverts, tertiaries and inner secondaries, rump and shorter
tail-coverts are, on the whole, purplish bronze, edged, especially on the posterior
portions of these areas, with bluish green. On the longer tail-coverts the metallic
green covers all the visible portion of the feathers. Back pure white.

The secondaries are black, strongly glossed with greenish on the visible portions of
the outer webs; the primaries are plain, dull, brownish black. The tail feathers are
uniform rufous, becoming darker toward the tips. Mandibles dark horny, with the
cutting edges and tips pale; irides pale hazel brown ; orbital skin cerulean to turquoise
blue ; legs and feet varying from dusky to yellowish green; claws dark. Weight varies
from 4 lb. 4 oz. to 5 lb. Spurs are stout, sharp and of moderate length, averaging
15 mm. or more. An adult male is about 700 mm. in length; expanse, goo; bill from
nostril, 32; wing, 302; tail, 233; tarsus, 73; middle toe and claw, 71 mm.

VARIATIONS OF ADULT MALe.—Not only do we find individual feather variations

in abundance among male Impeyans, but sporadic differences of such importance that
they have been considered to be valid species.

140 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Several birds have been shot in the native state of Chamba, in the western
Himalayas, with no trace of white upon the back. It was then discovered that the
description which Latham gave of this pheasant made no mention of the white back, nor
was it shown in his coloured plate. Thereupon by a process of logic, sound as far as it
went, the old name of zmfeyanus was stripped from the common white-backed bird and
replaced by vefulgens. Then ensued a long argument, consuming much valuable
printers’ ink and paper, pro and con; whether the chance of Latham’s having secured
by accident a specimen of the rare Chamba bird, outweighed the possibility of his having
erred in observation. I have found two solutions, both adequate: first, Latham himself
settles the dispute beyond doubt ; and second, the Chamba bird is nothing but a chance
variation or mutation, of no significance from a taxonomic standpoint.

As to the first point, under the caption of Early History I have quoted the account
of the Impeyan Pheasant from Latham’s General History, published thirty-six years
after his first contribution. Here he gives us the additional information that, “In the
drawings of Lord Mountnorris is one of the male, with a large patch of white in the
middle of the back, which I have not seen in any other representation of this singularly
beautiful species.” So there appears little room for doubt that Latham did have a black-
backed specimen, if, indeed, he had more than the various sketches which he mentions.

Now, as to the evidence that the black-backed bird, alias chambanus, alias
impeyanus, is no more than a variation, and without standing as a species. The white
back in normal adult males presents one of the most variable characters of the plumage, ©
not only in absolute purity or relative abundance of metallic markings, but in actual
area, In only six specimens, selected at random from thirty or more, the length of the
white patch varies antero-posteriorly from 95 to 155 mm. ,; while the distance from the
posterior edge of the white zone to the tip of the longest tail-coverts may be as little as
63 or as great as 120 mm. ;

The occasional occurrence of albinism in adult male Impeyans, both partial,
symmetrical and rarely complete, while it may have no direct bearing on the problem
under discussion, should be mentioned.

Coming now to the actual black-backed birds themselves, examination of all the
known specimens shows as great variability zZer se, as the difference between them and
normal male zmpeyanus. This will be evident from the following tabulation of the
characters supposed to be diagnostic of the black-backed birds—

“Underparts entirely glossed with metallic golden green.”
This gloss may be (a) typically like the above description ;
(6) confined to the breast and irregularly down one side ;
(c) confined to the throat and upper breast.
‘Upper tail-coverts chestnut, tipped with golden green.”
(a) typically like above description ;
(6) an excess of green, with a little basal rufous ;
(c) as in normal zmpeyanus.
‘Lower back golden green.”

This whole area impresses one as abnormal, as the metallic
tips are so very small that they are completely separated and

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 141

dominated by the loose, fluffy basal down, giving the appearance
of half the normal number of feathers of this area having been
lost. No such scanty, abortive metallic colouring occurs on any
normal plumage of which I have knowledge. In typical white-
backed individuals a small amount of metallic colour some-
times persists on all the white feathers.

In the presence or absence of the copper collar and the extent of the green mantle
there is as great variation as in the above-mentioned characters.

As regards mantouz, the type in the museum of the Jardin des Plantes does, indeed,
show the character of the “black underparts slightly glossed with green,’ but so also do
many normal zmPeyanus when examined with the light coming from behind the observer.
The throat has less green than is usual in normal birds. Hence the only differentiating
character is the changed colour of the hind neck, nape and mantle. The normal copper
of the nape and side neck is reduced and impure, the dominant hue of these parts being
purple shot with copper. The mantle, as defined by a zone of solid colour, is of greater
extent than usual, and wholly purple like the normal inner wing-coverts. Posterior to
the mantle there is less purple in the plumage than usual. Several other so-called
mantouz individuals at Tring and elsewhere show all gradations. Some have the typical
mantle and not a trace of ventral green; in others the mantle is partly normal green,
part purple and blue. :

The variation to which the name odscura has been given is a melanistic phase,
the wing and tail-coverts showing the greatest amount of iridescence, chiefly greenish,
while the mantle is dead brownish black, almost unglossed, so that the general effect
is of a bird once brilliant, but greatly faded. One individual wild shot Impeyan
which I have examined, combines the characters of all these varieties with the additional
one of having the rectrices wholly black, glossed with greenish blue. There is thus
no ground for the recognition of these forms as other than extremely interesting
variations occurring in a state of nature.

ApDULT FEMALE.—General ground colour of head and upper plumage dark brownish
black with very warm buff margins, and increasingly complex markings from the crown
backward. On the forehead and crown there is a warm buff shaft-stripe. The feathers
of the mid and hind crown are quite broad and lengthened into a short crest. On the
occiput and nape a dark basal shaft-streak pushes its way up, gradually splitting the buff
in two. On the mantle a pale buff shaft-streak appears in turn, dividing the preceding
dark one, and on the rear mantle and wing-coverts the buff markings assume a rufous
tinge and spread over the entire feather, forming wide, wavy, crossbands. On the
larger wing-coverts and inner secondaries the tips of the feathers show considerable grey.
The secondaries are brownish black, with a warm grey terminal border and a number
of irregular rufous crossbars. The primaries are slightly mottled with rufous buff on
the outer web. The mid and lower back, corresponding to the white patch of the male,
are warm buff sparsely dotted with dark brown. The rump shows much solid dark colour
and the tail-coverts are broadly tipped with white. ‘Tail feathers dark brown, strongly
barred with rufous and tipped with a conspicuous but narrow band of white. The black

142 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

interspaces of the two central pairs are much clouded and mottled with rufous buff,
especially toward the sides of the webs.

Chin and throat pure white, feathers of the side neck with more brown colour as we
approach the upper plumage of the head. Upper breast like mantle, dark brown with
a wide central area of pale buff split by a dark shaft-stripe. The lower breast shows a
second pair of buff lines, and from here posteriorly the distinct markings disintegrate
into an irregular barring or indefinite mottling. On the central feathers of the lower
breast and belly a broad greyish-white shaft zone is conspicuous. The under tail-coverts
are brownish black, with two oblique lines and a shaft-stripe of rufous, and a very broad
white tip. 7

Weight about 4 lb. 8 oz. Mandibles rather pale horn colour, the upper darker, legs
and feet pale yellowish but variable, claws darker; irides dark brown. Length, 635 ;
expanse, 890; wing, 275; tail, 190; tarsus, 68; middle toe and claw, 66 mm.

NatTaL Down.—Crown dark rufous. A short line back from base of culmen,
lores, three short lines on facial area, ear-coverts and side of the occiput black. These
markings are rather variable, however, and in birds of the same brood I have found
considerable differences. Superciliary back over side neck, and facial area buff. Mantle
and wing down grizzled rufous, back and rump purer dark rufous or chocolate, with two
pairs of lateral pale buff lines, the outer pair often partly merged with the ventral
colouring. Infra-loral line buffy cream. Chin and throat smoky white; sides of throat
darker; remainder of under parts dirty buffy white, flanks much darker. Bill from
nostril, 8; wing, 45; tarsus, 20; middle toe and claw, 23 mm. Iris dark hazel; legs
and feet bluish slate; mandibles dark, paler at tip.

JUVENILE PLuMAGE.—Neither the down feathers of the head and neck nor the
outer two primaries are quite as much delayed in their moult in the Impeyan as
in the tragopans, although the difference is distinguishable only in a large series
of specimens. The chin and throat, however, retain the primitive down for a very long
time, the nape being the next in order of retention. When these small areas are the only
patches of youthful plumage discernible, and the entire body is well clad in the juvenile
garb, we find primaries 9 and 10 about 18 and 4o mm. out of their respective sheaths.
The remaining juvenile primaries still show signs of growth with the exception of
3 and 4, which are full grown. Nos. 1 and 2 are already impatient, newly sprouted, first
year flight feathers, No. 1 having broken loose for a distance of 40 mm., while No. 2 is
yet an unbroken sheath. So swiftly does the garb of the little bird change, that down,
juvenile and first year are all apparent at one time.

The juvenile plumage, especially on the upper portions of the body, is remarkable
for its simplicity of pattern; a long, narrow, pale buff shaft-stripe bounded by black
being the chief character. This is found from the forehead to the very longest wing-
coverts. It is, however, absent or indefinite on the feathers of the lower back and rump,
which are pale yellowish buff with a little dark mottling, anticipating the very specialized
colouring of this area in the adult. On the back and coverts the simplicity of the pattern
is somewhat interrupted by crossbars of rufous, the most anterior of which frames two
circles of black. The secondaries show four to six crossbars of buff which, however,

it

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 143

terminate abruptly halfway down the inner web, leaving that portion plain dull brown.
The primaries are clear brown save on the very outer margin. The short, pointed tail
feathers vary considerably in different individuals, but usually show a tendency to
develop a single series of central spots down the shaft. In other individuals, marginal
spots extend down both webs, leaving the central portion clear brown. In the coming
first year plumage these will become crossbars; in the adult they will give place to
uniform unmarked chestnut.

Starting abruptly at the edge of the down of the throat, we find the breast and the
entire under surface much alike, the larger part of each feather buffy white, with an
irregular narrow margin of dark brown. Birds of this age measure: bill from nostril,
20; wing, 190; tail, 81; middle toe and claw, 33 mm.

First YEAR PLUMAGE, MaAL_e.—When at last the chin and throat feathers do
begin to be renewed, they prove to be diagnostic of the sex, and I have never seen
a single individual in which they were not either pure white if the bird was a female,
or at least edged with black in the case of a male, while usually in the latter sex the
central chin and throat are quite black.

When we examine young males after the first autumn moult we see what a
difference results from the slight acceleration of the head and neck moult, in comparison
with tragopans of the same age. The average young Impeyan male shows an even,
brown coloration of the head in conformity with the remainder of the plumage.
Throughout the plumage we find that the pattern of the juvenile garb has become more
complex. To the black, buff-streaked crown feathers is added a fringe of buffs, and
these are lengthened and truncate. On the nape a black shaft-streak creeps up the
rhachis, splitting the buff stripe. Posteriorly, more concentric bands appear, flattened
terminally so that crossbands of grey and dark brown are formed. On the whole
of the wing-coverts the terminal bands disintegrate into a grizzled freckling, while the
two lateral black ocelli have come into being, strongly accentuated by frames of warm
buff. The lower back and rump are buffy white, marked with fine, numerous, concentric
dark bands.

On the secondaries we find a series of wavy but regular transverse bands of
warm buff on a black background, the bands being confined more and more to
the outer web as we proceed outward. The primaries are almost unmarked. The
rectrices are similar to the inner secondaries, but still more evenly barred with
rufous, and all are tipped white. The exposed parts of the largest tail-coverts are
pure white. :

The ventral surface shows considerable individual variation, but on the whole is
white or buffy in the centre of the feathers, mottled or solidly bordered with dark brown.
The under tail-coverts are black, with a wide shaft-stripe which begins halfway up the
feather, widens gradually, and terminally suddenly expands so as to include the whole
distal portion. These feathers are very conspicuous by reason of the purity of the black
and white, the latter being wholly free from any buffy tinge, and hence very unlike the
rest of the plumage. First year males average: bill from nostril, 27; wing, 268; tail,
198; tarsus, 71; middle toe, 71 mm.

In few other species of birds can the accidental loss of feathers during the first year

144 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

of the young male be traced as surely as in the Impeyans. Clad in a plumage of dull
mottled grey and brown, whenever a feather of the body is tweaked out, it is replaced
by a scintillating, iridescent plume which glows like the most brilliant jewel among
the surrounding dull feathers. In this way we may find birds which are studded
here and there with these adventitious feathers, or occasionally a whole patch will
mark the place where the bird was perhaps seized by an eagle, or dashed itself against
a branch in some sudden agony of escape. We may even tell about what time the
damage was done, as after January or February ingrowing feathers have the full
colours of the adult, while those which appear in the late autumn are tinged with
signs of immaturity.

SECOND YEAR Mourt, Mare.-—- When the real moult begins, in the autumn of
the second year, there is no delay. Soon every part of the bird shows the startling
change, and there is a period when it seems to be almost equally fretted over the entire
body, dull mottled brown alternating with brilliant iridescence.

The primaries begin to fall in regular sequence from No. 1 outward, the dull brown
flight feathers with their marginal buff mottling giving place to the jet-black,
immaculate new feathers. At this time, before all the primaries have been dropped,
in about fifty per cent. of the individuals, the two juvenile flights, numbers g and 1o,
can be readily distinguished from the others by their narrower, more pointed form,
and two small terminal shaft-streaks of buffy white. In other birds (in which,
perhaps, their initial start was more delayed) they are exactly similar to the
succeeding ones.

The moult of the secondaries lags somewhat behind the shedding of the primaries,
and three or four of the latter are well grown before the first of the secondaries falls—
usually the third from the outer. This is succeeded by the fourth and so inward, the
outer two being shed about a week or more later. In fact I have examined a large
number of specimens in which these two outer secondaries are the last remaining first
year flight feathers. As the old feathers are so strongly mottled and barred with buff,
the change is even more striking than in the case of the primaries—the new secondaries
being like the other flights, dull greenish black. Adventitious growth of rectrices
is very evident before the autumn moult of the second year. Such a bird may still have
all the first year mottled buffy tail feathers, except one or two which have been torn out
in some way and replaced by others with the rich chestnut of the adult ornamented with
several broad black bars—a striking pattern which would never normally occur. They
are, perhaps, an inch longer than their fellows. The forced growth in such a case must
have come when the adult hue was ready, but sufficient of the immature dark pigment
left to be incorporated. Practically all wild Impeyans assume their fully adult dress
at the second autumn moult, but in captivity birds not rarely retain many traces
of immaturity even after this moult. This occasionally occurs in wild birds, and I have
seen an individual which, due to some abnormal factor such as malnutrition, has at this
moult attained a halfway state of plumage, and for another twelvemonth it must bear
upon its plumage white throat frecklings, rufous tips to the coverts, a mottled back and
the half-barred tail which deprives it for another year of the wonderful beauty of a cock
in full plumage.

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HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 145

EARLY HISTORY AND SYNONYMY

From the point of view of its scientific name, the Impeyan Pheasant has
had a most unsettled time of it. I have discussed the causes for this in full
elsewhere. |

The first specimen of this species of which we have any record was a bird
received by Dr. Johannis Latham and described and figured by him under the
name of the Impeyan Pheasant in the Supplement to his General Synopsis
published in 1787. Three years later he included it in his Index Ornithologicus
as the tenth species of the genus Pasianus with the specific name of zmpejanus.
The donor of the bird, in honour of whom it was named, was Lady Impey, wife
of the first Governor of Bengal. In 1823, thirty-six years after his first con-
tribution, Dr. Latham again figures the bird, and in volume viii of his General
Flistory gives us what is probably a summary of the knowledge of the Impeyan
Pheasant at that day. I repeat it in full. ‘“‘The above inhabits India, but not
common, being brought from the hills in the northern parts of Hindustan to
Calcutta, as a rarity. Lady Impey attempted, with great prospect of success, to
bring some of them to England, but after living on board for two months they
caught a disorder from the other poultry, and died; the food they had, during
the passage, was rice in the husk; and I was informed, that they are known
in India by the name of Monaul, which is foolishly translated Mouth-piece ;
that the male is called by some the Golden Fowl. They bear cold, but are
impatient of heat. The cock never observed to crow, but had a strong hoarse
cackle, not unlike that of a Pheasant.

“This species is finely expressed in Sir J. Anstruther’s drawings, but the bird
does not seem to stand so high on its legs as it appears elsewhere; nor is the
bill so very long and hooked; we may therefore suppose, that the accretion only
takes place in those under confinement, where the necessity of providing food, by
raking up the ground, does not occur; and the bill, of course, less worn. I
observe that the hind claw is very crooked, and the tail is very little darker at
the end than the rest of its length.

“In the drawings of Lord Mountnorris is one of the male, with a large
patch of white in the middle of the back, which I have not seen in any other
representation of this singularly beautiful species. :

“In General Hardwicke’s drawings, called Moory Zereen.”

For many years afterwards more or less garbled versions of this account
were made to do duty by numerous authors in their contributions to ornithology.

SynonyMYy—Lofphophorus impeyanus (Latham)

Impeyan Pheasant Latham, General Synopsis, Supplement, I. 1787, p. 208, pl. 114; General History, VIII.
1823, p. 210, pl. 125 ; Dalgleish, Avicultural Magazine, N.S., 1908, p. 177; St. Quintin, Avicultural Magazine, (3),
III. 1912, p. 150 [habits and food in captivity].

Phasianus impejanus Latham, Index Ornithologicus, I]. 1790, p. 632.

Phasianus impeyanus Bonnat. Tabl. Encycl. Méth., I. 1791, p. 186, pl. 88, fig. 1.

Phastanus curvirostris Shaw, Mus. Lever., 1792, p. 101, pl.

Lophophorus refulgens Yemminck, Pigeons et Gallinaces, II. 1813, p. 355, III. 1815, p. 673; Stephens, in

U

146 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Shaw’s Gen. Zool., XI. 1819, p. 249, pl. 15 ; Griffith, ed. Cuvier, III. 1829, p. 14; Temminck, Pl. Col., V. 1830,
pls. 11, 12 [Nos. 508, 513]; Schinz, Nat. Abbild. Végel, 1833, p. 252, pl. 97, 1853, p. 152, pl. 74; Sclater, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1868, p. 1; Saint-Hilaire, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1870, p. 134; Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds, Brit. Mus.,
XXII. 1893, p. 278; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 231; Blanford, Fauna British India,
Birds, [V. 1898, p. 96; Rothschild, Ibis, 1899, p. 441; Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, Pt. II. 1903, p. 673; Fulton,
Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XVI. 1904, p. 61 [Chitral]; Walton, Ibis, 1906, p. 247 [Chumbi Valley];
Delaurier, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1907, p. 373; Ward, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XVII. 1907, p. 944 [Kashmir
and Zammu]; Macgrath, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XVIII. 1908, p. 298 [Hazara]; Whitehead, Ibis, 1909,
p. 268 [Safed Koh Mountains, Kurran]; Dewar, Bird Notes, VIII. 1909, p. 225 [danger of extinction] ;
Macgrath, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIX. 1909, p. 146 [Murree]; Perreau, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc.,
XIX. 1909, p. 920 [Chitral] ; Dewar and Finn, Making of Species, 1909, p. 104; Finn, Avicultural Magazine,
(3), I. 1910, p. 310 [resemblance of females and young]; Whitehead, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XX. Igr1,
p. 968 [Safed Koh, Kurran]; Bailey, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XXI. 1911, p. 178 [Chumbi Valley]; Finn,
Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 32; Phillips, Avic. Mag., (3), III. 1912, p. 150 [young in captivity]; Beebe,
Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 271.

Monaulus impejanus Vieillot, N. Dict. d’Hist. Nat., XXI. 1818, p. 322.

Monaulus tmpeyanus Vieillot, Gal. Ois., II. 1825, p. 31, pl. 208.

Lmpeyanus refulgens Lesson, Traité d’Orn., 1831, p. 488, pl. 85.

Lophophorus impeyanus Gould, Century Birds Himalayas, 1832, pls. 60, 61; Jardine, Nat. Lib. Ornithology,
IV. 1834, p. 219, pls. XXII, XXIII.; Vigne, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1841, p. 6 [Cashmere and Himalaya]; Gray,
Genera of Birds, III. 1844, p. 502; Gray, List of Birds, 1844, pt. III., Gallinae, p. 30; Gray, Cat. Hodgs. ed., I.
1846, p. 125; Hutton, Jour. Asiatic Soc. Bengal, XVII. 1848, pt. 2, p. 695; Blyth, Cat. Museum Asiatic Society,
1849, p. 246; Gould, Birds of Asia, VII. 1850, p. 53; Adams, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 500 [near Simla, habits] ;
Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1858, p. 545, pl. 147, fig. 2 [chicks], pl. 149, fig. 5 [egg]; Adams, Proc. Zool. Soc.,
1859, p. 185 [Cashmere and near Simla]; Misselbrook, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1859, p. 205 [period of incubation];
Irby, Ibis, 1861, p. 235 [Kumaon]; Jerdon, Birds of India, III. 1863, p. 510; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863,
pp. 115, 126; Sclater, List of Phas., 1863, p. 3; Fitz, Atl. Nat. Vogel, 1864, fig. 229; Gray, List Gall. Brit.
Mus., 1867, p. 37; Stoliczka, Jour. Asiatic Soc. Bengal, XX XVII. 1868, p. 67; Pomme, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim.,
1868, p. 369 [summary of wild habits and captive breeding]; Tytler, Ibis, 1868, pp. I91, 194, 203 [Simla to
Mussooree, food]; von Pelzen, Jour. fiir Orn. 1868, p. 36 [Kotegurh], Ibis, 1868, p. 320 [Koteghur]; Beaven, Ibis,
1868, p. 379 [Simla, Sikhim]; Huxley, Proc. Zool. Soc. 1868, p. 297 [sternum figured]; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc.
1869, p. 628 [breeding in London Zoo.]; Gray, Hand-list of Birds, II. 1870, p. 261; Blanford, Jour. Asiatic Soc.
Bengal, XLI. 1872, p. 71; Elliot, Monogr. Phasi., I. 1872, pl. 18; Polvliet, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1872, p. 557; von
Pelzen, Ibis, 1873, p. 120; Hume, Nest and Eggs Indian Birds, 1873, p. 520; Brooks, Stray Feathers, III. 1875,
pp. 227, 256 [Mussooree and Gangastri Hills]; Wilson, Stray Feathers, IV. 1876, p. 227; Marshall, Birds’ Nest,
India, 1877, p. 59; Hume and Marshall, Game Birds, India, I. 1879, p. 125, pl.; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879,
p. 115 [European breeding failures]; Garrod, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 373 [trachea]; Scully, Stray Feathers,
VIII. 1879, pp. 342, 368 [Nepal]; Wardlaw-Ramsay, Ibis, 1880, p. 70 [eastern Afghanistan]; Marshall, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1883, p. 465 [albino]; Delaurier, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim, 1883, p. 689; Marshall, Ibis, 1884, p. 421
[Chumba]; Goodchild, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1886, p. 193 [cubital coverts]; Stewart, Zoologist, (3), X. 1886, p. 399;
Oates, ed. Hume’s Nests and Eggs, III. 1890, p. 407; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1891, p. 326? hybrid with
Euplocamus albocristatus]; Evans, Ibis, 1891, p. 76 [period of incubation]; Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Birds Brit. Mus.,
XXII. 1893, p. 280; Blanford, Ibis, 1894, p. 287; Gore, Lights and Shades of Hill Life, etc., 1895, p. 26; Ogilvie-
Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 237; Davidson, Ibis, 1898, p. 38 [Kashmir]; Oates, Game-birds, India,
I. 1898, p. 262; Blanford, Fauna British India, Birds, IV. 1898, p. 97; Rothschild, Ibis, 1899, p. 441; Sharpe,
Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 33; Oates, Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 52; Giinther, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1904,
p. 130 [Cheer Pheasant x ? Himalayan Monaul]; Tegetmeier, Pheasants, 4th ed., 1904, p. 231; Shipley, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1909, p. 320 [Mallophaga]; Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1911, p. 521 [longevity and viability];
Heinroth, Jour. fiir Orn., LIX., 1911, p. 355; Stebbing, Stalks in the Himalaya, 1912, p. 181; Beebe, Zoologica, I.
No. 15, 1914, p. 271.

Lophophorus impeyanus, v. refulgens Hodgs. in Gray’s Zool. Misc., 1844, p. 85.

Satyra impeyana Thien. Fortpflanzung ges. Vogel, 1845-54, p. 52, tab. XII. fig. 3.

Lophophore resplendissant Mairet, Bull. Soc., d’Acclim., 1871, p. 593; Cornély, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1874,
p. 168; Saint-Hilaire, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1876, p. 212; Saint-Hilaire, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1876, p. 282;
Marienval, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1876, p. 800; Mairet, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1878, p. 177; Saint-Hilaire, Bull. Soc.
d’Acclim., 1878, p. 873; Delaurier, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1880, p. 309; Fremy, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1880, p. 734;
Delaurier, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1881, p. 97; Lafon, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1881, p. 661 ; Lafon, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim.,
1882, p. 187; Mathias, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1884, p. 298; Vigour, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1884, p. 991; Flocard,
Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1gIo, p. 98.

Moonal Marshall, Stray Feathers, IX. 1880, p. 203 [Chamba]; Fairbrother, Stray Feathers, IX. 1880, p. 203

[Kurrum and Afghanistan]; Macintyre, Hindu-Koh, 1889, pp. 82, 83; Rodon, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XII.
1899, p. 573 [courtship]; Rodon, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIII. 1900, p. 185.

HIMALAYAN IMPEYAN PHEASANT 147

Lophophorus chumbanus Marshall, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1883, p. 465. :

Lophophorus chambanus Marshall, Ibis, 1884, p. 421 [Chamba]; Oates, Game-birds India, I. 1898, p. 267;
Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 34; Dewar and Finn, Making of Species, 1909, p. 104; Beebe, Zoologica, I.
No. 15, 1914, p. 271.

Monal Pheasant Tyacke, How I shot my Bears, etc., 1893, pp. 16, 125 [Kullu]; Finn, Avicultural Mag.
N.S., III. 1905, p. 209 [food in captivity]; Smith, Avic. Mag. N.S., VII. 1909, p. 160 [display]; Dahnhardt.
Natursagen, III. 1910, p. 147.

Lophophorus impeyanus, var. mantoui Oustalet, Bull. Soc. Zool. France, XVIII. 1893, p. 19; Rothschild,
Ibis, 1899, p. 441.

Lophophorus impeyanus, var. obscura Oustalet, Bull. Soc. Zool. France, XVIII. 1893, p. 19; Rothschild,
Ibis, 1899, p. 441.

Lophophorus mantout Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 236; Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I.
1899, p. 34; Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 35; Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 271.

Lophophorus mantout obscurus Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 236; Sharpe, Hand-list
Birds, I. 1899, p. 34.

Lophophorus obscurus Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 271.

Lophophorus tmpeyanus mantout Rothschild, Ibis, 1899, p. 441.

Monaul Rothschild, Ibis, 1899, p. 441; Donald, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XIV. 1902, p. 174
[enemies].

Chamba Moonal Rodon, Jour. Bombay Nat. His. Soc., XII. 1899, p. 574.

CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT
Lophophorus lhuysu Verreaux and Saint-Hilaire

NAMES.—Specific : 2huyszt, for M. Drouyn de Lhuys, President, in 1866, of the Société Imperiale d’Acclima-
tation. English: de Lhuys’s Moonal Pheasant; Chinese Impeyan or Monal. French: Lophophore Drouyn de
Lhuys. German: Schwarzschwanzige Stahlhuhn. Vernacular: Ho-than-ky (Fowl-of-burning-coals), Pae-mou-ky
(Succulent-tuber-bird), Chinese.

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Except for very large white patch from the upper back to the tail, the upper
parts are highly iridescent; head green, occipital crest purple; mantle red-gold; wings and tail chiefly bronze-
green. Under parts black, slightly margined or glossed with iridescence. Female: White dorsal patch as in
male ; rest of upper plumage dark brown, rather sparingly mottled and irregularly barred with rufous buff; flights
and tail feathers with more regular rufous bars ; face and throat whitish; under parts very dark brown, with less
mottling than above, the feathers with conspicuous white, irregularly shaped shaft-streaks.

Typre.—Mountains of Moupin, western Szechuan; Verreaux, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1866, p. 223. In the
collection of the British Museum.

RANGE.—Central China, in Szechuan and Kokonor.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Our knowledge of this bird is most meagre. Its distribution bears much the same
relation to that of zmPeyanus as does that of the Chinese Blood Partridge (7. s¢wensis) to
the Himalayan species (/. cvuentus). We know of specimens which have been obtained
in western and north-western Szechuan and in south-eastern Kokonor. The localities of
eastern Yunnan and Kansu are as yet doubtful.

The few scattered notes in regard to its life history show that it differs in no radical
way from the Himalayan Impeyan. It is found during the day in small parties, some-
times males and females in separate companies, often frequenting the open rocky tundras
or barren mountain meadows at twelve to sixteen thousand feet elevation, well above the
zone of forests. At night the birds descend to perch either in the dense, scrubby,
stunted rhododendrons, or still farther downward among the sheltering branches of the
pines. The food consists of vegetable substances, and especially of succulent roots and
tubers, for which, in true Impeyan fashion, it digs with its broad, strong beak.

The names which the Chinese have bestowed upon it show how strong an impres-
sion the bird has made upon them; but, unfortunately, it is not only their imagination
which is affected, for we read that the bird is everywhere uncommon and soon will
disappear entirely. This is owing to the zeal with which the natives pursue it, capturing
it by setting great numbers of wire snares, as they have learned that its flesh is very

delicate. ‘The cry is described as consisting of three or four separate, loud, piercing -

notes, uttered in early morning.
Wilson gives the following account of the Chinese Impeyan or Monal. “Scattered
through the same region as the White Crossoptilun, only at greater altitudes, occurs the

magnificent Monal Pheasant, at once the most gorgeous and rarest of all game-birds
148

PLATE XVI

CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT

Lophophorus lthuysia Verreaux and St.-Hilaire

In the heart of Central China, wandering over a limited zone of the highest mountains, this bird is
making a brave fight for existence. The Chinese trap it on every occasion, and it is hardly possible that
it can exist for many more years. No white man has seen it alive. The Chinese, inspired by the beautiful

metallic lustre of the feathers, call it Ho-than-ky, the fowl-of-burning-charcoal.

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PLATE XVI

NITHAA “HOSTUA

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“LNVSVAHd NVAddW!

ASANIHO

CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT 149

found in these regions. Both David and Pratt comment on the rarity of this bird,
and my experience is in accord with theirs. The King of Chiala detailed hunters
specially for the purpose of securing specimens for Zappey, but no birds could be found.
I was informed this bird was comparatively common east-north-east of Sungpan Ting,
in rocky places between 13,500 and 14,500 feet altitude, but I never met with one in that
region. The only specimen that came under my observation was strolling about the
margin of rocky scrub immediately above a wood of alpine larch, on the Ta-p’ao shan
(between Romi Chango and Tachienlu), altitude 12,000 feet. In this particular locality
I was told the Monal was fairly plentiful, but I doubt it. Hunters are ever on the
look-out to shoot and trap this bird, and the species is undoubtedly threatened with
extinction.

“The magnificent bird has several local names. Around Tachienlu it is commonly
called ‘ Hwa-t’an-che’ (‘Oak Charcoal Chicken’), or ‘Hoa-t’an-che’ (‘Burning Charcoal
Chicken’), both names having reference to the colour of the upper part of the back and
neck, which resembles the intense glow of a charcoal fire in full blast. A Thibetan
name, which is used around Tachienlu and Sungpan Ting, is ‘ Koa-lodng.’ This name
has reference to, and indeed simulates, the call of these birds, which is clear and
distinctly quadrisyllabic. _ This call is usually heard in the early morning, but in wet
weather it may be heard at any time of the day.

“ A favourite food of this bird is said to be the bulbs of various species of Fritillaria.
The bulbs, known as ‘ Pei-mu,’ are highly valued as medicine by the Chinese, and many
men earn their livelihood collecting these and other medicinal herbs in the alpine regions
of Western China.”

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLT Ma.e.—Frontal featherlets extended as a narrow line at posterior edge of
nostrils, and a roundish patch 7 mm. across below the nostrils, jet black. Most of the
face, forehead and broad superciliary line, not bare but covered with short black feather-
lets. Crown, lower face and ear-coverts iridescent green, changing to pink. The crest
of elongated feathers slightly or not at all constricted midway to the tips, springing from
the hinder crown, iridescent, changing from purple to bronze; the hind and side neck
and mantle are rich dark, red gold, changing to a bronze green. Scapulars and wing-
coverts variable, and much as in zmfeyanus ; the upper back and inner coverts purplish
blue, with green-shot tips, while the bend of the wing and the lesser coverts are, like the
crown, shining green. The fault bars on the green wing-coverts are visible as coppery
red bands.

The white dorsal patch is considerably larger than in zmfeyanus. It starts close
behind the mantle and extends to the tail-coverts, dying out only upon the longest
coverts. Rarely it is pure white throughout the greater extent, but the white feathers
are very different in character from their iridescent neighbours, in that only a small
portion, about 13 mm., of the tip, is solid, all the remainder (about 50 mm.) being
decomposed down. Most of the feathers are marked with a little terminal triangle at
the tip of the shaft, black where it is in immediate contrast with the white (this visible
only with a lens), but becoming at once brilliant purple bronze. Posteriorly this mark

150 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

increases in size, pushing down along the shaft, the increase, however, being chiefly dark
brown or black. When this colour has reached a distance of 13 mm. it begins to expand
at the extremity, and soon reaches the edge of the vanes, thus cutting off two patches of
white at the extremity of the feather. These become more and more restricted, and the
one on the outermost vane on the tail-coverts of each side soon vanishes, and on the last
of the shorter coverts there is no white, these feathers and the succeeding row of very
long coverts showing the iridescent variability of the greater coverts, being bronze green,
changing to rich purple, or with various combinations of these hues. The same
iridescence is present on the outer half of both webs of the central pair of tail feathers,
and on a lesser portion of the outer webs and the extremities of the others. The
remaining portion of the tail feathers is almost dead black, marked with small,
irregularly shaped white spots, usually in pairs, about ten pairs on the central feathers
and more on the outer ones. On the inner webs of the outer tail feathers some of the
spots assume a transverse banded appearance. There is much variation, however, and
occasionally the spots are so numerous that they give the feathers a mottled appearance.
Those on the outer webs are much more regular, and when the tail is partly spread, the
successive rows of white are a very striking feature.

The primaries are dull brownish black, while the secondaries show more and more
greenish iridescence on the outer margin and tip as we proceed inward, the rule being
that all the exposed portions of the closed wing are iridescent.

The chin, throat and upper half of the neck are black, with tiny iridescent tips,
while the feathers of the under parts and sides are black, with shining greenish margins,
even this hint of colour disappearing on the belly and flanks, but appearing quite strongly
on the under tail-coverts.

Iris hazel brown; mandible dark horn, tipped and edged with pale yellow horn ;
lores and all the bare skin between the eyes, gape, almost to the posterior edge of nostril
and well up on the forehead, rich dark blue. Feet and legs dark horn. Length, 800;
bill from nostril, 41 ; wing, 334; tail, 306; tarsus, 72; middle toe and claw, 82 mm.

ApuLT FEMALE.—The lores (except sub-narial patch) and entire face covered with
creamy-white featherlets; chin and throat same colour. Entire anterior upper body
plumage dark brown, brokenly banded or marked with pale rufous buff. On the fore
crown these markings are in the shape of a noded, irregular shaft-stripe; farther back
this breaks up into several paired spots, and then into two lateral, longitudinal stripes,
which in turn break into spots, and on the mantle widen into transverse bands of reddish
buff. This remains unchanged on the concealed portions of the coverts, but becomes an
irregular mottling on the exposed parts.

On the secondaries the transverse bands extend to the tip, are very regular, and
more warmly rufous in hue. On the primaries they persist only as a faint mottling
of the outer margin.

The most pronounced character of this sex is the presence of the male white dorsal
patch, this being as large in extent and even more purely white than in the other sex.
The transition to the coloured tail-coverts is entirely unlike the male. Dark markings
appear as subterminal dark brown mottlings, the whole feather except a shaft-stripe and
a terminal fringe being affected. As we proceed backward the shaft-stripe disappears,

CHINESE IMPEYAN PHEASANT I51

and the mottling becomes more dense until, except for the terminal fringe, the feathers
closely resemble the anterior upper plumage. The cold grey colour predominates,
however, and there is no warm rufous, only pale cold buff. On the longer coverts the
barring is rather more rufous, but much of the margins are irregularly mottled.

The tail feathers closely approximate the central secondaries, but have a greater
extent of bright rufous, which alternates with black to form wavy transverse bars, both
colours being about equal. The black bars of the central pairs are rather broken at the
margin, as are those on the outer webs of the next two or three pairs, the barring
becoming more regular and distinct as we pass toward the outer pair. The number of
bars of each colour varies from fourteen to eighteen or more.

The white feathers of the throat become barred with buffy on the lower neck, but
almost at once develop a pure white shaft-stripe, which increases in size posteriorly,
and contributes the dominant ventral character of the sex. A feather from the mid-
breast shows an elongated shaft-stripe, increasing in size distally, the remaining part of
the feather being of the usual dark brown hue mottled with indistinct broken bars of
pale buff. On the belly and sides the white exceeds the mottled portion in area. On
the flanks the white becomes restricted, and toward the tarso-metatarsus joint shows
only as a terminal spot. Mandibles dark horn, with pale yellowish horn edges and tips ;
irides dark brown. Length, 760; bill from nostril, 38; wing, 317; tail, 266; tarsus, 71;
middle toe and claw, 76 mm.

First Year PLumMAGE, Marze.—The several birds in this plumage which I have
examined show very great variety in the advance or retardation of colour and pattern,
showing that the moult occurred at correspondingly different ages. The general
appearance is of a female above and a male below with a few scattered adventitious
metallic feathers on the mantle and coverts. The pattern of the tail is much like that of
the female, except for a sprinkling of green iridescence on the outer webs, and the black
bars being twice as wide as the rufous ones. Many of the latter are decidedly pale and
broken on the inner webs—a hint of the adult male plumage. The chin shows some
white, and shaft-streaks are abundant on the neck and sides. The wings are decidedly
feminine, but the markings on the secondaries are rather mottlings than bars, and pale
buff, not rufous.

A male with more advanced patterns shows much spotting and very little barring
on the tail, fewer shaft-stripes on the ventral plumage, and although the lores are still
covered with featherlets, these and the facial ones are chocolate instead of white—an
intermediate stage on the way to the adult black. The measurements of this individual
are all nicely correlated with the slight advance in plumage characters, being a few
millimetres greater than in more feminine-coloured individuals. Birds of this age show
average measurements of: bill from nostril, 36; wing, 306; tail, 286; tarsus, 71; middle
toe and claw, 76 mm.

EARLY HISTORY

The first specimens of the Chinese Impeyan were sent from Hankow, China, by the
French consul; M. Dabry, in the year 1866. They were said to have been collected in

132 «A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

the mountains of Moupin in western Sreckuaa. These were a pair, and were described
by M. ules Verreaux of the Museum of Paris. Both are now in the British Museum.

=

_ Synonymy—Lophophorus thuysit Verreaux |

Lophophorus thuysi? Nerreaux, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1866, p. 223; Verreaux, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1867, p ee =
Ze Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1868, p. 1, pl. 1; Sclater, Ibis, 1870, p. 297; Gray, Hand-list Birds, 1-1870,-p.- =
; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 399; David Nouv. ce Mus. de Paris, VII. 1871, p. 11; Elliot, Monogr, — :

| oe: 1872, pl. 19; David and Oustalet, Oiseaux de Chine, 1877, p. 403, pl. 110; Grant, Cat. Bik Brit. Mus,
_ XXII. 1893, p. 281; Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 238; Beche Tega: I. No. 15, 1914, p. 271.
Lophophorus Wine Gould, Birds of Asia, VII. 1873, pl. 54; Sclater, Ibis, 1874, p. 169; Seebohm, Ibis, 1891,

p. 379 [western Szechuan]; Pratt, To the Snows of Tibet through China, 1892, p. 202; Sclater, Ibis, 1894, p. E, i :

= Sharpe, Hand- list Birds, I. 1899, p. 34-3 Dresser, Be Palaearctic Birds, II. 1903, p. 674.

PLATE XVII

SCLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT
Lophophorus sclatert Jerdon

Tue least known of all the Impeyans is this curl-crested bird, clad in shimmering gold, green and
blue iridescence. Until now, only the wild tribes of Aborland have known where to find it, and the few
skins in our museums have been secured by them. After a day of difficult exploration, I found three of the
Impeyans deep in the wilderness of northern Yunnan. One I secured and the two others boomed away over
the bamboos, far off into the distant valley. Their haunts are so well guarded by savage tribes that it may
be impossible to see them before the birds become extinct. So limited is the region they inhabit, so narrow

are the upper ridges on which they make their home, there can be but few of them alive in the world.

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PLATE XVII

LNVSVAHd NVAHdW!I SYALVTIOS

NITHAE “HOSIYA LYAAIV

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SCLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT
Lophophorus sclateri Jerdon

NAMES.—Specific: sclaterz, for Dr. P. L. Sclater, the eminent English ornithologist. English: Sclater’s
Impeyan, Crestless Monal. French: Lophophore sclater. German: Stahlhuhn.

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Upper plumage iridescent, lower black; head with short, recurved green
feathers ; neck copper ; mantle and inner wing-coverts green changing to purple; outer coverts coppery or green ;
back, rump and tail-coverts white ; tail dark chestnut, with a broad, white, terminal band, black mottled with white
at base. Female: Lores, chin and throat white; head, face and neck black with V-shaped buff marks; mantle
and back dark umber, with pale rufous shaft-stripe and mottling. Wings more rufous; tail black, banded and
tipped with white ; lower back, rump and upper tail-coverts pale grey with fine, irregular dark bands. Lower
parts olive, finely vermiculated with pale buff.

TYPE.—* Mishmi Hills, Upper Assam.” Jerdon, The Ibis, 1870, p. 147. Now in the collection of the
British Museum.

RANGE.—Mishmi and Abor Hills eastward into the mountains of northern Burma and Yunnan.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

ALMOST nothing is known of the Himalayas east of Bhutan and north of Assam.
They are inhabited by fierce tribes who allow no strangers to enter, or at least to
leave their domain. It is from this mysterious hinterland that the hill tribes, the
Mishmis, the Abors and others come down, when they venture to appear for purposes
of trading. Every year a fair is held at Sadiya, at the extreme head of the Assam
Valley, and this is attended by many of these savage people. Among other things,
they occasionally bring with them skins or even live birds, and it is in this way that
the few specimens of Sclater’s Impeyan have been secured. As far as I know I am the
first white man who has seen or shot this species in its native haunts. Thus may we
account for the absence of a single fact in literature regarding its wild life or even more
than a general vague idea of what region it inhabits.

Wholly unexpectedly I met with Sclater’s Impeyan in north-western Yunnan, close
to the Burmese border, when studying the pheasants of that region in the winter of 1910,
and am therefore fortunate enough to be able to relate something at first hand of the
bird in its home. This is so meagre, however, that I shall give the experience just as I
find it in my journal, with all extraneous details which in any way may help to picture
the environment of this rare pheasant.

One very characteristic feature of the high mountain slopes along the extreme
northern Yunnan-Burma frontier is the lasting character of the scars made by the native
millet farms of past decades. In place of the splendid oaks and chestnuts, there springs
up a terrible stubby growth of bamboo, to penetrate which is a punishment leaving
lasting wounds and complete fatigue. Yet one must force a way through many such

zones to find the pheasants which here make their home.
X 153

154 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

One of the greatest triumphs of my pheasant search came at the end of a cold,
bracing day in early winter. I was camped upon the bare summit of a rounded knoll,
and all through the night there was heard the sound of the rushing waters which
tumbled over the great boulders of the deep ravines on either side. Except for this
the nights were, as a rule, silent; the most startling sound being the frantic squeal of
an unfortunate pig, pursued or caught by some beast of prey.

Waking in the early dusk, one heard only the soothing, distant roar of the streams,
and now and then the footstep of the Gurkha sentry. Hardly had the jungle of the
opposite slopes appeared through the cloud-drenched dawn, when the notes of a
whistling thrush rose clear and sweet. A splendid, sturdy bird, making its home
among the moss-hung oaks, over a mile above the sea—its song was worthy of owner
and place. Its blue-black coat was still wet with dew as its throat poured forth a
series of penetrating flute-like tones. They rose above the roar of the torrent, and
for a half hour jungle and mountain were silent, listening to this superb matin. Then,
as suddenly as it began, the song ceased, and not a note was heard until at dawn again
the following morning.

Close upon the brightening of the dawn came another sound, not of the wilderness
and yet with a wildness hardly human—the pitiful wail of some insane Kachin child,
which had awakened from its bitter sleep to its still more bitter daily life. It strove
to put its poor deformed mind upon the task of gathering a few of the myriad sticks
lying everywhere in the jungle, to carry them to the hut of some native—perhaps its
parents who have discarded it, or of a strange Chinese—in exchange for a mouthful
of rice. What heart could fail to be moved by the terrified sobbing of these poor
creatures which haunted the forests about every village, where even the normal natives
lived day and night in dread of the tiger-formed, evil ‘‘nats.” Apart from nature
as they were; one could not enter these regions without encountering these hopeless
waifs, haunting jungle and trail.

The light now came quickly, and with it a multitude of birds’ voices, and from
the distant jungle the jubilant rollicking chorus of the jolly hoolick gibbons. Every
creature here is a sun worshipper—for shade means the chill of death, and sun the
bracing warmth which one can enjoy best only upon these high roofs of the world.

The sun had topped the great jagged barrier which led straight down from the heart
of the unknown north, and on our sturdy little mountain ponies we crossed a foaming
stream and began a stiff zigzag climb, the trail full of deep ruts and rolling stones.
Now and then we came to a ledge over which the horses scrambled on knees and hocks.
At the last open field we dismounted, and turned the ponies over to the Sikh. At an
angle of forty-five degrees we slid, scrambled and scraped our way through the soft
ground to the bottom of the ravine where the cold shade of early twilight still reigned.

Here we separated, and I made my way slowly up stream, creeping over the great
rounded boulders, or wading through the rush of icy water. Every turn revealed new
beauties. An enormous overhanging mass of quartz loomed up draped with swaying
vines, and, beyond, a little sandy bay was fretted with the tracks of pheasants, cats and
deer. In the spots of sunlight among the higher branches crimson butterflies flitted
about, and white-fronted redstarts dashed ahead from stone to stone.

Stopping at a favourable opening, a half-mile up stream, I began my laborious

SCLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT 155

climb upward, first through a steep ascent of soft mould densely shaded by wild-sown
bananas. The undergrowth seemed scant, and as I brushed aside the first thicket of
soft-leaved plants I anticipated an easy first stage. But the grey down on the myriad
green stems proved scourging whips of nettle which lashed face and hands at every
step. There was no alternative, so I clambered painfully on, seizing hold of every
cold, smooth-enamelled banana trunk as a haven from the merciless needles.

A small side ravine spread out into a broad, fern-filled bog, and the nettles were
left behind. Then came more bananas and small evergreen trees with little or no under-
growth. Here was the feeding ground of the pheasants and deer. There was hardly
a square yard of mould which did not bear the marks of the tiny hoofs of the barking
deer or the strong claws of the birds. Now and then I picked up a feather of some
silver pheasant clinging to a bramble on the steep slope. The earth was crumbling
and again and again I fell headlong. Once I grasped a banana and brought it over
upon me—a light, air-filled stem bearing streamers of old, crackling leaves, and a
rosette of long wavy green ones. As I struggled, face and ears half covered with
earth, my hand touched something which seemed to move. I turned my head and
became suddenly sick with horror as I saw a king cobra crawling slowly out of the
fallen debris, fortunately making its way to the other end of the prostrate banana stem.
Its body was dull and brown, and trailing along, crackling like the dead palm leaves,
were remnants of half-shed skin. My touch upon the sinuous body had seemingly not
disturbed it.

If it had changed its course and turned toward me I could not have escaped from
its path, half pinned down as I was by the mass of leaves and the stem. I watched the
tapering point of the tail slowly disappear, and, weak-kneed and trembling, crept slowly
off in the opposite direction.

Fortunately serpents of all kinds are rare, and this most fatal and irritable species
is nocturnal. I had disturbed it among the roots of the palm by my awkward fall.
During the past week it was not at all unusual to find king cobras in the deadfalls of
the natives.

I had hardly crept five yards from the place of my ugly adventure when two feathers
caught my eye, and straightway I forgot my fears. They were from the plumage of no
silver pheasant, but brilliant, iridescent, changeable green and purple. I was ata loss
to know from what gallinaceous bird they had come. A little way farther I found
another. Later, while worming my way through a barking deer’s tunnel at the roots
of a perfect tangle of bamboo, I heard subdued chuckles and the rustling of leaves ahead:
A few feet brought me to a deeply worn but steep sambur trail, along which I made my
way on hands and knees, without making a sound.

The rustling of leaves and the spray of earthen pellets falling down, came more
distinctly to my ears, and at last I rested for many minutes with my face buried in a
clump of blue, sweet-scented pea flowers.

Inch by inch I then edged myself upward, digging with fingers and toes into every
deepened hoof-rut. A shower of earth fell upon me, and with joy I saw that a clump of
soft-leaved, mint-like plants lay before me. I did not have to increase my numerous
wounds by a slow penetration of either nettles or briers. :

The revelation came sooner than I expected. Noiselessly plucking away leaves and

156 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

stéms oné by oné, to form a low tunnel, I pushed slowly and cautiously ahead. Never
have I been “closer to Nature” than on this stalk. My trail was more like that of a
snail or worm than of any vertebrate! Glints of light filtered through the green
ahead, and I saw that a low, pérpendicular bank of earth barred my way on each side.
Then the forms of one or two birds appeared, and with a screén of leaves still inter-
vening, I watched what was probably the first wild Sclater's Impeyan ever seen by a
white man. A minute after I had reached my last position, one of the birds shook itself
with all its might, sending down a shower of dirt into my eyes, while a feather or two
floated off above me, down the hillside. |

An inch nearer, another leaf cleared away, and I saw that there was but one bird,
the appearance of the others being caused by several large mottled caladium leaves,
waving about just behind the pheasant.

It was a splendid male, digging vigorously and almost continuously with its béak,
working gradually around in a circle, so that I saw in turn its breast, sides and back.
I watched it for five minutes, when it turned, without apparent cause, but not from
fright, and disappeared into the low, marshy tangle behind.

As quick as I could lift my arm and pull up my gun from where it was dragging
behind me, I fired at the still moving stems, and listened for some hint of the effect.
Not a sound came forth.

I clambered up to where the bird had stood, rushed into the underbrush, and
almost stepped upon the pheasant as it lay six feet from the opening. As I leaned
down, trembling with excitement, two living bombs burst from the ground a few feet
away—a pair of hens, or young males—and in the fraction of a second were out of
sight.

On succeeding days, although I made inquiries everywhere, I could find no native
who had ever seen or could give a name to this bird. The three which I blundered
upon were doubtless strays from farther north, from somewhere in that mysterious land
where no white man may go at present and live. Had I a yellow skin, slanting eyes,
long hair and a knowledge of the twanging words which came to my ears each night
from my servants’ camp-fire, 1 might have followed these birds northward. As it is,
Strange people guard their haunts, neither Chinese nor Tibetans nor Kachins, but a
mingling of the blood of all three, jealous of their useless land, living their bestial
lives in filth and cold and squalor amid the howling winds of these heartbreaking
Stéeps.

At any rate we must extend the range of this bird, and connect the Mishmi Hills
with the mountains of the Salween. The male which I secured was feeding on short,
crooked bits of succulent rootlets, and with these it had swallowed a surprising amount
of earth and other débris.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLtt Mare.—Lores bare; forehead and face sparsely feathered with tiny, oval,
green feathers. A dense, round clump of featherlets just at base of nostril. Top of
the head bluish green shot with purple, the feathers being strongly recurved forward,
ear-coverts with a stronger purplish sheen, but not curled. Back and sides of the neck

PHOTOGRAVURE 12

YUNNAN HOME OF SCLATER’S IMPEYAN

THE steep slope of sprouting bamboo was most terrible to climb. I made my way through the shaded
ravine running obliquely upward through the centre. On the way up, I found innumerable traces of barking
deer and Silver Pheasants, and I disturbed a king cobra from his den at the foot of a wild banana. At
the summit, beyond a tangle of caladiums and painted leaves, I encountered the three Impeyans. The
full-plumaged cock was scratching among the undergrowth shown in the lower photograph, and at my blind
shot fell in the same place. The others flew up a few feet beyond and scaled out of sight down the

opposite slope.

le

PLATE

PHOTOGRAVURE

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SCLATER’S IMPEYAN PHEASANT 157

shining reddish copper. Mantle, longer scapulars, inner median and greater wing-
coverts and tertiaries deep purple changing to metallic green. Coverts around extreme
bend of wing form a patch of brilliant metallic green, changing to blue and purple.
Shorter scapulars and remainder of wing-coverts golden green and rich glowing copper.
Inner secondaries shining golden green; this disappears as we proceed outward, until
the last trace vanishes from the outer webs. Primaries and their coverts dead black.
Back, rump and upper tail-coverts pure white, with very narrow, black, shaft-streaks on
the rump and shorter tail-coverts. All of the white feathers show a wide, glistening
white, somewhat disintegrated fringe. Entire under plumage dark brownish black,
glossed with purple on the throat, sides and flanks. Tail rich dark chestnut, with a
broad terminal band of white; the concealed half of the feather is black, with five to
seven irregular white crossbars, much broken into spots. The tarsus is feathered well
down on the front and sides.

Mandibles horny, orange-yellow, darker at tips; facial area bright blue; irides
brown; legs and feet brownish. Length, 680; bill from nostril, 36; wing, 317;
tail, 223; tarsus, 73; middle toe and claw, 77 mm. The spurs are short, thick and
stout, about 13 mm. in length. Often a spur is present on only one leg, the other
being represented by a flattened nodule.

ADULT FEMALE.—Lores, chin and throat white. Crown, face and neck all around
brownish black with a conspicuous V-shaped, subterminal, buff mark, while on the
crown there is a small round spot farther down on the shaft. These coalesce on the
lower hind neck, and on the mantle and upper back they form a well-marked, pale,
rufous-buff shaft-stripe sending irregular, rather sparse mottlings over the remainder
of the feather, which is a rich umber brown. On the lesser wing-coverts the rufous
mottling becomes much more abundant, so that the dark colour is considerably reduced.
On the longest coverts and inner secondaries we find the mottling reduced again and
the rufous arranged in fairly regular transverse bars. The scapulars are dark brown,
with slight, irregular, mottled barring on the outer web, even this disappearing on the
primaries.

The mid-back to the tail-coverts inclusive is characterized by a grizzled grey
coloration, a pale greyish-white background, very irregularly barred with dark brown,
the shining white rhachis giving the effect of a white shaft-streak. The mottling
becomes coarser posteriorly, so that the tail-coverts appear increasingly whiter. The
rectrices are black with narrow, white, somewhat irregular bars, the central pairs
showing lateral rufous mottling between the white bars, and all are broadly tipped
with white. 7

Beginning abruptly on the upper breast we find the entire under plumage to be
a uniform fine vermiculation of pale buff on a dull umber background, both colours
however being about equal, giving a general olive tone. Posteriorly the vermiculations
become somewhat coarser, and on the sides merge gradually into the colder grey, more
coarsely patterned lower back and rump.

Spurs are visible, being mere flattened nodules. The measurements are: length,
630; bill from nostril, 30; wing, 280; tail, 185; tarsus, 71; middle toe and claw,
75mm. Mandibles yellowish; legs and feet brown.

158 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

EARLY HISTORY

The first specimen ever recorded of this Impeyan was a live male bird. Of this
Jerdon writes in the /é¢s for 1870: “Another still more interesting species, brought
alive from the Mishmi Hills, is a species of Monaul or Lophophorus. When I first
saw it, it was in such wretched plumage that, although I considered it to be distinct
from the Himalayan species, I was unable to describe it. It is now here at Shillong,
on the Khasis Hills, alive and in good health, though not in my possession, and as it
has very recently assumed its tail-feathers I am able to pronounce it decidedly distinct
from L. zmpeyanus.”

This very individual was later obtained by Mr. Jerdon and sent alive to the
London zoo. It reached England on March 12, 1870, and lived for a year and eight
months. Up to the present time this is the only record of Sclater’s Impeyan in
captivity. Jerdon tells us that the bird was very tame and fed readily from the hand.
He fed it on rice and corn, and it was especially fond of lettuce and cabbage leaves.
This type is now in the British Museum. It has lost almost all the iridescence from
the mantle, back and coverts, owing to the excessive wear of the feathers. The general
tone is now a dull, smoky black.

The female was described nine years later.

SYNONYMY

Lophophorus sclateri Jerdon, Ibis, 1870, p. 147; Jerdon, Proc. Asiatic Soc., Bengal, 1870, p. 61; Gray, Hand-
list of Birds, 1870, p. 261; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1870, p. 162; Elliot, Monogr. Phasi., I. 1872; Elwes, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1873, p. 660; Hume, Stray Feathers, II. 1874, p. 488; Hume, Game-birds of India, I. 1879, p. 135;
Godwin-Austen, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 681; Hume, Stray Feathers, XI. 1888, p. 301; Grant, Cat. Birds Brit.
Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 282; Hartert, Ibis, 1894, p. 291; Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 240; Mitchell,
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1911, p. 521; Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 36; Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914,
ps 271.

Crestless Moonal Hume, Stray Feathers, IX. 1380, p. 203.

Chalcophasis sclatert Oates, Game-birds India, I. 1898, p. 269; Sharpe, Hand-list of Birds, 1899, p. 34.

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MAP SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE EARED-PHEASANTS,

Region 1. Crossoptilon mantehuricum.
4s 2: i auritum.
ee % tibetanum.

CROSSOPTILON
FARED-PHEASANTS

FAMILY PHASIANIDAE
Subfamily PHASIANINAE

Genus CROSSOPTILON

EvEN more than Catveus, the present genus stands alone, removed by many
characters from all others of the subfamily. Elliot considers it nearest to /mfeyanus
and Pavo, on account of the heavy mandibles and feet or the disintegration of plumage.
Other authors place it after Lodcofhasis, probably on account of the unusually large
number of tail-feathers. Owing to the Phasianine mode of tail moult I have included
it in this subfamily, but with the realization that only an actual tree-like classifica-
tion, ramifying through the three planes of space, could show its real affinities. In
any event, the Eared-pheasants are a most interesting group and well worthy of
detailed study.

The Eared-pheasants are in general coloration brown, blue or white, with partly
iridescent and semi-disintegrated tail-feathers. These are numerous, numbering twenty
to twenty-four in the adult, all being large, broad, rounded, and the central ones
drooping, with long, free webs, and twice as long as the outer pair.

The 1st primary is much shorter than the 2nd, which is equal in length to the oth
or 10th; the 5th or 6th is the longest of the series.

The top of the head is covered with short, soft, curly feathers, velvet-like in texture.
The ear-coverts are much elongated, being produced into long, white, upward curved
tufts of rather stiff feathers on each side of the head. The remainder of the plumage is
dense, long, and rather hairy.

Sides of the face bare, reddish and covered with small papillae. The sexes are
alike, except that the males possess a pair of short, stout spurs. The tarsus is con-
siderably longer than the middle toe and claw.

The brownish hues of the immature birds are found in the adult plumage of one
species, while in another this hue alters toa slate blue. This in turn is found to give
way more and more to white until the acme of colour evolution is found in the almost

pure white Tibetan Eared-pheasant.
Y 161

162 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

CROSSOPTILON
Type.

Crossoptilon Hodgson, Jour. Asiatic Soc., Bengal, VII. 1838, p. 864 C. tibetanum.

There has been much bungling in the research work upon this group, due both to
erroneous observation of skin characters and lack of comparison of specimens in various
museums. There seems good reason for supposing that instead of five there are but
three species, and two of these may ultimately prove to be related subspecifically.

The three forms, which are confined to the mountains and highlands of eastern and

central China and Tibet, are as follows—

Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe.
auritum (Pall.).
tibetanum (Hodgs.).

Brown Eared-pheasant
Blue Eared-pheasant . j : ; ‘ ‘,
White Eared-pheasant ; : : ; f

The general colouring of brown, blue, and white will serve as a key to distinguish
the three species, while the cocks possess stout spurs and the hens are spurless. __

BROWN EARED-PHEASANT

Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe

NAMES.—Generic: Cvrossoptilon, from the Greek xoooode fringe, and atéjov down or feather, fringe-feathered,
from the condition of the tail feathers. Specific: mantchuricum, from Manchuria, the supposed habitat of the first
specimen described. English: Brown or Manchurian Eared-pheasant or Snow Pheasant. French: Faisan Oreillard.
German: Mandschurischer Ohrfasan. Vernacular: Chao Chi (horned chicken—Shansi, Chinese), Ho-ky (Chili).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Crown feathers short, curly and black; elongated upturned ear-tufts white ;
neck black shading into brown on mantle; lower back and rump dirty white; breast blackish-brown, remaining
under parts lighter; tail dirty white at base, the tips brownish, glossed with purplish-blue; a pair of short, stout
spurs. Female: Similar, but without spurs.

Typre.—“ Tsin-tsin.” Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1862, p. 286.

RANGE.—Extreme north-eastern China.

THE BIRD IN ITS HAUNTS

It is difficult to imagine a greater contrast than the haunts of the white-tailed
pheasant of Borneo and the home of the Brown Eared-pheasant of north-eastern China.
The one is found in the thick, steaming, tropical jungle, with the flash and song of
brilliant birds and the never-ceasing hum of insects. Trailing vines and hanging lianas
of the forest drape every vista; the scorching rays of the mid-day sun scarcely penetrate
the denser foliage, where fragrant orchids and rich tinted leaves brighten the sombreness
of the shadowy glades.

To turn to the antithesis, we pushed inland from the shore of the Yellow Sea, where
we found a vast country, flat as a board. At once we missed the rice fields which, in all
our pheasant searching, from Ceylon to Japan, had been so universal a sight whenever
all traces of native occupation were left behind. Here the fields were ploughed and
already at the end of March planted to millet, barley, and Indian corn. Before we
could reach the haunts of the wild creatures we must traverse many miles of native-
ridden country. The only trees in view were sparse, spindling saplings in rows, pitifully
trimmed for fuel to the last possible twiglet compatible with life. *Dobe houses brought
Mexico vividly to mind, and houses, trees, burros, land, even the water, were all mono-
chrome—dirt, mud or dust colour, and when the cold wind blew, the very air as well
partook of this hue.

Although we realized that hordes of human beings were somewhere concealed within
the horizontal circle, seldom did we see more than one or two Chinese at a time. Now
and then a wheelbarrow with a small tattered sail meandered slowly along the distant
levels. No roads were visible anywhere. The rare travellers, like ourselves, seemed to
pick their away along the narrow boundaries of the fields. No fences, no high weeds

or dead grass; only ploughed barrenness everywhere, with here and there a faint
163

164 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

emerald mist in the furrows, half promising better things for the spring. Rarely was
seen a great-wheeled cart, dragged laboriously over the furrowed fields by two animals
tandem—a bullock, a burro, a mule, or a tiny, shaggy Mongolian pony as the case
might be. Once, on the opposite side of a wide, muddy stream we saw a brace of
pheasants, one a ring-neck and the other a Brown Eared-pheasant, dangling at the tail
of such a cart. We knew that the latter was not found in this vicinity, so the bird
must have been trapped elsewhere and brought here for sale. No shouts or gesticula-
tions on the part either of ourselves or the interpreter were of any avail in arousing the
huddled blue-garbed driver, and even when at last he condescended to glance in our
direction, the waving and jangling of a string of ‘“‘cash” had no effect whatever. He
sank again into his formless, hunched position, and resumed what thoughts we shall
never know—whatever thoughts any one of these countless millions of Mongolians may
have.

From the thick, muddy lagoons and sluggish creeks ducks rose now and then—
mallards, black, pintails, shovellers, and two kinds of teal. In the fields plover were
occasionally seen, single magpies appeared, while spur-winged plover and lapwings flew
before us in small flocks, or drifted with plaintive cries from one feeding-place to
another. Rooks and crows were the most noticeable birds, and towards sunset I ob-
served several hundred massing one by one, or arriving in small bands, in the centre of
afield. Before we lost sight of them, all rose at once and flew eastward, doubtless to
some roost, although how they could find any perching-place above the ground in
this treeless, shrubless land was inconceivable. White-necked crows were in fewer
numbers, flocking by themselves, although throughout the day they were es
seen associating with their less conspicuous relations.

Always, everywhere, were the conical grave mounds, dotted to the horizon, many
topped with a small stone. Twice from these a hoopoe flew past. Such was the life
visible on the threshold of the Eared-pheasant country.

I was constantly impressed with the protection against the bitter winter cold which
the creatures of this northern land showed. As our caravan proceeded slowly we passed
ponies with long, shaggy coats; then a looped string of great Bactrian camels, super-
cilious and dignified, with dense fur trailing from their bellies and sides. The little
burros were swathed in long, matted hair up to the very eyes, while, strangest sight of
all, were the occasional giant black pigs with thick hair streaming almost to the ground,
as unexpected a sight at first to our eyes as would have been a mammoth.

Leaving the outer region, we hastened onward, and one day entered a wholly
different country. Instead of the cool air and bright sunshine of the preceding days
there was a downpour of rain, cold and miserable. Only the long strings of camels
seemed unaffected, and even their dignity was rather upset by the constant slipping and
sliding of the great splay feet.

This day we travelled in palanquins, and a more miserable jaunt had not yet been
recorded in our many thousand miles of adventuring. The country was cut up by flat
river bottoms, covered with stones and small boulders of all colours, mostly flint and
quartz. In the distance we could distinguish the barren mountains of Shansi, while
near at hand the steep muddy banks which cut up the country in all directions gave a
wild, rugged, most inhospitable appearance. Our bearers soon began to leave bloody

a

PLATE XVIII

BROWN EARED-PHEASANT

Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe

Own a cold day in early April, on a tundra-like expanse far beyond Pekin, I watched this flock of
Eared-Pheasants drift past. Around my umbrella tent, tiny voles appeared whenever the sun shone;
buntings and wagtails dashed down for a few minutes, feeding; small, timid musk deer walked slowly
downward toward the stream at the valley bottom. The pheasants fed as they moved, gathering about some
tuft of grass and uprooting it with their stout beaks to search the loam for grubs and tubers. They did

not suspect my presence, they uttered no sound, and in a few minutes they had passed out of my sight

for ever.

PLATE XVIII

.

INVSVSHd-dadva NMOdd

BROWN EARED-PHEASANT 165

trails in the tracks of their flimsy straw sandals, for the vast areas of stones made cruel
walking. Rarely, here and there, we saw a few spears of short brown grass, the only
hint of any summer vegetation. Most strange always seemed the total lack of the
remains of tall dead weeds, so common a sight in northern lands. In the afternoon the
rain turned to snow, and although this melted at once on the rough, rocky country
over which we had passed, yet before sunset we had a glimpse of the distant mountains,
shining ivory white in the clear air. That night our camp was most miserable, cold and
dreary, and we went to rest in our sleeping-bags to the wolfish howl of Mongolian dogs,
thinking of the terrible ravages of the plague throughout all this region, of the hopeless
disease which was only now dying out.

The next day brought us actually within the zone of life of the greatly desired
Eared-pheasants, and after we began to ascend the outlying mountain slopes and passed
little straggling villages built of stone, we began to feel the exhilaration of even these
comparatively low elevations after the dreary monotony of the terrible endless plains.
It was still a land of rocks and boulders, but here and there bright flowers of early
spring gleamed in the calm frosty air. The lower mountains were monochrome save for
a constantly increasing touch of green in the stems of the willows. The steep hillsides
on the farther sides of the mountains were clothed with a beautiful golden russet mat of
dead grass.

In days to come we left the boulder-strewn country behind and lived in a wilderness
of scrub oak, pine and birch trees—all scraggly and dwarfed from the constant fight for
life with the northern storms. One day’s detailed observation will give a good idea of
the haunts and neighbours of the Brown Eared-pheasant.

In a great sheltered valley, or rather in a deep niche cut out of one side, I watched
one day in early April for what might come. Beyond the farther ridge and far down in
the second valley was the camp. Before me was nothing but wilderness, stretching away
unbroken to the farthest edge of the great land, with none but nomadic northern tribes
of robbers to disturb the wild creatures, while behind was China with her teeming
millions of half-starving human beings. I crouched, wrapped in a blanket within my
cosy umbrella tent, with all the ventilation holes closed up, getting what warmth I could
from the sunshine diluted through a zone of fleecy clouds. After setting up my little
stand in many places I had had so far only the briefest glimpses of wild creatures, twice
Eared-pheasants and several times small mammals. To-day I watched some little vole
or shrew-like animals chasing one another from one grass tunnel to another within a few
feet of where I was ensconced. They were veritable little weather vanes as regards the
sunshine. When a dense cloud drifted across the face of the sun, all vanished as
inexplicably as if dissolved in air; when the warm rays began to make shadows behind
each rock, the tiny black forms began to flicker here and there, timidly at first, then more
and more boldly. When the sunshine was really strong, as it became after the morning
mist was completely dissipated, they became positively courageous, and one little chap
clambered upon a stone at my very side, not four feet away, and made his toilet under
my inspection. Every part of his tiny furry form was scratched and combed with the
diminutive feet and claws, the little fellow sometimes fairly rolling over, doubled up into
a round ball like a Japanese netsucke, as he worked with both fore feet at once. Finally
he seemed satisfied and scampered off. When about to enter his tunnel, he hesitated a

166 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

moment, glanced upward, and uttering a single faint squeak, dived headlong from view.
Instantaneously all the others vanished, and none reappeared again. I tried my best to
discover the cause of this sudden terror, but could not, and shall never know what sight
or sound drove my small friends to cover. I doubt if they have the keenness of eyesight
to detect a bird of prey while yet high in the air, at any such distance as birds are able
to discern their enemy.

Some twenty minutes later my roaming eye fell upon a beautiful little form, standing
a few feet outside the line of dwarf birches above and slightly down the valley from my
niche. Three more musk deer soon followed and stood for a full minute staring at my
low mound of canvas. But they soon seemed to accept itas a rather unusual boulder
and began nosing among the grass stems and working gradually down hill.

I was intensely interested in the small deer, and watched their every movement
until they passed from view. Nothing else appeared except now and then a magpie or
a black-and-white wagtail which flew over. One of the latter alighted for a moment on
a stone half-way down the hill and sang a few notes before drifting on towards the north.
An hour later a flock of black-and-white-headed buntings dashed down around me,
probably on migration, and for ten minutes fed on the ground, searching for seeds
among the sparse grass stems, or singing in unison, four or five twittering sweetly at
one time almost within reach of my hand. They were jolly, plump birds, and every day
several such flocks would pass on their way, doubtless to breeding haunts far to the
north in Siberia.

It was while the buntings were still about my tent, and just as my attention was
drawn to a titmouse twittering among the nearest birches, that I saw the advance
guard of a flock of Eared-pheasants. Buntings, titmouse, musk deer, all were forgotten,
and I was filled with the old thrill of supreme joy at having accomplished the object
which had brought me so far. They were even less suspicious than the musk deer, and
hardly gave mea glance as they passed slowly within ten or twenty yards. Six came
close together at first, then a group of ten, then three more, and I was keenly interested
to observe that with these latter was a musk deer, keeping near but not actually among
them. The other associations which I had recorded were at once brought to mind—the
musk deer, laughing thrushes and the kaleege pheasants of Burma; the chevrotain and
the white-tails of Borneo. The three groups of pheasants soon merged into a general
flock, and the nineteen birds moved slowly past, giving me every possible opportunity
for observation. Except when now and then I caught sight of the stout spurs on the
sturdy legs, I could see no distinction between males and females.

As in so many other cases of plainly coloured pheasants, I was impressed with the
remarkable protective colouring of the birds when they were perfectly motionless and the
complete absence of that phenomenon when they moved so much as a leg, or gave even
the slightest turn to the head or neck. As they passed away down the hillside this
impression increased, and it was really most striking to see how completely the quiescent
bird merged with its surroundings. The slope was dotted with boulders of all shapes,
and the motionless pheasant became merely another such inanimate object, its colours
of drab, brown and dingy white being those of the weathered, lichened rocks and
dead grass.

When the flock passed through longish grass stubble, they stood higher, took slower

)

BROWN EARED-PHEASANT 167

steps and watched more carefully, the leaders taking hardly a mouthful of food, but
concentrating their attention on the surrounding cover, very evidently on the lookout
for some possible enemy hidden there. In the more open places this watchfulness was
somewhat relaxed, although there was never a moment when several of the heads were
not raised high, looking keenly for danger. In this particular I noticed that some were
much more cautious than others. I at once leaped to the conclusion that these were the
males, but a careful search with the glasses showed that this was not the case—there
were as many watchful, nervous hens as cocks; so, unless the more hungry, less alert
birds were the young of the year, not yet keyed up to adult discretion by total indepen-
dence, I do not know, but from my observation on other pheasants I should say such
was the case.

The mode of feeding was interesting. Several birds would gather about a tuft of
grass and, with heads held on one side, would begin to work with strong, quick picks
of the beak. The soil would fly, and now and then a bird would reach forward and
seize something edible. Two or three times the efforts of the pheasants brought the
grass tumbling down upon them, and then there was always a rush to get at the
exposed roots, where an abundance of titbits seemed always to be present. Once a
group of four birds was left far behind in their eagerness to deplete a particularly rich
larder, and when they had finished they set out full speed and ran with great rapidity
after their fellows. The single musk deer had meanwhile left his feathered companions
and taken a more direct downward route, following closely in the trail of his four
companions who had preceded him.

The birds were silent on this occasion, and uttered not a note while within sight.
They were working obliquely downward, probably aiming eventually at the trickle of
snow water at the bottom of the valley. I made no effort to go after them when they
disappeared beyond a rise of ground, as I know that the first of the nineteen pairs of
eyes to sight me would be the signal for the vanishing of the entire flock.

I waited an hour or two longer, but only one other episode of interest occurred, and
that after I had crawled out of the tent and was stretching my cruelly cramped limbs.
Swiftly and low over the maze of bare birch twigs came a tumultuous flock of slender-
billed choughs, pursued by a white falcon of medium size. The bird of prey was in
deadly earnest and made dash after dash at the frightened black birds, but for at least
half a dozen swoops the choughs were too quick for him, eluding the sudden onrush
by a single spasmodic swerve sideways, and then avoiding a second attack by rising
above the falcon, forcing it to circle several times in order to gain altitude sufficient for
another onslaught.

I retraced my way towards camp and found the southern slopes smoking in the last
rays of the sun’s warmth. When the sun sank and the chill shadow of night fell, this
stopped at once, but, while it lasted, the mist was so dense that it seemed as if there
was actually some subterranean combustion. I watched a rook grubbing in the centre
of a yard or two of smoking soil, and this small area gave forth so dense a mist that the
bird appeared dimly, like a mere faint shadow of itself.

168 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

On the vaguest information, coming through several persons, Swinhoe, in his
description of this species says, “If I am rightly informed our specimen hails from
Mantchuria,” and forthwith dubs it mantchuricum. Up to the present not a single
individual has been authentically recorded as having been seen or collected in that
country, nor is it ever brought in a frozen condition to the Pekin market by the
Mongols—this fact in itself being quite good proof that the bird is absent from the
region under question. The error, however, has been perpetrated in almost every
allusion to the species in scientific and lay literature, since the first misstatement. I
have therefore discarded the wholly incorrect common title of Manchurian, and shall
call it simply the Brown Eared-pheasant, in contradistinction to the blue and the
white species.

A summary of records shows that this species is found in the states of Chili and
Shansi in the extreme north-east of China. In the former it occurs in the western half
of the state, while it seems to be generally distributed throughout Shansi, its western
limits thus being clearly marked by the Hoang-ho, and its probable northern boundary
by the Great Wall of China.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

To sum up, I found the Brown Eared-pheasant in Shansi, inhabiting a bleak,
rolling country, diversified by irregular mountains and in places with deep valleys which
cut well down to the lower level of the outlying plains. Much of the country is
barren and rocky, and here the vegetation consists of low woody shrubs and coarse
grass. But wherever the soil and the shelter of a southern exposure permits, are sparse
woods or occasional quite dense growths of pine and white birch, seldom higher than
fifteen or twenty feet. Scrub oak is also common—seven to ten feet high and very
gnarled and rugged. _

From competent observers I learned that the Eared-pheasants are resident in
regions such as this throughout the entire year—rambling about in flocks of ten to
thirty birds during the winter, both in the groves and open slopes, and roosting in the
woods. In spring they separate into pairs, those which seem to be old mated pairs
going off quietly, hinting that there is apparently a tacit acceptance of the old tie
continuing even during the winter flocking. I once watched a flock of five birds and
observed a very evident division into two pairs, each couple keeping and working
together. I never saw any attempt at fighting, but a sportsman who had shot a number
while they were thus sparring said that these were invariably young birds. So it is
probable that when the flocks break up in the spring, the young birds go off seeking
mates and it is among these that most of the fighting occurs. Those who have
witnessed such encounters say that they are rather tame affairs, and indeed, judging by
the stoutness and the short character of the spurs, serious, bloody battles such as
are waged by the firebacks are out of the question in the case of these northern
- pheasants.

While any very deep fall of snow would, of course, force the birds downward to
lower levels, yet they are able to scratch or rather pick deep holes to reach the ground,

PHOTOGRAVURE 13

NORTHERN CHINA—THE HOME OF THE BROWN EARED-PHEASANT

Tue haunts of this bird are guarded neither by dense tropical jungles nor savage tribes, but by bleak,
inhospitable wastes, where shelter and food are unknown. The sharp stones cut the feet of the palanquin
bearers until the path is bloody. To find the birds themselves, one must leave all attendants behind and
search day after day over the semi-barren tundras, hiding behind scrubby growths of vegetation to scan
every rock and shadow.

The only inhabitants of this region are nomadic Tartars, whose sole possessions are their flocks of
black-headed sheep. Now and then these wandering men bring a small herd to Pekin to exchange for the
necessaries of life. Their fathers and grandfathers before them have done this selfsame thing, have followed
the dim, stony trails which converge toward the old gateway in the Great Wall—until the path under the
gateway has been worn smooth by the passing caravans of over twenty-one centuries. Now and then the
most ragged of the shepherds will have the tail feather of an Eared-Pheasant stuck jauntily in his rough

skin cap.

Ant

=
Ry

=

103

NORTHERN

CEN AS TNE

HOME OF

af

PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE | 3

BROWN EARED-PHEASANT 169

and I believe that the annual altitudinal migration is less than would be expected.
Even in summer they are not found on the summits of the ranges, and I believe that
throughout the year they can hold their own on the median levels. Where not perse-
cuted they are not rare, and ina region which is uninhabited and seldom or never shot
over, one may expect to find one or two flocks of considerable size within a day’s search.
This, of course, was more especially possible in my own case, where my only object was
actual search for the pheasants. I have gone carefully over many miles of ideal Eared-
pheasant country for two days at a time and seen nothing but several ring-necks, and,
on the other hand, travelling in a straight line in the course of a single day I have
counted as many as thirty-three birds divided into three flocks. This last is unusual,
and wherever the birds are trapped or shot they soon become thinned out or extermi-
nated, for they are attached to the limited region which they call home, and being
naturally rather stupid and unwary it is not a difficult matter to kill an entire flock.

The sociability and gregariousness of Eared-pheasants is perhaps more pronounced
than in any other species of this family. It is all the more conspicuous a trait from
the comparative lack of masculine pugnaciousness, the chief cause of flock and family
dissensions among gallinaceous birds. When several birds are kept in captivity in a
runway, they are almost always seen close together. No one bird, either male or
female, seems to take the lead, but there is seldom a moment when the trio or quartet
of birds are more than a few feet apart. As we have seen, this characteristic is true of
wild birds. They impress one as rather stupid birds on the whole, but extremely fond
of one another's society in this land of desolate vistas and wild winters.

The flock which I have described in some detail was an exception in its silence ;
like most intensely gregarious creatures, Eared-pheasants are rather voluble; they are
continually conversing in undertones, and in fact have as large an intonation vocabulary
as our domestic fowls. I was once so hidden that I could not catch a glimpse of six
of these pheasants after they had passed my observation tent. They were on a steep
slope immediately beneath and hidden by a large projecting boulder, but I could hear
every note and could detect contentment, peevishness, anger and alarm as readily as if
I had been able to see the cause for each utterance.

The mating call which corresponds to the crow of other pheasants is uttered by
males even after they have paired off, in this case, I presume, the call being more of a
challenge, or a warning to possible rivals that the locality and mate are pre-empted. I
have also heard it from members of a flock in early spring, both on the ground, on a
rounded boulder, and from the branches of a low, straggling oak-tree. During the utter-
ance the tail is moderately elevated, with the two central plumes raised well above the
others, while the neck is stretched out, the bill pointing almost or quite straight upward.
The call may be written 77ip—c-r-r-r-r-r-ah / sometimes, as I have written it, cut off
abruptly as a short, sharp, rolling phrase, or again drawn out to considerable length.
One man described it as sounding like a cross between the note of a guinea-fowl and a
peacock. When thus lengthened it is probably the full elaboration of the call, or perhaps
the utterance of an adult male. It begins lowand softly and increases rapidly in volume
and loudness, continuing sometimes for a full sixty seconds, apparently without the bird
drawing breath, although of this I cannot be sure. At any rate no break is detectable.

In captive birds the longest duration which I have timed is fifteen seconds, and this only
ve

170 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

once. The cry is high and raucous, rather unpleasant to the ear. On the giving of this
call by a bird in a flock, the others usually cease their feeding and listen, doubtless
merely indicating the beginning of those instincts which later will cause the females to
be attracted to the sound, and the unmated males to be aroused to accept the challenge.
It is seldom or never heard in the middle of the day, but in spring is given during early
morning and at dusk. Sportsmen who know this country at all seasons say they have
never heard it in the summer, autumn or winter.

The content note is much like that of the common fowl, and this rather in-
articulate sound when increased to a wak/ wak/ indicates suspicion or apprehension of
danger. Unlike most pheasants, however, when alarmed or terrified to such an extent
that the birds take suddenly to wing, I have never heard a note uttered, a most striking
contrast to the frenzied squawks and screams to which most of the members of this
family involuntarily give utterance at such a moment of extremity.

I believe without question that, except under the provocation of such an ex-
tremity of danger, Eared-pheasants never take to wing, except possibly to reach the
branches of their roost. I shall have occasion to describe the flight more in detail when
touching upon methods of escape. The usual gait is slow and dignified, and when
several birds are slowly making their way through grass or around outjutting boulders,
with their long, flowing tail-feathers held high, their movements are exceedingly graceful
and pleasing. The curved, drooping tips of the longer feathers do away with all the
alertness which characterizes the sharp-pointed tail of the ring-necked pheasant. The
Fared-pheasants give the impression of self-confident, gentle creatures, masters of
themselves, and with the problems of food and enemies well in hand. It may seem
curious to read so much into a bird from the mere fact of its gait and general carriage ;
but if one will compare a captive Crossopti/on with a true Phasianus, the striking
difference will at once be apparent.

In seeking its food, the Brown Eared-pheasant is essentially a digger or grubber,
using for this purpose its large, strong, curved upper mandible. Its food, asa rule, con-
sists of tubers, fine rootlets and insects. The second item is surprising to be recorded
as a regular item of diet, but I found that in some of these rocky places the rootlets of
the grasses seemed, at least in early spring, much more succulent than usual and
certainly more than the old dried stems and leaves themselves. Whenever the birds are
found in the vicinity of native hamlets or villages, they enjoy feeding on stray millet,
barley and other grains. This is unusual, however, as the FEared-pheasants, with all their
gentleness and unwary nature, are intolerant of the presence of mankind and leave such
places almost universally to the ring-necked birds, which can live their lives within a
short distance of a village, feed to repletion month after month on the sprouts or grain
of man’s culture and yet remain as wild and wary as the proverbial hawk. The Eared-
pheasants are exceedingly omnivorous, and few succulent leaves, sprouts, buds, seeds or
grains come amiss. I have found the crop of a bird crammed with acorns, many of which
were still in their woody cups, while in the stomach proper, the tremendous muscular
constrictions, aided by the small round pebbles and sharp sand, had comminuted earlier
swallowed acorns to a mealy pulp. The Eared-pheasants, like the impeyans, probably
never use the feet for scratching, the heavy body and short legs doubtless making the
quick shifting of the centre of gravity not an easy matter. David records that ‘‘ Three

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specimens killed in July had their crops filled with the leaves of Cydisus ; while those pro-
cured in winter contained nuts, various kernels, leaves of mugwort, ferns and, above all,
roots of orchids and other succulent plants, beetles, worms and caterpillars.”

Water is an essential—apparently a daily requirement—and, unlike birds like the
cheer, which are able to get along for extended periods without actually drinking from
streams, these Chinese pheasants make a daily afternoon pilgrimage downward from the
slopes to the pure, clear streams which intersect all the larger valleys and side ravines
of such mountainous regions as Shansi. 1 have watched through high-power glasses a
flock of about a dozen birds travel slowly down the opposite slope of the valley and,
reaching the stream, spread out in a long line and drink deeply of the icy water. Then
they turned and more steadily, with fewer desultory stops and side wanderings, retraced
their steps upward toward the scrub, finally disappearing into the low forest of pines or
birches, bound for some roosting-place which would place them as much as possible out
of the reach of their terrestrial enemies.

I was never able to make certain that I had found a roost of these birds, but
circumstantial evidence of plenty of sign, and clear indications that a number of large,
heavy-bodied birds spent their nights in a small group of pines, and especially the fact
that they reached the higher branches by leaps to successive branches, left little room for
doubt that these pheasants were the occupiers of the roost. The pines were not over
fifteen feet high, and until a grove of birches had shot up to windward they had evidently
received the full force of the winters’ gales and most of the branches were splayed out to
the south-east, and on these the birds perched at night, protected from view by the
dense foliage and by the height from enemies on the ground.

As I have said, the ring-necked pheasants inhabit the same region as those of
which I am writing, but I never observed them in close proximity to one another, and as
the former are seen singly or in small families and keep to the lower levels, there is
small chance of any keen competition. As to the enemies of the Eared-pheasants, we
may mention at least three mammals which probably take toll. These, in the order of
their deadliness, are foxes, leopards, and wolves. The foxes, of which I had glimpses of
two and saw abundant signs of others, should, logically, easily exterminate such large,
heavy-bodied birds, and why they do not I could never even hazard a guess. The
Fared-pheasants, passing through high, dense grass and scrub, surely offer most
tempting lures for a fox or other creature lying in wait. And yet here are foxes far
from rare, and here are the pheasants in fairly abundant numbers, and the solution of
the problem is yet to be found. Leopards are almost as abundant as the foxes, although
I saw only their tracks during my stay. The wolves are far rarer than either, but if a
gang of these creatures started systematically to run down a pheasant it would seem not
a difficult matter. However it is, the pheasants thrive in spite of their four-footed
enemies ; whether the foxes are content with the voles and hares, and the leopards and
wolves with the roe and musk deer and the wild boars, I shall never know.

I saw no tragedy and only once observed the birds even threatened with danger.
This was when an eagle appeared, soaring high over the opposite slope and apparently
intent on some intended prey immediately beneath it. It showed three conspicuous
white marks on each wing, one of which was a circular speculum in the centre of the
wing, from which came their Chinese name meaning “ Eagle of the Three Eyes.” The

172 | A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

Eared-pheasants in the distance, which I was watching through my glass, saw the
bird of prey long before I did and simultaneously squatted flat, showing their trust in
their brown, dead grass coloration. As the eagle worked slowly away, they gained
confidence and, still with bent legs and lowered head and tails, they crept into the
nearest scrub and did not emerge until the dreaded one had disappeared. I was
surprised, as I had not thought that such large, sturdy birds going in flocks would show
such spontaneous fear. But those fierce northern wolves of the air—the gyrfalcons, and
these great sea eagles are very evidently foes to be guarded against—enemies of the
most dangerous character.

There is no doubt that the senses of sight and hearing are of equal importance to
these pheasants—each becoming of preponderating value according to whether the
birds are in the open or among the low, dense, scrubby undergrowth. Then the
association with the musk deer is another asset—the addition of the sense of smell,
which in birds is insignificant and defective in comparison with the two senses
mentioned above.

The mode of escape of the Brown Eared-pheasant is most characteristic. I did not
have the opportunity of seeing the birds attempt to evade the attack of a four-footed
enemy, and the crouching at sight of the bird of prey would of course be used only in
the case of similar aerial dangers. When I came suddenly upon a flock of these birds
the result was always the same and, I[ take it, is that which occurs in the case of an
attacking quadruped. The birds would usually be scattered irregularly over the rocky
or grassy slope on the instant of my coming into view, but while there was never any
alarm note uttered, every eye would seem to spy me at the same moment, and every
bird would turn like a flash and, with a most surprising burst of speed, run wp/d7J.
Even when I came upon them from above, they merely ran along the slope for a short
distance and then turned upward. At the rate they go, threading the dense thickets
and dodging around the boulders, a fox or any such animal would find it no easy
matter to catch one. We all know how swiftly a common pheasant can cover the
ground, head and tail raised, legs moving so rapidly that they fairly make a blur of
motion, and yet an Eared-pheasant could readily outrun the other species.

If I stood still for a while the birds would reach the summit with unabated speed
and then, as I found by running swiftly after them, they would continue their cursorial
flight down the opposite side, their brown forms and tossing tail plumes appearing for
an instant here and there among the irregularities of the slope. But if I at once dashed
in pursuit, and, although left far behind, yet showed them that I apparently intended to
run them down, the sight which met my eyes when I pantingly reached the summit
was wholly different. Every bird took off from the highest point, sprang into the air
and began a long, scaling flight into the valley far below, or, if this was of a narrow,
gorge-like formation, they aimed for the opposite slope. This flight was almost
motionless as a rule, but now and then a bird which had not had sufficient initial
impetus would begin to flap, and at once I realized what really poor fliers are these
Eared-pheasants. Their wing-beats were laborious and irregular, they swung from
side to side like an aeroplane without sufficient headway, and in no case was their
flight prolonged beyond two hundred yards or thereabouts, while very often the birds
came down within twenty or thirty yards, either taking a fresh start like a flying fish,

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BROWN EARED-PHEASANT 173

or diving headlong into the undergrowth. The rounded wings are spread to their
fullest extent, while the tail, on the contrary, is quite closed, except when the bird is
about to alight. Every movement told of extreme exertion and unusual effort, and
however much we may admire the carriage and gait of this pheasant on the ground,
there is little to be said in praise of it when on the wing. I doubt if an Eared-pheasant
is capable of flying uphill or even ona level. In spite of the heavy body, there is no
hint of awkwardness when the bird is running at full speed. Each step seems a
springing leap which carries the bird along at a steady, ostrich-like gait, entirely unlike
the awkward half amble with which these pheasants in captivity will often run towards
their food.

When we come to know the relative amount of trust which birds put in their
protective colouring ; when we compare the exact methods of escape, one with another,
all these instinctive habits will be of greater value in judging of the dangers and
correlating the effect upon their form and plumage of the various factors in their
environment than all the theorizing which we can bring to bear upon the subject.

The Brown Eared-pheasant is monogamous, and in early spring the flocks, as I
have said, break up into pairs of mated birds. I have already spoken of the casual
fighting among the males, and in captivity I have noticed that in sidling up to their
keeper, preparing to attack him, as certain irritable individuals sometimes will, they go
through a lateral display which very probably also characterizes their courtship. The
nearest wing is lowered, the opposite raised, while the tail is spread wider than I
have seen it at any other time, and is very clearly the principal object of display or
intimidation, as the case may be.

The nest is invariably placed in the shelter of the pine or birch woods, and is truly
pheasant-like, a mere hollow in the ground or among dead leaves. Several natives
independently gave me five to eight as the number of eggs, and I am inclined to accept
this as correct. The eggs and young I have treated under the birds in captivity.

RELATION TO MANKIND

The Brown Eared-pheasant is no lover of mankind or his habitations, and though
not refusing to make an occasional meal from a grain-field of barley or millet, when the
occasion offers, yet these birds are seldom found in the immediate vicinity of Chinese
villages or even isolated farms. Among the Chinese there has been in the past little
demand for the flesh of this or other birds, and even the hungry Caucasian finds
little joy in the rather tough, and exceedingly stringy flesh. Young birds are better
eating, but in any case the bird is far inferior to the ring-necked pheasant as a dish for
the table. This is doubtless due in part to its diet, for the flesh of a captive bird,
which has been fed on grain for some time, is as delicate as that of any pheasant. In
many places where it was formerly abundant, however, it has now been exterminated,
owing both to a newly acquired desire for a meat diet on the part of many Chinese and
because of the destruction of the woods in which it nests and roosts, and in which it found
safety from pursuing enemies. David, as long ago as 1877, voiced much the same
sentiments, and to-day all the Eared-pheasants which approach the haunts of man have
but short shrift, their size and regular habits rendering them an easy prey to the Chinese

174 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

pot-hunter. They have, of course, no legal protection at any season of the year, nor
if they had would it be of any avail in this land of superstition and ignorance. The
loose flowing central tail-feathers of the Brown Eared-pheasant are stated to have been
formerly worn by Tartar warriors. At the present day there is not nearly so great a
demand for these feathers in Pekin and northern China as in central and western China,
where the blue species of Cvossopiilon is sought eagerly for these ornamental plumes.

CAPTIVITY

The bird was first received at the Zoological Gardens in London, and the Jardin
d’Acclimatation of Paris about the year 1864. During the following few years a con-
siderable number were bred in Europe, four recorded hatchings numbering respectively
seven, nine, ten and eight chicks. Over one hundred were reared in 1868, and twice
that number in 1869 by various amateurs. For a time hopes were entertained of
reproducing this bird in large numbers. In 1871 the result of these expectations is
summed up as follows, the author referring to specimens in the London Zoological
Gardens: ‘As regards our living specimens, I regret to say that our hopes of
introducing this fine bird permanently into Europe appear likely to be miserably
disappointed. Nearly all those in our Gardens, both introduced and bred, alike have
sickened and died, and at the present moment we are left with two females only. In
most of the continental gardens, so far as I can make out, nearly the same event has
taken place.” In 1866 the price for a single pair was $400. Four years later it had
fallen to $100.

Of twenty individuals which have been kept in the London Gardens, one has
a record of three years and a half. The average longevity, however, is less than two
years—to be exact, twenty-two and a half months.

The shortness of life in captivity of these birds is all the more regrettable because of
their remarkable Aexchant for domesticity. This almost equals the domesticability of
the red junglefowl and mallard duck. The chicks show absolutely no fear of man and
are always running over one’s shoes or plucking at the clothing of their keeper. Now
and then an individual will be found which is of an irascible disposition and always
ready to attack one’s ankles with beak and occasionally with spurs, but this is a rare
exception. Usually Brown Eared-pheasants are most amiable and quiet, and in a
very short time will come up without fear and take food from one’s hand, murmuring
contentedly to themselves. While the flesh is not particularly good eating, and the
habits of the birds are far from appealing to the desires of a sportsman, yet the birds are
exceedingly graceful and of great interest, and would be a worthy addition to any estate
or aviary. As it is, their reproduction in captivity in any numbers is not possible,
and their continued existence on the earth will depend on some part of their rather
restricted range being conserved before it is too late.

In captivity the hens lay from twelve to sixteen eggs, indeed forty-one have been
obtained from two pairs ofbirds. I believe, however, that this is a much greater number
than the normal nest complement. Six to eight is probably the more usual number.
The period of incubation is between twenty-eight and thirty days, and the only hint we
have as to division of labour between the sexes is the statement that in captivity the

THE HAUNTS AND THE HUNTERS OF THE BROWN EARED-PHEASANT

A THOUSAND photographs of the home of this bird would seem to be nothing more than pictures of
the same place. There is nothing more to be seen than coarse grass and straggling weeds, touched by
scattered flowers in the spring, and covered lightly by drifting snow in the early autumn. The bare rocks
are lichened and have become the colour of half-frozen soil. In such an environment the Eared-Pheasant
lives happily and holds its own even against the Chinese pot-hunter, the circling eagles and the stealthy
leopards. With antiquated gun but Oriental patience, the Mongol hunter pursues his game and never
misses. Only the vast extent of these desert regions and the wandering habits of the birds have saved them

from complete extinction.

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male takes no part in incubation. As in captivity the eggs are usually hatched under a
domestic fowl, this requires more careful observation. The cock certainly does his full
share afterwards, however, and in a wild state both parents are seen constantly together
with their brood, sharing the finding of food and guardianship. The chicks, as I have
said, are remarkably tame, and the sexes are, as in the adults, almost indistinguishable.
They attain adult plumage at the first annual moult, and will breed when a year old.
The eggs are rather small for the size of the bird, of a regular oval form, with but little
gloss and of a pale stone-colour. They average 53 x 39 mm.

A French amateur makes the following statements which have as yet been uncon-
firmed by other writers. The male Eared-pheasant prepares the hollow in the grass
which will contain the eggs, by digging the turf with his beak. The eggs are laid every
two days. After they are deposited he takes his place alongside and, plucking blades of
grass, covers the eggs thickly, hiding them completely from view. Six months after
hatching the birds are full sized and in adult plumage.

The narrow quarters, often necessarily brick or cement floored, in which these birds
are usually kept, together with their diet of hard, dry grain, probably has much to do
with their short life. The chicks die of gapes and other diseases common to fowls, and
the adults usually succumb to enteritis or liver disease, while the unnatural diet often
leads to confirmed feather-eating, when they will completely devour one another’s tails
if not separated or given proper food. If they were given a large natural enclosure
with trees, underbrush, grass and a stream of clear water, the results might be much
more encouraging. <A supply of lettuce and cabbage in the winter and some form of
insect food at that season ought to complete an ideal ~ée¢me. Our trying climate of
the north temperate zone is probably only an indirect cause of death, for the damp,
cold winds and bitter storms which sweep across the mountains of northern China are
fully as unbearable.

Near New York, Brown Eared-pheasants have been successfully reared on a diet
of hard-boiled eggs, ants’ eggs, elder- and blackberries, boiled rice, hemp-seed and other
grain as they grow older. They are very fond of beetle-grubs, but will not touch the
common red earthworms.

TEXT IDENTIFICATIONS

PAGE LINE

163 14 White-tailed Wattled Pheasant Lobiophasts bulweri Sharpe.

164 15 Mallard Duck . ; : Anas platyrhynchos Linn.

164 15 #Black Duck Polionetta zonorhyncha (Swinh.).
164 15 Pintail Duck Dafila acuta (Linn.).

164. 15 #Shoveller Duck Spatula clypeata (Linn.),

ifs S95" Teak. Nettion crecca (Linn.).

164 16 £Magpie Pica pica sericea Gould.

164 16 #£Lapwing . : Vanellus vanellus (Linn.).

164. 18 Chinese Rook . Lrypanocorax frugilegus pastinator (Gould).
164 -18 Oriental Crow . : Corvus corone ortentalis Eversm.
164. 22 #£,White-necked Crow . Corvus torquatus Less.

164 26 Hoopoe Upupa epops saturata Lonnb.
165 33-- “Vole 3 : : Microtus sp.

166 14 Black-and-White Wagtail ; Motacilla alba leucopsis Gould.
166 16 Black-and-White-Headed Bunting . Emberiza leucocephala Gmel.

TO? =33- — _Choyoh— . : ; ‘ ; Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax (Linn.).
167. 34 ~~ White Falcon: . Falco cherrug milvipes Jerd.

171 29 ®©Himalayan Grey Fox Vulpes alopex montanus Pears.
171 42 Chinese Sea-Eagle Circaétus hypoleucus (Pall.),

176 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLT MaLe.—Entire top of the head covered with a dense growth of short,
velvety feathers, black and recurved, large bare facial areas scarlet, covered with small
papilla. Featherlets just behind nostrils, chin, throat and the feathers below bare
facial area, creamy white; the much elongated and stiffened ear-coverts glistening
silvery white. These latter are directed upward and extend clear of the plumage on
each side of the head as two oblique tufts or “ears.” Occiput and the neck all around
glossy black. The anterior rows of occipital feathers have whitish median and basal
areas, and the abrupt line of recurved crown feathers brings these parts into view,
resulting in the appearance of a very narrow, more or less distinct transverse line of
dull white at this junction.

On the upper plumage the black neck shades gradually into brown on the lower
mantle and wings, all the visible portions of the feathers being loose and hairy owing
to the abrupt shortening of the barbules and the disappearance of the barbicels on the
entire distal half of the vane. Even on the basal portion the latter are few and afford
little cohesive strength to the web. The wing-coverts are somewhat firm in texture,
but even the secondaries and primaries are much softer and more pliable than in most
pheasants. The wing-coverts and secondaries are quite strongly glossed with purple,
while the inner webs of the primaries show an equally strong sheen of bluish. The
lower back, rump and upper tail-coverts are a dull, silvery white; the former area
rather stained with traces of the dorsal brown.

On the ventral surface the black neck shades into the brown of the remaining
under plumage. The flanks and under tail-coverts are somewhat paler brown than the
surrounding feathers.

The tail is the especial glory of this rather sombre-coloured pheasant, and consists
of twenty-two feathers. It is strongly graduated, the central feathers being two and
a half times as long as the outer ones. By far the larger portion of the feather is a
dull white, becoming stained with brownish towards the tip. The terminal portion is
brownish black glossed with rich purplish-blue. The two outer pairs are quite com-
pactly webbed, but from the third inwards, the outer web shows a disintegration of the
barbs, which at the same time become elongated and curved. This increases until in
the third from the central pair, while the inner web is quite firm, the outer web at a
corresponding level on the feather shows filamentous barbs four times the length of
those on the opposite side of the shaft. The two central pairs of tail-feathers in the
adult male are almost wholly filamentous, the barbs draping the entire tail when this
is closed. Even in these, however, there is a small spatulate tip of compact purple.
In the usual position, the tail-feathers are held in two rather vertical lines, and these
central disintegrated pairs are almost always raised considerably above the others. The
extremities of the four inner pairs are sharply depressed. ,

In a considerable proportion of male birds there is a pronounced tendency for white
to appear in the wings. The bases of the primaries are often clear or mottled white,
and the outer webs of the same feathers are sometimes very conspicuously vermiculated
or mottled with the same colour. It is not unusual for most of the feathers of the
under surface to show a distinct terminal band of white. There is also much variation

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BROWN EARED-PHEASANT 177

in the relative proportion of black and brown in the plumage, the glossy black occa-
sionally predominating and giving the impression of a jet-black pheasant. This is
somewhat, but only to a small extent, due to wear, the plumage just before moult being
slightly paler than in the freshly moulted bird.

Bare facial area, legs, feet and spurs scarlet; bill light reddish horn colour ; claws
horn colour ; eyes pale reddish-brown. Length, 1000; bill from nostril, 27; wing, 306;
tail, 544; tarsus, 100; middle toe and claw, 75 mm. Spurs stout, strong and conical
in shape, Io to 13 mm.

ADULT FEMALE.—There is no decided difference in colour between the males and
females, but the latter are appreciably smaller in size. Bill from nostril, 26; wing, 290;
tail, 520; tarsus, 94; middle toe and claw, 73 mm. The spurs are scarcely noticeable
in the females, being sharp, but very short scalules.

~ Natat Down.—Crown and face dull yellowish buff; occiput and nape with a patch
of rufous, extending down the hind neck as a darker stripe, and broadening out over
the upper service as rufous much mixed with black. Two lateral, creamy-white stripes
extend from the shoulders to the down of the tail. A dark chocolate-brown stripe is
drawn obliquely backward from the orbit, across the ear-coverts, ending in an enlarged
patch on the side neck, not joining the nuchal stripe. Chin and throat creamy white.
The smaller scapulars as seen when they are first sprouting are rufous, with pale
buff tips, and a large, round, brown ocellus on each web. The primaries are for the
most part dull brown with whitish tips and a few buff spots near the end. The
secondaries (what can be seen of them at this early age) are pale brown, barred with
buff and white. Seven primaries grow rapidly from the first, the longest being over
37 mm. out of the sheath at the time when No. 8 is still ensheathed, and No. 9g is a
minute papilla. The secondaries grade off gradually, the 8th and gth being very
tiny, only a little way out of the sheaths. Bill from nostril, 9; wing, 63; tail, just
appearing ; tarsus, 33; middle toe and claw, 25 mm.

YounGc FEMALE.—A rather young female shows that the post-juvenile plumage is
uniform brown from crown to back, and with the white ear-tufts very small. The entire
under parts are also brown in colour like the wings of the adult. Wings and tail like
the adult, but the tail shorter and of a more impure brownish white.

EARLY HISTORY

In 1862 Swinhoe exhibited the skin of a female Brown Eared-pheasant which had
been sent to him from Tsin-tsin by a Dr. Lamprey. After much vague theorizing and
circumlocution he decides it is not auritum, although that supposition forms the title
of his paper, and he names it mantchuricum.

Except for a decade of confusion with the Blue Eared-pheasant, auritum, the
synonomy of this species is almost free from error.

AA

178 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

SYNONYMY

Crossoptilon tibetanum Lamprey (nec Hodgs.), Proc. Zool. Soc., 1862, p. 221.

Crossoptilon auritum sive mantchuricum Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1862, p. 286; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool,
Soc., 1863, p. 306 [Manchuria].

Crossoptiton auritum Sclater, List of Phas., 1863, p. 6, pl. 5 [Manchuria]; Milne-Edward, N. Arch. Mus.
Bull., I. 1865, p. 12, pl. 1, figs, 1 and 2 [E. of Pekin] ; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1866, p. 418; Saurin, Proc. Zool.
Soc. 1866, p. 437 [Mts. N.W. of Pekin]; David, N. Arch. Mus, Bull, III. 1867, p. 37 [San-Yu]; Bartlett, Proc.
Zool. Soc., 1868, p. 115; Saint-Hilaire, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., (2), VII. 1870, p. 135 [breeding in captivity] ;
Gould, Birds Asia, VII. 1870, pl. 22.

Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1863, p. 306; Newton, Ibis, 1865, p. 361 [Pekin]
Gray, List Gallinae Brit. Mus., 1867, p. 31 ; id. Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 259; David, N. Arch. Mus. Bull,
VII. 1871, p, 11 [Pekin]; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 399; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 495:
Mairet, Bull. Soc, d’Acclim., 1871, p. 594; Elliot, Mon. Phas., I. 1872, pl. 16: Cornély, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., 1874,
p. 168; David and Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p. 405, pl. 106 [Mts. of Pechili]; Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc.,
1879, p. 118, pl. VIII. fig. 5 ; Garrod, Proc, Zool. Soc., 1879, p. 373; Sclater, List Animals in Zool. Soc. Gardens,
1883, p. 477; Evans, Ibis, 1891, p. 76; Grant, Cat. Game-birds, XXII. 1893, p. 2094; Tegetmeier, Pheasants, 1904,
p. 228; Rothschild, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XIV. 1904, p. 58; Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1911, p. 521; Beebe,
Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 275; Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 636.

Crossoptilon Lavison, Bull. Soc. d’Acclim., XI. 1854, p. 718 [first arrival at the Jardin des Plantes].

Crossoptilon manchuricum Seebohm, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, I. 1892, p. 18; Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I,
1895, p. 254 ; Goodchild, Bird Notes, IV. 1905, p. 65 ; Finn, Game-birds India and Asia, 1911, p. 84.

Crossoptilum manchuricum Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 35 ; Oates, Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1go1, p.
53; Lanning, Wild Life in China, 1911, p. 112.

Crossoptilum mantchuricum Dresser, Manual Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 672; Ingram, Ibis, 1909, p. 462.

PLATE XIX

BLUE EARED-PHEASANT

Crossoptilon auritum (Pallas)

THE mountain slopes of north-eastern Tibet, with their larch, cedar and birch woods, are the roosting
places of these birds, which by day come out into more open zones where growths of low bamboo,
rhododendron, hawthorn and wild rose afford protection for their nests. The Chinese farmers set traps
innumerable, for the central tail feather of the Eared-Pheasant is the badge of authority for the military
leaders and therefore brings a high price. Year by year the birds are becoming rarer and it is not likely
that they can hold their own for a much longer period. They live in pairs during the summer, but in autumn
unite in good-sized flocks. When the snows come, these work downward into the lower valleys and roost

close together among the upper branches of the tallest trees.

bree
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PLATE XIX

’

INYSVAHd

Gaudva and

BLUE EARED-PHEASANT

Crossoptilon auritum (Pallas).

NAMES.—Specific: aurttum, L. auritus, eared, from the elongated ear-coverts on each side of the head.
English: Blue or Pallas’s Eared-pheasant; Snow Pheasant ; Grey or Mongolian Crossoptilon. French: Faisan
de Mongolie; Ho-Ki. German: Mongolischer Ohrfasan. Vernacular: Ma-chi (horse-fowl, perhaps from its
great swiftness of foot; Szechuan); Shandgi (mountain fowl, northern Chinese); Hara-takia (black fowl,
Mongols) ; Shariama (Tanguts) ; Ho-ki.

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male : General colour slaty-blue ; crown feathers short, curly and black; ear-coverts,
white and much elongated ; an indistinct, white occipital band ; chin and throat white ; tail of twenty-four feathers,
the outer pairs with the basal three-quarters white and the ends black glossed with purple. Stout, short spurs.
Female: Similar to the male, except of somewhat smaller size and without spurs.

TyPE.—“ Phasianus auritus,” Pallas, 1811, Zoographia Rosso-Asiatica.

RANGE.—The mountains of Kokonor, Kansu, eastern Tibet and north-western Szechuan, western China.

I was not fortunate enough to be able to study the Blue Eared-pheasant in its wild
haunts, and so am compelled to give a summary of existing knowledge of the habits of
the bird as gleaned from ornithological literature, as well as some very interesting
information sent to me by explorers and collectors. While this is extremely meagre,
yet on the whole the facts point to habits and a general life-history almost identical with
those of the brown eared-pheasant.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

This Eared-pheasant has been recorded from the states of Kokonor, Kansu and
north-western Szechuan in western China, and from various localities in eastern
Tibet. The Ala-shan mountains in upper Kansu form its northern boundary. It has
been reported as far south as Sungpan in Szechuan, where it either touches or
approaches very closely the northern range of the white eared-pheasant. To the
south-east typical specimens have been found for some distance, beyond which the birds
known as Aavmanti are found, which in variability and general asymmetry of pattern and
colouring demonstrate hybridization with the white species “2detanum.

GENERAL ACCOUNT

Lieut.-Col. Prjewalsky has had excellent opportunities of observing the Blue
Eared-pheasant in the Tangut country, and found it both on the Kansu and Ala-shan
mountains, where it was well known to the natives. He tells us that in both these
localities this Pheasant lives in well-wooded regions, the forests of the mountain slopes,
and never on the treeless ranges. It prefers the woods on the sides of rocky mountains,
where there is an abundance of underwood, and in such places ranges up to an elevation

of ten thousand feet.
179

180 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

The Blue Eared-pheasant is a resident, and in some places remains all the year
within a comparatively limited area. Although the other species of Crossoptilon seem
to repair daily to some stream of water, this bird seems less dependent on a regular
supply, and in the Ala-shan mountains it is found in certain localities where not a drop
of water could be procured.

It feeds almost exclusively on vegetable matter, and an examination of several crops
revealed nothing but the buds and leaves of the barberry, stems and roots of young grass
and various kinds of herbs. While feeding it is both graceful and stately, its tail being
held straight out and quite high.

In the late autumn and winter the Eared-pheasants collect in small flocks, several
families together, and are occasionally seen in the daytime perching on trees, doubtless
feeding on the leaf-buds. During the warmer seasons of the year, on the contrary, they
seem never to feed on trees, remaining constantly on the ground, grubbing in the earth
for roots and succulent bulbs, and repairing to the branches only at night to roost.

Early in the spring the pheasants separate into pairs, and at this period the males
begin to crow—challenging or calling to their mates. The natives say that the males
fight with one another at this time. During the breeding season, the males have no
regular crow, uttered at frequent and long-continued intervals, like the common pheasant,
but they call only occasionally, rarely at midday or during the day, but generally soon
after sunrise, although sometimes before daybreak. In any event the call is rarely
heard, and an individual seems to repeat its cry only five or six times altogether.

The crow is loud and disagreeable, apparently somewhat like the note of a peacock.
The voice of the hen is equally harsh and discordant. Peculiar deep notes are
sometimes heard, having somewhat the quality of the cooing of doves, and when the
Pheasants are startled their cry is like that of a guineafowl.

When the birds have paired off they keep to that part of the forest where the
undergrowth is very dense, and here they make their nests and rear their young. The
females are all sitting on eggs about the beginning or middle of May, the number of
which, according to many statements of the natives, varies from five to seven.

Three fresh eggs were obtained by Prjewalsky from a local sportsman in Kansu,
which had been taken from the nest after the female was shot. These resemble rather
closely the eggs of the common fowl, but are very smooth and of a pale olive-green
colour, without any spots. They measure 55 mm. in length, by 41 in breadth.

After the breeding season is past, the males at once commence moulting and attain
their fresh plumage in October. Generally their feathers appear much worn, perhaps
due to the constant attrition of the underbrush in which they live. They are in perfect
plumage only during the winter and early spring. No young birds have been observed,
but the Tanguts say that the chicks are invariably accompanied by both parents. The
old as well as the young birds are very rapid runners, and the latter are also very clever
at hiding themselves among the thick bushes when pursued. In fact, they depend
almost wholly upon their legs, and seldom upon their wings, for means of escape. In
describing two new species of titmice, Prjewalsky remarks that their nests are lined
with the down feathers of the Blue Eared-pheasant.

Elliot quotes a letter from Abbé David relating to this pheasant, as follows: ‘Like —

its allies it frequents the woods of the high mountains, living more upon herbs, the

BLUE EARED-PHEASANT | 181

leaves of trees, and succulent roots than upon grain; its nature is gentle and sociable;
it loves to go in large flocks, like the White Crossoptilon of Tibet and the one from
Pekin. It does not migrate, but passes the greater part of the winter lower down the
mountains. Like the Crossoptilon from Pekin, which disappears on the destruction
of the woods, the Blue Crossoptilon is diminishing rapidly from the chase carried on
by the mountaineers (called mauze) in order to obtain the beautiful central feathers
of the tail, with long webs and metallic colours, which are sold to the Chinese, whose
military chiefs wear them as ornaments suspended from their hats.”

An excellent observer, who has spent many years in the haunts of the Blue Eared-
pheasant, tells me it lives at elevations of eight to thirteen thousand feet in pine, larch,
cedar and birch forest, where there is a good deal of undergrowth. From here it
frequently wanders out on to grassy slopes to feed, and, contrary to the observation
of Prjewalsky, very regularly goes to streams in the side ravines or gorges to drink.
Whenever it happens to come upon cultivated patches at high levels it will readily eat
the grain, whether oats, buckwheat, corn, wheat, barley, beans or peas. It never causes
any great injury, but is content with the fallen grains, and only too often pays for such
a feast with its life. The birds feed usually in early morning soon after sunrise and
again in the late afternoon. The middle of the day is spent in the shade of the forest
trees, or else the birds may be found in the heat of the sun vigorously dusting them-
selves. The flight is no different from the more eastern species, and the mode of escape
by running uphill, and when hard pressed taking to wing from the highest point, is also
identical.

The trees of this region reach a much greater size than those of the north-east, and
the pheasants are consequently able to roost much higher, and it is true that they select
branches for this purpose well up toward the summit. Whole families and even flocks,
as I have remarked, roost close together in the autumn and winter.

The eggs are laid in May or early June, and the chicks, which emerge a month later,
usually number six or seven—a fair index to the number of the eggs. Species of
Phasianus and blood partridges are found in more or less close association with the
Eared-pheasants. Foxes seem to be their most dangerous enemy, and doubtless many
nests are raided by these animals. Several observers have spoken of the enjoyment
which the birds seem to take in dust baths, this being apparently a daily habit during
the warmer seasons of the year.

The flesh is eaten by the natives, but to a white palate it is rather coarse and not
nearly as well flavoured as that of the common pheasant.

The four long, central, filamentous tail-feathers are very highly prized by the
Chinese, and are of considerable commercial value, being used, as I have said, for an
official decoration on the hats of Military Mandarins. Even in Kansu these feathers
are valued at four cents each. For several years the skins were in demand in Europe
by milliners, but this died out, fortunately for the birds. They are becoming seriously
depleted in numbers in many places, however, and when once the country becomes
opened up to the emigrant, meat-eating Chinaman of to-day, their days will be
numbered.

The natives do not shoot the Eared-pheasant, the chief reason being that they
cannot afford powder and shot, but they trap it with a most ingenious arrangement of

182 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

a willow hurdle, propped up by a stick over a shallow pit in which is placed corn or
other grain. A bit of an ear of corn is attached to a string, and when this is pecked
or pulled, the stick is released and the hurdle falls, imprisoning the bird underneath in
the shallow pit.

We are told by Prjewalsky that the “long and irregular intervals between their
call-notes, and their extreme shyness, make it difficult to shoot them, at all events in
the spring ; besides which, the uneven ground in which they are found, covered, on the
northern sides of the ravines, with dense bushes of rhododendron, and on the southern
slopes with prickly bushes of barberry, hawthorn and wild rose, added to the numerous
rocks and the fallen timber, make it most difficult sport. In such ground as this a dog
is of no use, even were it able to follow its master up the steeper places. You have only
your ears and eyes to assist you, and even these are not of much assistance, for the wary
bird sees or hears you long before you can come up to it; it is a fast runner, and will
never rise from the ground unless surprised. You may hear the patter of its feet a few
paces off, as it disappears in some impenetrable thicket, before you have time to raise
your gun, far less to shoot; and its tracks are as completely hidden as though it has
dived under water. Its tenacity of life, too, is marvellous. I have seen them fly after
receiving a whole charge of shot at fifty paces, and, if only winged, run into the bushes
and escape. If by some extraordinary luck you happen to see one close by, you fire
at once, as your only chance of a shot, and the charge blows the bird to pieces and
spoils it for preserving. The difficulties, indeed, are so great, the odds against you so .
numerous, that nothing but the rarity of the bird induces you to try such thankless
sport.

‘““My companion and I often went in pursuit of these pheasants, repairing to the
woods long before daybreak, but only succeeded in obtaining two specimens; and two
of the Tangutan sportsmen, whom I hired for that purpose, climbed the mountains
day after day, but only succeeded in bringing home a couple by surprising them on
their nests.

“The great difficulty lies in discovering the whereabouts of the bird, owing to the
long, irregular intervals between its cries, whilst it is sometimes absolutely silent even
on a fine bright morning. It is remarkable, too, how quietly, for so large a bird, it
rises off the ground, when in extreme terror at your sudden appearance, and takes
wing without your having heard it. It is slow in its flight like the capercailzie, and
will not fly far.”

The Blue Eared-pheasant has not, as far as I know, been brought alive to the
Zoological Gardens of Europe. The eggs, as described from specimens collected in
China, are five to seven in number, smooth, pale olive-grey in colour, unspotted. Two
which I examined in a collection in India showed less of a bluish, more of a greenish
tinge than the eggs of the brown eared-pheasant. Nehrkorn describes an egg as
“ Hellgrau wie die Eier von Azas boschas,” and gives the measurements as 60 x 44 mm.
These are considerably greater than the dimensions of two eggs laid by a bird kept by
a Chinaman in ftir which are an 44 x 30°5 and 43 x 30 mm. ey

Thus, on the wok: we see that the habits of the Blue Sayed ae differ in
no essential particular from those of the Brown species, and with the reservation of the

BLUE EARED-PHEASANT 183

difference in character of the country, they live their lives in much the same way i in
the little-known Kansu hinterland of China.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ApuLt Mate.—Top of the head covered with short, black, recurved, velvety
feathers ; lores and sides of forehead, chin, throat and greatly elongated ear-coverts
white. Entire upper and under plumage bluish-grey, most of the webs being dis-
integrated, loose and hairy. The first rows of true contour feathers on the occiput
back of the velvety crown are white, forming a narrow transverse band of this colour,
extending from ear-covert to ear-covert.

Secondaries dark brown, quite strongly glossed with purple. Primaries, paler dull
brown, unglossed.

Tail typically with twenty-four feathers, the two central pairs bluish-grey with the
webs wholly disintegrated up to the very shaft. The barbs are very long, curved and
hair-like. Toward the extremity they become darker, and strongly glossed with metallic
green, changing at the tip into purple, there being at this place a small spatulate area
of firm webbing, strongly curved downward. The next few pairs of rectrices are more
firmly webbed, the outer web strongly iridescent greenish and the inner violet-purple.
The outer five or six pairs of tail-feathers show a variable amount of basal white, in
typical specimens three-quarters of the basal area being of this colour, the distal portion
of the feathers being metallic purple.

The variation in white in this Eared-pheasant I shall discuss in detail under the
general heading of hybrids.

Bare facial skin, scarlet ; irides, yellowish ; mandibles, reddish horn ; legs and toes,
scarlet; spurs, paler; claws, dark horn. Length, 960; bill from nostril, 30; wing, 306 ;
tail, 560; tarsus, 101; middle toe and claw, 80 mm. Spurs, short, stout, conical, 7 to
12 mm in length.

ADULT FEMALE.—Resembles the male, but with the. spurs rudimentary, and is
somewhat smaller in size. Bill from nostril, 28; wing, 290; tail, 490; tarsus, 94; middle
toe and claw, 71 mm.

IMMATURE MaLe.—This bird, which was collected in August, is about completing
the moult from the juvenile into the adult plumage. Juvenile crown feathers short,
dull brown but not recurved, except on the forehead. Upper neck similar to crown,
but there is a faint whitish ring around the nape from ear to ear. New dorsal plumage
fully adult, bluish grey with much decomposed webs. The few remaining juvenile
feathers show none of this disintegration and are dull brown, indefinitely mottled with
dull rufous buff. The remaining juvenile coverts show a pale white terminal shaft-
streak and a broad terminal band of black.

Chin, throat and ear-coverts white as in adults. Ventral plumage shows a few
remaining dull-brown, juvenile feathers, each with a large terminal spot of pale buff.

The wings are in a most active state of change. The delayed juvenile 9th and roth
primaries are still growing, not having reached their full length, the inner five are

184 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

new; while the 6th, 7th and 8th are old full-grown juvenile feathers. These three are
margined with pale buff on the outer web; the oth and roth are much like the
new ones.

The outermost secondary is still unshed, showing on its outer web four or five
irregular bands and patches of buff. Its covert is dull brown, still bearing strands of
down upon its terminal barbs. The next four secondaries are nearly grown, plain blue-
grey; but the remainder of the secondaries are old juvenile ones, brown, thickly mottled
with buff. Both wings exactly correspond as to stage of moult.

The tail is wholly of new feathers, growing from without inward, the central ones a
mass of short, wholly disintegrated barbs.

The bare facial area, while quite red, has the scattered featherlets more prominent
than the papillae.

Bill from nostril, 24; wing, 228; tail, 200; tarsus, 74; middle toe claw, 56 mm.
The spurs are very short, sharp tubercles.

EARLY HISTORY

The Blue Eared-pheasant was the first of its genus to be described, and, curiously
enough, it has ever remained the least known of all the Crossoptilons. Over one
hundred years ago, in 1811, Pallas described it as Phastanus auritus in his ‘‘ Zoographia
Rosso-Asiatica.” The.type has long since been lost, and the original description was
so vague that when specimens of the brown species were discovered, the two were
confused for many years. But when finally the Abbé David sent two skins of
undoubtedly Blue Crossoptilons to the Paris Museum, all doubt was cleared away as
to the relative distinctness of the two forms.

Phastanus auritus Pallas, Zoogr. Rosso-Asiat., II. 1811, p. 86; Gray, List Gallinae Brit. Mus., 1867, p. 31;
Sclater, Ibis, 1874, p. 170.

Crossopttton auritum Gray, Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 259; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 399;
Sclater, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1871, p. 495; Elliot, Mon. Phas., I. 1872, pl. 17; Prjewalsky, Mongolia, II. 1876, p. 121 ;
id. in Rowl. Orn. Misc., II. 1877, p. 420; David and Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p. 406, pl. 108; Prjewalsky,
Reisen in Tibet, 1884, p. 204; Stolzman, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1885, p. 431; Deditius, Jour. fiir Orn., 1886, p. 536;
Prjewalsky, Ibis, 1887, pp. 403, 406; Pleske, Bull. Acad. St. Pétersb., XIII. 1892, p. 297; Grant, Cat. Game-birds
Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 295; Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 257; Nehrkorn, Kat. der Eiersamm-
lung, 1899, p. 193; Schalow, Jour. fiir Orn., 1901, p. 412; Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XXXIII. to14, p. 121.
Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, 1914, p. 275. |

Crossoptilum auritum Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899, p. 35; Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 672;
Parrot, Filchner Exped., X. 1908, p. 132.

Crossoptilon caerulescens David, MS, ; Milne-Edwards, C. R., LXX. 1870, p. 538; id. Ann. Mag. N. H., (4), V.
1870, p. 308 ; David, N. Arch. Mus. Bull, VII. 1871, p. 11.

Crossoptilon harmani Elwes, Ibis, 1881, p. 399, pl. XIII; Baker, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, XX XIII. 1914, p.
121; Elwes, Geog. Jour., XLIV. 1914, p. 364.

Crossoptilon harmani Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 673.

Crossopttlon auritum Wilson, A Naturalist in Western China, II. 1914, p. 123.

Harman's Pheasant Bailey, Geog. Jour., 1914, pp. 354, 355.

Crossoptilon auritum auritum Baker, Jun. Bomb, Nat. His. Soc. XXIV. 1916, p. 631.

Crossoptilon auritum harmani Baker, Jun. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc. XXIV. 1916, p. 633.

PLATE XX

WHITE EARED-PHEASANT

Crossoptilon tibetanum (Hodgson)

AttHoucH clad dominantly in white, these pheasants do not live in the snow, but retreat before the
early storms of winter downward into the valleys. Their home is in south-eastern Tibet and central China,
among the wildest mountains. Except in the breeding season they are gregarious, living in flocks and
often associating intimately with the tiny musk deer. They keep to thick cover and are ever on the watch
for the great eagles which swoop down upon them without warning. The Tibetans of this region are very
superstitious and allow no animals and birds to be killed when they can prevent it. So the race of

“Shaggas,” as they are called, has a good chance for existence as long as the lamas wield this kindly

influence.

PLATE XX

WHITE EARED-PHEASANT.

WHITE EARED-PHEASANT

Crossopitlon tibetanum (Hodgson)

NAMES.—Specific : t#betanum, from Tibet, the home of this pheasant. English: White, or Hodgson’s, or
Tibetan Eared-pheasant; Snow Pheasant. Vernacular: Bhote Dafé (Nepal); Shagga or Sharkér (Tibet).

BRIEF DESCRIPTION.—Male: Crown with short, curly, black feathers; elongated ear tufts, and entire body
plumage above and below, pure white, becoming greyish on wing and tail-coverts ; flight feathers usually brownish.
Twenty feathers in tail, dark, glossed with greenish and with purple at the tip. Short, conical spurs. Female:
Similar to the male, except slightly smaller in size and without spurs.

TYPE.—“ Phasianus tibetanus,” Hodgson, Thibet, Jour. Asiatic Soc., Bengal, VII. 1838, p. 864, pl. 46. Now
in the British Museum.

RANGE.—The mountains of north-western Yunnan, western Szechuan and south-eastern Tibet.

THE BIRD IN ITS HAUNTS

ONE day, late in the year, in the heart of the wilderness of northern Yunnan, we
crossed a rushing torrent at the bottom of a great mountain gorge. Not once, but
several times we braved the boiling waters. The trail was exceedingly rough and
steep, and covered with loose, round stones or with wet, slippery soil, but our horses
carried us well. I had a Chinese guide and a native of some unknown tribe to carry
the guns.

The lower part of the trail led through old, half-open, cleared fields, long aban-
doned by the Chinese, and bamboo and deciduous forests varied with dog-wood and
an occasional cherry in unseasonable bloom. MHalf-wild grain fields appeared here
and there even high up on the mountains, and it is remarkable how hardy these
seemed, apparently little affected by the early frosts. They marked the old sites of
huts, which with their owners had long since vanished from the earth.

Then we would dip down into a cool, damp ravine. At about seven thousand
feet elevation we entered a beautiful forest similar in character to that of Jorepokri
near Darjeeling, rhododendrons and oaks, covered—twig, branch and trunk—with long
waving streamers and a thick coat of moss, yellow-green and of a hundred other tints.

Ferns flourished in profusion—real cold-weather ferns, although just before we
entered this zone we had passed tree ferns at their maximum—great fifteen- and twenty-
foot beauties.

Berries were in abundance—many poisonous, such as those wonderful, bluish-
purple globes, glowing in the cool sunbeams which filtered through the moss. These
brilliant fruits were strung beneath curving stems, which rose above the thick, cool
moss—while everywhere below, over the ground, ran a maze of ruby berries, like those
of our partridge vine.

Now and then tall chestnuts appeared, also clad in the dense moss. Begonias
BB 185

186 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

still held aloft their ghosts of seed-cups, and low, broad, prostrate leaves spread their
variegated surfaces to catch what warmth they might.

Higher and higher we climbed, until the air held a tang even in the full sunlight.
A clump of frosted, crumpled-leaved willows hugged the open reaches of the ravine
streams; ferns—green near the ground—showed their brown frond tips curled again,
but this time irregularly, in the burning agony of the first deadly frost.

The few jack-in-the-pulpit blooms which still stood bravely a thousand feet below,
were here replaced by great cob-like ears of golden-orange kernels which lay prone
against the bare earth of rain-washed banks, a blatant invitation to all passing
pheasants. It was curious to see how many of these plants, growing inconspicuously
amid the ferns and begonias on the sides of the ravines, when their fruit had ripened
and hung limp on the wasted stems, invariably drooped down over the edge of the
earthen bank, against which they shone as a brilliant splash of colour.

The familiar shape of grape leaves caught our eye, and we found the vines in
abundance creeping over the ground.

Then came the change to ten-foot bamboos, growing as closely together as the
stems would stand. A dip into a steep narrow ravine would again bring into view
mossy trees and ferns. Willows bordered the damp places, and on the higher bits of
level ground low plants, with beautiful wine-red leaves, abounded, and masses of tall
everlasting—true to their name if picked at once, otherwise dissolving into filmy seed-
heads. Banks of small-leaved strawberries covered the ground in some places.

The last few zigzags of the trail ushered in the forests of rhododendrons, replacing
the oaks and chestnuts and receiving their legacy of moss drapery. The slopes above
and around us now showed the rounded, close-foliaged tops of these trees, each rosette
of leaves encircling the furry, close-wrapped buds of next year.

Then we reached the summit of the pass and found a half mile of level winding
trail, leading between rounded low hills, all covered with scrub bamboo and willow.
The bamboo was stiff, large of stem and small of leaf, and rising not more than two
feet above the ground. Here, even in the sunshine of midday, the rushing winds
brought a bitter blast of cold. Dwarf plants, each with a pea-like blossom of brightest
blue, snuggled close to the ground, and here and there rounded boulders bunched
themselves amid the low bamboo stalks. The rocks were of rose or whitest quartz,
painted with spreading plots of emerald-blue lichen, and a wonderful pattern etched by
the stinging blasts of winter. In the centre of the pass meandered a bog, unfathom-
able, which in some strange fashion drew moisture from lofty peaks many miles away,
and in turn fed the rushing waters which foamed through every ravine. The ranks
of reeds which filled the bog were linked one to another by a glistening sheen of ice—
a nightly forecast of the bitter winter storms, soon to fill all this gorge with snow.

Scattered among the bamboo fields were the dead lily stems so familiar to us in
the Himalayan sky fields, although these were empty—both of seeds and earwig tenants.

Clinging to the low stems or flitting from one stunted willow bush to another
were cheery little tits—those marvels in feathers, which laugh at height or temperature.
These were exquisite little atoms—finger lengths of fluff with chestnut caps and
waistcoats.

High overhead soared, and at times screamed, a great eagle, black as night, with

WHITE EARED-PHEASANT 187

widespread stretch of straight-edged wings, completing the picture with his calm
grandeur—the virile aerial creature which mocked our panting efforts to look down
upon the world.

When we passed the last of the frozen bog, the view expanded into a magnificent
panorama of tumbled mountains. Behind was the far-stretching gorge, an opening
vista of distant lowlands and warm plains, but before—the wilderness of northern
China held its mean level but little beneath our own, while its peaks towered thousands
of feet above us.

Everywhere the rounded heads of the rhododendrons dominated all other growths,
with lofty dead and gnarled veterans whose knotty, stubby branches showed at what
terrible cost had been gained their supremacy of years long past.

This bleak zone housed other brave creatures, which had begun their wandering
downward, driven from the unsheltered ridges and eastern slopes by the heavy snows
which covered the peaks above us. Once, and once only was a glimpse permitted to us
of the wonderful White Eared-pheasants. As we rested for tiffin, three birds came into
an open space where a slip of rock had swept down a swath of trees some distance below.
The instant they appeared they saw us, and simultaneously discovered the eagle,
which by this time had become a mere speck in the blue. We were disregarded—each

» head was turned sideways—every circle of the bird of prey was followed with those avian

eyes which all but shame our telescopes. The white ghosts of birds showed clearly
against the dark green rhododendrons. They showed no fear, not even a movement
which indicated uneasiness. Only every fibre was alert, concentrated on the threatened
danger. Two steps would carry them into the very heart of the impenetrable thicket,
where they would be safe from pursuit ; hence, I suppose, their nonchalance and disdain
of instant flight.

I was impressed with the difference of action of this White Crossoptilon as compared
with that of the brown eared-pheasant in the presence of a bird of prey. The latter
crouched at once, merging their sombre forms with the surrounding rocks and grass.
These birds stood erect, ready for instant movement, but without a hint of attempt at
concealment. Did they know by the instinct of long lives of experience of the futility of
attempting to conceal their immaculate figures in any but the densest, darkest tangle of
the rhododendron underworld? It would seem so.

A mist sifted low across the valley below us, thickened into cloud and drove swiftly
on an eddy of wind up to our very feet, reflecting the sun as through a sea of foam.
Swiftly as it had formed it dissolved again, and the valleys, the opposite slopes, the dark
rhododendrons, the pale green ranks of bamboo all came out crisp and clear, but the
White Pheasants—where had they gone? Into the dark, mysterious ravine, whence
they were as safe from pursuit as if on another planet.

The vision was one which I shall never forget, a glimpse so evanescent, so ethereal,
that I could hardly believe that the whole had not been a figment of the imagination.

The eagle, too, had vanished, and now there came from the cold peaks long streams
of cloud mist, which sifted down each valley, coalesced, thickened, and soon we were
enveloped in a dense fog which shut out everything from view. Not a glimpse of tree or
mountain or sky was permitted ; of the sinking of the sun we knew only by the gradual
darkening of the impenetrable cloud, and when at last we crawled, shivering, into our

188 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

sleeping-bags, every bit of cloth, every article in the tent, was saturated with the
condensing moisture. Somewhere far off, perched among the rough, knobby branches,
were three birds of purest white, their soft plumage matted with the moisture, their heads
drawn back in soundest sleep.

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

The White Eared-pheasant occurs in the mountains of western Szechuan and
eastern Tibet. Until I observed three specimens in the extreme north-western finger
of Yunnan, not far from the Burmese boundary, it had not been observed south of the
Yangtze in China. Davies records the species in latitude 28°, just north-east of
Chungtien, and my observation. extends this southward to about 26°. In western
Szechuan it inhabits the high mountains from twelve to over fourteen thousand feet,
in forests of spruce, birch and prickly oak. For more details we must await future
exploration. To the west and north-west individuals seem to exhibit a greater variation,
and through hybridization or other factors to show characters hinting of the blue auritum.

GENERAL ACCOUNT|

During the course of a journey from west to east across Tibet, Captain Hamilton
Bower several times met with the White Eared-pheasant, or Shagga, as the natives call
it. This was when he had commenced to leave the Chang, or great plateau of central
Tibet, across which he and his party had travelled for months without descending below
fifteen thousand feet. Beyond the Nam La Pass, at the lower elevation of thirteen
thousand feet, the Eared-pheasants were first seen. On the 23rd of December Captain
Bower writes : “As we heard stags were to be got on the road, Dr. Thorold and myself
started off in front of the caravan in the hopes of seeing some. As we descended the
valley, the country became very gamey-looking; the lower parts of the hills were
covered with /uniperus excelsa and above were bushes in snow; that is the sort of place
to find stags. We were, however, unfortunate in not seeing any, though musk-deer
were exceedingly plentiful, and also white pheasants, called “shagga” in Tibet. They
are large, handsome birds, but terribly hard to kill; the only chance of getting them isa
pellet through the head. I carefully stalked a flock of them, and, getting close, knocked
feathers out of some most freely, but they went away apparently none the worse:
following them up again I managed to bag one, but several more went away hit; it was
very annoying wasting cartridges, and especially as in no case had I taken any but the
easiest of pot shots. They were all feeding amongst juniper bushes, and the crop of
the one I got was full of the berries. Their cry is a whirring sound, varied occasionally
by a short cluck, and they are generally found in flocks of about thirty. Lower down
we often found them in the fields close to the houses. As I descended from the hills
with the bird in my hand, I was met by a number of men with guns who had come
out to stop the shooting; they said that if any animals were shot, everybody living
in the valley would become ill. They are a terribly superstitious people, and in their
superstition are apt to become dangerous.”

Twenty-one days later, at a place called Mongothong, some three hundred miles
travel to the eastward, Shaggas were again encountered ; up a pass over fifteen thousand

WHITE EARED-PHEASANT 189

feet high, where numbers of these White Pheasants were to be seen running about in
every direction in this uninhabited country. Two were shot. Gazelles and stags were
abundant. Again on the 4th of February, at Lanipa, we read: “ After getting in, as
three hours of daylight remained, we went to look for pheasants in jungle composed
principally of a sort of holly oak with a few fine trees scattered about. We found three
sorts: Shagga (Cvossoptilon tibetanum), Tsiri ([thaginis geoffroy:), and Koonon (Tetra-
ophasts szechenyit), all three sitting on trees.” Two days later, near Noru Tonga, Bower
made “a rather long march up a valley all the way, passing a high watch-tower where,
according to orders, two men are always posted to keep a look-out for enemies. . . . On
the road we saw some Shagega at nine thousand feet, the lowest point at which we had
seen them.”

Elsewhere, the author adds, the Shaggas “go about in flocks of about thirty, and
their colour and size make them extremely conspicuous on a hillside. Of all game-birds
I have ever met, they are the hardest to kill. The way we knocked feathers out of them
without bringing them to book was very trying, more especially as our stock of
cartridges was not large. They were most plentiful in the neighbourhood of Rinchi.”

Abbé David, many years before, in his Ozseaux de la Chine, writes as follows
concerning the White Eared-pheasant in China proper: ‘‘The White Crossoptilon is
found in China only in several wooded localities on the mountains of the country of the
Mantzes, for example at Yaotchy and at Tatsienlu, where its existence is protected by
the superstitions of the natives. It is a bird gentle and sociable, which likes to live in
company with its kind, especially at the time of the rearing of the young, and it is not
easily separated from those which it had produced. Its food consists of leaves, roots,
grains, and insects. Fortunately for the conservation of the species, the flesh of this
fowl has a very inferior flavour; therefore the hunters prefer as game those pheasants
which are not only more widely spread but more easy to catch.

“The females, and the young males, before their first moult, may be distinguished
by their less pure colours and smaller ear-plumes.”

During a journey made in 1899 through western Szechuan, Captain H. R. Davies
made the following notes in regard to the White Eared-pheasants: These “large white
birds with dark-coloured tails were common in the same sort of localities as the blood
pheasants.” This would mean at elevations never below eleven thousand feet, keeping
just below the snow line, which, of course, varies at different seasons of the year. They
are confined to the forest, and seem never to be met with on the bare tops of the ranges.
The White Eared-pheasants “are found in large coveys, and run very fast, scarcely ever
flying, while they are so wary that, although I saw a great many, I could never get near
enough for a shot. Their call is a very loud, harsh crow, which can be heard for a mile
or two. They keep to high altitudes, and are often found in the snow.”

The late Mr. Tappey writes to me that the White Eared-pheasant is found in flocks,
and while feeding there is usually one cock on the lookout, often perched on some tallish
spruce or on a rock. When startled, their call is similar to the eons of a turkey:
At such a time all move rapidly uphill or take to flight.

They feed on lily bulbs and flowers, stems and bulbs of the wild onion, which gives
to their flesh a strong odour and taste of onion. Eared-pheasants roost in large spruce
trees, usually several birds together. They moult in August. Occasionally their skins

190 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

may be seen hanging in Tibetan houses, and the natives often wear the foot of one of
these birds as an amulet or charm.

Writing of the neighbourhood of Tatsienlu Mr. Wilson gives the following notes on
the White Eared-pheasant. It is abundant in this vicinity and “frequents the upper
timber-belt between 9,500 and 13,000 feet, being commonly met with in large flocks,
more especially in autumn, when it is probable that several convoys join forces. West
of Tachienlu on the highway to Batang it is frequently to be seen strolling about in
open grassy places and across the roadway. ‘The walk is suggestive of a fine farmyard
rooster, and with its broad, slightly raised, arching plume-like tail the bird looks very
stately. It is a great runner and always makes straight up the mountainside into thick
cover. When flushed it takes wing with the speed of a bullet, and with its heavy body
makes a great noise on rising. The flight is of short duration and only attempted as a
last resource ; generally the bird alights on trees.

“ Hunting this strong-legged, handsome bird is most ‘ winding’ and fatiguing sport.
A favourite food is wild onions, and the strong flavour of this esculent permeates the
flesh, which is dark-coloured and coarse and of little value for the table. The average
weight of an adult male is about 8 to g lbs.

“This Crossoptilun ranges throughout the sub-alpine regions, bordering the
timber-line from south-west of Tachienlu to the neighbourhood of Sungpan Ting, and
is one of the commonest birds found in this region. The vernacular Chinese name for
this bird is ‘Mache’; a Thibetan name is ‘Shar-har.’ How far to the south and west
of the regions indicated this bird ranges I have no knowledge.” Brooding commences
about the beginning of June and possibly earlier. By the end of July the chicks are
of good size and strong on the wing.

Nothing further seems to have been observed of this magnificent pheasant in the
wild state. The nests that have been found have resulted in no recorded information
beyond that the number of eggs is from four to seven. Eggs of the White Eared-
pheasant collected near Tatsienlu, Szechuan, are regular broad ovals, very glossy, and
smooth. ‘They are of a pale stone, pale buff or reddish-buff colour. Some are plain,
others are sprinkled, chiefly at the larger end, with specks of reddish brown. They
measure from 58 to 62 mm. in length, and from 43 to 44 in breadth.

CAPTIVITY

With the exception of the brown eared-pheasant, the White one is the only one
which has been taken out of Asia alive. A very small number of individuals have been
kept in several of the Zoological Gardens of Europe, and in Berlin the birds have laid
eggs but not bred. Three specimens were captured in the mountains of Szechuan, near
the snow-line, at an elevation of nearly fifteen thousand feet, near Tatsienlu, by AS
Pratt, and were received at the London Zoological Gardens in 1891. At the same
institution there is a longevity record of seven birds of this species, one of which lived
two years and eight months. The average length of life was only twenty-two months.
No other facts have been recorded—another of the countless opportunities missed which
must be chalked up against those who have had the chance to make notes upon such
characters as gait, voice, sociability, method of securing food, courtship and fighting,

PHOTOGRAVURE 15

HOME AND FEEDING GROUND OF THE WHITE EARED-PHEASANT

CLimBING upward from a cool, dark ravine in northern Yunnan, I passed through zones of moss-hung
oaks and rhododendrons to frosted, stunted willows and dwarf bamboos. Looking back down the forest-
covered slopes, I saw three White Eared-Pheasants step out into a glade. They watched me, and they
watched a great black eagle which hung high overhead, and they stood poised so that they could dash
to safety into the undergrowth. Finally a mist, drifted across the valley—a wisp of cloud as white as the
birds themselves. Swiftly as it had formed, it dissolved again, and when it had passed, the pheasants
had vanished.

Descending to the spot, I found their tracks at the foot of a gnarled-rooted trunk amid a tangle of
dying jack-in-the-pulpit and forest débris. That night, when I crawled into my sleeping-bag, I knew that
somewhere far off, perched among the rough, knobby branches, were these birds of purest white, their soft

plumage matted with moisture, their heads drawn back in soundest sleep.

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PHOTOGRAVURE PLATE 15

Pe

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HOME AND FEEDING GROUND OF THE WHITE-EARED PHEASANT.

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WHITE EARED-PHEASANT IQI

method of roosting and numberless other facts of the life history of birds which are of
as great value when observed in captive specimens as when based upon wild ones.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

ADULT MaLe.—Top of the head covered with short, curly, soft, velvety, black
feathers. ar-coverts silvery white and greatly elongated, forming a long, white, up-
curving tuft on each side of the head. The entire plumage, above and below, pure white,
shading into grey on the longer wing and upper tail-coverts, the webbing of the feathers
being extremely loose and hairy; secondaries blackish brown, and somewhat glossed with
purple; primaries dark brown. Tail composed of twenty feathers, purplish-bronze
towards the base, shading into dark greenish blue and deep purple towards the extremity
of the feathers. While the marginal portions of the barbs of these central feathers are
long, curved and very loose, there is no such disintegration as in the central rectrices
of mantchuricum and auritum, which seem to be of the nature of abrupt mutations
in length, of upper tail-coverts.

Bare parts on the side of the head; legs and feet, scarlet; bill, reddish horn; iris,
orange yellow. Length, 920; bill from nostril, 38; wing, 330; tail, 575; tarsus, 100;
middle toe and claw, 81mm. The spurs are stout, short and conical.

Among pure-blooded adult White Eared-pheasants there is great variation in the
exact shade or degree of whiteness. These birds unquestionably require several years
to eliminate entirely the brown pigment which predominates in the plumage of the
immature birds. Of the body plumage, the mantle seems to hold the grey tinge longer
than the remaining parts, but the primaries are the best index. In extreme examples
of whiteness (birds from farthest west, away from the haunts of auritum), the outer
webs of the primaries are pure white and the inner webs are pale grey. These indi-
viduals have the plumage as a whole pinkish white, while in less extreme birds it has
more of a creamy tinge. In these pinkish, western Tibetan birds the tail-feathers are
all grey at the base, shading into iridescent purple on the outer feathers. As we
proceed inward, a bronze-green tinge appears, and on the central rectrices this colour
occupies all the median portion of the vanes between the grey base and the purple
terminal third.

ADULT FEMALE.—Similar in plumage to the male, but slightly smaller in size.
Bill from nostril, 27; wing, 298; tail, 400; tarsus, 97; middle toe and claw, 76 mm.

IMMATURE Mate.—This individual was in its first-year plumage, beginning the
second autumn moult. The velvety crown plumage is shorter than in the fully adult
bird. The body plumage in general is of newly moulted white feathers, but mingled
with these are a number of unshed first-year feathers. These are decidedly brownish-
grey and of much more solid texture, less decomposed, than the succeeding white
plumage. These earlier feathers are confined chiefly to the mantle and median
wing-coverts.

The secondaries are of the old, first-year plumage, and are wholly dark brown with
some slight sheen on the outer webs. The wing measures 290 mm. in length, as

192 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

compared with 330 in the adult. The tail is in full moult. The old feathers are less
iridescent, more of a brownish-black in tone, and hold this colour to the base. The
centre ones are only 415 mm. in length, as compared with 515 in the adult. The moult
is proceeding regularly from outside inward, the inner five pairs of rectrices being as
yet unmoulted.

Thus the younger plumage is in general much darker, and less decomposed and
iridescent, and the wing and tail are shorter. There is, however—and this is a very
important point—no difference between young and adult in amount of distinct dark and
white areas, and herein lies the vital difference due to infusion of blood of such a
coloured bird as auvitum. Such colouring is very different from the gradual clearing
up and whitening of the plumage as a whole, which results from successive moults. I
shall again have occasion to refer to this matter.

EARLY HISTORY

Hodgson, in 1838, described a white pheasant under the name of Phaszanus
tibetanus. He obtained this bird in Nepal from a native envoy who had just returned
from Pekin, and as for many years this specimen remained unique, its haunts were for
an equal length of time wholly shrouded in mystery. Ultimately it was found that
typical ¢2betanum had no white patches on the tail-feathers, and thus Hodgson’s bird
was not absolutely pure-blooded, but had some taint of aurztum.

SYNONYMY

Phasianus (Crossoptilon) tibetanus Hodgson, J. As. Soc. Beng., VII. 1838, p. 864, pl. 46; id. Ind. Rev., III.
1839, Pp. 593.

Crossoptilon tibetanum Hodgson, in Gray’s Zool. Misc., 1844, p. 85; Sclater, List of Phas., 1863, p. 6, pl. 4;
Gray, List Gallinae Brit. Mus., 1867, p. 31; David, N. Arch. Mus. Bull., VII. 1871, p. 11 [Moupin]; Elliot, Mon.
Phas., I. 1872, pl. 14; David and Oustalet, Ois. Chine, 1877, p. 407, pl. 107 [W. Sze-chuen]; Hume, Stray Feathers,
VII. 1878, p. 426; Scully, Stray Feathers, VIII. 1879, p. 343; Seebohm, Ibis, 1891, p. 378; Sclater, Proc. Zool.
Soc., 1891, p. 464; Seebohm, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, I. 1892, p. XVIII; Oustalet, Ann. Sci. Nat., (7), XII. 1892,
p. 315 [part]; Ogilvie-Grant, Cat. Game-birds Brit. Mus., XXII. 1893, p. 293 ; Bower, Journey across Tibet, 1894,
p. 294; Ogilvie-Grant, Hand-book Game-birds, I. 1895, p. 252; Sclater, List Animals London Zool. Gardens,
1896, p. 486; Davies, Ibis, 1901, p. 409; Tegetmeier, Pheasants, 1904, p. 228; Mitchell, Proc. Zool. Soc., I91t,
p. 521; Beebe, Zoologica, I. No. 15, p. 275.

Crossoptilon auritum Gray, Genera Birds, III. 1845, p. 495, pl. CX XV; id. Cat. Hodgs., ed. I. 1846, p. 124.

Crossoptilon drouynit Verreaux, N. Arch. Mus. Bull., [V. 1868, p. 85, pl. III [Moupin] ; Swinhoe, Proc. Zool.
Soc., 1871, p. 399; Elliot, Mon. Phas., I. 1872, p. XVIII, pl. 15.

Crossoptilon tibetanus Gray, Hand-list Birds, II. 1870, p. 259.

Crossoptilum tibetanum Hume and Marshall, Game-birds India, I. 1878, p. 115, pl.; Seebohm, Ibis, 1891,
p. 378 [W. Sze-chuen]; Blanford, Fauna Brit. India, Birds, IV. 1898, p. 88; Sharpe, Hand-list Birds, I. 1899,
p. 35; Oates, Cat. Eggs Brit. Mus., I. 1901, p. 53, pl. V, fig. 4; Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, 1903, p. 671.

Crossoptilon leucurum Seebohm, Bull. Brit. Orn. Club, I. 1892, p. xvii; id. Ibis, 1893, p. 250; Bower,
Journey across Tibet, 1894, p. 296.

Crossoptilum leucurum Dresser, Man. Palae. Birds, II. 1903, p. 671.

Crossoptilun tibetanum Wilson, A Naturalist in Western China, II. 1914, p. 122.

Crossoptilon tibetanum tibetanum Baker, Jour. Bomb. Nat. His. Soc., XXIV. 1916, p. 626.

Crossoptilon tibetanum drouynit a 4 7 , » Pp. 629.

WILD HYBRIDS

Genus CROSSOPTILON

OF the five usually recognized species of this genus I can accept but three, and
indeed I am not wholly satisfied that two of these are of more than sub-specific rank,
making but two full species.

Crossoptilon mantchuricum Swinhoe,
Crossopttlon auritum (Pallas).
Crossoptilon tibetanum (Hodgson).

A review of the specimens of the two latter species in many museums shows that
many birds from the eastern part of the range show characters intermediate between
the blue aurvitum and the white ¢zbetanum. This may be observed in a variable amount
of white, a differing number of tail-feathers. and even asymmetrical patterns, developed
to a greater extent on one side than the other. This hints strongly of hybridization.
In these intermediate localities have been found not only typical specimens of each,
but also a number of these parti-coloured birds, to some of which has been given specific
rank. These are, in my opinion, examples of that very unusual phenomenon in nature—
hybridism, between the two very distinctly coloured forms. No other explanation seems
open.

Crossoptilon harmant

I wish to present evidence which seems to indicate that this so-called species is
only one of many variations, due to the crossing of auritum and tibetanum. The
particular individuals which approached the original description of karmanz resemble
much more closely auvztum than they do the white species of Eared-pheasant.

In order to sum up completely the evidence, I shall give in full the original
description, which, with a coloured plate was published in the “Ibis” for 1881 by
Henry J. Elwes.

‘“Crossoptilon harmant, sp. nov. (Plate XITT).

“Bill horn-colour tinged with red, 14 inch long from gape, and 2 inch deep at
nostril. Lores and a space surrounding the eye, 2 inches long by 1 inch deep, naked,
red. Top of head covered with short velvety blue-black feathers. A band on occiput,
chin, and middle of throat, for a space of about 5 inches from the beak, white. Ear-
coverts produced, nearly 2 inches long, white. Rest of neck, back, wing-coverts, breast,
flanks, and under tail-coverts dark slaty bluish. Upper tail-coverts long, rather greyer
than back. Centre of belly white. Primaries and secondaries dark slaty bluish, with
purplish reflections. Wing 12 inches long. Tail composed of twenty graduated

feathers, the central pair about 18 inches long, the lateral pair about 9 inches, bluish
CC ee

194 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

purple, with violet and green reflections on the central four or five pairs. Tarsi strong,
4 inches long, with stout spurs. Middle toe, with claw, 3 inches long. Legs and feet
vermilion-red.

‘ /ab.—Eastern Tibet, about 150 miles east of Lhasa (Harman).

“This species resembles the figure of C. auritum Pall., given in Elliot’s ‘ Phasinidae’
in its general coloration and markings. It may, however, be easily distinguished by the
tail—which has no white in the centre of the lateral feathers, and is quite differently
coloured. The type of C. auritum, according to Elliot, is lost; it is, however, described
by Pallas as having eighteen tail-feathers. Mr. Elliot’s plate is taken from specimens
collected by the Abbé Armand David in the provinces of Shensi and Kokonor, and
originally described as C. caerulescens David (‘Comptes Rendus,’ Ixx. p. 538, 1870).
The figure shows twenty tail-feathers, as is the case with my bird; but whether the
species collected by David is really C. auritum Pall. or not, my bird is clearly
distinct from both of them, so far as can be ascertained without seeing the specimens
themselves.

‘‘ For this fine species I am indebted to Lieut. Harman, R.E., who has distinguished
himself as a surveyor and explorer of the Eastern Himalayas, especially in Sikkim,
where he has been employed for some years. When at Darjeeling in December last,
I saw the skin of what I at once recognized as a new Cvossoftilon hanging on the wall
of his room. Unfortunately it had never been properly preserved, and was in such
a terribly moth-eaten state that the remains, which he kindly presented to me, and
which are now in the British Museum, are hardly worth preserving. They have, however,
proved sufficient for Mr. Keulemans to make a very accurate drawing, the only fault
of which is that the ear-coverts do not seem in the specimen to be so strongly developed
as in the figure.

“The skin was brought to Mr. Harman by one of his native surveyors, who said
that he had procured it 150 miles east of Lhasa, at an elevation of about 6000 feet, where
it was found in flocks during winter. This part of Tibet has never been visited by any
European or by any of the late Mr. Mandelli’s native hunters, and having, as reported,
a much milder climate and more luxuriant vegetation than the western parts of Tibet,
may be expected to produce a number of remarkable and, as yet, unknown species.

“This makes the fifth, or, if C. ¢ébetanum Hodgs. and C. dvouyni Verr. should
prove to be identical, the fourth species of the genus known; and though it is probable
that, as in the genus Phasianus, the local races or species of Crossoptilon will be
eventually found to merge insensibly into each other, yet there is no difficulty in
distinguishing them so far as we know at present.”

The principal points of difference between this so-called armani and typical auritum,
is the greater amount of white on the body plumage—extending well down on the fore
neck, forming a very broad (12 mm.) occipital collar, and a well-marked but small
white patch on the belly, and combined with this the total absence of white from the
tail.

In the literature of the species of Cvossoptilon we find references such as the
following by Parrot, in his report on the Filchner Expedition to China and Tibet. The
translation reads— |

“A specimen of Crossoptilon auritum collected at Lussar, which the knobby spurs

WILD HYBRIDS 195

show to be a female, is interesting from the fact that it appears to possess affinities with
the related Cvossoptilon harmani from Eastern Tibet. Twenty-one tail-feathers are
present, including the central feathers. . . . The lateral rectrices are milky white for
more than three-quarters of their length. A narrow band of brownish-white upon the
sides of the occiput and crown could hardly be more distinct. The dirty white of
the mid-jugular region reaches down to the upper breast. Otherwise the description
of auvitum agrees with this bird.” And another specimen which he describes, from the
Tsin-ling Mountains, varies in still other particulars from auretum.

As we have seen, the species Zavmani was based upon a single individual. At least
a half-dozen are now to be found in various museums. To take but one from among
a number, let us consider a specimen of Cvossoptz/ou in the Musée d'Histoire Naturelle
of the Jardin des Plantes. The label reads, “Crossoptilon auritum, var. April, 1890.
Tioungen, Tibet. Prince H. d’Orleans. No. 626d.” It is Lavmanias far as the white
extension down the fore neck and the great breadth of the occipital band is concerned,
but the ventral patch of white covers the entire belly from the breast backward. The
tail-feathers are all present and number /wez/y, and on six or seven pairs there is a great
deal of irregular, asymmetrical white.

If we recognize Elwes’s individual as armani, we must give this white-tailed,
white-bellied specimen another name. Four others which I have examined in various
museums deserve individual recognition on such characterization. The asymmetrical
character of the markings, together with their constant variation in individuals, em-
phasizes the error of any such course, whether we would prefer to consider them species,
sub-species or local races.

Recently several additional specimens showing corresponding variations have been
gathered by Captain Bailey in the Mishmi-Abor Hills in the valley of the Tsangpo
River, at an elevation of from ten to twelve thousand feet, where the birds were said
to have been breeding. An adult cock has the upper parts dark ashy-grey, almost black
on the neck instead of blue-grey, while the rump is very pale. There is a white nuchal
band, and the white of the chin extends in a narrow line down the throat and fore-neck.
The sides of the neck and upper breast are very deep glossy ashy-grey, gradually
changing to paler ashy-grey on the flanks and breast, and to white on the middle of the
abdomen. There is no white on the tail-feathers.

A chick from the same locality is supposedly of the same uncertain strain, as it
exhibits characters both of typical auritum and of so-called Zavmanz. The white nuchal
band of Lavmand is present, but the white does not extend down the throat, being in this
respect like auritum. This bird is thought to be about two weeks of age. The upper
plumage is dull black, changing to dark ashy-grey on the rump and upper tail-coverts.
The shoulders and the wings are vermiculated with reddish bars, and the wing-coverts
have broad, reddish fulvous shaft-streaks. The ear-tufts are partially developed.

The upper breast and flanks have the feathers black with the centres and terminal
fulvous. The lower breast and abdomen are dirty white, the vent and under tail-coverts
dull ashy-grey with white tips, and the tail-feathers are blue-black, slightly glossed with
blue. Iris, brown; bill, horn-coloured, lighter below ; legs reddish-brown. This chick
was killed on July 16th.

It is doubtless the interbreeding of generation after generation of the two distinct

196 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

colour forms which has produced such otherwise inexplicable variation and asymmetry of
colour and pattern. I therefore sink the name Zavmanz in the synonym of auritum as
a probable wild hybrid between that species and ¢befanum. In view of the observations
which follow there is no reason to credit the mutilated type specimen of Larmanz with
having originally had more than twenty-two, or even twenty, rectrices.

Crossoptilon leucurum

This name is based on individuals collected within the range of ¢2betanum in eastern
Tibet, which resemble ¢befanum in body plumage and auvitum in the presence of white
in the tail. Other distinctions, as I shall show, are based on erroneous examination of
the characters. )

I have carefully studied the male and female types in the British Museum. Mr.
Grant, in his ‘‘ Handbook of Game-birds,” states by direct inference that this species has
twenty tail-feathers, but this is an error. The female type has twenty-one rectrices
remaining, having lost the outer left, making twenty-two in all. The male type has
twenty rectrices left in the skin, but a glance at the roots of the tail feathers beneath the
lower coverts shows the deep holes and the gap in the ranks marking the loss of another
pair.

The female type is strongly suffused with blue-grey except on the belly. The white
spotting of the tail is carried to an extreme. On the outer feathers it is confined to one
web, although, as usual in these hybrids, varying greatly on the two sides of the tail ;
the third pair having the right feather with both webs whitened, and the left feather
with only the outer web so marked, etc. This white increases as we approach the
central feathers, until on the next to the inner pair the purple gloss is restricted to a very
narrow margin and the terminal fifth of the feather. In the central (supernumerary) pair
the white is again restricted to an elongated patch on the outer web, the inner web being
grey. Even this pair is asymmetrically patterned, the grey invading the white outer web _
along the shaft in the left feather, while the right has a small patch of white near the
anterior portion of the grey. The very dark secondaries also show white patches on
the outer web, a character occasionally found in more typically coloured ¢betanum
individuals.

The male type has the greatest amount of white of any specimen I have examined,
the purple on all the rectrices which remain being confined to the extremity.

A second -male in the British Museum possesses only twenty rectrices, and the
closest examination shows no signs of any having been lost. In this bird another colour
combination is found; the greatest amount of white being present on the ouéer rectrices,
and gradually diminishing inwardly until the central feathers are much like those of a
typical ¢ebetanum individual.

In the Rothschild Museum at Tring an adult male “ /eucurum” is intensely white
over all the body, except for the brown shafts of the flight-feathers, and the more or less
mottling of dark on the basal half of their inner webs. The outer three pairs of
rectrices show a great deal of white on their outer web, the inner being grey. The next
two pairs are pearl-grey, and on the succeeding inner feathers the light colour is more or
less confined to the web near the shaft. There is no distinct margin to the light colour,

WILD HYBRIDS 197

making the usual rounded spot, but it merges by a gradual black cloudiness into the
distal metallic gloss. In fact, the tail colouring in this individual closely resembles
mantchuricum.

The extreme variability of the rectrice white would seem to indicate the worthlessness
of this character as a means of specific differentiation.

Crossoptilon drouynit

The type of this so-called species is in the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle, in Paris.
The entire body plumage is white. The secondaries are slightly shaded with grey, and
the primaries clouded on the inner webs with grey. The shafts of all the flight feathers
are dark brown. The tail-feathers are twenty in number, greyish-white at the base,
shading on the terminal half into metallic bronze-green and deep purple.

In ¢2betanum with a slight admixture of auvitum blood we thus find a pronounced
tendency to variation in the white of the tail-feathers. The first hints of this occur in
the form of small elongated spots on the outer webs of the lateral rectrices. About
twenty per cent. of the males show this phase, and in the type of ¢zbe¢anum these spots
are well developed, though asymmetrically, on the six outer pairs. Cvossoptilon drouynit
was based on an individual with greyish-white rectrices.

C. leucurum shows extreme variation, no two individuals in the museums of
England, France and elsewhere being alike, and many showing very great differences.
This is true, as we have seen, not only as regards colour and pattern, but even in the
number of rectrices, there being twenty in some individuals, and twenty-two in others.

The only logical solution of this tangle is to consider havmani, leucurum and
drouynii as hybrids and sink them in the synonomy, the first of auritum and the two
latter of ¢¢be¢anum, according to whether the blue or white colouring predominates.

The variation in number of tail-feathers in Cvossoftz/on is of interest. In febefanum
there are twenty, and all with vanes quite solid and normal in structure. The whiter
leucurum-like birds show no change, but in most of those individuals which approach
harmani and auritum, an extra central pair of highly disintegrated feathers appears,
above the others, suggesting, from their position, derivation from the upper tail-coverts.
In auritum still another pair is present, making twenty-four in all, this additional pair
also being central, superior, and much disintegrated. So the specialization is definite as
to position. In more than one bird, which in colour from beak to tail is typical auritum,
I have found after careful macro- and microscopical examination only twenty-two
rectrices; none having been lost accidentally, but one of the central pairs being
congenitally absent. These birds were unquestionably hybrids with the lessened number
of rectrices as the sole indication of their mixed blood.

In the rather isolated, more generalized, brown mantchuricum, twenty-two is the
normal number, and here we find buta single pair of central, superior disintegrated tail
feathers, showing that the locus of specialization is the same as in the other species.

In the presence or absence of certain rectrices in these birds we encounter another
of those unexpected correlations which meets the student of avian evolution at every step.
As regards colour there is no doubt but that the snow-white ¢zbetanum birds are by far the

198 A MONOGRAPH OF THE PHEASANTS

more specialized. White is always an extreme achievement in pigment radiation, or
rather elimination, and their coloured young show how recently the adult hue has been
acquired. But, on the other hand, the greater number of four-and-twenty tail feathers in
the blue-grey auritum is in its way as extreme a Specialization—excelled in the family
Phasianidae only by the adult Lodcophasis. Thus the complexity of evolution is for ever
being impressed upon us—specialization correlated with generalization and vice versa in
closely related organisms. Only by the sum total—the balance after the intricate addition
and subtraction of all its character units, and even then only by vizualizing the genealogy
in three planes of space—can we ever hope successfully to orient any species in relation
to its predecessors and contemporaries. :

END OF VOL. I

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